AFTER DINNER, WHEN I HAD MY EMOTIONS BACK UNDER control, I searched for Hal. Something had to be done to ease the tension between us—some acknowledgment of what we felt, or an agreement made as to what to do about it. How was I supposed to respond to his declaration that he’d always choose me? I couldn’t give him that in return—at least not until I atoned for the mistakes I’d made and the deaths I’d caused. Couldn’t we work together to help the kingdom first and put other things aside?
In spite of an hour of checking all the places I thought I might find Hal, and enlisting the brief help of a page, I wasn’t able to find him. I spent the night barely able to sleep in my comfortable bed even after a warm bath. In the morning I knocked on Hal’s door, but if he was there, he didn’t answer. I didn’t get any more time to look, thanks to being chased down by two palace servants sent to do my hair and provide appropriate clothing while my travel garments were laundered.
I didn’t see Hal until a page gathered us both to meet with the king.
On our way we walked in awkward silence, hardly looking at each other. An extension of the red marble in the great hall led us all the way from the atrium through a set of gilded doors to the dais where the king’s throne sat, flanked by a heavily padded chair in which his chief adviser rested, an old woman introduced to us as High Councillor Raisa.
The king’s robe swept the floor, the exact color of the blood-splashed stone. He was a man of medium build with iron-gray hair and pale eyes almost the same shade. His guards hovered nearby like twin shadows. One bore two long knives tucked in her belt, the other a short sword. Between the two athletic guards, the king appeared rather unremarkable. I don’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t this. He didn’t look like someone who held the power of all Six Gods at his fingertips. I could sense the second soul in him, but not any indication of the gods’ magic.
In contrast, even without sinking fully into my Sight, so much power radiated from High Councillor Raisa that it was almost impossible for me to look away. A few wispy strands of white hair escaped from beneath the hood of her robe, which was lined with thick fur in spite of the mild temperature. Her eyes were clouded over and milky, almost a pale violet, with no pupil showing at all. She had to be blind, but she still seemed to know exactly where Hal and I stood. It had to be the Sight. Like me, she could sense the magic all around, and she didn’t need her eyes to do it. I wished I had my shadow cloak instead of the floor-length dress I now wore.
Hal and I both fell to one knee in front of them and bowed our heads.
“Rise,” said the king. We stood up, Hal letting me brace myself on him with my uninjured arm.
The king’s gaze landed on Hal, and he smiled. “Ah. Phaldon. Welcome back. I don’t suppose your sister is likely to follow your example?”
Hal stared at the floor. “I imagine not, Your Majesty.”
“A pity. She’s missed around here—there was so much more good we could have done for the kingdom together. I miss her voice on the council.”
My eyes widened in surprise. After everything I’d heard, I had expected the man to be vicious. Brutal. Uncompromising. Instead he was soft-spoken and welcoming. Regretful that he’d lost Nismae—not vengeful like she was.
Hal didn’t say anything, but his jaw clenched. I had to redirect the conversation away from Nismae before it could turn antagonistic.
“Your Majesty, we are here to warn you that you are in danger,” I said.
The king sat back, seemingly unperturbed by this news. “Who are you, and what leads you to believe that?”
“I am Asra of Amalska, Your Majesty,” I said.
He raised his eyebrows. “We were not aware anyone had survived the double massacre there.”
“I’m not the only one.” I took a deep breath. Yet again I would have to detail my failures and be judged. Worse, I had to do it in front of Hal, which was somehow more terrible than confessing to the king alone. I could already anticipate the emptiness that would come when Hal’s affection for me slipped away as he understood that I was responsible for even more death than Ina. He knew about my gift, but he didn’t know how many I’d killed using it.
I told the king my story from the very beginning—how it had all started when I’d tried to help Ina, how our village had been destroyed, how Ina’s manifest had been born solely for revenge. He listened as I spoke of my confession to her, and how it had done nothing to slow her mad quest to kill him.
