NISMAE’S RECEPTION WAS DIFFERENT FROM HAL’S, though no less enthusiastic. Admiration and respect radiated from the other Nightswifts as they greeted their leader.
I never could have mistaken her for anyone other than Hal’s sister—she had the same broad shoulders, high cheekbones, and strong jawline. Her eyes were almost hazel and her skin a warm shade of amber. A long glory of box braids cascaded over her shoulders, the top half of them pulled into a twist at the back of her head. Both of her forearms were laced with scars below her rolled-up sleeves, and ornate iron cuffs adorned her wrists. The cuffs appeared strangely dead in my Sight, as though magic could not touch them.
Her serious expression softened as soon as she laid eyes on Hal.
“About time you turned up,” she said, pulling him into a tight embrace.
“About time you did!” Hal replied, matching his sister’s smile as they pulled apart.
“I see you had to do your twists yourself,” she teased, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Only about a three on the ten-point disaster scale this time.”
“Hey!” He ducked, his voice indignant. “We don’t all have teams of people to spend hours braiding our hair before heading out on a mission.”
“You rarely even have enough hair to braid, you loon.” She laughed.
Hal pouted, but his eyes still held a spark of amusement.
“And what did you drag in with you this time?” she asked, finally taking a look at me. Her eyes traveled up over my body in critical assessment.
“I’m Asra,” I said, standing up straighter, trying not to worry about what else Hal had brought back with him in the past. Did she mean other things? Or other people? The thought sent a prickle of jealousy through me. It had felt special to be let in here, to meet the people he was closest to.
Her gaze didn’t waver as she waited for further explanation. Fortunately, Hal cut in.
“After the attack in Valenko, the two of us got caught. Asra helped me escape, but I got sick after overextending myself tricking the guardsmen into setting us free.”
“You shouldn’t take risks like that,” she scolded him. I could tell it wasn’t the first time they’d had the conversation.
“Asra dosed the guardsmen with something and it’s the only reason they didn’t come after us. She could have left me after I got sick, but took care of me instead.” Hal was clearly playing up what I’d done to ingratiate me to Nismae, but she didn’t seem particularly moved.
“I’m an herbalist,” I added. If nothing else, she should appreciate the knowledge I’d shared with her medics and craftspeople.
“I knew one of those in Corovja,” Nismae said. Her dark tone of voice did not invite questions.
“Actually, Asra was the one who asked to come to you,” Hal said. Then, lowering the pitch of his voice, “She’s a demi, like me.”
A spark of interest finally lit in Nismae’s eyes. “You always manage to bring home the most interesting souvenirs from your misadventures.” She turned back to me. “Let’s talk about it at my table.”
Everyone parted as she moved toward a table in the corner. Hal gestured at me to follow. I did so reluctantly. What did Nismae mean by “interesting souvenirs”? Maybe Nismae saw me as another useful magical object, like her stolen prize of the crown. The thought made my tension rise further. Still, I wanted to impress her if I could. Getting her help to find the Fatestone depended on it, and I needed it to change the past to save my village. I took a seat at the table, trying not to let my uncertainty show.
“Tea?” Hal asked me.
“Yes, please,” I said. He poured Nismae a cup without asking her, and then filled mine. The strong aroma of bergamot wafted from our earthenware mugs.
“Your cuffs,” I said tentatively. “What are they?” I couldn’t figure out why they looked so empty in my Sight.
She raised an eyebrow, impressed. “They neutralize magic,” she said. “Helpful when working with volatile energies. Even more useful if something magical and unpleasant is attacking.”
“She won them in a game of dice in Kartasha,” Hal added.
“How did you know they were something beyond ordinary?” she asked, intrigued.
“I have the Sight. I can see magic more clearly than most.”
“Perhaps we can put your skills to use,” Nismae said. “What can you do besides keep my brother out of trouble?”
I glanced at Hal, nervous about what might constitute “useful” by Nismae’s definition. Hal gave me an encouraging look. I took a deep breath. She already knew Hal and I were demigods, so what else did I have to lose?
“I can infuse tinctures with magic to make them more powerful.” I thought of Kaja. “And I didn’t know it until recently, but I can draw magic from other beings and repurpose it for healing or growth.” I thought back to how I’d pulled Leozoar apart. How easy it had been. How powerful it had made me feel and how some of that energy had lingered all the way until I gave the last of the magic to Kaja. I twisted my mug in my hands.
“Fascinating,” Nismae said. She looked at me as though she could dissect and examine all the ways I worked.
“There might be some other things,” I mumbled. I could destroy a village. Make a dragon. Create a flood that killed thousands.
The memories burned like brands.
“Asra is still exploring her powers,” Hal said.
“I haven’t had much training in anything beyond herbalism. I don’t have any family, and I don’t know who my parents are,” I admitted. The farther I got from home in search of answers, the clearer it became that I knew very little about myself or anything else.
“Well, we Nightswifts care for our own,” Nismae said. “Perhaps you’d like to join our family, learn the art of our trade, and exchange a bit of work for information that might help you discover the full range of your gifts? My research into those like you and my brother has been substantial, if not my primary focus. It sounds like you have skills that could be useful to us, especially with further development.”
