She jumped down from the driver’s seat to open the carriage door for me, still grim-faced, until she saw my expression and gripped my silver-dusted shoulders instead. “Kamai, what’s wrong? What happened?”
I looked around, probably like a lost child. If I could say anything at all, I certainly couldn’t say it on the palace’s doorstep.
Nikha understood. “Here, get inside.” She flung open the door, shoved me up the folding step, heedless of my thick velvet skirts tangling in my legs, and climbed in after me. All I needed to get her to ride with me was to look like I’d been hit over the head with a club, apparently.
But she wasn’t there to hold my hand. “What in all three hells is going on?” she demanded as soon as the carriage jolted into motion. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
The queen consort’s ghost, in the face of her son. For a second, I almost wanted to giggle. “I have no clue where to even start.”
“Try!” she snapped.
And then I felt like crying. I pressed my palms into my eyes. “Nikha, I can’t. I’m mixed up in something big—I have been since I met you—and it’s all very dangerous.”
“I am a trained swordswoman, Kamai, I think I can handle—”
“A whole troop of soldiers on your own?” I dropped my hands. “Like the ones who killed my mother and stepfather and everyone in our home and then burned it all to the ground?”
“That’s what we’re dealing with?”
“What I’m dealing with, and you have no idea. The king’s soldiers aren’t the half of it.” There were the Twilighters and the Keepers and soulwalking and the black door and … Vehyn. It was all a mess, and, somehow, finding out that I’d shared a roof—the one that had been lit on fire—with the queen consort’s secret bastard was the ocean wave that made the sandcastle crumble.
How could Hallan have assassinated his son’s mother? Nothing made sense anymore.
“Give me a hint, then!” Nikha’s voice rose again in frustration.
“Anything I tell you will just put you in danger. I can’t do that, Nikha.”
She let out a growl, folded her arms, and sat in brooding silence the rest of the way home, the motion of the carriage rocking her hunched shoulders back and forth against the seat.
We arrived in front of the town house, wheels and hooves clattering to a noisy stop over the cobbles. In this neighborhood, the night was especially quiet, everyone long asleep. Nikha jumped down from the carriage and helped me out, her movements stiff with frustration. She waved the carriage off and then led the way to the narrow alley running along the side of the building, toward the back entrance. Unlocking the front door and tromping through the entryway would likely wake everyone.
Too bad Gerresh knew that as well.
The former household guard lunged out of the shadows near the rear door, cracking Nikha over the head with the hilt of his sword. She dropped like a sandbag. Before I could scream, he threw himself on top of me, bringing me to the ground, jarring my head against the cobbles, and trapping my legs with his bulk. His eyes were flat. His hands went straight for my throat, tugging on the gossamer ties of my bodice as he squeezed.
I couldn’t breathe, let alone scream. My mouth made a horrible croaking sound. I felt my eyes bulge with unbearable pressure. All I saw of his face was gritted teeth, flared nostrils, and stubble, and then he levered himself higher above me, bearing down on the delicate, crucial point of my neck. The movement freed my hands, but they only scrabbled ineffectually at his, growing weaker by the second. I didn’t have Nikha’s dagger, or even my mother’s knife. The former wouldn’t have been allowed in the palace, and my gown was too low-cut to hide the latter.
My vision started to blacken. I was going to die.
Then my hand tingled, flushing warm and strong. It jerked of its own accord, my fingers straightening to form a spade. It lifted.
And punched straight into Gerresh’s chest, through his armor and into his heart.
I sucked in a ragged breath with the loosening of his hands. Blood rushed hot over my arm and chest as he collapsed on top of me. He was too heavy to move, or I was too drained. I couldn’t even pull my hand out of him, despite what I—what it—had just done. The muscles of his heart spasmed their last beats against my palm, the tissue sticky between my fingers. His body twitched against mine.
My breath was loud in my ears, the only sound I could hear. I gagged.
“Nikha,” I tried to wheeze. My voice sounded like the pages of a book rasping against each other.
