An Arch Deacon pushed the physician into the circle. That made thirteen people. Where were the last two?

“Cut her eyes out,” the priestess ordered Timin.

Although haggard and disheveled, he appeared to be uninjured. Blood and dirt stained his ripped tunic, but Shyla suspected the blood wasn’t his own.

“I can’t. You confiscated my tools.”

She growled and sent the Arch Deacon to fetch them. He hurried through another doorway. Thuds and curses abruptly sounded from outside the main entrance, which gave Shyla a surge of hope. But the glass doors seemed to be thick enough to keep her rescuers from breaking through. Unless the noise was from the fighting. Had more deacons joined the fray? Did anyone know about the Water Prince’s special access?

While they waited, Shyla didn’t waste the opportunity. Appealing to the seers, she said, “Imagine how many more people will die if the priestess wakes the power of The Eyes. Think about how she will rule. Before her term, going to confession meant seeking forgiveness. Now, it means torture and—”

“That’s enough. Someone shut her up,” the priestess said.

“She wants to silence me because she knows I’m right. I—” A force clamped on her throat, preventing speech. Scorching hells.

When the Arch Deacon returned with Timin’s bag, Shyla knew she couldn’t count on being rescued. She focused on the closest seer, making eye contact with the young man. His power glowed inside him. It wasn’t a crack, but it wasn’t wide open either. Odd. Obviously, the seer could wield magic, but did that mean Jayden hadn’t had enough magic to complete the process? Would the man be stronger if he had been opened all the way?

“I won’t do it,” Timin said. “Shyla’s right, giving you more power is insane. You should be locked up for the rest of your life.”

The word locked triggered a faint memory. It danced at the edge of her thoughts. Something with Mojag and—

“I’ll be happy to do it,” a terrifying and all too familiar voice said.

Yates stepped into Shyla’s view. He dragged the Water Prince with him—they were the last two people she had sensed in the room. The prince’s hands were tied behind his back. And he’d been gagged. Blood dripped from his nose. His fine clothes were ripped and stained. Hatred lit his gaze. Yates forced him to kneel beside the priestess. The reek of the black cells emanated from him. Now Shyla understood why Yates had a torque and the prince didn’t when they had all been in the professor’s room. He’d been working for the priestess.