by Rin Chupeco
“Not long enough.” Khalad slid a finger across my forehead, a gesture he had done many times before. There was a familiar tingling as Khalad turned the pages of my memories, searching.
“Ever thought about visiting?” I ventured.
“Tea.”
“Sorry.”
“There’s a good reason we don’t talk anymore. Let’s leave it at that.” He withdrew his hand, and a few stray wisps of blue and yellow clung to his fingers. In those colored strings, I could see memories of me running across a field with my brothers and sisters and of a younger Fox giving me a piggyback ride through a shallow stream. Asha retain their memories even when a Heartforger takes them, but their removal never stops feeling odd. “How is Lady Mykaela?”
“In bed, resting. Polaire is taking care of her.”
“If ‘taking care of her’ means bullying Mykaela into submitting, then I agree,” Fox said.
“Says the guy who bullies me as frequently.”
“Lady Mykaela is nice enough to listen when she has to. You don’t.”
“Children,” Khalad said mildly, his skilled hands forming a small lump of clay in front of him. Sparks flew from his fingers, and the small mound twisted and turned, trapped by magic not even I could see. He kneaded the strings of memories into the clay until the thick mixture absorbed them and hardened. The mound made a tinkling noise and split open, revealing a spherical glass crystal where blue, red, and yellow lobbied for dominance, shifting from one color to the other.
“I don’t know what to call it,” Khalad admitted, handing it to me. “It’s the first of its kind. It’ll boost his mood, keep him calm whenever he tires. I can only imagine what he has to deal with every day. That’s one thing I don’t miss. As a ruler, you never have time to yourself.”
“Do you miss any of it?” Fox wanted to know.
Khalad gestured at the bottles lining his shelves. “I got a rare memory today. The old man who had it escaped death by hanging in Drycht. In one of these boxes, I have a heartsglass for a woman who forgets everything she’s done the day before. Ironic that I take a memory from a man who does not wish to remember for a woman who would give her all not to forget. I’ve helped more people in the last two weeks than I ever helped people in the last three years as the crown prince.
“The only thing I regret is turning over those duties to Kance with little warning. I used to blame my father—and Dark asha, if I must be honest—for killing my mother. But now that the anger has gone, my dislike for my father remains. He holds many views I do not agree with, and I have always rebelled against him with my temper. He always saw me as an heir more than a son. He favored Kance long before my heartsglass turned silver.”
He paused and frowned. “Have you been feeling unwell lately, Tea?”
“She’s been having headaches,” Fox reported.
“When I was looking through your memories, I felt something unusual.”
“Unusual?” Khalad was as good at reading heartsglass as I was, so I tried to keep my calm.
“I don’t know how else to define it. It felt like there was something that wasn’t a part of you but somehow still is. Is Aenah still in Kneave?”
“She’s warded as closely as the asha can. She has no control over me, Khalad—quite the opposite actually.”
Khalad didn’t look convinced.
“I just put down an aeshma, Khalad. Controlling daeva, even for a short time, doesn’t leave one feeling clean.”
“Take the rest of the day off.”
“I see you don’t take your own advice.”
He smiled. “Heartforgers don’t have to deal with daeva. Although Master likes to say they’d probably be better company than the people we deal with.”
“How is the old man?”
“Traveling.” Never idle, Khalad was building a pyramid of pebbles on the table. “He visited Istera last month, and he’s now in Daanoris. He’s on the hunt for rare memories, and there are a few strange illnesses he wanted a closer look at. There have been some cases of a sleeping disease that turns its victims’ heartsglass gray. He’s been working on an antidote. Said it was promising.” He looked at me and then glanced back at the small glass case he had made. “We haven’t been able to find the rest of the ingredients for Lady Mykaela yet. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Dark asha cannot regenerate heartsglass, though new ones can be forged. But finding the memories needed for Mykaela’s had been difficult: a memory of love and sacrifice, a memory of a heinous act committed, and a memory of surviving dire odds. Khalad had already extracted that last one from my battle against Aenah and the azi.