At that point, the king held up a hand to stop me. “Anyone who challenges me will die. No one can hope to defeat me without the backing of a god, and from what you describe, your dragon friend does not even have a gods-blessed manifest. I am the one who wields their power. Even if by some miracle she did manage to kill me, it would destroy all of Zumorda. She’d have nothing left to rule.”
Shock kept me silent and frozen as Raisa nodded in slow agreement.
Nothing left to rule? That couldn’t mean what it sounded like. My knees went weak.
“What do you mean, Your Majesty?” I asked.
“The bond with a god that allows a challenger to take on the reigning monarch is the same one that gives the winner the power to rule the land when all Six Gods grace him with their power. It is that power which gives me the ability to conjure fire out of air.” The king raised his hand and a column of white flame roared from floor to ceiling, far more powerful than the ones Ina had produced in Orzai.
I grabbed Hal’s hand, needing his solidity to help stand my ground.
“It is the power that allows me to call storms.” The king raised his other hand and a rumble of thunder sounded overhead.
“It gives me the ability to bring forth anything I want.” He opened his palms and a gray dove fluttered into the throne room, desperately seeking some way out.
“It gives me control over life and death itself.” With a gesture from the king, the dove fell to the floor and then a sprout burst out of the dead bird’s open mouth, leaves unfurling in search of sunlight.
With each of his acts my fear heightened. Even with Nismae’s help, how could Ina ever expect to take on someone with powers granted by all of the gods?
“If an imposter took the crown and broke the bond between the monarch and our deities, the gods would abandon our kingdom. They would take the gifts they’ve granted Zumorda with them. Manifests. Magic that imbues all living things with power. Demigods like you would no longer be able to live here. Zumorda would end up like Sonnenborne—a godless wasteland.” The king gestured at a servant to clean up the body of the bird lying in the middle of the throne room.
Horror flooded into me until I thought I might be sick. If the king won, Ina and Nismae would both surely die for their transgressions. If by some chance Ina defeated the king, the entire kingdom would be destroyed.
This was so much worse than I’d ever imagined.
Nothing I could do seemed like enough to help—except stopping the battle before it could start. I needed the Fatestone to change the past.
“As you see, there is no way your friend will be a threat to me, dragon or not,” he said, clearly misinterpreting the dismay on my face as fear of his abilities.
“Your powers are formidable, Your Majesty, but I’m afraid it’s not that simple,” I said.
I explained Ina’s recent alliance with Nismae, and what had happened in Orzai, tugging back my sleeve to show the scar where Nismae had stabbed me. Both sides of the wound had healed into an angry red line that had only just begun to fade.
“Ina has a gift of fire somehow bestowed by the dragon she took as her manifest,” I continued. “With the notes in my journal and the blood stolen from me, Nismae will be able to give some of my powers to Ina. There’s no telling how powerful those enchantments will make her, and they can only be removed by the person who performed the enchantment.”
The king leaned forward. “And do you know how to perform these same enchantments?”
“It would be easier with my notes, but yes. I can probably anticipate some of what she might come up with. But I don’t know what else she’s capable of,” I said. Nismae had devoted her life to research of magic and magical objects. All I had was Miriel’s training, and I didn’t know how comprehensive it had been.
“Raisa, tell me what you see in this girl,” the king said.
The High Councillor stared through me as I trembled beneath her otherworldly gaze. The energies surrounding me shifted, as though disrupted by an eerie caress.
I shuddered.
“It is as she says,” Raisa finally said in a voice creaky as old wood. “She speaks the truth, and the power of fate runs in her blood.”
“If a challenger is coming, we must prepare,” the king said. “And if they have your blood, there is only one way to avoid any unpleasant surprises your dragon friend might have in store.” He paused.
My stomach turned inside out.
“You want my blood, too,” I whispered. This wasn’t why I’d come here. How could he ask this of me?
“Yes.” He nodded gravely. “It would be wise to match them enchantment for enchantment. Use your knowledge and blood with Eywin’s research to ensure that nothing they come up with is more powerful than the protections placed on me. Together we can ensure that the dragon will be defeated, and Nismae will be punished for her betrayal.”
