Inkmistress (Of Fire and Stars 0.5)(58)

This time I couldn’t talk myself out of the feelings of warmth that pooled inside me.

“You’re sometimes awfully moral for a thief,” I said, and returned the squeeze. He grinned at my jab, then stood up and helped me to my feet.

I scanned the sky until I found the constellation of the huntress, following her lines to the tip of her arrow, bright in the northernmost part of the sky.

After a long pause, I said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

I thought about all the things I was grateful to him for—helping me out of Nismae’s grasp, trying to protect me, and most of all, not standing in my way when I needed to stand up for myself. He hadn’t been perfect, but he had always done his best, and done it honestly. I could forgive him for standing down when Nismae had attacked me. What other choice had he had? Forgiveness was the only thing that would keep me from leaning into the darkness and letting it become part of me. I didn’t want to be like Ina, consumed by grief expressed as rage. I didn’t even want her in my life anymore, not the way she was now. I wanted to continue to be a healer, not a fighter.

“For doing the right thing,” I finally said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t find you sooner. She’ll come after us, you know.” His voice was gentle, but sure.

“I know.” If Nismae and Ina considered my blood part of what they needed for overthrowing the king, they would not stop hunting me until they got it.

Perhaps the shadow god truly was the only one who could help me now. I shook off a shiver and started walking toward the huntress’s star.





CHAPTER 22


WE TRAVELED NORTHWEST, CUTTING OUR OWN PATH across the wild land, with spring keeping us company. Rainstorms brought forth more flowers until orange, pink, and blue blossoms dusted the rolling hills. Though Hal Farheard no signs of Nismae, with her at our backs the road wasn’t an option until we were well clear of Orzai. I got used to being cold and to sleeping curled up against Hal for warmth while he kept watch. Some part of me was never able to stop looking for Ina, for flashes of light peeking out from the shadows. During the days we mostly walked in silence, Hal with an ear tipped behind us, and me always scanning the horizon for white wings.

A few nights after our escape, I sat stirring the meager coals of our fire, not quite ready to go to sleep.

“It’s quiet out there,” Hal said, almost as if he could hear my thoughts.

“I know.” But the truth was that silence didn’t offer me any comfort either. What if the quiet came from Ina stalking us through the woods, frightening away the wildlife? The pit of dread in my stomach deepened the longer I thought of it. If we saw her, we’d have to run. And while I was afraid of her returning me to Nismae, I was also angry—and that frightened me more. She had the right to be upset with me for what I’d done, but she hadn’t needed to hurt me at every turn after that. Part of me wanted to strike back, too.

“It makes me feel like Ina could be nearby when it’s quiet like this,” I said.

“Has she always been . . . so ruthless?” Hal asked, adding a few more small sticks to the fire.

I pondered his question. Ina’s desire to be elder of Amalska had started long before she met me. She’d always wanted more for her village and herself but never had the means—until she took the dragon as her manifest.

“I suppose she’s always been ambitious,” I said. I touched the bandage on my wrist where her courting bracelet had once pressed comfortingly on my skin. Thanks to her revealing my gift to Nismae, my hand would never work the same way again.

“Is her ambition why you love her so much?” he asked, his voice soft, the low flicker of firelight reflected in his eyes.

I might have thought the question rude if not for the innocent way he asked it, like the notion of love itself was an utter mystery to him. Ina’s ambition was part of her, but certainly not what accounted for the way she used to make me feel. Every moment with her had been charged with desire. Close had never been close enough. She made me feel light and alive. Colors were brighter, food tasted better, and the world was full of possibility with her beside me.

Now, the memories were bittersweet, tainted by the darkness of all that had come after.

I had been a fool.

“I don’t love her anymore,” I told him. And while I hadn’t known it until I spoke the words, they were as true and firm as the earth beneath our feet. I could never go back to that kind of innocent devotion.

Hal scratched at the dirt with a stick, taking a few moments before asking his next question. “Do you think you’ll ever feel that way about anyone again?”

“I don’t know.” I wanted to love again, but never wanted to be so in thrall to someone that I couldn’t see them clearly. I never wanted to be so close to a person that I couldn’t hold on to my convictions when they were near. That was what Ina had done—obliterated any ability I had to think, to feel in anything other than extremes, robbing me of the wisdom to use my magic only for the greater good and fear the consequences of doing otherwise. So here we were.

“I hope I might,” he said so quietly I wasn’t sure I’d heard him properly.

Our eyes met and locked for a moment, heavy with all we’d suffered together. Part of me wanted to believe the spark that had jumped between us when we first touched had meant something. More of me wanted to be careful not to feel too much.