The Heart Forger

by Rin Chupeco

  “Daanoris?” Althy asked. “I doubt that Holsrath has ever been there, and there were no representatives from Daanoris at the betrothal. Emperor Shifang has been trying to woo Inessa for years, and we thought it wouldn’t be appropriate to offer him an invitation.”

  The princess winced. Something flared up in Fox before it was swiftly shuttered away.

  Khalad sighed and handed the heartsglass back to Princess Inessa. “That’s all I can find. If Master were here, he might have found more.”

  “You said he was in Daanoris, right?” I asked.

  “Looks like all clues lead there.” Althy rubbed her chin. “Unfortunately. Daanoris was a closed nation until recently and not very keen on outsiders. Let’s decide our next step at Ankyo.”

  “That might be more difficult than it looks,” Kalen said. “We might have prevented them from sending an army after us, but that doesn’t mean soldiers in every outpost from Kneave to Ankyo won’t be on the alert. Pigeons fly faster than we can travel.”

  Zoya groaned. “I am not looking forward to fighting our way to Kion.”

  I spoke up timidly. “I have a suggestion.”

  “What is it?”

  “I know a means of travel faster than any pigeon can fly.”

  “You can’t be serious!” Zoya burst out. “You’re not saying we fly on that azi, are you?”

  Althy arched an eyebrow. “It will take at least a week to get to the Kion border,” she said slowly. “But an army from Kneave can use the ports to arrive at Ankyo earlier than that. How long would it take your azi, Tea?”

  “You can’t be serious, Althy!”

  “It’s the best option we have, Zoya. Can you guarantee our safety, Tea?”

  “I think so.”

  Zoya shivered. “It’s cold-blooded, the way you can traipse in and out of that mind like it’s an evening stroll through the Willows.”

  “Then to the azi we go.” Althy allowed herself a faint grin. “I must confess I am curious. Kalen, the township of Lizzet is a fifteen minutes’ ride from here. Bring the horses there, save Chief and Kismet. The rest will be of little use to us at this point.” Althy skewered me with a look. “We will talk about this again, Tea.”

  I nodded, glad she hadn’t decided on a worse punishment. Still, it was hard to meet her gaze with the disappointment there.

  “I just hope Mykkie and Polaire are going to be all right.” Likh sighed, gazing back at where the two still slept.

  “I’ll need a horse,” Kalen said.

  “You can use Chief,” I offered quietly. “He can bring you back here in under half an—”

  “I’m taking Kismet,” he informed me, swinging up onto the stallion and riding off before I could respond. I swallowed and looked down, doing my best not to cry. We weren’t friends, but surely—surely—my compelling him was a forgivable offense?

  “Can you turn it on and off like a tap?” Princess Inessa asked me as we hurried to pack.

  “Turn what on and off?”

  “All the familiars sharing space in your head. Do you have to focus on them, or do their thoughts come unbidden?”

  “Proximity helps,” I admitted. “Animals don’t have those mental barriers in place, but their thoughts aren’t strong enough to intrude on my own. It’s trickier with people because there’s a give and take required. If they don’t choose to meet me halfway, I don’t sense anything beyond a general idea of where they are.” Granted, the only experience I’d had with a human familiar was Fox, and it was hard enough to pry any thoughts from him unless his guard was down. My hold on Aenah was a lot more tenuous, almost nonexistent at times given the mental barriers she has in place.

  “But he has a silver heartsglass…”

  “Only because I do. He can’t channel magic himself, but he has the same restrictions we have. Asha can’t take back our heartsglass after giving it away, for example. It’s the same for familiars.”

  The color drained from Princess Inessa’s face, and before I could ask why, she was already stammering excuses as she turned to flee, red-faced.

  Whenever we were unruly, my mother had a habit of grabbing us by one ear and twisting to keep us compliant. I put that to good use now when Fox drew close.

  “If you’ll excuse us,” I said to an astonished Likh and a rather amused Zoya before dragging him off so I could scream at him in private. My brother might no longer feel pain, but he reacted on instinct, his protests ceasing only after I let go.

