Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(105)

Her voice is sharp, but for the first time, Art doesn’t flinch away from it. Instead, she stands up a little straighter. “The Water Mine destroyed me, you know, and it built me up again from nothing. King Etristo doesn’t deserve a single stone from its depths. Some things are worth fighting for even when the fight seems hopeless. Even if I’m not worth it to you, I would hope Astrea would be.”

Dragonsbane doesn’t answer her. Instead, she looks at me.

“I don’t want your crown, Theo. It would bury me,” she says, her voice quiet. “I have always done what I believe is best for Astrea, but that does not include storming into a battle we aren’t ready for. I’ll get you your ships, but then we part ways.”

There is nothing left to say, so I only nod and turn away from Dragonsbane. Artemisia and I leave without another word, hearing the door close firmly behind us. We only get halfway down the hall before Art grabs my wrist and forces my clenched fist open. In the candlelit hallway, we both look at the red skin of my palm.

I want to pull it away, to hide it from view, but that wouldn’t do any good. Art knows—she must have suspected even before. I swallow.

“It’s been happening for a while,” I tell her quietly. “Little things at first. Flickering flames would match my heartbeat, Fire Gems would call to me. But it’s getting stronger. It seems to happen when I’m angry.” I don’t tell her about the worst incident, the one that happened after my nightmare about Cress.

Artemisia doesn’t reply at first. She reaches out to touch the skin but immediately pulls back with a hiss. “It’s hot,” she tells me.

“I don’t feel it,” I admit. Though I’ve been dreading this moment, it feels good to tell someone. I’m glad that it’s Art, which surprises me.

She touches my palm again, but this time her touch is cool. It feels like dipping my hand into a pool of cold water, and the feeling spreads through the rest of me. The heat in my veins abates. “Does anyone else know?” she asks.

“No,” I say, the word coming out in a whisper. “I don’t want them to.”

For a moment, I expect her to argue, but instead she simply sighs. “Can you still get S?ren out?” she asks.

I nod. “I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” she says, the word crisp. “One problem at a time.”





S?REN IS IN HIS USUAL position, slouched against the wall. He looks up when he sees me, the dark shadows beneath his eyes a stark contrast against his pale skin. Even in the warmth of the candlelight, his pallor is sallow. He hasn’t left this cell in days now, and whatever he’s eating isn’t nourishing him.

When it comes time for a fight, he won’t be in peak form. I’m only glad that S?ren on a bad day is still a better warrior than most on their best days. I hope it will be enough.

Tizoli leaves us to return to his post, giving us privacy.

“You look deadly, Theo,” S?ren tells me, his voice quiet. “Is there a reason you’re so much later tonight than you usually are?”

“There were some…complications,” I say carefully.

S?ren must hear something in my voice, because with a labored exhale, he pulls himself to his feet. I shrug off my cloak and pull the sword out from its place strapped to my back. The cragged wrought-iron Kalovaxian blade isn’t as ornate as Astrean blades, especially with the Spiritgems pried from the hilt. I remember S?ren prying the first one out to give to the Guardians we met in the Astrean prison, but someone on Dragonsbane’s crew must have taken out the rest after he was disarmed.

When he sees it, S?ren breaks into a grin. “Sturdax,” he says, reaching through the bars for it. “I thought it was lost after we left Astrea.”

I pass it to him, unable to hide my amusement though I know this isn’t the time or place for it. “Dragonsbane had it but Artemisia got it back for you,” I explain. “You…named your sword?”

He barely glances at me; all his attention is on his blade, which he swishes through the air a few times experimentally. He looks at the blade so tenderly I half expect him to kiss it.

“He feels different without the stones,” he says thoughtfully before registering my question. “And of course I named him. We’ve been through a lot together over the years—I like Sturdax more than most of my friends. I might like Sturdax more than I like you.”

“I hope that’s not true, since I’m about to ask an awful lot of you,” I say.

S?ren tears his gaze away from his sword and looks at me, jaw set.

“Where do we begin?” he asks.



* * *



—

A few moments later, I call out to Tizoli that I’m ready to leave. When he comes down the hallway with his ring of keys already out, I have a moment of doubt. Of everything I’ve done tonight or will do, this might be the only part I actually regret. Because Tizoli is by far the kindest Sta’Criveran I’ve met.

I still jump on him as soon as he turns his back to me. I still wrap my arms around his neck the way Heron taught me to, squeezing with all my might. I still kick the keys out of his hand and into S?ren’s cell.

I just feel a bit bad about it when Tizoli finally sinks to his knees and his eyes finally flutter closed. I hold on to him until S?ren unlocks his cell and comes toward us with his sword drawn and ready. Finally, I let go of Tizoli and climb off him, watching as S?ren prods him as gently as he can in the shoulder with the point of his sword. Tizoli doesn’t move, but his chest rises and falls.