She decided to try another tactic. "I've killed the priests you sought, the ones who could help you with your abilities. You'll never learn how to seal the prison as Onen Suun did."
I held in a sigh of relief. She hadn't figured it out. She still thought I was the heir. That meant she didn't know that one of the women in the cabin had been the heir. But if she'd killed them all, then that meant that the heir was among those numbers, unless the girl had escaped.
"Here, let me show you the last one."
Savarah stepped to the side and revealed the form of a young woman in traveling clothes, not the orange robes of a priest. She had black hair, and her dark eyes stared back at me lifelessly. Her throat was ripped open, her hands stained red with her own blood.
It was her. It had to be. How could I deny it any longer? All of this had been for nothing. Stiarna had died … for nothing. Dag'draath would keep hunting me until I was dead, and there was no one alive who could stop him. Not even me.
For a crazy second, I considered putting the locket away and letting the rage take over and carry me away. I just wanted her dead. If I could just take her with me, then maybe it would all be okay.
The ur’gel that Arun was fighting gave a howl that drew our attention to their fight. Arun's sword was through its chest and protruding out its back, the tip gleaming black with ur’gel blood. Arun used his foot to kick the monster off. It fell to its back, dead.
But Savarah, who'd just lost her ride out of here, wasn't upset. In fact, she was smiling at something over my head. I turned and saw another ur’gel in the sky, bearing down on us. I ducked as it passed overhead and scooped up Savarah, carrying her into the sky and out of my reach.
Savarah gave me a small finger wave. "I'm not going to kill you, Frida Svand, not yet. First, I will destroy all those you love and cherish." Her laugh sent chills down my spine.
"Shoot her," I demanded.
Arun shook his head. "She's too far already."
"Shoot her!" I jerked the bow out of his hands and nocked an arrow that I leveled at the distant dot that was Savarah and her ur’gel. He was right. To make it worse my hands were shaking so badly I wouldn't have been able to hit her if she were standing two feet in front of me.
It was the threat that had done it. I'd let her get away, and now she was going to kill someone—everyone—I loved. My father, Erik, Estrid, Xalph, Grissall. Anyone I'd ever had the nerve to feel any love for, they were all in danger, and I was stuck here in the grasslands with nothing but the body of the Suun heir and the remains of any hope I'd had bleeding out on the ground.
Chapter 20
I dropped to my knees beside the woman on the ground and fruitlessly check for a pulse.
Nothing.
The ur’gel had all but ripped her throat out, and Savarah hadn't even known the truth of who she was. The only good that came out of her death, I supposed, was that now she couldn't be used against the Light to free Dag'draath.
Assuming she was the heir.
She certainly didn't look like a priest. No orange robe or golden bangles. She was just a regular girl. I touched her temple, where the mark had once been. It was cold and bare. This had to be why the rock stopped working. Because she was dead. There was no point to this mission anymore. Everything I'd done to get us here had been for nothing.
Arun didn't say anything or offer any comfort, which was fine by me. I didn't want any pity. Instead, we gathered dead grasses and after making a decent pile, laid the body on top of the straw. Then we went to a nearby copse of trees and collected branches, which we placed around the body. Even though the heir wasn't D'ahvol, she would receive a proper Ahvoli funeral pyre. It was easier than burying the body, which I thought the priests did. It didn't make sense to me, though. If they worshiped the light, why did they want to rest for eternity in the dark? It was better this way, and there was no one to argue with me.
Arun lit the straw with a flint rock and his knife. It caught and spread quickly over the dry grass. We'd made sure to dampen the area around the body so the fire wouldn't spread. It worked, keeping the flames contained to the straw and sticks, and eventually, the body.
We stood back and watched. I covered my mouth and nose with a handkerchief and beside me, Arun did the same.
"Do you want to say anything?" he asked, raising his eyebrows over his handkerchief.