There was a grumpy-sounding groan, as if she didn’t want to be disturbed, and then a gasp as she came fully conscious and realized where she was. “Kamai! Gods, where are you hurt?”
“It’s not … my blood,” I panted.
“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
A second later, she hauled the body off me … but not before she witnessed my hand sliding out of Gerresh’s chest with a sickening squelch. It was too dark, and my hand too red, to see if there were any black markings swirling on my skin.
“What…?” she began, and then stopped, her eyes wide, her lips parted in astonishment. Maybe horror.
“I didn’t mean…,” I croaked helplessly from the ground. I didn’t know how to continue.
For an interminable moment, she looked back and forth from me to the body, her eyes taking in everything. Memorizing. Gradually, the lines of her face went from slack with shock to hard with determination.
“You will tell me what is going on,” she breathed, “or when I summon the constable, I’ll tell him exactly what I’ve seen here. Because this is too much for me to take on faith.”
I swallowed, wincing at the pain. “Okay, I’ll tell you. Everything.” There wasn’t much else I could do at this point.
That was all Nikha needed. She nodded once, drew her sword, and before I could make a noise of alarm, stabbed Gerresh in the chest where my hand had cut through armor and flesh. She wiggled it back and forth and even violently twisted the blade for good measure. The body, of course, didn’t move.
“It has to look like I killed him and not…” She didn’t finish. She hesitated for only a second before reaching for my hand, but even that slight reluctance made me flinch. “Let’s get you cleaned up while I send someone for the constable.”
* * *
While I took off my blood-soaked, ruined gown and cleaned myself with cloths and a basin of water that Nikha had brought up to my room—after she woke a servant to fetch the constable—she kept trying to apologize. To me. That was the reverse of what our situation should have been, but now, after she’d calmed down, she was more ashamed of dropping her guard and letting Gerresh ambush us than angry at me.
“I was distracting you, Nikha,” I tried to assure her.
“That’s not an excuse,” she muttered. “I shouldn’t have turned my back on you and the real danger. It was a beginner’s mistake, letting anger and frustration interfere with my job. I shouldn’t have left it up to you to do … whatever you did.”
“It’s okay,” I insisted, “because I’m not just your job. I’m your friend.” At least, I hoped I still was, after what she’d seen and what I was about to tell her.
There was nothing else for it. I shared what I knew about my mother’s murder, the Twilight Guild, and Razim—even that it was him she’d fought in the market. We briefly speculated over whether Gerresh had something to do with any of that, or if he was just a sickly soul who had become further unhinged after Nikha fired him. And then I told her about the Keepers, about how I’d known there was something wrong with Gerresh in the first place.
Hearing I was a soulwalker was the hardest for Nikha. She took several quick steps back from me, from where I sat in a clean nightgown on the edge of my pink-swathed bed. She moved in the direction of the door, as if she was ready to run.
Her first question was “Have you walked in my soul?”
I understood; it was the ultimate invasion of privacy, worse t
han a thief sneaking through your physical house and belongings. I cringed, wishing I could lie. But I couldn’t, not to her, not anymore. “Yes, but only once.” I hurried on at the horrified look on her face. “I didn’t see anything other than its most basic form. I’m sorry.”
I didn’t mention having opened the black door there, nor anything about Vehyn. I couldn’t quite bring myself to give up the last of my secrets.
“What—” She swallowed. “What did it look like?”
Of course, Nikha had never seen—nor would ever see—her soul. She almost sounded like she didn’t want to know, but I understood how she felt.
“It’s beautiful, Nikha. Big and warm and rich and … just beautiful. And I’ll never look again. I promise.”
“Okay.” She swallowed once more, and her feet edged closer to me. “So you’re a soulwalker. I’ve only met soulwalkers who serve in Heshara’s temples, and I’ve never seen a priestess put a fist through a man’s chest.”
“Yes.” I sighed. “That was something else.”
