Inkmistress (Of Fire and Stars 0.5)(93)

By the time I exited the tomb, the sky had just begun to lighten east of the mountains. A biting wind gusted through the gardens, chilling me to the bone. I didn’t make it far beyond the maze before spotting a guard. I sneaked around him and several others until I got back into the castle. I kept the hood of my shadow cloak up to hide the filth on my face from pages and servants moving through the castle halls.

I didn’t so much stumble back into my and Zallie’s room as fall against the door, which Hal opened a few moments later.

“Asra! Gods, I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” He caught me in a hug so tight I could barely breathe. “Is this blood on your hands?” he asked, examining them with concern.

“I’ll call someone to draw you a bath,” Zallie said, her green eyes round as saucers.

“Iman?” I asked the moment Hal got me settled in a chair.

“He’s been fine,” Hal assured me. “He’s missed you. We all have. The king has had his soldiers scouring the city. Eywin’s been trying to enchant your blood to create a way to track you, but hasn’t been successful yet.”

“How long have I been gone?” I asked.

“You disappeared into that damn hedge maze the night before last. I couldn’t even find the middle of the maze when I went looking for you. I couldn’t hear you. I thought you were dead. I thought . . .” He trailed off, the worry on his face as plain as day.

The truth was that I would have been dead if I wasn’t half god and able to withstand things no mortal could—like a day and two nights sealed inside a tomb.

“I found the Fatestone,” I said. “Then it was taken from me.”

“What happened?” he asked.

“Your sister.” Rage burned in my chest again. I had to get the Fatestone back before she sold it or managed to find a way to use it for something more nefarious than its intended purpose.

His expression darkened. “Are you serious?”

“I had it on my finger no more than a few minutes before someone attacked. It had to be one of the Nightswifts. They blew peaceroot into my face, laced with some sort of powerful opiate. I woke up inside Veric’s tomb, sleeping on his bones.”

Zallie gasped so dramatically it was almost comical. Sometimes I forgot she hadn’t been through the kinds of things Hal and I had.

“Peaceroot isn’t easy to come by here,” Hal said, frowning.

“And there are even fewer who know how to process it,” I said. All the evidence pointed to Nismae.

A page arrived to take me to the bathing chambers. I scrubbed until not a speck of grave dirt remained, but I still felt dirty. Violated. By the time I went back to my room, I knew I had to confront Nismae about what she’d done. I was more powerful now, more confident than the last time I’d faced her. I still didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I would if I had to.

I pushed open the door to my room. “Hal, I need to go—”

I froze after crossing the threshold. Hal rushed over from the other side of the room with Iman in his arms. A small woman perhaps twice my age stood near Iman’s bassinet—I recognized her as one of the king’s guards. One of the maids who had often attended me stood by my bedside, looking nervous. A spill of red fabric lay across the bed—some garments I didn’t recognize. I scanned the room in confusion, trying to figure out what this was all about. Zallie had a grim expression on her face that quickly changed to concern as Nera gave a little cry.

“Asra, look outside.” Hal pointed to the window.

“Oh no,” I whispered, my heart plummeting.

In the pale morning light, snow had begun to fall.

The king’s guard crossed the room to my side with the athletic grace of a mountain cat. “My lady, the king has assigned me for your personal protection and to escort you to the coliseum for the battle,” she said.

I went hot and then cold. How could I fight like this? I hadn’t had any time to recover from my injuries—and more important, to confront Nismae about her theft of the Fatestone.

“These vestments were sent for you, my lady,” the maid said, holding up a simple dress in shades of crimson and a bloodred wool cloak lined with brown fur.

“As long as I can wear my own cloak as well,” I said. Red was the king’s color, not mine. I belonged dressed in shadows—in my mother’s legacy. I wanted her protection for the battle to come.

The maid put my hair into a braided crown, then helped me into the crimson dress and placed the red cloak over my shoulders. All the while, I shot Hal a series of desperate looks he seemed to understand. He regretfully gave Iman to Zallie and pulled on his boots, subtly stashing his weapons in the hidden places where he always carried them.

“Keep them safe,” I told Zallie. “If the unthinkable happens, run. Go as fast as you can. One or both of us will meet you where we agreed.”

She nodded her understanding, her face pinched with worry. It wasn’t far to the Switchback Inn, our rendezvous point, but it might seem that way with two babies and the chaos that would take over the streets after the battle regardless of who won.

I kissed Iman and Nera good-bye, and then Zallie’s cheek, too. She blushed.

Then the king’s guard led us away.

We met with the king’s procession and paraded through the streets surrounded by onlookers. The Nightswifts’ stream of white pennants made its way through the city on a lower street, flooding in the direction of the coliseum. Thick flakes of snow pelted our faces as we walked. The noise of the crowd was deafening. I gripped Hal’s hand like I was trying to crush the life out of it.