"Like what?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. It's just … it just feels like there should be …"
"Something else?" I offered. I knew what he meant, even if I wasn't being exceedingly kind about it. This was what our mission had been reduced to. A dead girl and a funeral pyre. Not just a dead girl, I corrected myself. A dead Suun.
Seeing I wasn't going to say anything, Arun stepped closer to her. "I hope. I hope you are reunited with your family. With Onen Suun. Let the light guide you home."
When he stepped back beside me, I leaned my head on his shoulder, feeling deflated. "That was nice."
He smiled at me, but it was a sad smile.
We left soon after that, leaving the column of black smoke snaking away into the sky. I wondered if it would even be able to reach past the veil, and if it did, what Quynn would think. If Quynn was even still hanging around. We'd been down here a long time. I wouldn't fault her for leaving. It wasn't exactly a fruitful adventure.
When night fell again, we made camp by the river. I felt disgusting, coated in sweat and ur’gel blood. I smelled like ashes and burned flesh, and Arun wasn't much better.
"Come on," I told him, leading him to the muddy riverbank. I unbuckled my weapons belts and laid them on a rock, then took off my leather jerkin and folded it on top of them.
"What are you doing?" Arun asked.
"Taking a bath." I stripped until all I was wearing was the ublarite necklace. I had never been modest or ashamed of my body. The D'ahvol saw a body as a vessel, as a weapon, as something to use to enjoy the pleasures of this world before passing onto the next and leaving it behind. But standing in front of Arun, who was still fully clothed, bathed in Gleet's blue moonlight, I had the sudden urge to cover myself.
His eyes wandered over every curve, every muscle, every scar—and there were a lot of them. All of them earned.
"Are you coming?" I asked, forcing myself to turn away and wade into the cool water.
I heard him unbuckling but didn't turn around until I was already submerged to my shoulders. He was wading in by then, the water reaching his waist. His chiseled chest was bare, and his hair was loose around his face. He ducked beneath the water and emerged brushing it back, dripping wet. I shivered, and it wasn't because I was cold.
When he reached me, his arms came around me and his lips met mine almost simultaneously. I ran my fingers through his wet hair and fisted it at the back of his neck. His hands pressed against my lower back and I lifted my legs, wrapping them around his waist. There was no space between us. It was impossible to tell where one of us began and the other ended.
I wanted to give myself to someone else and he was glad to take me just as I was, to take some of the burden and put it on his own shoulders. His hands stroked my back, my sides, my legs, and wherever he touched, my skin burned for him. I didn't feel cold or lonely or sad. I was hungry.
Fierce.
Careless.
He pulled away, breathless. "Are you sure?"
I opened my eyes. His were wide and dark, staring back at me. As hungry as I was. "Yes."
It was a long time before we emerged from the water, our fingers as wrinkled as prunes. I no longer felt compelled to cover myself and collapsed naked on the dry grass. The veil was thin, and I could make out the stars beyond them.
"I'll take first watch," Arun said, standing over me, his hair dripping, the water running in sparkling rivulets down his arms.
I reached up and pulled him down with me. "Just sleep with me."
"But…"
"I want to be with you." I wanted to sleep as well as I had on the ship, tucked benea
th his arm. I didn't want to dream about ur’gels and dead girls and worst of all, Savarah and her promises.
He gave in, and when I woke in the morning, I couldn't remember dreaming. We dressed in silence, but we didn't turn away from each other or try to hide. As we walked, following the path to where we'd left Estrid, we kept finding reasons to touch each other, whether it was to get my attention or to pull him forward to look at something I'd found. Eventually, I simply slipped my hand into his, twining our fingers together, and walked beside him.
We passed the place where we'd left Estrid and followed her trail to the west. She'd left an easy trail on purpose, squishing plants and turning over rocks, so that we would be able to find her if we beat her back. Even as the world sank into twilight, I was able to keep the trail. I had to look closer, though, and that was how I saw it, the purple petal on the side of the trail.
"Oh, no," I muttered under my breath, bending to touch it. I squeezed it beneath my fingers, my mind racing. It was the same as the others. Was it her? Had we been wrong?
