They called him—among other things—the silver-tongued deceiver, because he could trick men into believing any falsehood without ever saying a lie. I could not trust his words, much less his kisses. But he had saved me from the shadows, he had clung to me for comfort in the night, and he had brought me to the field of flowers . . . perhaps not entirely for the sake of getting the key back.
That’s what makes you my favorite, he had said. I knew it was pathetic—more than that, obscene—but those simple words, which might easily be a lie, made me want to care for him.
But what I wanted didn’t matter, and neither did what he might or might not feel for me. I had thought about this during my solitary dinner. It didn’t even matter whether he willingly made bargains or not, nor whether the demons attacked people at his command or against his will. What mattered was saving Arcadia, and making sure that no one else would die like my mother or Damocles, that the Children of Typhon would not ravage anyone else like Elspeth’s brother. And I was sure that Ignifex had not lied when he said that he had masters, who set laws for his existence and ordered him to take wives. He could not possibly hold Arcadia against their will.
If I wanted to undo the Sundering, I would have to defeat not just Ignifex but his masters as well.
No doubt Ignifex could not directly defy them, any more than Shade could speak his secrets. But Shade had helped me still, and surely Ignifex would be even more willing to bend rules.
I realized I had been stroking his hair for some time now. I stopped, but I couldn’t resist sliding my fingertips down his cheek. Without waking, he leaned into the touch.
Against all reason, he seemed to trust me. I had an idea now, for how I could use that trust against him. If I was any daughter to the Resurgandi, any sister to Astraia, I surely would.
“Shade,” I whispered. “Shade!”
I called for several minutes before he appeared, condensing into being right beside me. I had prepared myself for this moment, but when he looked at us, I still went hot and cold at once with shame. His face was blank, but when his gaze flickered to Ignifex, I thought I saw pain in the set of his mouth.
“Why are you kind to him?” he asked, and I flinched. He didn’t know the half of it.
It didn’t matter if Shade hated me. I had told myself this over and over, but I still had to choke down explanations and excuses.
“It’s useful,” I said stiffly. “I’m still going to defeat him, you know.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized they sounded both defensive and condescending—but it didn’t matter. I plunged on, “I know you can’t tell me much, but listen and nod yes or no if you can. When the darkness was burning him, you tried to leave him, so clearly you don’t lack the will to hurt him. But you haven’t killed him yet, though in nine hundred years you must have learnt how.”
Shade watched me, his face a pale mask.
“You aren’t just bound to obey him, are you? You’re bound to do him no harm, and probably to protect him as well from any permanent damage, because if there were such an easy loophole you would have used it against him. Am I right?”
After a moment, Shade nodded, and now there was clear anger on his face.
“Good.” I could feel my heartbeat speeding up with each breath. “I want you to bring me the knife that he took away from me, or I swear by the river Styx that I will claw out first his eyes and then my own.”
He made an abortive half movement, then stared at me.
“I will not harm him with the knife,” I said. “But if you don’t bring it, I will fulfill my oath, and it will be your fault for making me.”
“. . . I don’t believe you,” he whispered.
I shrugged. “Or maybe I won’t. Then I’ll be forsworn, and you know how the gods treat oath breakers.”
He stared at me another moment, then vanished abruptly. I looked down at Ignifex. My heart ran as fast and cold as a snowmelt river. If I had misjudged Shade—or Ignifex—
But a few moments later, Shade returned with the knife clenched in his hand.
“Thank you,” I said, holding out a hand. “I have a plan. I promise.”
Shade stayed just out of reach, watching me with his bright blue eyes, set in his colorless reflection of Ignifex’s face—but again, as in the Heart of Water, he looked like the original, the one that mattered. The only one I should love. I wished the darkness could devour me so I would be hidden from his gaze.
“I think,” I said desperately, “it’s the only way to save us all.”
Shade nodded slowly, as if accepting an inevitable doom. “Everything you give him, he will use against you,” he said. “Do what you must. But don’t trust him.”
I swallowed. “I don’t.”
“Don’t pity him.”
My heart thumped painfully; I was acutely aware of his warm weight on my lap.
“I won’t,” I said, because I had always been able to hate everyone.
He held out the knife; as I took it, he leaned forward and kissed me, quickly but fiercely. “Don’t let him hurt you,” he said, and vanished.