The Heart Forger (The Bone Witch #2)(123)



The right side of my body felt sticky and warm, and I began to shiver.

Kalen’s arms circled me, the Heartshare rune flaring once more before his presence took over every inch of my being, warm and inviting—the only forgiveness in the room I could find. The darkrot melted away as I let go of the power for an emotion greater than hate and, sobbing, allowed the soothing murmur of his voice to carry me away into darkness.





There was only silence broken in moments by the sounds of weeping.

The monsters were dead; the creatures that had once been asha lay strewn in bloodied heaps around us, grotesque even in death with their stiffened limbs and gaping mouths. They retained their monstrous forms, their secret selves exposed for the world to see.

Some of the bone witch’s daeva lay injured too. The aeshma’s spikes had retracted from its body to reveal graying fur. The taurvi still sang, though its legs were broken, half its face covered in blood. The nanghait was silent on the ground, its many eyes closed. Even the azi, the most powerful of the lot, was bleeding, one of its wings bent and bitten. The zarich, indar, and akvan were conscious and standing, though limping as they plodded back and forth between their brethren, their mournful cries loud in the stillness.

The Dark asha sat on the ground, her face bathed in tears. Lady Mykaela lay in her arms, pale and silent. Blood covered her hua, spilling on the floor around them. I could feel magic sizzling nearby and saw the bone witch’s heartsglass beat in tandem with the injured woman’s. Khalad and Kalen flanked Lady Tea, their hands pressed against Mykaela’s side, trying in vain to stop the blood flow before it grew worse. Beside me, a low cry of pain rose from Fox. I have seen my share of dying people, and I knew with one look that there was no hope.

“Why did you save me?” the Dark asha cried.

The golden-haired asha’s eyes opened. They focused on her, and she smiled. “I have always tried to save you. It is…not so bad, child.”

“You cannot die on me, Mykkie.” The Dark asha had vanished, and in her place was a seventeen-year-old girl, frantic to save the life of the woman who had so profoundly shaped hers. “Everything I do, everything I have done, means nothing if you leave me!”

“I have been living on borrowed time for so long, Tea.” A bloodied hand stroked the weeping girl’s cheek. “When my hours are spent, I will feel no fear, no sorrow. I have lived on borrowed time, time that you have risked your life and heart for. I am at peace, Tea. Thank you.”

“No!” The girl’s heartsglass shone bright, black and light swirling together.

Lady Mykaela’s smile was beautiful, though blood trickled from the corners of her mouth.

“No, Mykkie!” The bone witch clutched at her arms, and for a moment, I thought I saw a strange symbol burning between them. “Don’t let go!”

“I am going to Vanor now and to Polaire. They have been waiting for me.” The woman touched the girl’s face one final time. “Be well, Tea,” she whispered, and the light in her heartsglass went out.

The Dark asha’s scream tore through the air. Her heartsglass glowed, for the first time more silver than dark, as she wove the air with desperate movements. The woman in her arms did not move.

The Dark asha tried again, forming the same gestures over and over. I could feel the heat of the spells, the desperation and smolder of the magic, but Lady Mykaela’s eyes remained closed.

“Tea.” Kalen took her hand, stilling her.

She turned to him, her eyes blazing. “Why? Why can’t I raise her? I raised you! I raised you, and I can raise her!”

“Tea,” the Deathseeker said again, and she fell silent. She collapsed onto his chest, her arms still clutching the fallen asha. She howled at the sky, a savage sound.

The Heartforger, tears streaming down his cheeks, knelt by the Dark asha’s side.

Lord Fox sat beside Lady Tea, his hand finding hers. His other closed around Lady Mykaela’s. They held her in their arms for the longest time—without moving, without speaking. The moon rose and the stars ascended, but the Dark asha and her two familiars remained.

“Tea,” Kalen finally said again with great sorrow in his voice.

“A few minutes longer,” the bone witch whispered. “Let me stay with her for a few minutes longer.”





32


“I could order you to rot in prison for the rest of your natural days. That’s what I should do as king. That’s what the people would clamor for.”

I agreed but kept my head bowed. In the hours after sanity returned and the darkrot faded, I had tried to undo the chaos I had wrought. But the damage to Telemaine was already done. The king was confined to his personal chambers, where no one but his sons and his physicians could enter. I had exorcised the demons in his mind that I had put there in my pride, but I could not take away the nightmares I had ingrained in his head. The rest of Odalia had been kept in the dark, but his healers could do little: the king had gone mad.

“This is treason. By law, I could order your death.”

I said nothing in my defense. Prince Kance had every right to proclaim such a sentence. I could feel Fox and Kalen on either side of me, their presences always a comfort.

“Look at me, Tea.”

I did. A part of me still rejoiced to see him awake and well, bearing no lingering effects of the sleeping illness. But Prince Kance no longer looked at me with kindness or affection. There was no more “Lady Tea” in a pleased voice. The green eyes staring back at me were those of a stranger’s—His Majesty’s, I corrected myself—not my friend. Kance ruled Odalia now, and I was to blame for that too.

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