“Master told me something about King Vanor,” Khalad began, hesitant. “He had met with the king shortly before he was assassinated. Master wasn’t fond of Odalian nobles, but he was fond of my uncle. Master says he isn’t as bad as you think he is—”
I covered my heart with both my hands, glaring. “You saw me raise Vanor!” I accused.
Khalad blushed. “I don’t get to choose what I see in heartsglass. You know that.” His hand jerked, and the pyramid he was building tumbled. “Sorry.”
“Well, you’re wrong on one count. He’s a horrible bastard, and I can understand why he was killed.”
“Tea!” Fox warned.
“You know I’m right. Why would Vador hide Mykaela heartsglass if he loved her?”
Khalad exhaled noisily. “I don’t know. But Master was adamant about Vanor’s innocence. He was sure of it.”
“You don’t have to feel guilty because you were related to Vanor, you know. It’s not like you were responsible. You feel things too much.”
“My master has said that on many occasions. He’s not wrong, but it helps me forge better.” Khalad was suddenly eager to change the subject. I made no complaints. “We still need those two memories for Lady Mykaela’s new heartsglass. I’ve looked through several possibilities, but none are of the potency I need.”
“How about a heinous act committed by a Faceless?”
“That would probably work. They’re not known for doing things half…” He trailed off, shocked. “Tea, you don’t mean that!”
“Why not? We have her imprisoned and then she’s in no position to refuse us.”
“I have to side with Khalad on this one,” Fox said. “Aenah’s crafty enough even when she’s powerless. Don’t drag Khalad into a battle he hasn’t volunteered for.”
Khalad’s eyes lit up from behind his spectacles. He tugged at his hair, which was white, like most Heartforgers’. “You misunderstand me, Sir Fox. I’m not turning it down. I can’t extract any memory from a Faceless if she’s not willing, but I’m curious about the other notions I might find in her head.”
Fox groaned. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”
“It’s worth a shot, I think.” Khalad paused and added after a sidelong glance at my heartsglass, “But don’t tire yourself for Kance. He wouldn’t want that. He can be a little…oblivious sometimes. Even more so nowadays.”
Was my crush really that obvious to everyone but the prince himself?
Yes, Fox said in my head. Yes, it is.
“There is something strange about the soldiers, Tea,” Kalen said.
That was true. When the arrows and fiery pitch had failed, soldiers streamed out of the Daanorian palace. It was a suicide mission, and they struggled forward as if every step was agony. It was obvious they were terrified, their eyes rolling back in fright. But despite their reluctance, they continued, drawn onward to their impending deaths by some unseen force.
“Compulsion, and a poor one at that,” the bone witch noted. “He is unskilled and desperate, barely able to control his army.”
Shock tore through me. “But only Dark asha can use such magic.”
“And Faceless. Most likely he wields a seeking stone, modified to channel magic. But the darkrot comes
quicker, and to allow him to use compulsion unfettered suggests that his master has already marked him for death.”
The monstrous three-headed azi swept down, and the asha climbed on its back with ease. “You say I have kept you in the dark. I offer you the chance to see with your own eyes. If you are not afraid, come with me.”
But I was afraid. I feared her pet dragon as much as I feared the one who could compel these poor soldiers against their wishes, but after my earlier protest, there was only one choice to make.
I scrambled up the azi’s back, white-knuckled and bathed in sweat, and held on as it flew swifter than any wind. It made for the castle with all haste, the asha sitting beside me as serene as if she were on an excursion to the countryside.
We found the hanjian atop their highest tower. The changes in him horrified me. Only a few hours ago he had stood in golden armor, issuing orders. Now he lay wizened, like some unknown creature had drained him of blood and sustenance, then left him crouched on the floor like an emaciated monkey. He clutched at a round black stone in his hands, gibbering nonsense. A growing shadow surrounded him, lashing at the air like a whip. His heartsglass pulsed silver.