“Tell me,” she said. “You owe me the whole truth, especially since I’m about to go take responsibility for his death.”
And so I told her about the black door. The basic story came out easier than I expected, and, oddly, it was easier for her to accept than everything else.
Maybe it was because she didn’t have the framework to understand how wrong Vehyn and the black fortress were.
Nor did she have much time to mull everything over with me before the constable arrived and she went down to explain why there was a dead man at the back door. I wanted to wait up for her, but I was exhausted. I eased myself gingerly onto my pillows, watching the bedroom door for Nikha’s return, but before I knew it, my eyes had closed.
* * *
When I opened my eyes, I stood in my clearing. The black door was there, open. Vehyn leaned against the frame, seemingly unconcerned, unmistakably beautiful, just like the last time I had seen him. Except this time, I didn’t have a reason to pretend he wasn’t there. I still tried anyway, folding my arms and staring off into the indistinct, shadowy trees. What I really wanted to do was scream.
“Kamai, Kamai,” he said breezily. “Where have you been? Are you still avoiding me?”
“Avoiding you is difficult when you intrude all over the place. Like on other people’s private conversations, or in other people’s chests.”
“Still vexed over our little argument, are we?”
“No, I’m disturbed. Deeply. You just killed a man.”
“I believe that was your hand in his chest, Kamai.”
“And you put it there!”
“Do you want me to apologize this time too? He was trying to hurt you. And worse.” His face stilled as his voice dropped. “I thought you were beginning to appreciate my help. I seem to recall you asking for it just a short while ago, in the Temple of Heshara.”
“That was different. I just wanted to stay alive. I would never want you to kill someone for me.”
“You’d rather I let you die instead?”
“No! But you could have, I don’t know, shoved him off me or cracked him over the head instead of spearing his heart!” This was what was bothering me almost as much as the act itself—not only that Vehyn was capable of such a thing, but that it was his first inclination. It made the small part of myself still trying to argue he wasn’t all that bad grow even smaller, quieter.
“Come now, do you really feel that terrible?”
I opened my mouth. And then I closed it. I wasn’t sure if it was because I’d grown inured to the sight of blood after what I’d been through, or if it was because I’d seen the man’s disturbed and stunted soul, or if it was because he would have killed me and probably Nikha if he could have, but … I didn’t feel that bad about Gerresh. I was shocked and horrified, but not remorseful. Vehyn was right.
He said, “So now that’s out of the way, would you like to come in?” He gestured the way into the black door.
I’d missed the dark fortress, despite myself. Some part of me wondered if I was starting to crave it. I sighed and trekked the short distance across the clearing, kicking up skirts that were once again luxurious black velvet. I was wearing my dress from that evening, the one Nikha had already bundled away in the waking world, soaked in blood. My bare, silver-dusted arms and shoulders glimmered in the faint light.
“You look lovely.” Vehyn held out a hand to help me across the threshold, but I ignored it.
Brushing past him, I found myself in a cavernous ballroom. Black, of course. The many spherical lanterns floating in the air cast swirling patterns in deep reds and indigos. Some created the appearance of thorny rose vines twining up the towering walls; some sent a checkerboard pattern twisting atop the floor; some threw what looked like shadows of invisible couples twirling around. None of it was bright enough to be disorienting, beyond giving the darkness a living quality.
“I didn’t know you danced,” I said, my voice flippant, but really the sight impressed me.
“Would you like to dance?”
I spun to face Vehyn. I couldn’t tell if his smile was jesting or not, so I played it safe. “I’ve had enough dancing for one evening, I think.”
“How was your evening, by the way? Filled with decadence and delights and … suitors?”
I was through giving him what he wanted, telling him what he wanted to hear, simply to please him. “I’m not really in the mood for small talk. And you know everything that happened anyway, so you don’t need me to repeat it.” Even if he hadn’t stated it outright, he’d demonstrated clearly enough that he could see nearly everything I saw. It was better to acknowledge it first and deny him that little power play, even though the thought of it made me shiver.