"What is it?" Arun glanced over my shoulder. "A flower?"
"A purple flower. I found these earlier. By the house. On the trail. I thought maybe it was the heir dropping them."
He squinted down the trail into the growing dark. "That would mean…"
I nodded. I hated to feel glad that someone had died, but I was glad. Glad that maybe it hadn't been the heir, after all. I didn't know why there would have been another girl in plain clothes with the priests. Unless …
Unless she'd been a decoy.
"I could be wrong," I hastened to say.
"Or you could be right."
"I could be right."
We went quicker after that. If the heir was out here, I was sure Estrid had found her. But where were they now?
At a curve in the trail, we came across something blocking our path. At first, it seemed to be a rock. But as we neared, I noticed the row of spikes across the top.
"What is that?" Arun asked, putting his hand on it.
"A blazetaur," I told him. I didn't know why a blazetaur would be out here, in the middle of a field. They typically laid their eggs in places like this, but only when there were trees nearby that would hide their massive, armored bodies. I thought it was dead, not just sleeping, but to be safe, I followed the line of its back to the tail. The venomous stinger had been severed but was nowhere to be found. Had Estrid done this? I had no doubt she could fight and defeat a blazetaur single-handedly.
But then I looked past the tail, to the other side of the blazetaur. It was another body. I stepped over the tail, careful not to touch any of the venom leaking from the tip and hurried to the body.
An ur’gel, its throat slit.
And a few yards away, another ur’gel.
"Frida." Arun's voice was strained and high-pitched.
I didn't hesitate. I ran to where he stood farther down the path.
Before I could see what he was looking at, he turned and grabbed me by the shoulders. "No."
"What?" Bile rose in my throat. "What is it?"
"No," he repeated.
But I could see it on his face.
His hands tightened on my arms as I struggled, until finally he scooped me up in a hug. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he whispered into my ear repeatedly, but I couldn't hear him anymore.
Over his shoulder, I saw her. Estrid, lying on her back in the dirt. She wasn't moving. Her chest wasn't rising and falling with breath. Her eyes didn't flutter with sleep.
With a shove, I freed myself from Arun and dropped to Estrid's side.
"Estrid," I gasped, shaking her. "Estrid."
My hands searched her body and found three long gashes in her stomach and another one in her leg. The ground around her was soaked and warm with spilled blood.
Arun squatted behind me, not speaking, and not touching me.
"No," I muttered, rocking back on my heels. "No, no, no, no, no." This wasn't happening. I tried to catch my breath but found it nearly impossible.
Be safe.
Be brave.
Be alive.
I never knew I had to say that. I never even knew she could be gone.
But here was her body, lifeless and unmoving. Proof that sometimes the unbelievable became the reality.
I would never hear her voice again. She would never see Bor'sur or Father or Erik again. She would never be an aunt or a mother or a wife. She would never challenge me or push me again.
And why was I spared? I was nothing. A fraud. A fake. A false heir. A failure as a sister. I couldn't protect anyone.
She still held a sword in one hand, and I lifted her arm, crossing it over her chest. I lifted her other hand and brought it up, too, only to find her fingers wrapped around something. A piece of cloth. I pried her fingers open and pulled the cloth out, holding it close to examine it in the dark.
It was light pink.
I remembered Savarah's pale hands running over her skirts, dusting off her dress the same color as this cloth.
The wail bubbled up inside of me and burst forth, louder and more primal than any animal's call. Arun tried to wrap his arms around my shoulders, but I shoved him off, pushing to my feet and stumbling away.
"Savarah!" I shouted into the sky. "Savarah!" I shouted until my throat was raw and her name came out as a hoarse, raspy whisper. I wanted her to come. I wanted her to face me, and I wanted to kill her. I didn't care how powerful she was or how many hundreds of years she'd lived, she would die for this, and I would be the one to do it. I would be the one to drain the life from her eyes. I would put an end to her reign of terror. I didn't care about Dag'draath. Savarah was the real villain. Her life was mine.
