Death Marked (Death Sworn #2)(26)

“That,” Lis spat, “was quite the mess you left.”

Cyn’s exuberance sharpened into an edged smile. “I hope it wasn’t too much trouble. If you’re feeling faint, perhaps you should lie down.”

Lis aimed a crude spell at the pink globe. It popped and vanished. “If you’re feeling proud of what you did, perhaps you should jump off the edge of the mountain.”

Cyn patted her sister on the cheek, making Lis pull back with a hiss. Cyn glanced at Ileni. “Ignore her. Lis is always in a bad mood when she comes back from a battlefield.”

“Battlefield?” Now Ileni noticed that Lis, too, was wearing a black tunic with a red stripe across its front.

“Just a minor skirmish in the mountains,” Cyn said. “One of the battle commanders asked for my help just before dawn. It took less than an hour. Bracing start to the morning, in fact.”

She was talking to Ileni, but her words were clearly aimed at her sister. Lis’s lips whitened.

“In the mountains?” Ileni’s heart thumped sickeningly. “Against the Renegai?”

Cyn gave her a blank, confused look. Ileni swallowed. No, of course not. But if not the Renegai . . . “Against the assassins?”

Lis’s head snapped up. Cyn laughed. “There’s no such thing as a minor skirmish against the assassins.”

“You’re thinking of the wrong mountains,” Lis cut in. “This battle was in the south. Today we brought the might of the Empire—”

“Meaning me.” Cyn curtsied.

“—against some fishermen with swords. My sister really outdid herself. It was very brave.”

“These things flare up from time to time,” Cyn explained to Ileni. “Something sets off a segment of the local populace, and they try to start a rebellion. It’s kindest to crush it as soon as possible, before too many people get involved. This time it was about some imperial soldier taking a piss in a holy lake.”

“And Cyn was so terribly kind,” Lis said.

Cyn’s hands flexed. For a moment, Ileni was afraid for Lis.

“So many dead,” Lis went on. “And so creatively dead, too. You must have really enjoyed yourself.”

“Would you rather it be our own soldiers who died?” Cyn snapped. “Or that we let the Empire fall to pieces?”

“Wouldn’t you rather it was our soldiers?” Lis said, poisonous and sweet. “For the good of the Empire. Think how many lodestones would be in the training arena now.”

What did that mean? But Ileni didn’t dare ask a question; she barely dared breathe.

“That part,” Cyn snarled, “is not on my conscience.” Lis flinched, and Cyn laughed, low and vicious. “What, do you see yourself as innocent?”

“No,” Lis said. Her face was twisted so savagely it no longer resembled her sister’s. “None of us are innocent. It’s just that some of us know it, and some of us don’t. Tell Ileni why we always rush into battle so fast. Is it because we’re kind?”

“Shut up, Lis,” Cyn said.

“The real reason,” Lis said, “is because we win either way. Tell her, Cyn.”

“We fight because we have to,” Cyn snapped. “I’m not happy about the rebels’ deaths. I just prefer them to our deaths. Terribly selfish of me, I know. Lis, if you’re not going to be useful, why don’t you go sleep your mood off?”

“I’m sure it would be that easy,” Lis said, “for you. You’re so good at not thinking about things that might make you uncomfortable.”

“One of the advantages,” Cyn said, “of having things that are actually important to think about.”

Lis slapped her sister across the face.

Cyn stepped back, her cheek mottled red. She spat out a series of vicious spell words, then raised her hand, fist clenched, and spread her fingers. A black fog rolled from her hand, slowly, almost lazily—until it reached Lis. Then, swift as a striking snake, it shot into Lis’s nose and throat.

Lis opened her mouth to scream. Black smoke came out, but no sound.

Tiny tendrils of smoke began leaking out of her skin—slowly, slowly, through her pores, then wreathing gracefully around her body. Lis’s eyes widened, and smoke poured out of them, too. Translucent black vines wrapped around her head, twining through her hair.

“Stop it,” Ileni said. Cyn was smiling, a tight, vengeful smile. Ileni darted forward and grabbed Cyn’s hand. “Stop it!”

Cyn tried to slap her away, but Ileni had learned enough in the Assassins’ Caves to outfight one distracted sorceress. She blocked the blow and yanked Cyn sideways. Cyn swore, then turned the curse into a snarled phrase that ended the spell.

Lis collapsed on the plateau. She lay huddled for a moment on the ground, a series of tremors rippling up and down her body. Then she pressed her forehead to the ground and vanished, leaving a small damp patch of tears on the gray stone.

Ileni let go of Cyn’s arm, shaking all over. Disappointment clogged her throat—but why? Because Cyn had been friendly? Because they’d been having fun? Cyn was an imperial sorceress, with everything that implied. Trained in pain, thriving on conflict.

What was wrong with her, that she could so easily forget what people truly were? First Sorin, now Cyn.