A woman stared down at them. Elegant, authoritative. Cold. She was dressed in a long blue dress, her hair yellow, framing a square, plain face. She could only be a few years older than Thalia herself, but her face looked terribly weary, as though she had worn and wept herself older than she was. There was anger there, too. Deep, real anger. Hatred. Grief. A keen, bitter joy.
‘Prince Ruin,’ the woman said brightly. ‘Surround them. Swords.’ Five dark-coloured horses formed a circle, the men mounted on them drawing out long blades. Tobias sat on the roan horse watching it all. He might even look sad.
Caught. Thalia slumped on her feet.
‘Landra?’ Marith was gazing at the woman, blinking heavily, swaying on his feet. ‘You were … you were in that city … the one … the one I was just in … or … Are we back home? This isn’t home, though …’ He rubbed his eyes. Giggled at her. ‘What are you doing here? You were in that city … that city … We’re not at home, are we? I saw you in that city. But we’re not in that city … not any more …’ He trailed off pathetically, still rubbing at his face. ‘You were in … that city …’
The woman snorted. ‘Gods, you’re disgusting. Tie him up. And the woman.’
One of the men moved to dismount, grinning. There was a shout from Tobias: ‘No! Not the girl! You said you’d let her go!’
‘I have five men at my back,’ Landra said smoothly. ‘I’ll pay you for them both, don’t worry.’
‘You said you’d let her go!’ Tobias shouted again. His hand was on the hilt of his sword. Thalia raised the sword she was holding, her hands trembling. She heard Marith laugh, very far off. The horses nickered and stamped, twisting backwards away from her.
‘I’ve already killed Rate,’ Thalia said, trying to make her voice firm.
‘Oh gods.’ The woman Landra let out a peal of laughter. ‘Let’s all just kill each other, shall we? Put down the sword, girl.’
‘I’ll kill you,’ Thalia cried out desperately.
‘Put it down, Thalia, girl,’ Tobias said with a sigh. ‘Five men on horseback. They’d cut you both to pieces before you could move. And I wouldn’t help you. Not for him.’
Marith stumbled next to her, staring confusedly from one blade to another, trying to make sense of anything.
Tobias was right. No point. No point at all.
Thalia dropped the sword at the woman’s feet. A man stepped forward and bound her arms, then swung her up onto one of the horses. Thalia watched blankly as they did the same with Marith, draping him across the saddle like a sack. His head lolled horribly.
‘When he’s sober enough to walk,’ Landra said coldly, ‘he can be led behind.’ She spurred her horse and the men followed her, riding fast across the flat ground, hooves drumming up the dust. Tobias watched them go. Cold, hard-faced.
She’d killed Rate. For this.
Chapter Forty-Four
We ride through into Reneneth. No one looks at us, even at the two of us bound as prisoners, Marith staggering behind Landra’s horse. The streets are filthy and full of rubbish. The air smells of rubbish. A hateful place. Sad and cold. We are taken through into a courtyard that smells of sewage. Taken upstairs to a room that smells the same. He lies on the floor unconscious. Moaning and itching at his face.
I am the Chosen of the Lord of Living and Dying, Great Tanis Who Rules All Things. The holiest woman in the Sekemleth Empire. The holiest woman in all Irlast. I have strength and power and the light within me. I have killed men and women and children. I have seen eyes pure with fear and hope as they look at my face. I have watched them die. I know what death means. What it is. Thus I thought I understood the world. Life and death. The desire to live. Then I ran out into the city and found it was a cruel place. That life is a cruel thing. Then he took me into the world, and showed me it could be beautiful beyond anything I had imagined. Crueller. Sadder. Richer and more alive with hope.
And now it is all taken away.
Great Tanis, Lord of All Things, help me. Please.
Why?
Why must men do these things?
Chapter Forty-Five
‘Wakey, wakey. Breakfast fit for a king. Don’t say Her Ladyship isn’t generous to you.’ A man. Holding a knife in one hand, a tray in the other. Marith sat up groggily. The smell of warm bread made his stomach roil. He bent forwards and was sick. At least his head didn’t seem to be hurting quite so much.
‘Charming,’ the man snarled at him. ‘Your woman can clean that up for you, Lord Prince. I’m bloody not.’ He slopped the tray down amusingly close to the pool of vomit. Liquid flashed over the sides of a small jug. Marith stared at it dully. Hopefully.
‘Water,’ the man said.
Thirsty. Dry mouth. Nasty taste like blood. Marith reached over and poured himself a cup of water, gulped it down with shaking hands. The door slammed shut. Creak of a lock. The room was dark again. Closed shutters. Thin veins of gold light shining on the floor. He held out his hand and one shone onto his scabs. A thin crack of sunshine. He moved his hand away. A gold crack on the floor. Dust motes. He moved his hand back.
Your woman? he thought. Looked around him.
The woman sat in the corner, watching him.
‘Thalia?’ That was her name. Yes. Thalia. She had put her hands on him once, and filled him with warmth and hope.
She came over to him slowly, only a few steps but it seemed to take forever. She looked like a long-legged bird, a crane or a heron, taking slow awkward steps in an element that was not her own. Sat down beside him, regarded him gravely in the dark. Utter shame filled him. But I had to, he thought. Don’t you see? I had to. It’s better this way. I thought it would be better for you.
‘It’s too dark,’ he said. ‘I wish … I wish I could see you more clearly. Your face.’
She laughed. The room grew darker, shapes looming, darkness pressing at his eyes. Then light flickered. A lamp, high up out of reach on a hook on the wall. Brilliant and alight.
Her face shone in the light. So it had shone once when he first met her. Once? Only so little time ago. An eternity. He stared at her.
‘You … how did you do that?’ he asked. His voice felt strange from lack of use. His words were still slurred and echoing, as though coming from somewhere deep underground.
A faint smile crossed her face. In the light she was drawn, broken, her eyes exhausted, red with pain. ‘I have some power of my own, you know.’
Marith reached towards her and she drew back from him, her eyes wide as an untamed horse. Everything so awkward between them, the room heavy with tension. Ruined. Like Carin before her. Ruined.
I feel disgusting, Marith thought. I probably look worse than I feel. We were better off in the dark.
Thalia’s face shifted as she watched him; she clapped her hands over her mouth and a wild high-pitched laugh burst out of her. She reached out and stroked his matted hair.
I’m sorry, he thought. He had a dull, confused memory of her trying to help him.
‘Marith,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ he said afterwards, looking at the lamp. ‘For the light.’ Days, he’d been in the dark. The light anchored him, like a sun. The dark is all there is, he thought. The dark is all that’s real. But the illusion of light is beautiful.
Silence. The lamplight flickering.