Lady Smoke (Ash Princess Trilogy #2)(129)

“You want to know if you’re a match for her, but you already know the answer to that,” she says. “You are a pot half full, and she is close to brimming.”

I swallow down my disappointment. It’s nothing I didn’t already suspect, but it hurts to hear all the same.

“All those people, they’re treating me like a Phiren who rose from the ashes,” I say, my voice trembling. “Like I’m the hero they’ve been waiting for. And I’m not. I can’t protect them from her, from any of the Kalovaxians.”

Mina’s jaw hardens. “You survived a stand against the Kalovaxians—few can say the same. You’ve protected us this far; who’s to say you need a gift to keep doing it?”

I smile and thank her, but deep inside, I think we both know she’s wrong.

We survived this fight because of luck and little more. Next time, we might not.





THE KALOVAXIANS ALWAYS SPOKE OF battlefields with more reverence than they spoke of their temples. There was even a popular court ballad about one, with its “grass streaked red with the blood of enemies,” that made a battlefield sound beautiful in its own, violent way.

Walking around the Fire Mine and the ruins of the temple that once stood here when I was a child, I know there is nothing beautiful about a battlefield. Erik and my Shadows are quiet as well, though I’m grateful for their presence. The last thing I want is to be alone right now. My strength is returning, slowly but surely, and I relish every moment I get to spend out of bed.

Like that Kalovaxian ballad, the grass is more red than green now, but the ballad didn’t mention that most of it would be covered by bodies, or parts of them, and that it would be impossible to tell which parts belonged to which side. The ballad didn’t mention the smell of decaying flesh that would hang in the air, making it putrid and nauseating. The ballad didn’t mention that enemy or friend, they would all be mourned by real people.

“A pyre,” Erik says from beside me, breaking the silence. “It’s the typical burial for Kalovaxian warriors.”

“For Astreans, too,” I say, surprised that two cultures as different as ours could have anything in common. “And the others?”

He hesitates before shaking his head. “Gorakians are buried, but the rest—”

From my other side, Artemisia speaks. “Yoxians are buried,” she says. “Brakkans as well. Vecturian custom says that their warriors should be put to sea in flaming boats.”

“We can’t do that,” I say, my stomach clenching. “We need all the boats we have.”

Artemisia nods in agreement. “I don’t know the customs of the others, but there are enough living that we can figure it out.”

“There are so many,” Heron says, looking around. Apart from the small section where our camp is set up, bodies stretch around us as far as I can see. Hundreds, or maybe thousands. I don’t know how we’ll be able to sort out which body belonged to which country.

I swallow. “They’ll come back, and when they do…” I trail off, unable to put it into words.

“We’ll be ready,” Erik says. “This was a victory for us and that means more than just that we survived it. We stood against the Kalovaxians. We are no longer a poor investment. We can ask for help from other countries, and this time we might actually get enough.”

“Might,” I repeat.

“The gods blessed you, Theo,” Heron says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “And in doing so, they blessed all of us. They’re on our side.”

I tear my gaze away from him. Even Heron doesn’t know how long I’ve had this gift, how long I’ve kept it secret from him, how weak it is now that it’s been dragged to the surface. Like most, he believes it was a reward for my sacrifice. It’s a pretty story, but it’s not who I am. I glance between Heron and Artemisia. “How does it feel for you? Being blessed?”

They exchange a look, but it’s Art who speaks first. “It feels like a cold drink of water in suffocating heat,” she says.

“It feels…full,” Heron adds. “Like I’m at peace with everything around me.”

My stomach sours. “It doesn’t feel like that for me,” I tell them, my voice quiet. “I don’t feel relieved or at peace. Ever since it happened, I just feel…empty.”

My thoughts turn to Cress with her charcoal eyes and flaming touch. “Our hearts are sisters,” she said to me in my nightmare. “Shall we see if they match?”

Maybe they do, underneath everything. Maybe we are both abominations, but I don’t want that to be the case. I would rather be powerless than be this, and that is the difference between us.

“I was born with this in my blood,” I say, my voice shaking. “I had it forced on me. But I never chose it, not like both of you did.” I look at Blaise. “You didn’t choose it either,” I say. “It forced its way into you, like a different sort of poison.”

Blaise holds my gaze, and though he doesn’t agree, he doesn’t protest either.

“The power owns me, but I don’t own it,” I say, and my voice doesn’t shake anymore. Suddenly, it is sure, because I am sure.

We walk a bit more until we come to the entrance of the Fire Mine, which has been evacuated and roped off—as if anyone would choose to go in there on their own.