“But I enjoy hearing it from your mouth.” His eyes went to my lips, and I couldn’t help pressing them together self-consciously. Suddenly, all I could think about was what kissing him had felt like and if I’d enjoyed it or not.
Fine. He wanted to hear how my evening was? I made my tone nonchalant. “Well, I apparently do have a line of suitors to choose from, if I so desire.”
Before I knew it, he’d slipped up to me, put one hand on my waist, and taken my own hand in his other. I was so startled, I followed his first few gliding steps without thinking. We were dancing without music, but he moved like air, like breathing, so it didn’t matter. We were dancing to darkness and shadows.
“Do you desire?” he asked after a few moments, equally casual.
The question, taken in its broadest sense, was nearly enough to make me flinch. But I chose to assume he meant my suitors. I shrugged, highly conscious of where our skin met: waist, hands, my palm resting against his bicep, bared by the strangely parted sleeve of his black robe, my fingertips grazing the cool silver cuff there. Good thing I had a posture and pattern to follow, or else I wouldn’t have known what to do with myself. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. We’ll see how well they impress me. I bumped into Razim tonight,” I added, like an afterthought.
“Oh?” he said, as if he didn’t know. He spun me in a light circle, my skirts twirling.
“Yes,” I said as I came back to him. “And it seems I might not have to rely upon you for all my answers. I can glean some from him.”
“You don’t need to turn to him for anything.” Vehyn’s casual tone was gone, and his hand tightened infinitesimally on my hip, my skin bare under his fingertips in the low-backed gown. “What he understands couldn’t fill a coffee cup. I know things he can’t even dream.”
If I hadn’t known better—and maybe I didn’t—I would have thought Vehyn sounded jealous. “Oh?” I said. “Then why don’t you tell me? Maybe Razim is the best I can do because you won’t give me any answers.”
Vehyn’s mouth thinned. “The time isn’t right.”
Now my grip tightened on his arm. “It never is. You have your own agenda, just like everyone else.”
“No. Not like everyone else.”
“Oh yeah?”<
br />
“Yes. Why would I be the same as any mortal? I’m not human.” He looked bemused. “Or have you forgotten?”
“How could I? You keep reminding me.”
“And yet you so easily treat me like other, lesser characters in your life.”
“If only because you won’t tell me who you really are,” I seethed, jerking to a halt and dropping his hand. “Maybe if you did, I would be properly impressed. I wouldn’t need to go elsewhere.”
“Fine, if you’re so keen on fidelity, admit that you’re mine,” he said, as if it were a simple solution. “Swear to me on your soul, like you swore to Heshara, that you belong to me, and I’ll tell you everything … the answers to all of your questions.”
“Disavow a goddess to treat you like a god?” Hot anger burst in my chest, but I kept it walled in and roofed over, my words as smooth and cool as rain-slicked tiles. He was water, rolling off. “I don’t care what you are, because that’s not happening. Besides, how can I admit something that’s not true?”
“Okay, then,” Vehyn said, unconcerned once again, “let’s play a game.”
Why, oh why, in all three hells did I want to play his games? But I did. Something in me always rose to meet his challenge. My will wanted to confront his. And to win.
To follow this through to the end, like the trail of roses.
“If you find out what’s going on by yourself,” he said, “before events already set into motion come to pass, I’ll apologize and admit that I was wrong about you, that you’re your own force to be reckoned with, and that you’re stronger than I ever could have guessed. I’ll cease doing anything you don’t like.” He smirked, as if that outcome were preposterous.
“Anything?”
“Anything. And if you fail, well … you admit that you were wrong and that you belong to me. Won’t that be fun? I won’t even demand an apology.”
I gritted my teeth. If this deal meant anything at all, it would be worth the risk on my end to stop what I had started. To stop Vehyn. And if it was meaningless, then it was all just words anyway. “It’s a deal.”
Beyond the Black Door Page 18