The Heart Forger (The Bone Witch #2)(14)

It was easy enough to find Polaire and Mykaela for consult. They were in the latter’s rooms, curtains half-drawn to allow in afternoon light, which surrounded Mykaela’s yellow locks in a golden haze. Polaire, whose short, dark hair had no patience for sunlight, arched an eyebrow at us.

“A plot against the king?” she asked. “What proof does she have?”

“What little she reveals has always proven true,” I pointed out. “It would be good to alert the Yadoshans in any case.”

“Did she say anything else about shadowglass?”

“A little. The Faceless believe it will bring them immortality and that it requires the bloodlines of the Five Great Heroes. There may be a connection to a few sleeping sicknesses in other kingdoms.”

Polaire frowned at me. “You must keep pushing, Tea. Compel words from her mouth if you have to.”

“Why do you think this is important?”

“Because the elders believe so, because she seems to think so, and because she is being deliberately ambiguous about it, which makes me uneasy,” Polaire responded.

“Aenah told me that the elder asha might know something about…” I paused, glancing back at Mykaela. “About Mykkie’s heartsglass. She insinuates that they might know where it is.”

Both asha stared at me.

“Impossible!” Polaire scoffed. “Aenah is not to be trusted, Tea.”

“You trust her enough when it comes to providing information on everything else,” Fox pointed out.

“Information we can verify. This smacks of an attempt to sow discord.”

Mykaela tapped a finger against her lips, looking thoughtful. “King Telemaine is not a descendant of House Wyath.”

“What do you mean?” Polaire asked.

Fox’s eyes widened. “King Randrall the Quiet, the dead king Tea raised by accident two years ago.”

“The one who declared that King Telemaine’s ancestor was the offspring of the queen and the commander of his army and therefore not of his lineage. We went through great lengths to have that confirmed,” I said.

“Doesn’t that affect King Telemaine’s claims to the throne?” Fox asked.

Mykaela shook her head. “King Randrall had no other surviving kin. He claimed the queen’s son as his own, so his legitimacy holds. Even so, Prince Kance and Khalad can still trace their line to House Wyath through their mother.”

“Politics are confusing,” my brother complained.

Polaire frowned. “We should launch our own investigation into that strange illness—which kingdoms have been affected and so forth. I’m surprised we have heard so little about it.”

“Kingdoms would not boast of it,” Mykaela said. “And they might not be aware of the connection.”

The shadows flitted through my mind again, and I saw wings beating on either side of me as the azi soared high into mountaintops that no human had ever scaled. The cold wind felt good on my face, but I closed my eyes, unprepared for the sun’s bright glare. I felt the azi nudge my mind affectionately. Master? it queried. Play?

“Tea? Are you OK?”

I felt a hand against my forehead. The mountains and the crisp air disappeared, leaving only the others looking back at me.

“She’s had a tiring day,” Fox said.

“You’re to return to your room and not leave it until dinnertime, Tea,” Polaire commanded. “We’ll look into the plot against the Yadoshans and these sicknesses.”

“But—”

“No buts, Tea! Go! And I’ll check up on you shortly to confirm you’re in bed as prescribed!”

Polaire always made me feel like I was a child of six, and I said as much to Fox as we left the room. “It was still my information. I would have appreciated a thank you at least.”

“She orders me about in much the same way. I haven’t met anyone who hasn’t gone through the same treatment when it comes to Polaire.”

But my mind remained ill at ease. The thought of having a black heartsglass like Aenah’s weighed heavily on my mind. How long did it take for silver to change? A month? A year? What other effects would it have on me?

Aenah was right about one thing: I had kept my links to the azi hidden from all, even my brother. I did not want to spend the rest of my life in the dungeons like her, left with a rotting heartsglass and no future to look forward to.





“He was blighted.” She was angry. Her fists clenched and unclenched. “I thought we’d found them all.”

“Blighted?”

“Spells that turn men into daeva-like creatures, most against their will. It is a consequence of darkrot—but this is different. Deliberate. I devoted nearly a year to hunting them down. Apparently, I did not find them all.”

I remembered the hanjian’s bulging eyes, his monstrous transformation before the azi ended his life. I knew it would haunt me for the rest of mine. What vile magic could have caused such a horrifying change?

“He knew he’d been Blighted. He completed the spell himself, to spite me…” She shook her head, almost admiring. “Silver-blighted are stronger than red, with far more frightening deviations. They kill even familiars, it is said. Slaughter them before they turn or rip out their heartsglass after they do. Perhaps he thought he would make a better opponent cursed than human.” Her lip curled. “He was wrong.”