The Shadowglass (The Bone Witch #3)(29)

“I don’t want it!”

“There are worse things than black heartsglass, Tea. Silver is just as capable of hate.” She leaned closer then, dead lips against my ear. “Trust your enemies little,” it whispered, “and trust your friends even less.”

I came awake, sweating profusely despite the mild breeze coming in through the half-open window. It was dawn, and the space beside me was empty of Kalen. I twisted and saw him putting on his Deathseekers’ armor.

“Kalen?”

He glanced at me and tried to smile, but his face was grim. “I was hoping to let you rest longer,” he said.

“What do you mean? What happened?”

“There was another suspected Blight attack. This time, it happened in Knightscross.”





“Lady Altaecia was in error,” Lord Garindor told me. “Black heartsglass is not proof of darkrot.”

We stood in the room that once belonged to the bone witch, and it struck me how ordinary it was. The closet was heavy with hua of different kingdom styles and colors, and the dresser overflowed with an alarming assortment of cosmetics and perfumes. Books filled the shelves of one wall, and other paraphernalia lay neatly stacked in piles at one corner: silk handkerchiefs with Arhen-Kosho motifs, jade from Daanoris fashioned into plain rings, even an ancient gor-fa knife from Drycht—no doubt presents collected from clients she entertained at the cha-khana. A black armband, similar to what most Deathseekers wore, lay carefully folded on her nightstand. It was a room befitting a teenage asha, untouched at Mistress Parmina’s orders.

“The darkrot is a subversive magic,” my kinsman continued. He had, quite unfortunately, volunteered to accompany me, but now idled in the doorway, uncomfortable at stepping into the room of a woman not in his family, even after all his time in Istera. “That subversive magic corrupts Dark asha with no outward sign of its taint. History shows that most Dark asha bore no black heartsglass when they succumbed to it.”

“Black heartsglass,” I said, “is more in keeping with the Faceless.”

“That is true. But that is not a sign of darkrot either. If you remember, from Tea’s own telling, Hollow Knife had to achieve the black before he could create shadowglass, as they call it. Many associate this with evil, for most Faceless bear that stigma. But black heartsglass only means that a practitioner of the Dark has survived some traumatic experience, often the death of a loved one.

He recounted, “And upon taking his brother’s heartsglass, still stained with his lover’s blood, did Hollow Knife turn to slaughter the seven creatures of Blade that Soars. That was part of the original legend. Stained with his lover’s blood—even gods, I assume, suffer trauma. It’s why I believe Dancing Wind died. Whether her death was by design or by accident, that is the true question.”

“I can see how that might have made her eligible,” I murmured. “But the Dark asha’s letters also talk of needing to present herself to a mountain to be judged worthy.”

“I confess I know little about that.” Lord Garindor sidled as close to me as he dared. “Incidentally, old runic magic and legends are not my only métier. I am a historian first and foremost, and have devoted my life to researching and compiling the genealogies and bloodlines that shape Drychta royalty, from the early days of Mithra and Rashnu down to Aadil. The mad king is an unusual study. He was not the direct successor to the crown—he usurped the rightful ruler, Adhitaya, and slew all his known family. I wager the people would prefer King Adhitaya to the warlord ruling in his place.”

“Maybe so.”

“Drycht has a long history of pain. Adhitaya was not as cruel as Aadil, but people often think the olden days are better than the ones they have to live through. Drycht nobility has always had a cruel streak. I remember how Princess Esther of House Ordith tried to elope with a struggling craftsman, how both were put to death for their efforts. How a poor boy accidentally stumbled in Adhitaya’s presence, his legs cut off for his impertinence. How the noble House of Hazirat massacred the Parenka district because their farmers asked for more rice. But sometimes—sometimes—some rare few are capable of benevolence. Adhitaya’s son, the young Omid, was said to have been a kind man, unlike his father. King Walid ushered in fifty years of peace. Queen Thana often opened her coffers to the poor.”

I closed my eyes, struggling against tears. Lord Garindor was too observant for my taste. “I am not interested in the past of a kingdom that rejected me, milord.”

“Sometimes the past is all we know.” He paused. “Milord.”

A commotion rose outside. I dashed to the window and so did my kinsman, briefly forgetting his Drychta decorum.

A circle of elder asha gathered outside the Valerian, facing a small group of soldiers. At the latter’s helm was a beautiful woman clad in royal red. Her face resembled Inessa’s, though the princess stood on the woman’s left. Lord Fox emerged from inside the asha-ka, Lady Altaecia and Councilor Ludvig beside him.

“She killed Hestia!” one of the asha sputtered. “And still you protect her! Still you defend her!”

“I defend no one but my family.” Empress Alyx was cold ice and hot passion all at once. “It is because of Hestia that Ankyo lies in ruins. Did you think I would not suspect? I know that Hestia frequently leaves Kion for her own private matters—she had done so in the weeks leading to Tea’s disappearance. What other information did you all keep from me, the sovereign you have sworn to defend and obey? The secrets you hide from us have long outlived Hestia, and it is time they be cast out into the sunshine for all to see. How long have you known about the Blight rune?”