A sliver of doubt worked its way beneath my skin. If his magic was as powerful as he claimed, why would he need my blood, too? I thought of the dove he’d conjured, alive for only a moment before the sprout burst out of it.
Perhaps I was meant to be the dove. My sacrifice for his gain.
Hal edged forward as though he intended to stand between me and the king. I grabbed his hand to stop him.
“It’s not only for me, Asra. Your kingdom is at stake,” the king said, almost as though he had read my mind.
I didn’t want to do it.
Thinking about giving away my blood dredged up memories of being locked in Nismae’s tower room. If I never had to use my blood or my gift again, it would be too soon.
“Let me be clear, Asra,” the king said. “I don’t want to see you hurt. You would be helping of your own free will. You and Eywin could work together on the enchantments. You’d have food and lodgings provided—everything an esteemed guest of the crown could expect. Perhaps you might find that you like it here. Eywin could use a new apprentice.” He steepled his hands and waited for my response.
I waited to feel reassurance, but it didn’t come. I looked at Hal, whose stormy expression made his feelings very clear. He didn’t want me to do this, either. But with a battle looming that I’d have a part in whether I wanted to or not, the only thing I still had control over was my search for the Fatestone. If I pledged myself to the king, perhaps I could get him to speak to the shadow god on my behalf to find out where Atheon was. He wouldn’t have to know why. The only hope of preventing the battle was to get the Fatestone and fix all this before it came to pass.
“Your Majesty honors and humbles me with this offer. I pledge my service to you for the battle to come,” I said. If finding the Fatestone later meant an unwelcome sacrifice now, so be it.
Hal looked at me as though I’d lost my mind.
“The royal scribe will make a record of your acceptance,” the king said.
His words settled on my shoulders with weight almost too heavy to bear. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Hal and I bowed and were escorted out. I left the throne room with sweaty palms, my heart racing. Hal walked ahead of me so quickly that I could barely keep up.
“Wait! We need to talk,” I said. I needed him to weigh in on my plan. I wanted to discuss what had happened between us the night before.
He sighed, and walked faster. “I’m tired.”
“Like the Sixth Hell you are,” I said. It was only midafternoon. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing!” he said, but he didn’t look at me. I followed, trying to figure out how to confront him. It would have helped if I’d had any idea what was wrong. All I knew was that by the time we entered the hallway that housed our chambers, I couldn’t bear everything that lay unspoken between us any longer.
“Come into my room,” I said, still searching for the right words.
“Why?” He folded his arms.
“Please,” I said. After what we’d just been through and the risk I’d just taken, I was too exhausted to argue with him.
“Fine.” He marched into my room and I followed, closing the door behind us. He took a seat at the vanity beside the bed, looking comically gangly atop the ornate stool where I’d sat to have my hair done that morning.
“I need your advice. I don’t want this to just be about me. I want this to be about what’s right for the kingdom,” I said.
“It looks like it’s going to dragon dung either way,” Hal said. “Maybe we should get out of here while we can. Head for Havemont or Mynaria. Some of my demigod siblings seem to think that’s a good idea—a few of them have left for Havemont already.”
I quashed the anger threatening to rise.
“Could you try to be helpful even for a minute? Is that too much to ask?” Running away wouldn’t solve anything, not when the fate of people we cared about hung in the balance. Not when the entire kingdom could be at stake.
“I didn’t bring you here so you could sacrifice yourself to the king. So he could bleed you out worse than my sister did,” Hal said.
“I have no intention of allowing him to do that,” I said. “Nismae said to ask the shadow god where Atheon is. If I make myself useful to the king, I can get him to ask the shadow god for me. I can still find the Fatestone and rewrite everything.”
“You’re out of your mind. You’ve just pledged yourself to his service. That gives you no leverage at all.” Hal’s voice rose.
“What other choice do I have left? I have to at least try.” I threw up my hands in frustration. “Ina can’t be reasoned with. The king has a plan, and honestly, I’m a little more comfortable helping someone who isn’t going to stab me out of nowhere—especially if it means there is a chance I can stop the battle from ever happening in the first place. If you have a better idea, speak up now or stand by my side.”