  “How serious is your relationship with Princess Inessa exactly?”

  Fox rubbed his ear. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”

  “It is now. She said she hadn’t expected the empress to choose a husband for her especially after—in her words—having slept with you.” I’d been chewed out for the better part of the morning by Althy, and I wanted to do the same to someone else. “As you can imagine, her apology came as a complete surprise.”

  Fox’s face was perfectly devoid of expression. “That’s really none of your damn business, Tea.”

  “I don’t want any more details. After my talk with the princess, I definitely don’t want to know—but you need to tell me if your relationship is important enough to ruin diplomatic ties.”

  “I don’t know!” His mask slipped. “I didn’t even realize who she was until after I saw her watching practice for the darashi oyun with her ladies-in-waiting!”

  “Did she know you were an asha’s familiar?”

  Fox coughed.

  “Fox!”

  “Not telling her was my fault, granted—”

  “Every girl deserves to know whether or not they’re in a relationship with a familiar from the very start, Fox! What were you thinking?”

  “I wasn’t apparently.” My brother’s voice was loud with the things he didn’t say.

  “Did you meet her again after you both found out? Or after you ended things?”

  Darkness, the rustling of hay—slim hands against my pants, tugging—Inessa’s voice, breathless against my ear. “I hate you,” she gasped, meaning every word—

  “Oh no, no no no nonononononono!” I clapped my hands over my ears like that could stamp out those thoughts. I summoned the Veiling rune and focused on my shield, wanting to scrub out the insides of my head with sharp thistles.

  The thoughts retreated. Blood rushed to my brother’s face. “Yes to both. I’m not proud of it.”

  I sighed. “You really liked her, didn’t you? More than Gisabelle?”

  “That was uncalled for, Tea.”

  “I wasn’t prying into your head. You’re just not compartmentalizing well enough today to hide your mind from me.” I sat beside him. “What now?”

  “Pretend nothing ever happened. Look, you need to talk to her—and soon. I don’t want to stand there to make sure you do, but this can’t go on. Can’t you at least bury the hatchet with her? Having her angry is to no one’s advantage.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “At least try.”

  A wry smile crossed his face. “You don’t have to worry about it.”

  “Kalen’s back,” Althy called out.

  I stood to leave, but his voice stopped me. “Hey.”

  “Yeah?”

  Fox kept his gaze on the ground. “I know I should have told you earlier. But when you found out…were you OK with it? About me and…?”

  I grinned, feeling a little better, and rapped him lightly on the head. “Of course I was. Obviously, I had some reservations. But she’s a nice person, and I know she made you happy. I’m not pleased that you aren’t happy now, but…well, that’s all I really want—for you to be happy. You know that, right?”

  He smiled briefly. “Yeah. Thanks, Tea.”

  We returned, and I focused on the azi. It continued its cautious patrol around the city but per
ked when my mind touched its own.

  Come.

  With a jubilant cry, it turned and sped off. I could feel trees and hills blurring underneath my talons as we raced to the lake we called home.

  The ground around us rocked as the daeva landed before me. Zoya swore and jumped back, and runes glittered in the air as both Kalen and Althy reacted on instinct.

  But the azi cooed. It attempted to lick at my face, but I put a stop to that immediately. As far as anyone knew, I’d started controlling the azi today and not in the previous year, and its affection might draw suspicion.

  “I don’t know about this.” Zoya’s voice was strained.

  I led Chief up its massive frame to the spot I knew was most comfortable. “You’re not afraid, are you?”

  Zoya glared at me, then made a show of stomping up the beast, tottering a little. “Definitely not!”

  Likh looked like he would much rather stay put, but when Khalad clambered eagerly up the azi’s back, he followed gingerly. Althy hefted first Mykaela and then Polaire on top of the dragon, settling them securely on the base of its three necks like she’d done this many times before.

