by R. K. Thorne
He smiled back. “Sorry I wasn’t much of a house guest the first time. Thank you for lifting the curse.”
“You’re welcome. Speaking of curses, those scrolls you sent by?”
“Yes?” Lara asked.
“Two of them were just normal paper, but you were right. Two of them had necromantic charms on them.”
Nyalin raised his eyebrows as he looked at Lara. “Guess it’s good we checked.”
Pyaris’s glance flicked to his arm, which was still curled around Lara’s waist. She wanted to groan as he cleared his throat and released her—but she had no right to demand closeness of him. Or anyone.
Although with all the other rules she’d thrown out the window, why keep to that one?
“And thank you for hiding us,” she said. “I didn’t know where else to turn.”
“I’m sure your father would want to help,” Pyaris offered. “But I think neither you or he would like to test the loyalty of your guards right now.”
“Agreed.”
Pyaris spread her arms wide, long sleeves jangling with small purple bells on the cuffs. “Here—it is a feast night. I used one of the golds I earned breaking your curse to buy a few things. Wine, mead, lamb. You know us necromancers are excellent cooks. No spirits included, I promise.”
Nyalin snorted, surveying the meal on a small table set for two. “That’s not something I’m worried about.”
Pyaris raised her eyebrows, giving Lara a look that Nyalin missed.
I’ll explain later, Lara mouthed.
Pyaris nodded, then strode to the door and reached for her cloak.
“Wait—are you going somewhere?” she asked.
Smiling, her friend nodded. “Just next door. The neighbors are having a feast of their own. And Kedwin will be there.”
“You can stay,” Lara added quickly. Bleh, Kedwin.
“That’s all right. I was planning to go and take food with me anyway.”
“When will you be back?”
Pyaris grinned and shrugged. “I may not be. Don’t wait up. Oh, and bar the door. I can knock loudly, but you have people looking for you.”
And with that she was gone, leaving them alone. Very, very alone.
Despite all the time they’d spent together studying in the Bone manor, this felt strange. Different. At home, someone could and would stop by anytime—servants, Da, even Andius. Now, they were truly alone. No one other than Pyaris knew were they were.
And they absolutely had to stay here till the morning.
She must have stared at the door for quite some time, because Nyalin had finished barring the door and was staring at her before she realized it.
“You all right? You were, uh, hoping she’d stay?”
“Oh, no. It doesn’t matter.”
“Well, guess you’re stuck here with me now.” He spread his hands.
“We’re safe. For now. That’s what matters.”
He strode past her toward the table, and she turned to follow him. “Who’s Kedwin?”
She waved it off. “No one important.”
“Think this was intended for him? Er, the two of them?”
“Probably,” she sighed. “I owe her big time.”
“I’m sure if she’s a good friend she’d trade a fancy dinner for your safety anytime.”
“Good point.”
He lifted a lid on a large pot that she hoped to the Twins wasn’t the usual magical cauldron. But inside was a scrumptious-looking lamb stew stuffed full of carrots, potatoes, and peas. “Looks good.” He took a deep breath. “Smells good too. Should we dig in?”
She nodded and scooted into Pyaris’s chair.
To her delight, she found a steaming loaf of bread and broke it for them. Had Pyaris bothered with Heat Water spells or was this just that fresh? Either way, it was a divine treat. She poured both wine and mead for each of them while he doled out the stew, and they started eating without speaking. He looked ravenous, probably from the day’s exertions, and the first bowl vanished in no time.
The wine in her glass was dangerously low; she might have been drinking at the rate that he’d been eating. She sipped and studied him as he ladled out another helping—this man who had done so much for her without getting anything concrete in return. She wanted to thank him. No, she wanted to kiss him. Last time, that combination had meant utter disaster. She definitely wasn’t going to mention how deeply grateful she felt right now. But he was out there risking himself, dealing with Andius, for her. Even if he wasn’t doing it with romance in mind, it was hard not to feel swoony about it.
She needed some other topic, but the wine only drew her to things that were heavy, emotional—or things she shouldn’t talk about.
“You know, that first day when you gave me that handkerchief. I tried to play it off, even to myself, but it really meant a lot to me.” Yep. She’d definitely had too much wine. Those words had escaped her before she’d even realized it.
He blinked.
“I was miserable and trying so hard not to be miserable all the time. And it was just the reminder I needed that there was a wider world out there. That everything isn’t awful all the time.”
“Just most of the time.”
She laughed. “Maybe.”
“You were there mourning your brother? Myandrin?”
“Yes, and asking his forgiveness,” she said, smiling. “You have no idea how great it feels to hear you call him by his name. No one ever calls him by his name.”
He laughed a little. “I know the feeling. People rarely use my mother’s name either. It’s always either part of my name or ‘you’re her son!’ ”
She nodded, taking a drink, but stopped short before she could set her glass down. There was something strange in his eyes. “What? What is it?”
“He, uh…” He stopped, swallowed, continued. “I don’t know quite how to put this but I’m not sure if I’ll get another chance to try.”