“He is lost,” the asha said calmly. “A pity. I would have liked him to be sane before the end.”
The man saw us and shrunk away.
“Your masters doomed you the instant they gave you that stone, hanjian.” There was no warmth in the asha’s voice. “Soon, the darkrot will consume you until there is nothing left. Release your hold on the soldiers.”
The man howled his impotent fury, barking out something unintelligible before making a cutting motion with his hands.
The shadows around the stone grew. The man’s limbs stiffened, turning black as we watched. His face grew more elongated, eyes bulging from his face. He opened his mouth, and I saw fangs sprouting.
The bone witch did not wait. All three of the azi’s heads lurched forward, and I succumbed to my cowardice, covering my eyes. Even then, I heard the snarls of the beast and the shrieks of the doomed man, the tearing of flesh and the snapping of bone. When the silence returned, I fought the urge to throw up.
“You murdered him,” I whispered.
“I saved those soldiers.” She stood, the man’s heartsglass in her hands. She watched the light from it fade, lips twisted in grim satisfaction. “It is all a matter of perspective.”
4
I resented King Telemaine for his humanity. His dungeon was damp but well kept, bare but with minimal discomfort. For a prisoner who had done her best not only to rob me of my mind and will as well as kill Fox, this was a luxury she did not deserve.
The orders I gave were simple: I went in alone—always. Even Fox was barred from entering, resigned to standing on the other side of the cell door, listening for signs of trouble through our bond.
Not for the first time, I wished the Faceless woman had not been interred to Odalia from Kion. Except Empress Alyx wanted little to do with her, and Telemaine had offered to shoulder the Faceless’s imprisonment, which made Aenah’s proximity to Prince Kance a source of worry. If a Faceless leader could pose as a servant at the Valerian—as my very own asha-ka!—then what other devilry could she devise, even while imprisoned?
I hated her. The Faceless would wield daeva and destroy kingdoms in their quest for power, but Aenah had made it personal. Every injury I suffered since first entering Kion was from her schemes—the damage at the Falling Leaf teahouse, through the seeking stone she had placed to amplify my abilities beyond my control. The azi she had commanded before me, killing several asha at the darashi oyun. The deaths of the Deathseekers who pursued her, and my own near-fatal battle at Lake Strypnyk. I have good reasons to kill her, and it infuriates me that I cannot simply because she has set other schemes in motion that we require knowledge of.
My interrogations over the past several months had borne fruit: an attempt by Usij’s followers to attack the Isteran palace; a move to blow up a diplomat’s residence in Kion; a threat against King Telemaine’s life. Despite these successes, I was always left feeling that—given her notoriety and high ranking among the Faceless—there were bigger plans she was leaving unsaid.
“Be careful,” Fox told me, as he often did. I nodded, and the heavy metal doors swung shut with a loud clang behind me.
“Hello, Tea.” Aenah was chained to the wall, the links allowing only five inches of movement in either direction. I knew this, having measured them myself. It permitted her only enough distance to the bucket she relieved herself in and to the meals that were pushed through a slot in the wall by the Deathseeker on duty.
I felt the strength of the Runic wards crisscrossing the room, blocking the magic and leaving a strange, gaping emptiness, a feeling of incompleteness. In that room, she could use no spells.
The only elegance left about her was the black heartsglass she still wore, for there is no magic that could pry it away without her consent.
“How long has it been, child? Two months now? Three?”
“You know what I’m here for.”
“What you say you are here for never changes,” she laughed. “And yet, you have never asked the one question you have been dying to since we began.”
“I am not interested.”
“How unkind of you to say so, Tea. Do you think so little of Mykaela’s life that you would be quick to throw her away?”
“Leave Mykaela out of this.”
