Rone whistled. “This is insane.” He paused. “And this is why Kazen wants you? Because you’re some special thing that can summon this Ireth?”
She nodded. “I’m bound to him. So long as I am, no other vessel can host him. And few meet the criteria for vessels. We’re . . . rare.” As far as Sandis knew, there were far more numina than there were vessels. Hundreds of them, though Kazen had his favorites.
“And can you unbind yourself?”
She paused. “I . . . yes.”
That apparently piqued his interest. “How?”
“Break a qualification, I suppose.” Give herself a permanent injury. Lose her virginity. “Breaking my script would be the easiest. But I can’t.”
“Your script? What? And why not?”
She shook her head. Leaned away from him. Rone wouldn’t understand, but she felt the need to clarify. “Because I’ll lose Ireth. I’ll never learn what he’s been trying to tell me.”
“But Kazen wouldn’t want you anymore.”
She breathed in deeply, held the air until it hurt, then released it all at once. Perhaps Kazen wouldn’t, save for revenge. He was not a man who relished being cheated.
“Maybe. But I can’t. Ireth.” She paused. “I have to know what he wants. I have to learn everything I can about Kolosos. I have to . . . stop it.”
Her own words surprised her. Stop Kolosos? Stop Kazen? Even if she could control the fire horse, Ireth was no match for Kazen’s monster. Sandis had felt Ireth’s fear. And she was certainly no match for her former master.
Maybe Kazen wouldn’t succeed. Maybe he’d try over and over again until he had no vessels left and he gave up on the venture. Maybe Sandis wouldn’t have to do anything.
Her muscles felt too tight.
“This . . . thing you summon is that important, huh?” Rone’s voice had an edge to it, but she couldn’t tell if it was an edge of wonder or judgment.
She nodded. “Ireth is . . .” A messenger. A guardian. A friend? “He’s like . . . family.”
Sandis knew the declaration was absurd, and yet it didn’t feel far from the truth. Ireth was not human, and certainly not related to her. She’d never, technically, met him. But she had a growing affection for him similar to what she’d felt toward her brother. He was a burning presence in her breast. He felt like . . . missing someone. And he cared about her. Unselfishly. He needed her.
She had so little of that in her life, especially now that she was separated from the other vessels.
“Can you fake it?”
The question broke Sandis from her thoughts. “What?”
“Fake it. I mean”—he gave her a wolfish smile—“how does he know you haven’t broken a qualification? You know, with me?” Sandis’s cheeks heated, and Rone let her stew in the flush for a moment before adding, “Or done one of the other things.”
Sandis considered. Her mind traveled back to her old room in Kazen’s lair, to the horseshoe ring of empty cots.
“The others.”
The space between Rone’s eyebrows crinkled.
“The other vessels. We’re not all bound. Kazen would try to summon Ireth into one of them. If he failed, he’d know I still have him.”
Rone was quiet again, this time for longer. Sandis stood and looked over the shelves. Her stomach growled; she ignored it.
“What script?”
She turned back to Rone, who had successfully propped himself onto his elbow. His eyes watched her, dark and oddly genuine. Not accusatory. Not disgusted. It kindled an odd kind of strength in her.
She touched the base of her neck, her fingertips lingering just above where Ireth’s name was tattooed in their mingled blood—blood taken from her before the summoning, and him after. “All vessels have a script on their backs; it allows the numina to possess them. Noscon magic. I don’t understand it.”
“That’s why you wouldn’t take off your coat.”
She nodded.
Rone paused a moment. “Can I . . . see it?”
She hesitated. Glanced at the closed door Arnae had disappeared through some hours ago. Licked her lips. Her heart beat faster, but she turned away from Rone and began undoing the buttons of his torn shirt.
She let the dirty, stiff material fall off her shoulders and heard Rone gasp. She could perfectly envision what he saw, for she’d seen it in the mirror and imprinted in the skin of other vessels. A long brand of Noscon writing that stemmed from the top of her spine to the small of her back, the width of a grown man’s hand. Gold leaf burned into the characters. Above it, a black bar of smaller Noscon letters spelling out Ireth’s name.
She pulled the shirt back up and fastened the buttons.
When Rone spoke again, his voice was softer, without its interrogative edge. “Does it . . . hurt?”
She turned back to him, studying his pale, shocked, and concerned face.
No one had ever asked her that before.
The door opened. Sandis jumped. Arnae Kurtz stood in the doorway. His hard gaze focused on Sandis, and for a moment she was sure he would berate her, grab her, throw her into the street and summon the scarlets, or perhaps the Angelic himself.
His focus switched to Rone. “This is grave, Comf.”
Rone grumbled. “Did I mention,” he said, without breaking eye contact with his teacher, “that my master is a terrible eavesdropper?”
Sandis’s heart sank into her stomach. She took a step back, then another. Telling Rone was one thing; telling this stranger was . . . dangerous.
Arnae held up a hand, stilling her. “I won’t hurt you, Sandis.” Then, to Rone, “The occult is not all the Celesians make it out to be, but it is real, and it is a threat, especially if what your friend is saying is true.”
“You have such a way with words.” Rone lowered himself onto his back and hissed as he did so.
“Don’t jest with me, Rone.”
Sandis squeaked, “You believe me?”
Arnae raised a gray eyebrow. “I am a spinner of stories, young lady, and even I could not fashion one as great as yours. I think you’ve done well in your choice of allies.”
Her heart bounced back to its proper place. “You’ll help us?”
But the old man shook his head. “Not me. Rone.”
She glanced at the injured man on the floor.
Arnae followed her gaze. “Take her to the Lily Tower. Today.”
Sandis’s pulse raced. “But—”
Arnae held up a hand. “Do not fear, Sandis. You have done nothing wrong.”
Rone snorted. “The Celesians won’t see it that way. The Lily Tower is the last place she should be.”
“I think we can all think of worse places.”
Sandis hugged herself. All three of them sat in heavy silence for several seconds. Celesia was the prominent religion in Kolingrad. Technically, Sandis was Celesian, though she’d rarely worshipped at the cathedral. She prayed to the Celestial from time to time, despite being a horror in its sight.
“You have a responsibility.” Arnae’s finger pointed at Rone. “The Celesians denounce the occult, but they understand it, and you have a better chance than anyone of getting their help.”
Rone growled. “Don’t just assume—”
“If nothing else, Rone, he can help your mother.”
Rone’s face blanked. Sandis’s gaze switched between him and Arnae so quickly she made herself dizzy. He? Who was he? It occurred to her belatedly that she’d forgotten to mention that she’d told Arnae about Rone’s mother.
She longed to ask them to explain, but it would have felt . . . irreverent.
Rone glanced at Sandis before pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “You’re a son of a whore, Kurtz.”
“Do you find power in stating the obvious, Engel?”
Rone groaned. “Of course you know.”
“I know a lot of things.” Arnae turned back for the door. “Sandis, clean up, and you can help me with lunch. Rone can lie here until his little secret resets.”
Sandis’s mouth formed an O, but she nodded and hurried after Arnae, eager to take advantage of his kindness.
Rone cursed the both of them.
Chapter 11