But I had Hal. He would help me carry these burdens if I needed him.
I sketched the symbol of the shadow god, then reached carefully between Veric’s ribs and picked up the ring. It seemed unfathomable that one tiny object had created so much strife, especially one that wasn’t even a weapon. The lengths mortals would go to in order to set aside their own mortality staggered me. They didn’t seem to realize that a long life could be a curse more than anything else. I shuddered as I remembered Leozoar and the creature of darkness he’d become.
The ring had more weight in my hand than I expected, and as I slipped it over my finger, it shrank until it lay warm and perfectly fitted. I felt different the moment I put it on—like it held back everything in the world that might pull at the threads of my own life, what little held me together. I doubted any mortal would feel what I did once the ring was on. It might prevent them from aging, but it wouldn’t do for them what it would for me. For the first time, I felt powerful.
The future was mine.
There would be no more gray hairs.
No more lives sacrificed due to my mistakes.
Everything was fixable now, the past and the future flexible in my hands.
I swore to myself I wouldn’t take advantage of it, but it was still a heady rush.
“Thank you, brother.” I hoped he would rest peacefully and that wherever his soul was, he knew his wishes had been carried out.
I knelt before his tomb, then sketched the symbol of the shadow god again. I owed her thanks as well for leading me here. And perhaps even the wind god, who had given me Hal.
Then I heard footsteps.
“Who’s there?” I stood up, my heart racing wildly.
An arrow flew through the cave, shattering my lantern. Oil poured onto the floor, and then the flame winked out.
I sensed nothing at all with my Sight, smelled nothing. The footsteps drew closer at a deliberate pace. I fumbled back along Veric’s tomb, trying to take shelter behind the statue.
A strong arm locked around my neck and a burst of acidic powder exploded in my face.
Peaceroot.
It stole my abilities even as I struggled in the person’s grip, bit their arm, tried to grasp at magic that slipped away as the herb took hold.
My vision blurred, silver sparks warring with the comfort of absolute darkness. They’d mixed something else into the peaceroot. My entire plan had unraveled before I could even begin. Whoever had me this time would surely bleed me to death. Soon my mother would welcome me into her arms, which might have seemed like a better place if not for Iman, whose face was the last thing I thought of as consciousness slipped away.
CHAPTER 35
I WOKE IN DARKNESS, WITH NO IDEA HOW MUCH TIME had passed. It could have been hours or days. Cold and soreness crippled my body. When I shifted my weight, hard, lumpy objects dug into my thigh and arm.
The Fatestone was no longer on my finger.
Panic lanced through me and I struggled to keep my breathing even. Who had taken it? The darkness made me feel shut in. It was hard to stay calm or to think. I grasped at fragments of memory, but all I remembered was my lantern shattering. Everything was hazy after that. I felt around, trying to see if there was anything I could grab onto to help me stand up, and realized with horror that the smooth objects digging into me were bones. I raised my arms perpendicular to the ground and encountered a slab. To the sides, the same.
Someone had shut me in with Veric.
I screamed and clawed at the stone in futility, but nothing happened until the tips of my fingers grew raw enough to bleed. As soon as my blood made contact with the stone, the lid of the tomb slipped aside. I scrambled out as quickly as I could with only one useful hand.
The skeletons on the walls weren’t visible to me now, but somehow I still felt like they watched me, judging me for my failure. I’d had the Fatestone no more than five minutes before it had been stolen. My chance to rewrite the past was lost. I wished the skeletons with their wire-tied jaws could tell me who they’d seen come after me.
But really, who else could it be besides Nismae? Anger bubbled up through the pain. The only others who knew about the Fatestone were the Nightswifts. If Nismae had used Hal to get to me . . . the thought filled me with fury. But I didn’t believe he’d help her with something like that now. Not after how I’d seen him looking at Iman. Not with the way he looked at me.
By the time I exited the tomb, the sky had just begun to lighten east of the mountains. A biting wind gusted through the gardens, chilling me to the bone. I didn’t make it far beyond the maze before spotting a guard. I sneaked around him and several others until I got back into the castle. I kept the hood of my shadow cloak up to hide the filth on my face from pages and servants moving through the castle halls.
I didn’t so much stumble back into my and Zallie’s room as fall against the door, which Hal opened a few moments later.
“Asra! Gods, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” He caught me in a hug so tight I could barely breathe. “Is this blood on your hands?” he asked, examining them with concern.
“I’ll call someone to draw you a bath,” Zallie said, her green eyes round as saucers.
“Iman?” I asked the moment Hal got me settled in a chair.
“He’s been fine,” Hal assured me. “He’s missed you. We all have. The king has had his soldiers scouring the city. Eywin’s been trying to enchant your blood to create a way to track you, but hasn’t been successful yet.”
“How long have I been gone?” I asked.
“You disappeared into that damn hedge maze the night before last. I couldn’t even find the middle of the maze when I went looking for you. I couldn’t hear you. I thought you were dead. I thought . . .” He trailed off, the worry on his face as plain as day.
The truth was that I would have been dead if I wasn’t half god and able to withstand things no mortal could—like a day and two nights sealed inside a tomb.
“I found the Fatestone,” I said. “Then it was taken from me.”
“What happened?” he asked.
“Your sister.” Rage burned in my chest again. I had to get the Fatestone back before she sold it or managed to find a way to use it for something more nefarious than its intended purpose.
His expression darkened. “Are you serious?”
“I had it on my finger no more than a few minutes before someone attacked. It had to be one of the Nightswifts. They blew peaceroot into my face, laced with some sort of powerful opiate. I woke up inside Veric’s tomb, sleeping on his bones.”
Zallie gasped so dramatically it was almost comical. Sometimes I forgot she hadn’t been through the kinds of things Hal and I had.
“Peaceroot isn’t easy to come by here,” Hal said, frowning.
“And there are even fewer who know how to process it,” I said. All the evidence pointed to Nismae.
A page arrived to take me to the bathing chambers. I scrubbed until not a speck of grave dirt remained, but I still felt dirty. Violated. By the time I went back to my room, I knew I had to confront Nismae about what she’d done. I was more powerful now, more confident than the last time I’d faced her. I still didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I would if I had to.
I pushed open the door to my room. “Hal, I need to go—”
I froze after crossing the threshold. Hal rushed over from the other side of the room with Iman in his arms. A small woman perhaps twice my age stood near Iman’s bassinet—I recognized her as one of the king’s guards. One of the maids who had often attended me stood by my bedside, looking nervous. A spill of red fabric lay across the bed—some garments I didn’t recognize. I scanned the room in confusion, trying to figure out what this was all about. Zallie had a grim expression on her face that quickly changed to concern as Nera gave a little cry.
“Asra, look outside.” Hal pointed to the window.
“Oh no,” I whispered, my heart plummeting.