This revenge was mine. This anger, this fury, this hatred.
And this sorrow.
I tucked them all inside of me and collapsed beside my sister, my head on her chest as I cried and begged her to come back.
Chapter 21
It was morning when Arun pulled me away from Estrid's body, cooing gentle words I refused to hear.
In spite of everything, I had not turned to him for comfort last night. After he'd endured all he could of the silent treatment, he'd left me to my sorrow and spent the night building a proper funeral pyre, one that reached as high as some of the nearby trees. And at the bottom, beneath the tower of branches, he'd left just enough space for a body.
For my sister's body.
The thought sent me back into hysterics and I tried to throw myself down on Estrid, but Arun had a firm grip on me.
"Let go!" I howled at him, beating my fists against his chest. "Let go of me! I hate you! If I hadn't been with you, I could have helped her. She died alone and I hate you."
It wasn't true. I hated only myself.
The words stung him even though he tried to hide it. It made me hate myself even more.
But I couldn't stop. "This is what will happen. To everyone who loves me." Savarah's threat was fresh in my mind, her cruel laugh the only sound I could hear over the blood rushing in my ears.
"No, it won't," Arun objected.
"I'm a poison." I tugged but he still held my wrists tight against his chest. "I'm death."
"That's not true." His brow was furrowed and there were dark circles of sleeplessness under his eyes.
I took a deep, gasping breath and doubled over, knocking my head against his chest.
He let go of my wrists, only to wrap me up in a tight hug. My shoulders shook with sobs, but he didn't let go, like he could squeeze the pain away. It halfway worked. The tightness in my chest subsided and my breathing became more regular, even if it was still shaky. Finally, I wrapped my arms around his waist and took a deep breath.
"It's not your fault," Arun said, his voice gentle and cautious. "None of this is your fault."
I wanted to believe him, but Estrid's body was evidence to the contrary.
We didn't have anything to use as a shroud, but I found two small stones to cover her eyes and made sure her sword
was in her hands and crossed over her chest so that it would go with her to the next life. I braided her hair the way that she liked it and washed the ur’gel blood from her hands and face. Arun tried to help me carry her to the pyre, but I pushed him away, taking her in my arms and carrying her there myself. Laying her gently on the straw and arranging her just so amidst the branches.
Arun handed me his flint, but I sat there for a long time with it in my hands, staring down at my sister. Her body had gotten colder and stiffer. She wasn't in there anymore, but it was still hard to let go.
Finally, I struck the flint against my ax and blew on the sparks that landed in the dry grass beneath her. They caught and began to spread. I stepped back and watched the flames dance, layer after layer of the pyre catching until the heat was so intense, I had to move away even farther, back to where Arun stood. He looked at me sideways, expecting me to burst into tears, but the time for that had passed. I wouldn't waste any more energy on tears and sadness. Everything had to go toward getting revenge on Savarah.
The Suun heir was dead, Estrid was dead, Stiarna was dead. And Erik? Erik was gone, maybe dead if Savarah had gotten to him. The wayfinder's stone was of no more use to us. We would call Quynn down and report our failure, and then what? I couldn't go home, but I also couldn't stay on the Wind Wraith and risk everyone's lives. Quynn probably wouldn't let me, besides. I couldn't go back to Barepost and lead Savarah there, where she would discover the production of the ublarite trinkets. I couldn't go to Lunla or Ravyn and risk bringing Savarah's wrath down on the temples, either. What I had to do was find somewhere new, somewhere empty, where Savarah and I could play out our final battle eventually.
The pyre smoldered all day, and I watched the smoke disappear into the veil, only moving to sit down when my legs wouldn't hold me any longer. Arun busied himself with catching and cooking a couple of fish that he offered to me. I ate them, but they sat like rocks in my empty, roiling stomach.
"Do you have the horn?" Arun asked eventually, when we were just a few hours from sunset.
Finding the Suun Page 11