“Long enough to kill you, I hoped.”
“It should have been obvious.” Montaigne shook his head. “I can only think that the Breaker clouded my eyes. That first night, when you came walking out of the flames and raised the baker from the dead, I should have known. That was unnatural. Then you insinuated yourself into the healing service so that you could get to the girl with the magemark.”
“You were the one who asked me to treat her,” Ash said.
“I was blinded by sorcery. Otherwise, I would have known. But tonight, I will do what I should have done in the first place.” He paused, as if to build suspense. “I will kill you.”
Fragmented thoughts swirled through Ash’s mind. This doesn’t make sense. Why wouldn’t he try to keep me alive and hold me hostage? Or break my mother’s heart by torturing me to death?
Maybe he’ll send the pieces home in a box, the way he did with Hana.
“You are going to lose,” Ash said. “I don’t care how many of us you kill, we will never surrender. You will pay for murdering my father, and my sister, and you will pay for Jenna. You never should have picked a fight with the Gray Wolf queens.”
But the king didn’t seem to hear him. “Behold your redemption, demon!” The king thrust a stoneware jar into Ash’s face.
That was the opening he needed. Ash jabbed the sting into the king’s forearm. Gerard didn’t even notice.
Ash withdrew the needle and let it fall. He released a long, shuddering sigh. There. It was done. Finally.
“Behold your redemption, demon!” the king repeated, apparently miffed at the lack of response.
“What’s that?” Ash asked.
The king rocked the jar. It sloshed. “This is oil.” He smiled. “The only way to kill a demon is by burning.”
Ash couldn’t help wishing the poison he’d used was faster acting.
If wishes were horses, even beggars would ride.
Montaigne was mumbling to himself. “I should have known. But I didn’t, not at first.” He refocused on Ash. “You see, I thought your kind had red hair.”
Ash blinked at him, confused. He was the only one in his family with truly red hair. “What do you mean, ‘your kind’?”
“Demons.”
“Demons?” Ash stared at Montaigne. “Hang on—you think I’m an actual demon?”
“It’s my fault, for agreeing to use mages in the war, and so violating the Maker’s laws,” Montaigne said. “I had become convinced that one has to use witchery against witchery in order to win. But now I know that all I did was open the door to sin and depravity. That’s the thing about demons—you have to invite them in. I should have listened to Father Fosnaught and burned you that first night. From tonight forward, everything changes. I will send the Hand into every corner of the empire and cleanse it of every tainted person. It begins with you.”
Raising the jar, he dumped it over Ash’s head, managing to splatter it all over himself as well. He tossed the jar over, then stalked to the inside wall and yanked a torch from its bracket.
He returned to the edge, his face monstrous in the light from the flames. “By the great saint!” he said, raising the torch with both hands. “Die, demon!”
But the torch never came down. Instead, someone grabbed the king’s torch arm and jammed it down so the burning head ignited his clothing. Montaigne screamed and stumbled forward, his arms and legs pinwheeling wildly as he toppled over the edge. Ash flattened himself against the tower wall to avoid being struck as the king screamed past him like a falling star. The screaming ended abruptly when he hit bottom.
“Die, demon,” Ash murmured. Cautiously, he raised his head and peered up to see someone looking down at him.
“Are you all right?”
Ash was momentarily speechless. It was Queen Marina, dressed in a nightgown, her hair caught into a long braid. She looked very young.
“Are you all right?” she repeated, a little impatiently. “We may not have much time.”
“Y-yes,” Ash croaked.
She dropped a rope over the side. “Grab hold of this carefully, please, and wrap it around your waist. The last thing I want is to lose you when you’ve held on for so long.”
He grabbed hold, despite his oil-slicked hands, and walked up the side of the building until he could slide over the edge on his belly. He lay there, gasping, for a moment, then rolled over and sat up.
Queen Marina dangled his amulet in front of him. “I believe this is yours?”
Ash practically snatched it out of her hand and dropped the chain over his head, grateful to feel the weight of it again. Oil dripped from his hair and down his neck.