“Councilor Ludvig,” Khalad said, “I’d like to ask you more about your friend’s sleeping illness…”
Kalen was the first one out of the room, and I hurried after him, blocked his path. “Kalen! I didn’t have a chance to—”
“Then don’t.”
“Kalen, please. I want to apologize. I know I had no right to compel you, but I had no choice—”
“No choice? No choice? You compelled me against my will, but now you’re telling me you had no choice? And now you ally yourself with the azi? The daeva that had killed many of my friends?”
“I—I—”
I had no good answer to that. Kalen strode away, and I closed my eyes, desperately willing away tears.
There was a small cough from behind me before Althy spoke up. “Polaire is awake, Tea, and asking for you.”
I took a deep breath, trying not to show how much his anger affected me, surprised by the strength of my upset. “All right.”
? ? ?
One would have thought it was Polaire who had lost her heartsglass, that it was Polaire withering away all these years. The asha’s cheekbones were jagged peaks stretched across a barren landscape of skin; her eyes like faded twin moons. Mykaela slept on the bed beside hers, an unnatural glow about her serene face, and her heartsglass pulsed softly in tandem with the brunette’s.
“About time they brought you here.” Mykaela’s voice was the only thing familiar about her; it was subdued and weaker but still vibrant. I wanted to throw my arms around her and beg for forgiveness, but I was afraid of her frailty.
“I am sorry,” I sobbed, the tears running freely. “I should never have doubted you. I didn’t—”
Polaire shook a gaunt finger at my face. “How pathetic,” she said, coughing, “and how embarrassing. Little things have never tired me before. You have a poor understanding of your priorities, but I was young once and very much like you. Mykaela and I are fine, despite how we look. Our unwanted distance from Odalia has given us a heavier load to bear, but we will survive this.” Her eyes drooped. “The empress told me you are going to Daanoris to find the Heartforger.”
“I’ll find him.” I squeezed her hand. “I promise I will.”
“I know, Tea. That I never doubted.” Polaire sighed, her eyes falling shut. “I have been sharing my heartsglass with Mykaela for months now. Another month or so will make no difference. Heartshare. A Compulsion that us regular asha can use.”
“For months? Polaire, how did you know of the rune?”
“Her study,” Polaire mumbled. “Hestia.”
“Mistress Hestia?”
But Polaire was already asleep, her breathing steady.
? ? ?
The oracle’s temple looked the same as when I had last left it: the same winding halls and confusing corridors, the same fiery pit burning at the center of its only room. The oracle herself was unchanged. Despite the heavy incense, she wore a thick veil to obscure her face. Asha are expected to meet her only thrice during their lifetime: before they are accepted into an asha-ka, when they become an apprentice, and again when they become a full asha. I have visited her twice more after that. She had predicted my bond with the azi and Aenah’s imprisonment. Now I return a third time, seeking more.
Without waiting, I threw one of my zivars into the fire, watched the shiny opal gleam for a moment before disappearing into the flames.
“Did you know this would happen?” I demanded. “Did you know the prince would take sick?”
“As it was written,” the oracle whispered, a chorus of voices accompanying the sound.
“Will he get better? Will Mykaela and Polaire get better?”
“With death shall come enlightenment. It is not Kance who you shall weep over, broken and bleeding. You shall weep once for regret and another for family, one more for mercy and two for love. You must tread on a path of dead, asha. Only then will you find your shadowglass.”
“What deaths?” I cried, but it was useless. The oracle turned away and said nothing more.
Standing outside the temple much later, I made a fateful decision. I scried and reached out—but not to Fox. I followed the spiral of thoughts leading toward the asha-ka and into House Imperial. The mind I entered was a rigid maze, full of right angles and narrow lines. I felt suffocated, undercurrents of thought pushing me in directions I did not want to go. At least with the azi, in its swamp-like mind, I could choose my own paths.
I swam against the tide, struggling, until I found the memory I feared I would find: carefully locked away in a hidden drawer of the mistress’s study was a familiar book of bound leather, the embossed upside-down crown stamped on its cover. But Mistress Hestia’s mind reared up, alarmed, and the image disappeared.
“Do not let Empress Alyx’s submission deceive you. She is wiser than many of the other elder asha.” The bone witch continued to linger by the flowers, inspecting each bud. “Did you notice Mistress Parmina’s hua?”
“I wasn’t sure she could fit through the door, milady.”
“The larger and more flamboyant the hua, the more she liked it. She wasn’t fond of flowers, and yellow carnations are typically worn among the younger asha. It suggests youth not usually attributed to someone of Parmina’s age.”
“Perhaps she didn’t think about the implications.”
“No. Parmina had always been vain about her appearance, always quick to follow the conventions of dress. She is craftier than the elders who rule the association at least.”
“It will take some time before they can muster any attack,” Lord Kalen said, watching the women and their guards ride out of the city from the window. “In the meantime, you need practice. How long has it been since you’ve used your sword?”
The asha had not backed down when up against an empress, an elder asha, and her former mistress. But under Lord Kalen’s raised eyebrow, she wilted. “Several weeks maybe.”
“Tea.”
She raised her hands. “I mourned you for months, and the only thing you single out is that my sword skills are rusty?”
“Are they? Did you seriously think I was going to change because I died?”
She glared at him, and he glared back. She surrendered. “I suppose not.”
Without warning, Lord Kalen pulled her close to him and kissed her hard.
She whimpered softly.
“Get your sword.”
It was a dance of blades. Her fierceness met his skill, matching him stroke for stroke. The bone witch worked hard for every parry and blow, but the Deathseeker’s shoulders were relaxed, deftly avoiding the brunt of her attacks but taking his time to counter.
Finally, the asha’s blade snapped against his shin. They stopped; the girl was breathing hard, and the boy not at all.
“You let me win!” she finally growled, but the frown never quite reached her burning eyes, bright from more than just the fight.
“I always let you win.” He sidestepped her fury, caught her mouth in his again. She resisted at first, still in protest, but gave up soon enough, leaning into his taller frame. Red-faced, I turned to watch Khalad at work instead. The Heartforger’s eyes were on the clay before him, but he was grinning. “Get a room, you two.”
“A good idea.” The Deathseeker lifted the asha in his arms and carried her across the hall, her halfhearted, half-laughing protests carrying through the corridors, the first genuine sounds of mirth since we had arrived.
15
I had no delusions that Kalen would resume his sword practice sessions with me after everything that happened, so I took the initiative. The revelations my scrying uncovered had kept me awake the night before, and I was haunted by their implications. If Aenah spoke the truth about Hestia, then was she right about others? Did the elder asha hide Mykaela’s heartsglass and not Vanor?
I chased those thoughts until morning and found, despite my lack of sleep, I had excess energy that needed spending.
I knew Kalen trained at dawn. The look on his face when he found me waiting at the courtyard, my practice sword at the ready, would have been funny in any other circumstance.