The Heart Forger (The Bone Witch #2)(126)
“You were right, Kalen,” she whispered. “We should have run—as far as we could, for as long as we could. I thought I had nothing left to lose, but I keep being proven wrong, time and time again. Stupid. So stupid. I will not lose Khalad. I will not lose Fox. I will not lose any more of the friends I abandoned in Kion and Odalia. Let us finish this. I…”
The Dark asha’s voice wavered. She took a deep, shuddering breath. When she spoke again, the steel in her voice had returned. “Let us finish this.”
The daeva rose to their feet. I moved, but she stopped me. “You will not be going with us, Bard.”
“Your promised me your story,” I reminded her.
“My war is with Drycht, Bard.” She smiled grimly at the stunned look on my face. “It would be dangerous enough for you to return there alone, even without a bone witch and her familiars as company. I have already given you part of my story in the pages you have received. The rest are here in these letters addressed to my brother. Stay with him; he still knows so little. It would ease my mind if you would enlighten him.” The azi lowered its body to the ground, and the bone witch and her familiar climbed up.
“Tea!” Lord Fox and Princess Inessa ran toward us. “What are you doing?”
“I killed Aenah, and I have killed Usij. There is one last Faceless to attend to.” She wore two heartsglass around her neck: her own, still black as night, Hollow Knife’s heart, and Usij’s, now Blade that Soars’s. “And when Druj is dead, I shall complete shadowglass.”
“Stay, Tea,” the princess pleaded. “The asha are willing to talk. The emissaries of the other kingdoms are prepared to hear what you have to say. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
The bone witch shook her head, her voice raw when she spoke. “The asha will not like what I have to say; the remaining elders would make sure of that, and their companions’ deaths will only be laid at my door. Kings and emperors fear change. It’s far too late for simple conversation now, Inessa. There is only one way to end this, and I will not risk any more of you.”
“Any risk you take will be mine as well.” Lord Fox sounded hoarse. “Or have you forgotten our bond?”
The Dark asha smiled at him. “Distill the juices of the First Harvest into a familiar’s heart to take back what death had decreed,” she quoted, her hand on the faint silver-like heartscase around her throat, and the man’s eyes widened. “Do you remember? You should. You were angry at me once for even suggesting it.”
“You can’t!”
“Can’t I?” She raised a hand to the sky, fingers grasping at something invisible to my eyes. “What’s one more lie to believe when I am just a scheming, murderous bone witch, constantly seeking stars beyond her reach? Most people reject the truth, Fox. Lies are sweet to the palate, but the truth is often spat out, bitter and rancid. Politeness and veracity have never walked hand in hand. But when I die, at least I shall die knowing my eyes were open, looking at all there was to see. And when that day comes, I will make sure you have no part to suffer in it.”
Her voice dropped, gentled. “The bard has my letters. It would do you good to read them. Be well, Fox. If we are doomed to give our lives for missions good and great, then at least let mine be for you.”
“No!”
The azi lifted off the ground, its wings spreading. All the daeva roared as one, and from the towering nanghait to the spike-ringed aeshma to the crooning taurvi, they moved to follow. None of the soldiers were mad enough to block their path.
We could do little but watch, Sir Fox and I, as the beasts retreated into the distance. The breeze came as the last of them disappeared over the horizon; in it, I smelled, strangely enough, the faint salt of the sea. I looked down at the papers in my hands, the Dark asha’s parting gift, pages I had yet to read. I have always known darkness, she had written in the first line of the first letter.
Lord Fox broke my reverie. “We break camp within the hour,” he ordered. “Tell the men we shall leave first for Kion and then to Drycht.” And I knew the story was far from over.