Division of the Marked (The Marked Series) by March McCarron

nearby limb let out a low, sweet note.  
    “Besides, I hate farming,” he concluded.
    Bray patted his hand and leaned back deeper into the bench. She was tempted to ask more questions; if it weren’t for her uncle, she would have been thrust into the same system. The look on Peer’s face arrested her tongue, however. “Where should we go then? I hear Adourra is nice.”
    “I don’t think I’d like the heat. What about the Painted Mere?” Peer suggested.
    Bray yawned and let her head fall onto Peer’s shoulder. “Mm, that would be lovely. Wake me when we get there.” She closed her eyes, her mouth curved into a small smile.  
    “Still aren’t sleeping?”
    She stifled another yawn. “No, not much.”
    “You can rest here as long as you like. I don’t mind,” he said.
    Bray knew she should rouse herself and be off to bed, but she enjoyed the twittering of the birds, the sweet smell of flowers, and the last warmth of the setting sun on her face. She was not sure how long she slept—or even if she had—but when she awoke to the sound of hurried feet, the sun had gone, leaving only the barest smudge of orange on the horizon.
    “Peer, Bray!” Roldon said, coming to a halt in front of them, panting.
    Bray sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What is it?”  
    “We think we found something,” Roldon said, his voice teeming with excitement. “Right, Adearre?”  
    The Adourran at his side nodded.
    “What is it?” Peer asked.
    “Just come. We’ll show you,” Roldon said. He grabbed them each by the hands and yanked them up off of the bench. Bray saw no reason to protest. Her sleepiness had passed. They strode after Roldon, who kept speeding into a run, then slowing again when he saw them fall behind.
    Adearre fell into step beside Bray. “How is Arlow?”  
    “He’ll be alright,” Peer said. Adearre nodded and they continued on in silence.
    Roldon took them into a part of the Temple grounds Bray had not visited—a small cemetery with several tall, weathered statues. Deadly silence greeted them. Bray found the entire place foreboding. Though they had never been warned away from any area in the Temple, she felt distinctly as though they were trespassing.  
    Roldon must have felt this way as well, because he whispered, rather than spoke aloud, “It’s just up here.”
    He led them through a gap in the bushes, along the side of a structure Bray suspected was a mausoleum.  
    “There.” Roldon gestured at an intricately designed grate in the wall. “I was looking for places to hide for the game tomorrow—but look there.” He pointed to the far left, within the darkness of the hole. “Doesn’t that look like a sword?”  
    It did, Bray thought. Whatever it was, it glinted dully in the moonlight. She thought she could discern the shape of a hilt. She pressed her cheek up against the cold metal of the grate, seeking a better view.
    “What’s that?” Peer asked, pointing at a large black shape.
    Peer leaned in close to examine the fastenings on the door, then produced a rough pocket knife from his trousers. Bray watched, holding her breath, as Peer twisted off the four screws holding the grate in place. They came away easily.  
    “You’d think they’d be rusted,” Bray said.
    “They must’ve been fastened recently,” Peer said, as he twisted out the last screw with his fingers and removed the grate. Within, a dark space descended into the ground, too deep to jump without risking injury.
    “Lower me down,” Bray said.  
    Adearre and Peer each held onto one of her arms and eased her over the edge. They held onto her as far as their hands could extend.
    “Let me go, it’s not far,” Bray said. Peer’s grip was beginning to dig into her arm.
    “I don’t know about this, Bray. It could still be a long drop,” Peer said.  
    “It isn’t. I can see the bottom. Just let go.”
    Bray hit the stone floor and landed on her feet, sending a slight shock up her body. There was a strange,