The Heart Forger (The Bone Witch #2)(63)

“But they’re not his memories,” Fox said. “Won’t he remember a different wife, different children?”

“That’s the beauty of forging. You don’t always need the memory itself, just the emotions that go along with it. Memory’s always been tricky—you think you remember a brown dog with a white spot on its nose, but years later, when your mind isn’t as sharp, you could easily believe it was a white dog with a brown spot. He’ll be confused for a day or two, but his own memories will reassert themselves and take their shape. Those old memories I’d bought will be gone, of course. It’s why I keep the newest memories for a while, to make sure those who sold them won’t have a change of heart and want them back, though most of them have trouble remembering what they’d sold.”

“Did it help?” I found myself asking. “My memories?”

“Absolutely,” Khalad promised, almost reverently. “You helped a lot of people, Tea, and they know. I made sure of it.”

“You’re doing good work,” Likh was wide eyed with admiration.

“I’m still an apprentice,” the forger said, smiling. “But I’ve managed complicated hearts on my own. People think Master’s an old codger, but he’s really kind.”

“I’m going to do you both better,” Princess Inessa said. “Kalen, please return to the palace. Tell the commander I require the sturdiest wagon he can find, enough horses to pull it, and two dozen of his best soldiers.”

“What are you planning?” the Deathseeker asked her.

The First Daughter set her jaw. “Odalia will be after you, Khalad, and your small house will make a poor defense. You don’t know your master’s cure, but our enemies don’t know that. You will be safer in the palace, so I am bringing all your tools with you.”

“Master won’t like that.”

“Your master isn’t here, Khalad. That’s part of the problem.”





The army made its move at dawn, approaching the unguarded gates. Despite being heavily outnumbered, the Daanorian soldiers in the palace began their preparations to repulse the enemy, their bravery shining brighter than armor.

Lord Kalen drew their leaders aside, speaking to them in their language. The men looked uncertainly at him and then at each other.

“They will not be fighting today,” the Dark asha said from behind me. “My daeva will be more than adequate for the task.”

“But they draw too close to the palace.” I did not believe that the incoming army would spare the Daanorian civilians the way the bone witch had, and the daeva were too large to be careful should the city be overrun.

The smile she shot in my direction was almost cruel. “You forget that I too have an army.”

Her hands drifted lazily, sketching runes I could not see. The wind died for a few brief moments, and a strange hush fell over the palace, extending out toward the city and past the gates.

An earthquake rocked Santiang, the force pitching me to the floor.

The Heartforger calmly snatched a falling vial in midair, setting it on the floor before returning to his forging. I grabbed at the windowsill and chanced a look outside. The daeva remained where they were below, still waiting placidly.

Beyond the gates, I could see the army struggling to regain footing. And then another wave hit us, and the ground around the soldiers broke apart. I saw skeletal hands reaching up to clasp the now-frightened infantry by their legs. I saw horses rear up, throwing off their riders as the undead clawed out from the soil in easily twice their number.

And then the screaming began.

I dashed from the window and fell to my knees, vomiting.

“They’re eating them,” the Dark asha said matter-of-factly, “though I don’t suppose the undead have much appetite.”

“My lady!”

“I warned them. I told you of our language of flowers, Bard. Yellow carnations mean rejection, and striped ones tell me that the elder asha refuse to compromise. Parmina’s azalea-shaped zivar said she is concerned for me, but nonetheless, she is powerless to order the army’s retreat. I responded with monkshood to warn her of traitors in their midst and then belvedere—merciless war—should they proceed. They did not listen. They made their choices, and I made mine. If I cannot sway them with kindness, then they shall die.”

She took a step forward, doubled over. Her shoulders shook from pain, and Lord Khalad abandoned his work to reach her side, worry etched on his face.

“It would appear,” she gasped out, “that darksglass is starting to take a toll on me earlier than I would have wanted.”

“You expected this?” The Heartforger demanded.

“There is a price for this much power, Khalad.” She straightened again, a sudden burst of strength. “There is no need for concern. I will finish this one way or another.”

“Kalen—”

“Kalen knows. That is why he is fighting out there instead of me.”

I staggered to my feet and glimpsed the soldiers defending themselves, cutting off limbs and heads. Their actions did little to stem the tide of undead.

The Dark asha watched the chaos her creations caused with a smile on her face. “Something similar happened in Kion many months ago.”

“I—I remember the reports. An attack on Ankyo, they said, by the Odalian army.” I could not look away from the horror unfolding before me.