Hal hung his head, massaging his temples with his hands. “I don’t have any ideas. All I can think about is what will happen if you rewrite the past.”
“You mean, when I fix things to prevent the king from killing Nismae and Ina or our kingdom from going up in flames?” I asked, not bothering to rein in my sarcasm.
“You don’t understand!” Hal leaped to his feet. “Yes, I want those things, but I don’t want a world to exist in which I didn’t meet you!”
I stared at the floor, the frustration shocked out of me.
“Have you thought through that possibility?” he asked. “I suppose you have, if you’re so certain this is what you should do. Maybe you even have some half-baked plan about how we might stop everyone who lied to us from doing so in the first place. Restore harmony, birds, butterflies, all that nonsense. Make the world all perfect and pure the way you think it should be.” He gestured broadly, rolling his eyes.
A fresh surge of anger made me rise to my feet. “Stop it. I never said that!”
“Stop what? I’m telling the truth. You have this rosy vision of what the world should be, and it just isn’t like that. You can’t make everything perfect. That isn’t how the world works. Where there is light, there must be darkness. Goodness only exists in contrast with evil. Until you accept that, life is only going to disappoint you.”
“Life has already disappointed me,” I said bitterly, trying to flex my injured hand. The fingers barely moved.
“So what are you going to do about it?” He stepped closer. “What are you going to do about the fact that life is terrible and unfair?”
“I need the Fatestone. If I can get the Fatestone, I will have the power to decide.” The more I thought about it, the more certain I was. I didn’t know exactly what the version of the past was that I wanted to write, or how to mitigate collateral damage, but I knew I could change the past to create a better present than the one I lived in now, even if evil and darkness still existed in the world.
“Giving your blood to the king was really the only way to do that?” he said darkly. “And now you’re definitely going to write a new past?”
“Stop pushing me. I don’t have everything figured out yet,” I said. I had done the best I could under the circumstances.
He stepped nearer, almost as close as he’d been to me last night. “I need to know. Your fate is tangled up with mine now. At least until you rewrite the past.”
I stood my ground and met his eyes. They were warm and liquid dark, looking for answers I didn’t have. I took a deep breath and then another, feeling the tension between us crackle like sparks from a fire. Part of me wanted to throw him out of my room immediately so I could think clearly again. Another part longed to close the distance between us.
“I don’t want this,” I said, deflating.
“Don’t want what?” His expression grew colder, more guarded.
“To be at odds with you,” I whispered.
Some of the tension ebbed out of his body, and an emotion flickered over his features that I couldn’t quite put a name to.
“I missed you last night. I could hardly sleep,” I admitted. A tingle of nervousness raced through me.
I saw a shock travel through him. Then he smiled sadly, just the smallest upward quirk of his lips. “I missed you, too.”
We sat down side by side on my bed, tentatively renegotiating the closeness that had once been so comfortable and easy between us. His body was coiled, not like he wanted to spring up, but as though all he wanted in the world was to be closer, and when he got closer, it still wouldn’t be close enough.
I knew that feeling well, and had never thought it would find me again.
“This is hard,” he said. He looked away, and seeing him was like gazing into a mirror of how Ina had made me feel sometimes.
“Hal,” I said. Just his name, a simple thing. I let the fingers of my uninjured hand wander down his jawline, then brushed my thumb over his lip like he’d done to me the night before. His breath hitched in a way that made a dangerous wave of desire rise in me.
This time, I couldn’t help but give in.
I leaned forward and tentatively pressed my lips to his—and then my breath caught, too, as he tenderly kissed me back. We explored each other with the familiarity of friends and the strangeness of new lovers, delighting in the ways we could make each other feel with even the lightest touch. Eventually he laid me down on the bed, his deepening kisses waking a slow-burning hunger in me that I thought had died forever after Ina broke my heart. And just as surely as Ina had shattered me, he put me back together piece by piece until the fire he ignited burned brighter than any she had ever called.
For the first time since leaving Amalska, I felt like I was coming home.