Death Marked (Death Sworn #2)(77)

He tried to smile, but only managed a half-curve of his mouth—more a grimace than his usual grin—before his eyes closed and she was alone.

She sat for a long time, unable to move or think. Evin’s heart beat steadily under her hand. It was the only thing she could focus on. He was alive.

She couldn’t bear to think of who might not be alive anymore. Who might be dead because of her.

But if Absalm had opened the portal, he could have defended the two of them against fire. A fire shield was relatively simple, and could easily encompass two people . . . if Absalm wanted it to. If he didn’t see it as a chance to get rid of Sorin.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, even though the one she was talking to would never hear her.

And wouldn’t have forgiven her even if he had.





CHAPTER

27

Karyn didn’t wake until morning, which gave Ileni a long, long night to think about what she had done. She spent most of it staring into the mirror—just a mirror now, a pane of reflective glass—trying to figure out who she saw staring back at her.

Traitor. Killer. Coward.

But none of those were right. What she saw in the mirror was the person she had always, until very recently, believed she was.

The girl who would change the world.

Not, as it turned out, in some distant imagined future. And not in one dramatic act. But slowly. Slowly, and laboriously, and without any certainty that she would ever succeed.

The girl in the mirror smiled at her, bright and luminous despite the tear streaks on her cheeks. The smile of someone who was no longer lost.

Finally, hours after nightfall but hours yet before dawn, she trod down the dark corridors to the room where Girad lay. Evin was there, of course, leaning over his brother’s bed. When the door opened, he straightened, his eyes bright.

Ileni’s heart stuttered in her chest, then leaped when she saw the reason for his joy. Girad’s eyes were open.

She walked over. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I need candy,” Girad said.

She laughed out loud, which offended Girad. He narrowed his eyes at her.

“Be nice,” Evin said. “She saved your life.”

Girad rolled over, turning his back to them. “Why does that mean I have to be nice?”

Evin laughed. It felt like years since she had heard him laugh. Then he gestured, and a chair near the wall slid across the rock floor and stopped next to his.

“Well,” Evin said, as she sat. His voice was rough. “This makes twice that I owe you more than I can possibly repay.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” Ileni said, and swallowed hard. She tried not to think about how powerful he was as she said, “I knew Arxis was an assassin.”

The silence stretched. She didn’t dare look at him. She kept her eyes on Girad, who appeared fast asleep, which meant he probably wasn’t.

“And you loved him anyhow?” Evin said finally.

Her stomach formed a familiar knot, but this one was jagged, pierced by its own sharp edges. “No! I mean—not him. But—” She gulped in a draught of air and finished, weakly, “It’s complicated.”

“Sounds it,” Evin said. “Perhaps you should tell me another time, when Girad isn’t listening.”

Girad let out a loud and very fake snore.

Ileni risked a glance at Evin. His brow was furrowed, but he didn’t look angry. Yet.

“You saved Girad’s life,” he said finally. Not to her so much as to himself. “You didn’t know what you were doing when you put him at risk. But you knew what you were doing when you saved him.”

It was partly true. She didn’t quite have the courage to say, I thought it was your life I was risking.

“They’re fighting the Empire,” she said instead. What did it matter if Girad heard this? He, of all people, should know the truth about this fight. “I’ve seen where imperial power comes from. The entire Academy is fueled by death. You know that, don’t you?”

It came out savage. Evin shrugged. “Of course I know. I still don’t see being conquered by the assassins as a better alternative.”

“But there’s another way.” She realized she was squeezing the armrest, and loosened her grip. “You gave me your magic, and I used it to heal you.”

“Thank you again.”

“Don’t you realize what that means?” She swiveled in her chair to face him. “It means the ill, the dying—they don’t have to give their lives to the Empire. They have another option. Once people realize this is possible, why would anyone release their power into a lodestone? When they know that same power, given to a sorcerer, could be used to heal them?”

“Ah,” Evin said neutrally.

A shiver of doubt ran through Ileni. Evin was part of the Empire, and always would be. It was the only world he knew. Perhaps she shouldn’t tell him she had planted the seed of its destruction.

But she knew, now, that doubt didn’t mean she was wrong. It just meant she had considered that she might be.

“And I,” Ileni said, “will make sure they know about it.”

Evin lowered his head slightly, eyes searching her face. “How?”

“I haven’t worked that out yet.” Ileni sat back against the hard wood of the chair. “But most basic healing isn’t difficult. Even low-level sorcerers can be taught. If there are enough healers, and if the word is spread . . .” The enormity of the undertaking—and its slowness—overwhelmed her. She remembered, suddenly, the scorn in Evin’s voice when he’d said, I have great and noble ambitions. I want to save the world.