  Princess Inessa was next, not bothering to hide her fright. I watched Fox hesitate, then hold out a hand to help her up.

  I turned to Kalen, who was glaring at me. “I’m sorry,” I began.

  “No, you’re not,” he snapped and climbed up before I could say anything else.

  Can’t you at least bury the hatchet with him? Having him angry is to no one’s advantage.

  Shut up, I growled, and then the azi was back in the air with a happy cry, hurtling through the air toward Ankyo over the sound of Zoya and Princess Inessa’s screams.

  The army raised a white flag at dawn to signal for a temporary truce—an unusual course of action for an army that surrounded a fallen city and had yet to attack.

  There was no crowd when the small contingent marched down the empty streets. Kion had sent in too many soldiers, far too many for a compromise. But the bone witch let them pass through the palace gates unmolested; perhaps the daeva still camped outside, watching the newcomers with eager eyes, were enough of a deterrent.

  The Dark asha was prepared; the throne room had been removed of the injured, who had been moved to a smaller hall. Khalad and the Daanorian princess had gone with them. Lord Kalen had disappeared with the emperor, and I didn’t want to know where the Deathseeker was hiding him.

  A fresh bouquet of flowers had been brought in from the royal gardens. It was a strange idiosyncrasy of hers; even during her exile by the Sea of Skulls, she had kept garlands in her cave. “Monkshood,” she told me, smiling. “And a rare flower called a belvedere. Are they not beautiful?”

  The Empress Alyx of Kion swept through the door of the throne room, flanked by her personal guards, in as grand an entrance as could be mustered given the situation. With her was a shriveled old woman, short and bowed over but wearing the most unwieldy hua I had ever seen; it traveled for several meters behind her and a couple more on either side, her form nearly swallowed by the bulky fabric. Striped-yellow carnations were painted on it, an odd choice for an older woman. Her white hair, pulled in a tight bun above her head, was almost hidden by the collection of zivars piled atop it, each ornament more ostentatious than the last, but all eclipsed by a jewel crafted to resemble an azalea flower at its very center. Despite the woman’s slightly ridiculous appearance, I thought the bone witch flinched, though she recovered quickly.

  Another asha joined them, dressed in a somber hua of tinted blue and gray and wearing a pinched face. Despite the simplicity of her dress, her heartsglass case was the most extravagant of them all. Hammered gold vines and inlaid leaves circled her neck and folded behind her silver heart. She would not stop staring at the bone witch’s black heartsglass, hatred blazing from her eyes.

  The last asha was a woman in a hua of brilliant blue, wave patterns dotting its hems. Her long golden hair billowed out behind her, and her gaze was trained on the bone witch’s face. The bone witch had frequently described Lady Mykaela as beautiful, and I could see that she did not exaggerate. But there were lines across the older woman’s face, which was marred from a lifetime of tragedies.

  “It’s been a while, Tea of the Embers.” The empress had a reputation for flamboyance and playfulness; none of that was in evidence now. “We thought you dead. Imagine our surprise when word reached us of you raising daeva along Tresea’s and Daanoris’s coasts.”

  The bone witch had the gall to grin. “If it makes you happy, many times these last few months, I thought I should have been dead too.”

  “Fool!” The old woman in the elaborate hua flounced forward. “I did not spend my hard-earned money on you only to bring down our reputation! Oh! If I could go back in time and stop you from ever darkening the Valerian’s door!”

  “I’m surprised you volunteered for this, Mistress Parmina. Though I am honored that the empress herself came to see me.” She paused. “And how are you, Lady Mykaela? Are the others at camp?”

  “Our friends are all waiting for us in Kion; I came alone for this campaign. You’re looking well, Tea.”

  A specter of a smile appeared on the girl’s face. “And you haven’t changed at all, Mykkie.”

  “As always, Tea, you are a magnificent liar. Where is the emperor?”

  “At peace.”

  “Tea—”

  “I did not kill him, Mykkie. You have my word on that—if my word is still worth anything to you.”

