Inkmistress (Of Fire and Stars 0.5)(77)
She snapped her tail in irritation.
I sat down and pulled up some long strands of grass to braid and waited for her to give in. Ina was not the patient sort. I could outlast her by days.
Finally, she shrank in on herself, more slowly than usual, until she stood over me. She still wore white as she had in Orzai, the luminous cloak a sharp contrast to my own mantle of shadows. Her white hooded robe hung from her shoulders, her white dress girded with silver rope beneath her breasts. Below that, her belly was large and round. Though I had expected it, the reminder was still a blow.
“What do you want to talk about? Nismae already told you everything.”
I stood up. “It looks like the baby will be coming any day.”
“One hopes. It’s much more comfortable to stay in dragon form right now.” She gestured at her belly with irritation.
“You won’t have that option when the time comes.” I said, wondering what they planned to do when she went into labor. I doubted many of the Nightswifts had given birth. It wouldn’t be convenient in their line of work.
“Don’t remind me.” She sighed. “Nismae is always by my side, but the Swifts’ most experienced medic is so timid.”
“You’re afraid,” I said. She was trying to be flippant, but I could see the truth in her eyes. Taking on the king didn’t frighten her, but giving birth did. She wanted someone with confidence and experience to be there when the time came—someone like me.
She didn’t respond to my statement. She’d never admit weakness.
“Tell me the point of defeating the king if there is no kingdom left to rule over?” I asked.
“We’ll save the kingdom from that fate. Nismae has studied magic for long enough that she’ll find a way. Right now we have to stay focused on our goal—it’s time for change,” she said. “Perhaps the gods will see what we’re trying to do for the kingdom. We want Zumorda to prosper, so our people don’t have to live in fear of bandits or excessive taxation. Surely the gods will see our side.”
“But you don’t have a plan. You don’t have a way! And in the meantime, the people will suffer. The demigods will suffer. The landscape of our kingdom will be changed forever.”
Ina scowled. “I thought you would see that our cause is better for the people.” She paused. “And I thought you cared about me.” She looked at me with an imploring expression I now recognized for what it was—manipulation.
“I didn’t just care about you. I loved you more than reason,” I said.
I’d loved her more than anything, even myself.
That had been my first mistake.
“Then come with me. Do what’s right.” Her voice had the same seductive lilt she’d used on me a thousand times before. But she wasn’t Hal—she didn’t have the power of compulsion. And now that I could see her clearly, I wasn’t going anywhere with her.
“I can’t put my faith in someone who betrayed me. This time, I choose reason. Not love.” I would never choose love again. I spared Hal a guilty glance, trying to tamp down the warm feeling that welled up when I looked at him.
“I still would have put my faith in you,” she said with a little half smile. “You would never hurt anyone on purpose, Asra, and that is both your strength and your weakness.”
Before I could answer, she changed form and launched herself into the sky. As the dragon passed over the trees, Nismae rose as an eagle to join her.
CHAPTER 29
IN THE DAYS AFTER I REFUSED INA AND NISMAE’S offer, my anxiety continued to grow. Now that I knew they were already in Corovja waiting for the right time to strike, it was that much more important to win over the king so he could ask the shadow god about Atheon. I had to find the Fatestone.
I spent most of my time in the following days with Eywin, working on blood enchantments meant to empower and protect the king. I threw myself into the work, knowing that every successful enchantment meant impressing the king enough to get him to speak to the shadow god. Soon my fingers were nicked all over, making me almost grateful that I wasn’t able to use my left hand for much anyway. Still, I fought the scarred tendons in my arm, attempting every day to make a fist, and every day failing.
Hal was my only source of levity: Hal who winked at me across Eywin’s workshop, Hal who often got himself thrown out after distracting me one too many times. When our experiments failed or became frustrating, he sometimes gave silly voices to objects in the workshop and acted out scenes. The forbidden love story he’d conjured up that involved a preserved baby bat in a jar that sat high on a shelf above the door and the lemon balm plant that lived on one of the windowsills was a particular source of amusement. Hal and I didn’t tell Eywin what was going on between us romantically, but we weren’t exactly subtle. Sometimes Eywin looked back and forth between us and smiled, shaking his head. He had to know.
With Eywin’s help I was quickly able to reconstruct most of the notes I had lost to Nismae with my satchel. Combining those with his research meant soon I was doing more powerful enchantments than I had ever mastered with Miriel. A twinge of fear came with the rush of every discovery—I hoped none of the enchantments would be used to harm the innocent. With a smudge of my blood I could now lend the ability to shield, draw magic from other living things, or, most terrifyingly, tear someone apart as I had Leozoar. I even figured out how to replicate the enchantment Nismae had cast to make herself and Ina invisible to my Sight when they’d ambushed us in the meadow.