Something inexplicable in her chest soared. By the goddesses, what was he going to say?
“He told me to say hello.”
She froze, and he met her eyes with a careful gaze. Those eyes were so, so… They were the same too-clever eyes that had pierced her soul that first day. But now there was something more in them. She could have sworn it was affection. The power of his gaze was so intense that she almost missed the fact that he’d just tried to deliver a message to her from someone who was dead. From Myandrin. “What—how—” she managed.
“I told you there are spirits over there. In the green world—the afterworld you saw.”
Even having seen the strange green world for herself, she stared at him. That was… delusional. You couldn’t talk to the dead in the next world. You couldn’t travel there either, though. Nyalin had never seemed delusional, except maybe in his persistent optimism. Still, what could she say to that?
“I’ve seen him in there. Near the Bone manor. And in the catacombs today. He sits in the library too.”
She flinched at that. But that did sound like her brother, and the way she’d caught Nyalin glancing at the library like someone had been there came to mind. Was Myandrin really wandering some other not-so-far away world, strolling quiet halls and reading books? That didn’t sound so bad.
She needed to say something. Her staring was getting awkward. “W-was he all right?”
“Of course.” He eyed her, not missing her hesitation. “I know it’s hard to believe. I’ll show you when this is all over, okay? I didn’t realize I could take you there, or I’d have done it sooner. I didn’t think you’d believe me.”
“Of course I believe you,” she said automatically. She’d seen the green world after all.
He snorted.
“Okay, it’s a little challenging, but I’m working on it over here. Do you know why hasn’t he crossed over further?”
“I have no idea, I don’t know how it works. Seemed to be looking out for you.”
She glanced around uncomfortably.
&nb
sp; “Well, not every second of the day, I’m sure.”
She forced a smile, still feeling unsure about it all.
“Look, I promise, if we don’t get ourselves killed, we’ll go see him.” His smile vanished. “I almost forgot… While I was down in the catacombs, he also told me there is a demon here. One who is after me. Not sure how he knows that.”
“A demon?” She winced and glanced away, thinking of Pyaris’s words about Nyalin himself.
He shouldn’t have, but he seemed to understand the wince. “I know what you’re thinking.”
“You do?” She shifted uneasily in her chair.
“You’re wondering why I can cross over like that. And talk to dead people. And other people can’t.”
“Maybe.”
“The emperor told me… well, he told me a lot of crazy things I didn’t get to tell you. But one of them was that my mother’s father was… well, not a demon exactly. A spirit? A ghost? Not a man.”
“How—”
“I have no idea. I’m going to go back when the Contests are over and try to find out.”
She nodded. “So that makes you… a quarter demon?”
“I prefer to think of it as a quarter dead. But as you like.”
Huh. She’d known there had been something odd about him. But she hadn’t expected it’d be this. It was a little hard to believe. Would have been harder to believe if she hadn’t seen the strange green world herself. “Does this have something to do with the lock?”
“I think so. But I’m not sure I understand it. He said they were afraid of me. That that’s why they put it there.” He couldn’t hide the hurt in his voice.
She winced on his behalf.
“Are you afraid of me, Lara? Now that you know?”
Not half as afraid as I am of Andius. But that’d be the wrong answer. While the idea made her a little uneasy, she certainly wouldn’t call it fear. “No,” she breathed.
“At least somebody’s on my side.”
“Well, you’ve been the only one on my side. It’s the least I could do.”
His face darkened. “You think he might try to kill me tomorrow? He obviously didn’t want me there in the first place.”
She didn’t need him to name who. “It’s against the rules. But yeah. Given what he did today, I think he might try.”
“Faytou was in second this morning, can you believe that?”
She smiled. “That’s great.”
“He said he had no hope for the third phase, though. That Andius always beats him.”
“He’s a lot younger than you.”
“But he’s probably been battling Andius his whole life.”
“True.”
“All Andius has to do is be the last one standing. That’s the rules, right?”
She nodded. “Last one of the top sixteen.” The scores so far determined who went to the final round, but ultimately the third phase was a vicious, free-for-all fight for survival. Figurative survival, as defeated contestants were expected to yield—and victors were expected to grant that request. That meant that all Andius had to do was pummel each one of them into submission. Or they had to pummel him. Teaming up was strictly against the rules, however, as was any use of magic.
“At least he can’t get them to gang up on me,” he said, as if his thoughts had taken a similar turn.
Her lips twisted. “Theoretically.”
“What do you mean—theoretically?”
“He’ll probably avoid the appearance of alliances. But if other finalists support him, they can still do things to help him win. Like yield quickly. Or choose more skilled opponents, decreasing the likelihood that Andius is gravely injured or loses by chance. After they defeat their goddess-chosen opponent, of course.” The initial phase was always determined by the goddess—or if one were a little more honest about it, a random draw of a number from a basket.
“And if he bribed those who built the original course, how do we know he hasn’t bribed the officials monitoring this competition?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past him.”