  “Do not speak like you still talk among friends, bone witch,” the woman with the vines-and-leaves heartsglass thundered. “You broke our agreement, Tea of the Embers. We had an understanding, and you sought to steal from our very noses—”

  “I stole nothing, Hestia.”

  “You gave us your heartsglass. In exchange, we promised to spare Fox’s life!”

  “‘Sparing’ his life is an overstatement. My brother would fare well even without your attempts.”

  “You broke our treaty!”

  “Is that what you call a treaty? To resort to blackmail as I lay on the ground, weak and helpless with death, in the sands? Black heartsglass will always return to you regardless of anyone’s control, whether you wish it to or not. Someone told me that once upon a time.”

  “Shut up, Hestia.” Lady Mykaela cupped the bone witch’s face with her hands. “Oh, my sweet child,” she said softly. “We searched for you for months. Fox was grief stricken, his only consolation was knowing you were alive. By the time reports reached us of a strange creature sighted along the Sea of Skulls, it was too late. Why are you persisting in this insanity? You will destroy Kion!”

  “Not Kion, no. But there are injustices entrenched in Kion that deserve death.”

  “I will not allow such talk from a traitor!” The fire burning in the palm of Mistress Hestia’s hand was frighteningly real. But when she raised her arm to unleash the flames, the bone witch’s hand moved. The elder asha paused in midthrow, eyes wide.

  “Traitor?” the girl asked softly. “You are the last person to speak of treason. I should let you burn for all you’ve done.”

  “Let her go, Tea!” Lady Mykaela raised her hands, gesturing firmly. The bone witch’s lifted in response, and Mistress Hestia was pushed aside by some unseen force, still trembling with both anger and fear.

  The battle the two asha waged was invisible to our eyes. Occasionally, one would flinch from some veiled blow, but neither wavered. Another elder asha, smarting over her mistress’s humiliation, sent a quick streak of flames slicing toward the Dark asha’s direction—only for another of her colleagues to stumble into its path. Her hua caught fire.

  “Water!” Mistress Hestia shouted, and within seconds, cloudbursts appeared; the woman was shaken and singed but alive. She remained frozen to the spot, her eyes panicked.

  Lady Mykaela lo
wered her arms. “Tea,” she said. “Please.”

  The fires died out completely, and the elder asha sank to the floor, gasping for breath. The bone witch turned away from the monkshood flowers and rearranged the belvedere. “I reject your offer and give you my own: leave Daanoris. Stand in my way and suffer.”

  “You know we cannot do that, Tea,” the empress said.

  “Then we have nothing to discuss.”

  The wizened old lady with the overabundance of zivar paused, eyes resting thoughtfully on the flowers the asha tended. “We receive your message perfectly. Our time with this foolish child has been wasted.”

  The empress bowed—bowed!—and left with Mistress Parmina.

  “Well, Hestia?” The bone witch’s voice was soft—so very soft. “Are you prepared to face me?”

  The elder asha hesitated but hurried out after her colleagues.

  “It’s not too late, Tea,” Lady Mykaela pleaded.

  “I have no choice. You still do not believe me.”

  “Then swear to me that you didn’t kill her, Tea. That she didn’t die by your own hand.”

  But the Dark asha was silent.

  The older woman lowered her head and left.

  Now alone, the bone witch stared down at her hands. “I cannot,” she whispered. “The gods help me, I cannot.”

  14

  It’s easy to dismiss the asha-ka association as nothing more than old women in overly elaborate hua, sipping tea and passing gossip. But as one who speaks for asha all over the world, their word is law in the Willows. I have seen grown women falter under their watchful, accusatory gazes. Now those eyes were trained on me.

  “To keep the spells of the Faceless merits harsh punishments, especially for a practitioner of the Dark. What do you say in your defense?”

  “Certain mitigating circumstances forced me to—”

  “I see no mitigating circumstances,” said their leader, Mistress Hestia of House Imperial. “Such spells have been banned for good reason.”