My stomach dropped as I tried to match her sharp gaze. Become an assassin? Of course an herbalist’s knowledge included poisons and their antidotes, weapons like nightshade powder . . . but I couldn’t. I had never wanted to hurt anyone.
“I don’t think I could do that,” I said. All I’d ever wanted was a quiet life as part of a community. I wanted a family, and to know I belonged, but not with those who dealt in death.
“Don’t pressure Asra,” Hal said.
“I’m not. I only take those who join out of loyalty and passion, not those who are coerced. Though she may regret turning down the opportunity, given what I’ve brought back from my latest excursion,” Nismae said, a sly grin on her face. “I finally have what I need to take care of my unfinished business in Corovja.”
A shock ran through me. Her plans to exact revenge on the king were already in motion?
“Are you going to challenge the king for the crown?” I asked tentatively. Or had she already found the Fatestone and figured out how best to use it to make him suffer?
“I’m not stupid enough to want the crown,” Nismae scoffed. “My family is too important to me.” She gestured to Hal, then the rest of the room. “Monarchs don’t get to have this. I do.”
I looked around, knowing she was right. Family meant vulnerability—too many pathways to hit people where it hurt most: their hearts.
“I could have been the king’s second. His top adviser. He could have had my knife and scrolls in exchange for his ear, but he chose to betray me instead.” Her expression hardened so subtly it was barely visible. She’d obviously cultivated the art of restraint.
“I wish he’d made a different decision,” Hal said.
“You and me both,” Nismae said. She turned back to me. “So if you don’t want to join us, what can I do for you?”
“Hal told me how broad your research was, so I thought you might know of a place called Atheon.” I kept my voice very careful, studying her response. I couldn’t bring myself to show her Veric’s letter. I wasn’t yet ready to give up the only extant piece of my past—and I didn’t want to know what she’d make of my blood gift. No good could come of her knowing I could shape the future, or that my blood could be enchanted for mortal use.
“Heard of it, yes. Know where it is, no. It’s a name that refers to one of the ancient Corovjan royal crypts,” Nismae said.
Hope rose in me. “So it still exists?”
“Exists? Certainly. But most of the crypts are in interconnected tunnels beneath Corovja. Nearly all the entrances have caved in or been built over. I doubt anyone besides the shadow god knows where it is. Good luck getting her to talk to you.” Nismae laughed.
“What do you mean, only the shadow god knows where it is?” I asked.
“About one hundred and fifty years ago, the fox king decided he wanted to be buried with all his monarchal treasures. He burned all the crypt maps and burial records during his reign so that no one would be able to take his riches from him, even in death. Historians and cartographers may never be able to re-create them,” she said with disgust. “Greedy bastard.”
“I remember you complaining about the fox king before,” Hal said.
“He had very little regard for the history of his kingdom, which is probably why he only managed to rule for five years before the hawk queen took the throne. But the damage to the records was done before they laid him to rest. He planned well.”
“So there are no maps of Atheon or the other crypts . . . but are there lists of what might be in them? Or other clues to where they might be?” I asked.
Nismae shook her head.
Despair wormed its way in, crushing the air from my lungs. How was I ever going to find Atheon and the Fatestone now?
“Why are you looking for Atheon, anyway?” Nismae asked.
I refocused on her, trying to gather myself.
“It’s the only clue I have about someone who might be part of my family. He died a long time ago,” I said glumly. I didn’t want to tell her it had anything to do with the Fatestone—not yet. I didn’t know if I could trust her.
“I’m sorry,” Nismae said. “Family is important. It’s the only thing you can count on in this world.” She looked at Hal with love in her eyes, and he smiled back at her.
I tried to smile, too, but the expression wouldn’t quite come.
“So tell me what happened after Valenko,” Nismae said.
Hal launched into our story, with Nismae asking questions to methodically extract all the information she could. The only time she broke eye contact with him to glance at me was when he told her about how I’d chased the dragon out of the Tamers’ forest. He left out my history with Ina, perhaps because he understood it was only mine to reveal.
As for Ina, I hoped she was far, far away, still in that town to the west where the merchant’s cousin had seen her. Even though she was the one who had declared she never wanted to see me again, the longer we were apart, the less certain I was that I had any desire to face her either. I wanted to fix our history, but now more for myself than her. The guilt I carried might still be possible to ease if I could restore Amalska. But once that guilt was gone . . . I wasn’t sure what would be left.
Now that I knew Nismae couldn’t help me, all I wanted was to leave. It didn’t seem like she knew any more about the Fatestone than I did, and the longer we stayed, the more uncomfortable I became. These weren’t my people. I couldn’t see myself becoming a part of their community.
In that moment, I wondered if Hal might leave with me if I asked him to. Perhaps seeking the Fatestone alone was a foolish quest. The subtle ways he was considerate comforted me and gave me strength to go on. The ways he’d made me laugh had filled me with the only happiness I’d known since leaving Amalska. I wasn’t sure I could stand to lose him yet. But I didn’t know if his sister would let him go—or if he’d even want to leave.
As it turned out, I didn’t get a chance to ask.