He frowned, thoughtfully. “I wonder who Andius and his friends might think the weakest opponents are. They don’t know me. My score based on magic should tell them little about my martial abilities. I didn’t fight when Andius ambushed me. Maybe they’ll think I’m nothing to worry about and leave me for Andius.”
“You’re still an Obsidian.”
He scowled.
“What? In their minds, you are. And even if you’re not in every important sense of the word, you still trained with them in sword fighting.” She raised an eyebrow at his frown. “Assuming you were trained at all?”
“At Grel’s side,” he admitted.
“So by the very best, then.”
“Fine, I see your point.”
“Who will you choose? After the first?”
“Assuming I win the first match?”
“Obviously. You have to have a strategy ready.”
“I thought I’d sit back and see who if anyone came to me, size up the fighters as best I can. They all know more about each other than I know about them. But if I must choose, I’ll just go for Andius.”
“Andius! Why?”
He shrugged. “Ultimately Andius has won for years. So he’s beaten all of them before at one time or another. But he hasn’t beaten me.”
She was quiet for a moment, not sure whether she liked that idea—or hated it. “What a ridiculous way to decide the future of our clan. What does beating each other into submission have to do with being a good clan leader?” Or a good husband. Or just a good person.
“What does being born a boy to the right father have to do with being a good clan leader either?” He shrugged. “Sure, you can be trained from birth, receive the wisdom of previous generations… Does that work out well every time?”
She snorted. “Fair point. But the goddess-chosen pairs? Please. Dala has better things to do than shift around shards in a box. The temples just want their hands in this. People could be matched based on ability, or their current score.”
“Sometimes in war and in life, you get lucky. Sometimes you don’t. Isn’t this the same?”
“I suppose it is. But there’s got to be a better way.”
He smiled. “When you’re clan leader, you can decree a better way.”
She bit her lip as her heart gave a little flutter in her chest. Whether it was out of hope or anxiety, she wasn’t sure.
“Until then, we fight.” He shrugged again. “I suppose it’s this way because a leader must be strong enough not to be killed too easily. They may need to overcome long odds. And if he or she can just be toppled by a blink and a flick of a sword, that’s not strength or stability for the clan.”
“Except that magic isn’t easily taken away.”
“True.”
“The fight should at least include magic.”
“If we weren’t cheating, that wouldn’t help me much.”
“True. And there’s also the power a leader grows in their people—the power of having men and women around you that support you. People that would defend you. None of that matters here.”
“I suppose. Although hasn’t Andius won—or bribed—plenty of people to his side? He’s a charmer. And if Andius has already arranged for some of them to yield to him, perhaps that’s the same thing. Do you really want that mattering?”
She sighed. “Obviously choosing a leader is far from a simple or perfect process.”
“Good thing they’re clan leader for life!”
She pursed her lips. “Let’s talk about something else.”
“Sure. This isn’t exactly easing my nerves.”
“You never said—how did the course go?”
“Teleportation earned me fifty points.”
Her eyes widened. “You came in first? Congratulations! Here, drink up.” She forced a wine glass into his hand and toasted him. “There’s something to celebrate. If you got the highest course score, y
ou’ve got to be up there in the rankings.”
“For better or worse. As if I wasn’t enough of a target already.”
“Don’t think like that. Andius is the real target. Anyone ambitious will want to take him down, not you.”
“Both Faytou and Myandrin suggested Andius will be cheating and not to hold back.”
“I guess that’s only fair, since we are too,” she quipped.
“I know, as if we’re ones to criticize.” He leaned his chair back, balancing it on two legs. The firelight caught in his eyes, in the shine of his dark hair, making something in her clench up for a second.
“Don’t die on my behalf.” She blinked. Had she really just said that aloud?
One corner of his mouth crooked up in a half smile. “I wasn’t exactly planning on it, but your request is duly noted.”
“I’m serious, Nyalin. You can’t end up dead because of me.”
“If I end up dead, it will be because of my own mistakes—and mine alone.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line. “We both know that’s not true. You entered that Contest to help me. Because of me. I pushed you into it. You gave me hope when I had none. Even now, I—” She stopped short. She didn’t want him to know all the different hopes that stirred in her. “It was always going to be this way. No sense in dying over it.”
“We’re all dying. I’m about halfway to dead already.”
“I thought you said it as more like a quarter.”
He barked out a laugh but sobered as she slowly set down her wine.
“I already lost Myandrin. My mother. I don’t know if I could stand to lose you too. I’d much rather be yoked to Andius and know you’re alive in the world rather than live in one where you’re dead.”
He opened his mouth to say something, stopped short, then frowned. His eyes locked on the table, and she could almost see his wheels turning. He looked like… like he disagreed with her but couldn’t quite figure out how to tell her so. What was there to disagree with?
His hard, intense gaze flicked up from the table. “We should get to bed. Got a long day and an early start tomorrow.”
She bit her lip. He hadn’t promised her he wouldn’t do anything rash. Far from it. He’d avoided answering altogether. The realization made her heart thud against her rib cage.