Her silence was the only reply I received. She turned and blew out the candles, and the room was plunged into darkness. I lay in bed and listened to the rustle of her clothes, the squeak of the mattress as it settled beneath her. When she spoke again, her words rang out like steel hammers. “That is enough questions for tonight. We rise early tomorrow.”
It was not easy to fall asleep in strange surroundings. I missed my small bed in my little house in Knightscross, and already I missed my family. I thought about the heartsglass my parents wore, about the hearts Daisy was constantly losing. Now that I knew the truth, I couldn’t help but feel cheated. Her explanation of them sounded so commonplace, less exciting than my books led me to believe.
And I was to be an asha. After everything that had happened, I had little time to appreciate my situation. All my childish play at pretending to be the famous asha of my stories now felt ridiculous. Did Taki of the Silk and Nadine of the Whispers feel this way? I wondered. Were they uprooted from the families they loved and sent to unfamiliar places because the magic that brought them their fame first gave them no choice?
I fell asleep with those melancholy thoughts. In the midst of my strange circumstances, Fox’s quiet presence in my mind was reassuring. Dead as he was, he was the only familiar thing I had left.
The wind blew heavy pockets of sand across the beach, blanketing everything with grit and ground, but the grave remained pristine, free of mud and soil. The girl knelt, polished the heavy stone at the head of the tomb. She watered the small, budding flowers that sprouted up along the green edges.
“What do people say of me?”
“They believe that you have turned fully to the Dark, my lady, that you have joined the ranks of the Faceless, and that you are preparing to lead the people of the lie to war.”
“And do you believe them?”
I chose honesty. “I do not know, milady.”
“I cannot blame you. The three who claim to lead the Faceless also draw in the Dark; most cannot tell us apart. Usij leads the southern faction—he makes a fortress out of the mountains in Daanoris and calls himself king, but he is all bark and bluster. Druj is wilier—he sows his discord in the west, and all city-states in Yadosha would pay a dear amount of money for his head. And as for Aenah, the last leader…”
She pauses. A curious, bitter smile is on her lips. “Not much is known about her save that she originally hailed from Tresea.”
“Mistress Tea,” I asked, “who is buried here?”
The grass stained her dress as she lay beside the grave, laid her cheek against the ground.
Sadly, she said, “A boy who died for me.”
4
The small mound lay twenty miles away from Murkwick, hidden in the woods. There were no paths, and it seemed like you could find that exact spot only if you knew it was there to begin with.
“This creature used to haunt these woods undeterred for many years, killing stray villagers,” Lady Mykaela said, “until an asha who lived over a hundred years ago realized it was a daeva and put an end to its rampage. I harvest its stomach frequently, as I travel to this part of Odalia often. Even dead, however, it can be dangerous. I learned this the hard way, when I was much younger. My shoulder still aches when the weather grows cold.”
“Its stomach?” I stared at the mound with growing nervousness and fear.
Fox crouched beside the knoll, his eyes strangely eager. His hand played with the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist.
“Keep your distance, Fox,” Lady Mykaela told him. She drew out the decaying bezoar and set it down on a large rock. “There is no telling what it may do.”
“All the more reason to keep near,” he replied. “I have seen daeva before, and I have read as much of them as Tea has. I know what to expect.”
“There are many things they leave out of books. And learning about them in stories and learning through experience are two different things—and as I recall, you did not fare so well in the latter.” The asha drew out a thin knife and, to my shock, made a small nick on her forefinger. “Take Tea behind those trees. You will not wish to view this daeva up close. And whatever you do, do not look into its eyes.”
I tugged at Fox’s sleeve without waiting for him to obey. As Fox led me away, she sketched out a strange rune in the air with her cut finger. The blood trailed after her movements; rather than drip onto the ground, it remained suspended, painting the symbol she drew red and pulsing, as if it had a life of its own.
The wind crackled around me, and I felt the small clearing charge with unseen energy, enough to make my hair stand on end. I understood how the asha could have sensed me when I had raised Fox; this must be what it felt like to be struck by lightning but without the pain. I felt the magic gather around the rune before dipping into the mound, and I felt it burrow deep into the hill’s center.
But this was different. When I raised Fox, it had felt right. Here, hovering on the edges of Lady Mykaela’s magic, my mind brushed against something foul and putrid to my senses—a stench of thought rather than of smell.
The bezoar blazed up and crumbled abruptly into dust, until no trace of it remained.
The creature burst through the mound, roaring in rage. It was a hideous beast, a hodgepodge of animal parts sewn together to form one body. It was the size of a large bull, fat and corpulent, and its head a cross between a badger and a lion, with the latter’s mane. Its legs were as long and as limber as a stag’s, and its hooves were cloven. It turned toward us, froth dripping from jaws that widened to fold its face nearly against its ears. It bore no gums, only teeth that took up the width of its mouth, sharp and ridged. Any allure it might have possessed was in its eyes, which resembled silver gemstones striped with red.
It howled, and the sound was terrifyingly human.
I remembered the asha’s warning too late. Perhaps it had sensed that I was the weakest of its prey, for it came stumbling out of its grave with its eyes already trained on me, and I froze.
It crooned. There was something hideously seductive about its ruby-like gaze on mine, and as much as I wanted to run away, I remained rooted to the spot, unable to move.
The beast bounded toward me, but Fox stepped forward, placing himself between us. His sword was leveled at its body. Unfazed, the beast snarled and leaped forward until it was almost on top of him.
“That is enough!” I felt Lady Mykaela release the energy she had been holding at bay around the rune, directing it toward the creature. The spell wove itself around the daeva, stretching tight like a rope to bind the daeva where it stood. The thing stumbled, its ugly snout inches away from Fox’s face. Its roar was cut short, and for several moments, it wavered. Fox did not back away and stared stonily back.
Its jaws closed. The creature took a hesitant step backward.
“Kneel,” Lady Mykaela commanded, her voice soft.
The monster dropped to its haunches. It bowed its head.
“Let her go.”
I sank down to the ground, shuddering, able to move again.