The Shadowglass (The Bone Witch, #3)(111)
“I don’t care.”
“Neither do we. We are willing to wait for you to live out your natural existence, however short or long that may be. We release you from all ties to the asha and to the Willows. You shall be exiled, free to wander and die as you see fit. But we want your silver heartsglass. We will not tolerate any more of the chaos you’ve spread through the kingdoms. In exchange, we will allow you to continue on for your brother’s sake.”
I wanted to laugh. I wanted to weep. It was the best offer I’ve ever had. Had I been given it earlier, perhaps I would not have left Kion in the first place. “Will you protect Khalad and Likh?”
“They will suffer no punishments for their decision to follow you.”
I thought there would be more fanfare. That my heartsglass would spark a protest. That it would take more than a sea of salt and skulls to break my spirit. But that was a different Tea’s concern. I had nothing left to feel.
Wordlessly, I handed over my silver heartsglass, and my strength along with it. It made no difference. My heart had died with Kalen.
Tea? It was Fox’s voice, distant and tinny. But when Hestia’s hand closed over my heartsglass, his voice disappeared completely.
I watched the elders weave wards around my heart. Hestia nodded at the others. “Take the other two. Do not injure them.”
One of the asha trotted off to inspect the rest of my belongings and returned triumphantly with the pouch that held all my bezoars. The others wove Wind to lift Likh and Khalad gently off the ground. When they turned to follow suit with Kalen, a sob rose in my throat. “No. He stays with me.”
The asha paused, uncertain. “Mistress Hestia,” one of the elders worked up the courage to say, “Lord Kalen is of Odalian royalty. Surely King Kance would want his body returned to—”
“He stays with me!” I shouted.
Hestia gestured for silence. “I will grant you your wish. Let it not be said that I am not charitable.” She stared at the silver heartsglass in her hands for several seconds, then back at me, with the barest hint of pity in her gaze. “All this trouble,” she said, “for something so insignificant.”
They left me that way, alone and already forgotten, cradling Kalen underneath a murky sky.
“I felt you,” General Pahlavi said. “I know that now. I felt shock and pain, and I reached for you on instinct. You took a lot of strength from me, and I could barely stand when it was over. But when I tried to seek you out again, your thoughts disappeared from mine. And when we learned Kalen died and Likh was injured beyond healing…I searched for you for months. I didn’t know if you were hiding yourself deliberately, or if you were being held against your will.”
“I am sorry. I thought to do what was best for us. We both did. I had no other recourse. The elders would have hunted me down. Druj would have done the same. I am sorry for causing you pain, but I am also glad for it. My choices were not kind to Mykkie or Polaire or Kalen, but I can save you at least. That’s all I want.”
The bone witch staggered to her feet and, with Lord Kalen’s careful guidance, approached Druj, who was still being restrained by both the daeva and the fallen soldiers. Painfully, she crouched beside the creature, who snapped in vain at her face. The Lady Tea’s hands plunged into the creature’s chest and plucked out the blighted’s silver heartsglass. Druj howled.
“Well now,” she mimicked the Faceless’s words from a lifetime that had been folded between the pages of an epic letter. “Shall we see what unfolds here?”
She wove a rune invisible to my eyes, and Druj screamed, horrific, bloodcurdling screams that bounced from one mountain to the next, until the Ring of Worship echoed with the sounds of its torment. Before the sounds died, I watched her body crumble to ashes, borne back into dust to mix with the dark sand surrounding us.
Wordlessly, the bone witch walked back to the ruined entrance of the Ring of Worship, and we followed closely. This time, the daeva showed no fear, limping at our heels. At Lady Tea’s gesture, we halted on the edge of the corpse-laden sand, remaining in the shadows of the mountains that surrounded us while the asha moved into the circle of light.
She stumbled. Lord Kalen caught her before she hit the ground, and Lord Fox clambered forward despite his own injuries, the rest of us not far behind.
“Stay there!” she commanded. “I do not know how far down the roots of the First Harvest goes. Should any of you come into contact…”
“And why should you take the risk?” Lady Zoya shot back.
“The First Harvest can only be reaped in the radiance of both lightsglass and darksglass. Only Kalen and I are protected.” She gestured at her own black heartsglass and that of Lord Kalen’s heartsglass, the same silver that the Faceless Usij once wore. “Stay there, and let me end this.”
She sank to her knees before the strange, withering plant. One of the berries broke off easily in her hand, its juices seeping into her palm. “Rashnu the Just talked of a powerful sound like thunder,” she wheezed in between deep breaths, her strength seeping more quickly than any of us feared, “and saw his comrades disappear in a cloud of light. How many Dark asha have traveled here, hoping to bring back their loved ones with the juices of this accursed plant only to join them in death? What were Vernasha’s final words? But I—I’ve done it.” Her voice lilted, softened—a happy sound. “Fox, I did it.”