Mykaela settled herself into a more comfortable position beside me on the bed.
“It happened when I was young—not as young as you and surely old enough to have known better. I tell you often not to give your heart away because my own mentor taught me so, as did her teacher before her. It is a warning passed down from teacher to student and one that I paid little heed to. For I broke the rules and gave mine away. I fell in love, you see.”
My face must have looked funny, for she smiled. “Yes, sometimes it’s that simple. Princess Maeve must have heard about it from her mother. Queen Lynoria rules the kingdom of Arhen-Kosho to the west, and she was my rival for his heart. I’m not surprised her daughter would inherit her hatred of me. It was Telemaine’s older brother, King Vanor.” Her voice changed; it grew softer, a faint tremor in her usually strident tones. Her eyes returned to the window, but they gazed at something farther away.
“It didn’t matter that I was a bone witch and he was the successor to the throne. He wanted to marry me, was willing to give up everything. His father threatened to disown him, which suited him just fine. But I refused. King Telemaine is a just and able ruler now, but he was only sixteen years old then, too young to rule. Vanor was brilliant. He built schools for the poor and spearheaded runeberry farming as one of the kingdom’s chief exports. Odalia only had Murkwick’s runeberry patch to go by, but he learned how to import runeberries the world over, to package them into high-quality wine and spin the fibers into cloth good enough to rival Drycht’s. I could not take him and his achievements away from the people.
“He refused to marry anyone else; that was his only stipulation to remaining on the throne. That did not stop his father from forbidding us to see each other, but it was too late. Vanor gave me his heart, and I gave him mine, like we were bound by marriage, and you know that you cannot give your heartsglass away unless you give your consent. But a bone witch needed her heart for her magic, or she would be much diminished. It didn’t matter to me at that time. I had his heart, and that was the only thing I wanted.”
Mykaela sighed, and the rising sun cast small shadows across her ageless face. “I do not know what made him change. Perhaps he was beginning to realize that I was a millstone around his neck, that his relationship with me forever colored how other people judged him and made his state affairs all the more difficult. He began to pull away. It was the little things at first. He would put off days we’d planned on spending together, citing meetings and other unavoidable duties. I knew I was insignificant in comparison to his other royal responsibilities and went along with his requests, until the day came when he stopped visiting altogether and refused to see me when I came. The heart that he had entrusted to my keeping began to fade over time. I watched it shrink, little by little, eaten up by the neglect and the worry and my tears, until one morning when there was nothing left.
“But my heart remained with him. Isn’t it funny, these little ironies? He could take back his heart because he grew indifferent, but I could not take back mine because I loved him no matter what he did. He never used it to harm me; more likely, he tucked it away someplace he wouldn’t need to see and forgot about it in time. Even today, I can still feel it grieving.
“And then he died. It was one of those little insurgencies that crop up from time to time in Odalia. Vanor’s grandfather was too free with titles, and as a consequence, there were too many nobles and too much greed for more land and property to go around than there actually was. He was ambushed on his way to meet with Emperor Undol of Daanoris, to conclude a peace treaty. I never found my heart.
“The sadness can eat you up sometimes, remembering what could have been, what you should have done. Perhaps my presence would have averted the tragedy, and he would still be alive. Or perhaps my being there would have made no difference, because he had my heart and with it most of my magic. We can endure any amount of sadness for the people we love.
“I have told you many things, Tea, and this is the most important of them all. Never give your heartsglass away to anyone. Anyone else versed in magic can do you harm with it. People will never be what you make of them, but at least your own heart stays yours and true.”
And Mykaela squeezed my hand; her own was warm, with only a touch of the early frost.
“Think of it as a pet,” she suggested when it became clear that I would not grow accustomed to the daeva. It tried to lay its head on her lap like it was a puppy, though its snout was as large as all of her. She stroked its ridged head, and it closed its eyes in bliss. It paid little attention to me, and I was thankful.
“With all due respect, Mistress, few people would take the undead for a pet.”
“And why not? They’re not as bad as you think. They like to play, and they do not attack unless they feel threatened. But stray too close to their lair—well, that is a different story. They only wish to be left alone. I share that much in common with them.”
“Do you control them?” I asked. The girl had found a rock as large as my hand, perfectly round and polished smooth from the waves. It sailed through the air to land some distance away. The daeva let out a playful bark. Soon it was scampering across the sands in eager pursuit.
“Of course,” she said. “I know everything it feels. To a lesser extent, it knows everything I sense. That’s how I know that it means no harm. It has a mind like a child’s.”
“But its grave was in Odalia, near Murkwick.”
“Where it lies buried is no longer of any importance. All it requires is its bezoar and a spellshifted heartsglass. The bones of the dead creatures on this beach are enough to suit my purpose, to bend and form into a daeva’s shape. It is easier to weave the spells this way, quicker than to start from nothing.”
“It is no magic I have ever heard of before.”
“It is not magic most asha know, one that even the Faceless only recently discovered.”
“Then why did you kill that first daeva the day I met you?”
“I would not have been able to control it completely the way I can this taurvi. I must first build it up myself, with the proper rituals, as I have done here.”
“But why? Why are you raising it from the dead? Why won’t you return it to its grave, like the other daeva you killed?”
The taurvi trotted proudly back to us with its prize. Its sharp teeth scored ridges against the sides of the rock. Its purr was strangely compelling.
She smiled. “Because daeva make for good armies.”
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