Something screeched overhead, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. An enormous raccoon peered down from a high shelf, squinting at us. He stretched, yawning as though we’d woken him from a nap.
I backed up swiftly to Hal’s side. The raccoon clambered down, knocking over a couple of empty bottles on his way. He scurried across the room, already transforming before he reached the workbench, taking the form of a tall man wearing simple robes, the sleeves carefully bound to keep them out of his potion work. He had salt-and-pepper hair shorn close to his head and facial hair of a similar length and color. As soon as he donned the spectacles sitting on the table, his expression changed from one of sleepy confusion to shock.
“Eywin,” Hal said, his tone neutral. Only a twitch in his jaw betrayed his feelings.
“Phaldon!” The man walked toward Hal slowly, adjusting his glasses as if to be sure his eyes told the truth. Sentiment swept over his features until he seemed near tears. “I can’t believe you returned.”
Hal glanced away, like he couldn’t stand to see the genuine emotion on the man’s face. “I’m here to collect on the debt owed for Nismae sparing your life.” His voice was flat.
Eywin looked genuinely confused. “What debt?”
“Nismae told me you chose the king over us, but she spared you when we left because you’re our blood.” Hal’s brows drew together.
A shock traveled through me. “Wait, you’re related?” I’d thought Nismae was the only mortal family Hal had.
Eywin peered at me over his spectacles. “I’m sorry, we haven’t been introduced.”
“My name is Asra,” I told him.
“Very nice to meet you, dear. Yes, to answer your question. Hal and Nismae’s mother was my older sister.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Hal said bitterly. “Not when you were partly responsible for sending Nis on a mission meant to kill her.”
Eywin sighed. “That was a misunderstanding.”
“How was it a misunderstanding to let the king send your niece on a deadly mission you knew about?” Hal asked, his voice rising. “You’re part of the king’s council. Only a monster would send his own niece to die.”
I touched Hal’s arm softly, trying to steady him. His life in Corovja had been far more tangled up with the crown than I’d ever known. Hopefully there weren’t any darker reasons why he’d kept this from me, but now I understood why he hadn’t wanted to come back. Guilt made my heart heavy. He’d returned only to help me.
“That’s not quite what happened,” Eywin said, rubbing one of his temples. “I had no say over anything Nismae was being assigned to do outside this workshop. I never wanted any harm to come to her.”
“She worked for you. She said you knew about the mission,” Hal accused.
Eywin took a slow breath, looking up as he exhaled. “I knew about the mission, but I don’t believe it was intended to kill her. The king is no fool—he would never have tried to do away with his best assassin, or an assistant he knew I needed to continue my research. The king has always valued my work, especially the advances Nismae and I made together. He’s been good to our family. She didn’t have to turn against him.”
I glanced between them, wondering what research and advances Eywin was talking about. I pulled my shadow cloak more tightly around my shoulders, grateful for the magic shielding it provided. There was no telling what this man could see in me, and like Nismae, he seemed to be someone who would know how to use my blood if he could get his hands on it.
“So you weren’t part of the group that sent Nismae to the Zir Canyon,” Hal said. His voice faltered. “She said you were. She said that’s why she left—because everyone she trusted had turned against her.”
“Oh, Nismae.” Eywin shook his head sadly. “Always with the secrets. Always with the story that suits her.”
“What are you talking about?” Hal asked, confusion and hurt battling in his eyes.
“Your blood,” Eywin said. “The thing your sister so foolishly abandoned the crown to protect.”
A wave of horror flooded through me. Why had they wanted Hal’s blood?
Hal stared at him, equally aghast. “But . . . why?”
“While seeking the Fatestone, we discovered its creator was able to use his blood to temporarily bestow his magical gifts on mortals. We hoped to see if it could be done with other demigods, since there hasn’t been a bloodscribe in hundreds of years.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. As far as I knew, my blood was the only kind that could be used that way, but I wasn’t about to volunteer that information. Thankfully, neither was Hal.
“The king has the power of the gods. Why would he need those abilities?” I asked.
“Channeling the magic of the gods drains the king’s energy. If someone used demigod blood to give him additional abilities, he wouldn’t have to use his own magic to sustain those enchantments or waste his own capacity on channeling those gifts from the gods. Thus, his power would be augmented. An enchantment is sustained by the caster, not the person or object imbued with magic,” Eywin explained.
I knew that last part from my work with Miriel, but I hadn’t thought about what it would mean in the heat of a battle between Ina and the king. Dread made my stomach heave. Nismae would use my blood to strengthen Ina, while the enchantments themselves would be tied to her. That meant the only way to break them would be to kill or disable Nismae during the battle. Would the king know to do that? Could Hal stand aside and let that happen? Could I?
“So we decided to see if we could replicate those kinds of enchantments using the blood of other demigods,” Eywin continued. “Naturally, the king’s councillor Raisa was happy to lend hers. Nismae was sent to the Zir Canyon to obtain a vial of blood from an earth demigod the king had known as a child, which is where she was ambushed.”
“You’re saying the king had nothing to do with that ambush?” Hal said doubtfully.
“I’m saying that I didn’t,” Eywin responded. “That snake who used to train the guard corps was part of it. He had the king’s ear more than I did. But what’s important is that the last demigod we knew of—”
“Was me,” Hal said, his understanding dawning.
“Yes. I had planned to discuss it with you and ask your permission before Nismae returned from her mission,” Eywin said.
“But I was in the city those days, down in the Miners’ Quarter. . . .”
“Yes. We couldn’t find you, and then Nismae came back early with a few more scars and a lot less loyalty to the king. Then she found out we planned to ask for your blood. That was the end of that,” Eywin said, his voice weary. “I’d hoped she’d always be a loyal servant to the crown. And you, too. You could have had whatever you wanted if you’d stayed.”
When I’d worried about trouble catching up with us in Corovja, I hadn’t imagined anything as complicated as this. From the expression on Hal’s face, I guessed he hadn’t either. He’d clearly never known what Nismae had sacrificed to protect him from being experimented upon.
“Nismae didn’t offer me that choice,” Hal said.
“No, she didn’t. She should have told you the truth and let you make your own decision,” Eywin said. “Maybe you could even have talked some sense into her. But she’ll never be pardoned now—not after killing the other members of the group who sent her on that mission.”
Hal paced back and forth, struggling to absorb everything Eywin had said. “But why did she lie to me? Why did she try to turn me against the king, too? Why did she tell me you owed her a debt for letting you live?”
“I’m sure she believes a debt is owed, just as she believed she was doing the right thing by hiding things from you,” Eywin said. “As for the debt, I got Nismae the job here because she’s smart and she’s family. It was the least I could do for my sister’s children, and I know she would have done the same for mine if I’d ever fathered any. I wouldn’t trade the years I spent with you, or even Nismae, for anything. There is no debt to collect. If you want my help, all you have to do is ask.”