“So rewriting the past is truly the only way we can avoid something horrible from coming to pass,” he said.
I turned and gazed up at him, even though it made my heart ache to see the pain and worry in his eyes. I couldn’t promise him that things would be all right, but there was one promise I could make—one I had been thinking about since he’d first noted that changing the past meant we’d lose each other.
“With the Fatestone, there’s no limit to what I can reshape, or the number of words I can use. I can make sure the kingdom stays safe and preserved.” The amount of detail it would take to write all of it out made me nervous, but it seemed like a sacrifice worth making. If I had the Fatestone and didn’t have to worry about aging, I would be able to much more carefully dictate the changes to prevent any other collateral damage. I paused, considering my next words, weighing the promise I was about to make. “When I change the past, I can try to make sure I still meet you.”
“Why would you do that?” he asked. “Not the part about the kingdom. The part about me.” Hope gleamed in his eyes.
I stared back at him, weighing honesty and vulnerability against each other.
“Because I don’t want to lose you.” I caressed his cheek. In some other version of the present, the future ahead of us might be amazing.
“But if you created a past in which Nismae never left the crown and you never left your mountain, I might have been a messenger for the king instead of my sister’s hunting dog. How would we have met then? There would have been no search for the Fatestone or the only living bloodscribe.” He sounded like he had it all mapped out better than I did.
Then I realized what he’d just said.
“Wait. What do you mean, a search for the only living bloodscribe?” I asked.
“I meant the Fatestone. Nismae’s research. Veric.” He fumbled the words.
He was lying to me.
Everything started to snap into place.
His willingness to stay with me when we first met even though we’d been complete strangers.
How easygoing he’d been about leading me back to his sister, who was otherwise incredibly secretive about everything she did.
The knowing look in his eyes when I’d channeled Leozoar’s magic to heal the Tamer huntress.
The way he’d stopped fighting back when Nismae stabbed me.
“You knew what I was all along,” I said, my voice shaking. “Did she send you to look for me? Is that what really happened?”
Hal winced and looked at me with anguish in his eyes. “I didn’t know,” he whispered.
“You didn’t know what?” My anger surged. “Because you had to know she intended to hurt me.” I held up my left hand, demonstrating the feeble way the fingers moved.
“I didn’t know I would fall in love with you,” he said, and hung his head.
For the briefest moment, my heart soared, only to come crashing back to earth seconds later.
I stared at him, reeling. How could he tell me he was in love with me? Was that supposed to make up for leading me to Nismae? Were lies and deception his idea of love? All his actions had ultimately been for his family—something I couldn’t understand because I’d never had one. Nismae could still be behind all this, waiting for a chance to strike as part of a master plan I’d been too naive to see. Maybe that was what they’d been talking about in the meadow.
No one had ever loved me. Not my parents, not Ina, and not Hal.
I had never known love.
“I’m so sorry, Asra. I wanted to tell you, but there was never a good time. . . .” He trailed off, looking as stricken as I felt.
“So what’s your secret mission now? To seduce me so I’ll be distracted from what I’m supposed to do? To kill me before I can get the Fatestone? To let me get it, only to turn it over to Nismae?” The fury made my veins feel like they ran with fire instead of blood. New possibilities of his ulterior motives sprang up like weeds, choking the tender feelings I had for him.
“There’s no secret mission,” he said firmly. “I betrayed Nismae when I set you free. I meant it when I said I would always choose you.” He looked me in the eyes.
“I can’t . . .” I didn’t even know if I could believe what he was saying. How could I, with all the lies between us I’d never known about until now? There were no words. The pain was too great, too complete, too unbearable.
I never should have trusted him in the first place. Stupid, stupid Asra. Always wanting to believe the best of everyone, even Ina. The world was full of monsters, and my isolation had raised me to be blind to them.
“Go back to your sister. Go back where you belong.” I flung the words at him like weapons. I had survived almost entirely on my own for years, and there was no reason I couldn’t do it now.
“But Asra—”
“No.” I grabbed my cloak of shadows from the rack on the far side of the room. When I got the Fatestone, it would be so much easier to change the past knowing I had nothing to salvage from the present.
I wished I’d never met him.
“I’m sorry,” Hal repeated, his voice cracking.
I headed for the door. No footsteps sounded behind me, but a breeze rose to caress my cheek.
“Stop that!” I whirled around and threw a shield up to repel the wind into Hal’s surprised face. “Don’t touch me. Don’t follow me. I never want to see you again, and I will never trust another word you say.” My voice came out so cold I barely recognized it.
The world had made me a monster, too.
CHAPTER 30
ANGER MADE MY FEET SWIFT AS I FLED THE CASTLE. IF the king wouldn’t speak to the shadow god on my behalf, I would try and do it myself. I had to. The notion was completely mad, but hurt and fury obliterated my ability to think about anything else. All I knew was if I got the Fatestone and rewrote the past, I could change the moments that had led me here.
I could make the pain stop.
I fled into the gardens, hurrying toward the six turrets of the Grand Temple. They stood bright against the southern horizon, stained-glass windows reflecting the late-afternoon sun. I didn’t know how to get to the covered archway that led from the palace to the temple, but a winding set of stairs led from the back of the garden across a lower bridge to the clerics’ entrance on the side of the building. I jogged until my lungs burned, ignoring stares from others I passed who were moving through the gardens at a more dignified pace. I didn’t slow down until I reached the last long set of steps.
When I reached the doors and showed the clerics the king’s token, they invited me in. When I told them I wanted to try and speak to the gods, they walked me through a purification ritual. I was shepherded through a series of warm pools until not a speck of dirt remained on my body. The attendants adorned me in light-gray robes like those the temple clerics wore, anointed me with oil that carried the faint perfume of mountain roses, and braided my hair into an intricate crown. They admired its length but said nothing about the silver streaks. I tried not to cry when they touched me with their careful hands, tried not to remember the way Ina had once run her hands through my hair, tried to forget the way Hal’s kisses had turned my insides to stardust.
The clerics escorted me to an antechamber lined on each side with small partitioned booths in which to rest or pray, telling me they’d have me enter once the temple was empty of mortal visitors. I settled my cloak of shadows over my shoulders, needing its familiarity. My prayers were unfocused as I waited. I had no sounds of nature from which to draw music to sing, no way to limit the direction of my thoughts. Instead I was left with words rattling around inside my head in a jumble.
Death.
Loss.
Betrayal.
Love.
I tried to set aside the simmering anger I felt toward Hal, but every time I thought of him, it surged up anew. I prayed for answers, for guidance, to somehow know that I was doing the right thing. I prayed for the shadow god to deign to speak to me to tell me where Atheon was.