“Of course I blame you,” he growled, taking a step forward. “You killed her. You killed Drina!”
“The serpent killed your sister.”
Shane sneered. “You held her down.”
“And you gave her the Bile,” Yumaris responded calmly. “And Zerif led you to that, because Kovo bid him to. And on and on.”
He took another step. “You’re not escaping the blame for what you did.”
“And will you, Devourer? Escape the blame for all you’ve done?” She clucked her tongue. “Once we drank the Bile, weren’t we all Gerathon’s puppets? Perhaps none of us were responsible for our actions in the war. Perhaps we all deserve to be pardoned.”
Anya touched Shane’s shoulder lightly. “Maybe she’s right, Shane. Maybe there’s a peaceful solution here.”
Shane shuddered with barely suppressed rage. He shrugged her hand away. “She claims to see the future, you know,” he told her, eyes still on Yumaris’s shadowed form. “Is that what you see now, Yumaris, when you peer into the mists of time? Conquerors and Greencloaks living in peace and harmony? Singing happy songs?”
“I do not see or hear so much as sense,” Yumaris said sharply. “I can make predictions.” She tilted her cloaked head toward Anya. “I can pay girls to help those predictions along, just in case. I’m never quite sure until the final moment whether a person will go left or right. Up or down. But I can sense which way they lean.” Yumaris took a shuffling step forward, and the light of the torch illuminated her pointed chin and her dry, cracked lips. “Gerathon was going to kill one of you that day. By stepping in when I did, I ensured it wasn’t you.”
Shane shook his head sadly. “You made the wrong choice.”
“Drina was not well, and you know it. The bonding sickness had left her twisted. Wicked. Vicious. And is it any wonder?” She clucked her tongue again, sadly this time. “We adults feed our children a steady diet of poison, and then we’re surprised to find they’ve grown up to be poisonous.”
Shane narrowed his eyes. There was something odd about the way she tilted her head. Something suspicious about the way she stood just past the threshold of shadow. “What are you using for light down here, Yumaris?” he asked. “Where is your torch?”
“And then there’s you,” she continued, ignoring his question entirely. “Crossing the world in pursuit of vengeance — an evil act. But you’ve done good along the way. Helped people. Inspired people.” She let out a dry chuckle. “I wish I could see for myself how you’ve grown.”
Yumaris stepped fully into the light then, and pulled back her hood. Anya gasped, and Shane felt a wave of revulsion. Revulsion … and pity.
It was her eyes. Her eyes were gone. In the hollows where they’d been there was now only pink flesh.
“What happened to you?” Shane croaked.
“The world is on the precipice of great change,” she said. “I saw the signs myself, and they are the last things I will ever see.”
“What does that mean?” Anya asked, her composure cracking.
“The Wyrm is coming,” Yumaris hissed. “And Erdas is in terrible danger.” She tilted her head again, and the light shone flat against that eerie skin. “The world above will need a protector who can walk the line between good and evil. Light and shadow.”
“The world … above?” echoed Shane.
“You’ve visited every continent on Erdas this year, my king. And yet you’ve only seen half the world.” She flashed her crooked teeth. “Spare my life, and there is still much that I could teach a willing pupil. Kill me … and Erdas may pay a steep price.”
Shane gripped the hilt of his sword so hard it hurt. His face was placid, but his gut was a swirl of conflicting emotions. Part of him wanted to strike her down, just to prove that he could. To show that she had no power over him. That no one would ever have power over him again.
But he’d never been as bloodthirsty as Drina — that much was true.
What if the rest of what Yumaris had said was true as well?
What if he had a chance to redeem himself?
“Shane, no,” Anya said, and she tugged at him, turning his eyes away from Yumaris. “Remember what I said,” she whispered. “You can walk away from this. Right up this slope.” She smiled, but her eyes were sad. “The sun is shining up there. The war is over. Let someone else play at being the hero.”
“I’m not a hero,” Shane said. “I know that. But I’m not a villain either. I’m a king.” He turned away from Anya, and his eyes fell again upon the hunched horror Yumaris had become. “And a king uses all the tools at his disposal.”
Yumaris shuffled off into the darkness, and Shane followed her. He didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t look back.
But as the darkness closed around him, the tattoo on his chest began to itch.
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First edition, June 2015
e-ISBN 978-0-545-81264-1
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