Sitara answered a soft knock on the door of the keisara's private sitting room. A page passed a folded note to her. She expected it to be addressed to her mistress, or to Lady Ceren. They were the only two in the room, chatting over afternoon tea.
It was addressed to her. Sitara opened it, but the paper was blank. That could only mean Masego.
He risked much to contact her in the light of day. Sentinel Omolara had left the room only moments ago on an errand for the keisara. If she'd lingered and noticed the note . . . Sitara shivered.
The ladies remained engrossed in their conversation, so Sitara risked embracing her Actinopathic gift. It came slowly, trickling into her soul as if the conduit had nearly closed.
She tried harder, yearning to feel it return to the glorious light of its pure power. It came, but pooled just under her skin as if blocked from penetrating further.
She hated to think that the Sentinels were somehow blocking her access. They didn't know she was a secret revolutionary. How could they do this to her? It was one more example of the tyranny ruling the empire, one more motivation to restore order to the world.
She focused a sliver of power on the note, shielding it from view of the ladies. As expected, light flashed across the paper and revealed a short line of text.
Seek out Remiel during the ball for instructions. We strike tonight.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
Then the paper burst into flame. Sitara forced herself to hold it in her open palm for the two seconds it took to vaporize into smoke. She clenched her burned hand and imagined it held concealed her now-racing heart.
Tonight they would take the man Kevlin.
She had tried to direct her master toward one of the other soldiers, but he'd fixated on Kevlin. Sitara hated to lose him as a potential ally, but perhaps she could find a way to help him escape her master? If she could, he'd be primed and ready to help her destroy Masego.
Sitara crossed the room to stand behind her mistress. The pure light of her gift seeped away through her mental fingers. Sitara savored the last vestiges of that power. The day would soon come when she could embrace that power for as long as she wished, without fear of discovery.
After a slow breath to steady herself against what was to come, she opened her soul to the power of darkness. In stark contrast to the reluctance of her Actinopathic gift, this power crawled eagerly into her soul, staining her with its filth. She resisted the urge to gag and to scrub at her arms. No amount of soap would help.
With the darkness clinging to her innards, she focused its power and prepared for the next delicate step. Using the technique her master recently taught her, she turned toward Lady Ceren, who was explaining to the keisara about regulating merchant guilds in her home city of Agoreaun.
Sitara extended a finger of thought and probed Lady Ceren's mind. The woman was not gifted, but she possessed a formidable will that provided natural shielding. Sitara could break through, but the trauma would alert Ceren of the danger.
She eventually found a weakness and her thoughts slithered deeper. She hated having to suck truth away like a criminal, but it had to be done. Such sacrifice was necessary for the greater good, even from one who had only ever shown her kindness.
Soon, Sitara would own Lady Ceren's secrets.