“You know as well as I that is impossible. Mykaela’s well-being is what drives you to accept her responsibilities without complaint, though once upon a time, you feared to serve as her replacement. And now you are here, dooming her to an early death by refusing to listen—”
The words ended in a startled shriek. Aenah sank back against the wall and thrashed, head tossing from side to side as her whole body stiffened in pain. I waited a few seconds more and then stopped, leaving her gasping for breath. There was no room for gentleness here.
“I’ve told you many times before. You will leave Mykaela out of our conversations.”
Aenah coughed weakly, then laughed. “You are persistent. What an ally you would have made.”
“Tell me what I need to know.”
Aenah’s lips twisted into a smirk. “What would that be, I wonder? Should I tell you about the strange illnesses flitting about the nobility in the upper kingdoms? That Usij is behind it perhaps? Or that Druj intends to wreak havoc within the Yadosha city-states next? Perhaps I should tell you what you have always been afraid to ask: Can Mykaela be saved? Do the elder asha prevent her from finding her heartsglass? Or”—Aenah leaned forward, shaking off my attack like it was but a shower of water—“that there might be a way to bring the dead back to true life, unfettered by runes and bonds? What would you choose, Tea?”
The silence that followed was the quiet of the tombs. I clenched my fists, refusing myself any emotion. It was always like this. While I could use Compulsion to command her physically, I could not compel her to speak any secrets she had no desire to say. A strange barrier to them lay in her mind, one I could not yet batter down.
“Tell me more about Yadosha and about this strange sickness.”
Aenah sighed, disappointed. “Usij and I do not always see eye to eye in how to lead the Faceless, but I kept myself abreast of his comings and goings to ensure his schemes do not interfere with mine. I know he intended to poison a few royals as the first step to achieving shadowglass.”
“And what does shadowglass do?”
“This has been a fixation with you as of late. Why so curious about shadowglass?”
I said nothing, only waited.
“Perhaps I shall tell you this time.” Aenah grinned. “It is the prize we all seek, Lady Tea. Did you not wonder at the color of my heartsglass that fateful night I revealed myself to you?”
“That fateful night we caught you,” I corrected h
er.
“However it happened, black heartsglass is the ultimate fate of bone witches like us, Tea. Dark asha do not live long lives. But when they do, it is only a matter of time before their hearts become corrupted.”
The air turned hot, took on a spiteful edge. She smiled again, with a mouth full of secrets. “How long will it take for yours to turn as black as mine, Tea? A year? A month? A day? I have been inside your mind. I know of the shadow that makes its home there. Do the others know? Does your brother know? Perhaps not—they would not grant you this much freedom if they did.”
“Enough!” My fingers itched for more runes. If only I had full control of her heart, I could use it to wring every drop from it until it bled knowledge—but no asha would permit such torture, even on the worst of criminals. And so I put aside my anger because if there is one thing I am, it is that I am not her.
“If you will not provide information about Yadosha and this sickness you speak of, I will leave. What does the illness have to do with black heartsglass? What does Druj intend to do in the city-states?”
“Druj is a fool who plays the same old tricks but crows like they were new. The target is Lord Besserly this time, at his residence two days from now. And as for the royal illnesses…” She smiled again, but this time, her mouth was bitter at the corners. “The old Heartforger and his apprentice. How sad of the young lad to be stripped of his titles to serve a crotchety old man with little humor to his name.”
I remained silent.
“They praise Blade that Soars, the first forger, and Dancing Wind, the first asha.” She snickered. “Blade that Soars and Dancing Wind doomed us from the beginning. When Hollow Knife was close to finding the key to immortality, they united to kill him. The prince would have saved us all—no death, no diseases. But you are gullible fools to believe Dancing Wind’s lies, that she would do it simply out of love. Love! Ha!
“Well, we all diseased in our own way, sweet Tea—our heartsglass tainted by mortality. Whatever our wars and petty quarrels, in time, it will matter little. Riches and glory do not matter when our bodies rot.