Inkmistress (Of Fire and Stars 0.5)(80)

I never should have trusted him in the first place. Stupid, stupid Asra. Always wanting to believe the best of everyone, even Ina. The world was full of monsters, and my isolation had raised me to be blind to them.

“Go back to your sister. Go back where you belong.” I flung the words at him like weapons. I had survived almost entirely on my own for years, and there was no reason I couldn’t do it now.

“But Asra—”

“No.” I grabbed my cloak of shadows from the rack on the far side of the room. When I got the Fatestone, it would be so much easier to change the past knowing I had nothing to salvage from the present.

I wished I’d never met him.

“I’m sorry,” Hal repeated, his voice cracking.

I headed for the door. No footsteps sounded behind me, but a breeze rose to caress my cheek.

“Stop that!” I whirled around and threw a shield up to repel the wind into Hal’s surprised face. “Don’t touch me. Don’t follow me. I never want to see you again, and I will never trust another word you say.” My voice came out so cold I barely recognized it.

The world had made me a monster, too.





CHAPTER 30


ANGER MADE MY FEET SWIFT AS I FLED THE CASTLE. IF the king wouldn’t speak to the shadow god on my behalf, I would try and do it myself. I had to. The notion was completely mad, but hurt and fury obliterated my ability to think about anything else. All I knew was if I got the Fatestone and rewrote the past, I could change the moments that had led me here.

I could make the pain stop.

I fled into the gardens, hurrying toward the six turrets of the Grand Temple. They stood bright against the southern horizon, stained-glass windows reflecting the late-afternoon sun. I didn’t know how to get to the covered archway that led from the palace to the temple, but a winding set of stairs led from the back of the garden across a lower bridge to the clerics’ entrance on the side of the building. I jogged until my lungs burned, ignoring stares from others I passed who were moving through the gardens at a more dignified pace. I didn’t slow down until I reached the last long set of steps.

When I reached the doors and showed the clerics the king’s token, they invited me in. When I told them I wanted to try and speak to the gods, they walked me through a purification ritual. I was shepherded through a series of warm pools until not a speck of dirt remained on my body. The attendants adorned me in light-gray robes like those the temple clerics wore, anointed me with oil that carried the faint perfume of mountain roses, and braided my hair into an intricate crown. They admired its length but said nothing about the silver streaks. I tried not to cry when they touched me with their careful hands, tried not to remember the way Ina had once run her hands through my hair, tried to forget the way Hal’s kisses had turned my insides to stardust.

The clerics escorted me to an antechamber lined on each side with small partitioned booths in which to rest or pray, telling me they’d have me enter once the temple was empty of mortal visitors. I settled my cloak of shadows over my shoulders, needing its familiarity. My prayers were unfocused as I waited. I had no sounds of nature from which to draw music to sing, no way to limit the direction of my thoughts. Instead I was left with words rattling around inside my head in a jumble.

Death.

Loss.

Betrayal.

Love.

I tried to set aside the simmering anger I felt toward Hal, but every time I thought of him, it surged up anew. I prayed for answers, for guidance, to somehow know that I was doing the right thing. I prayed for the shadow god to deign to speak to me to tell me where Atheon was.

I prayed for the Fatestone, and the chance to start my story over.

When the sun had shifted far enough west that the stained glass made luminous pools of colored light on the floor, two clerics returned for me. They led me through gilded double doors into the heart of the temple, both signing the symbol of the spirit god before closing the doors behind me. My footfalls echoed in the vastness of the empty room. Chandeliers hung from the peaks of six turrets, illuminating intricate mosaics covering the walls from top to bottom. The whole building hummed with magic, like a pool into which all the streams of life gathered. I opened myself to the Sight just enough to sense the undercurrents swirling around me. They all led to the same place—an inlaid star on the floor with designs in the color of each god spiraling away from its tips.

My heart raced as I knelt at its center. The time had come for me to ask what I needed to know. But how would I get the shadow god to answer?

“Please speak to me,” I whispered, tracing her symbol in the air. “I need your guidance.”

I bowed my head and waited, but my request was met only with the deep silence of the temple. My knees ached. All I saw when I finally looked up were dust motes dancing through the beams of light slanting in through the western windows. My Sight showed no shift in the energies around me.

“Tell me what I must do. Please!” My voice rang through the space, echoing back from the apses. Tears stung the corners of my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

When I looked down, a small silver knife had appeared in front of me. I stared at it in confusion. What did it mean?

A few breaths later, understanding dawned. A pit of dread slowly expanded in my stomach.

The shadow god wanted a sacrifice.

I had only one thing to offer.

My blood.