THE NEXT DAY, AFTER A BRIEF TALK WITH EYWIN about my abilities and what we hoped to accomplish, he sent Hal and me into the forest to collect some of the rarer ingredients he hadn’t managed to cultivate in the castle gardens. I took the opportunity to steal kisses from Hal all afternoon as we walked hand in hand through the woods, though the Fatestone was never far from my thoughts. The sounds of the city faded into a distant hum the farther away we went.
“So what’s your plan for the battle beyond what you’ve discussed with Eywin?” Hal asked.
“To make sure it doesn’t happen,” I said. I’d have to endear myself to the king quickly if I wanted him to speak to the gods on my behalf. I doubted he’d do so for any random person who asked, but I was the only bloodscribe. His inkmistress. I wasn’t dispensable, and that gave me power.
“But what if you can’t find the Fatestone? What if you can’t stop it?” He frowned. “I don’t like all the ways this could go wrong.”
“I at least have to try.” I had to stop Ina from killing the king—especially now that I knew the kingdom would fall apart if she did. “If I try, there’s still hope of bringing back the people of my village. It’s my fault they’re gone.”
“You can’t know that for sure,” Hal said.
“No, I know I’m responsible. I can feel it,” I said, my voice resolute. But he’d seeded doubts. What if I changed the past and the bandits destroyed Amalska on a different day? What if Ina found the dragon on her own, and some other series of events led her to embark on the same murderous quest she’d ended up on now? Could I truly plan for all those potential paths?
“If you’re sure this is the only way, then I’ll help you if I can.” He kissed me again, and a little stab of guilt went through me when I pulled away and saw some of the levity gone from his eyes. I knew he was thinking again about what changing the past might mean for us.
“Either way, it isn’t a bad idea for me to work with Eywin and start using the smaller aspects of my gift again.” I’d given it some thought. The king was right. I needed to be able to match Nismae enchantment for enchantment, whether the battle came to pass or not. This was my blood. My gift. I had to be its greatest master. I had to be the most powerful, not because I wanted to hurt anyone, or needed to win, but because this power belonged to me. Only I could make sure that it was used for good and not evil.
“What kind of tinctures do you think will be helpful in the battle?” Hal asked.
“I’ll show you,” I said, tugging him to a stop. A little rush went through me. I could give him the ability to see the world through my eyes. I could give him another little piece of myself. I’d never really shown him the smaller things of which I was capable. I’d spent so much time hiding, so much time fearful, that my power had been only a dark, blurry thing hanging over us. Not something useful or real.
“Show me what?” he asked, puzzled.
“Everything. Close your eyes.” I pulled out the little knife Eywin had lent me, dredging up memories of how I’d done this for Miriel. It was the spell we’d used most often—the one that gave her the ability to use my Sight.
I nicked my finger, then traced the symbol of the spirit god on Hal’s forehead, freeing a few tender threads of my magic. I opened myself to the Sight, letting my blood form a pathway from him to me.
“Look around,” I told him.
He opened his eyes and gasped.
The magic twisted like vines through every living object, rising through trees to meet the sky in cascades of light. It lived in the souls of the people of the castle, whom I could barely sense as more than moving pinpoints in the distance.
“This is incredible,” Hal murmured. “My Sight is nothing like this. Is this how you see the world all the time?”
“When I choose to.” I shrugged, but a little thrill ran through me just the same. I liked sharing this with him.
“Can’t you use this to help find the Fatestone?” he asked. “It’s like you can see anything.”
“Probably, if I knew what I was looking for.” I sighed. We were barely any closer to having clues about Atheon than when we’d arrived.
“So you think asking the king to speak to the shadow god is the only way to get more information?” Hal asked.
“It’s all I can think of. Nismae had access to the palace archives for years. If there had been any evidence pointing to the Fatestone’s location, she would have found it,” I said. Nismae was many things, but she wasn’t stupid.
“True. Nis was always very thorough in her research. It was more of an obsession for her than a job,” he said.
That was what I was afraid of. What other things had she figured out how to do with my blood since we’d last seen her?
We walked through the forest, Hal using his temporary Sight to more quickly find herbs, marveling at everything around us.
When dusk began to fall and Hal’s Sight began to fade, we turned back toward Corovja with full packs. I let my own Sight wander over the hills, hoping against reason that I might glimpse a clue that would lead me to Atheon. But the woods were quiet around us, and ahead, the city lay in a mess of magical life that I couldn’t even begin to untangle.
“That’s odd.” Hal stopped me as the trail we followed skirted the edge of a meadow.
“What?” I scanned the trees for signs of trouble, my hand already on the hilt of my knife.
“There’s something in the meadow,” Hal said.
He was right. A figure stood facing us from some distance. Even though she had somehow made herself invisible to my Sight, I would have recognized her broad shoulders, long braids, and heavy wrist cuffs anywhere. Nismae.
I gathered some magic from the forest, ready to put up a shield. Hal drew his knife. I followed suit with the small blade Eywin had given me to harvest herbs.
Beside Nismae, Ina gracefully rose from the swaying grass in dragon form. My chest tightened. She still stole my breath, but the reasons were different now.
Now I was afraid.
Now I was angry.
“Should we run?” Hal asked.
I shook my head. They wouldn’t be here if they didn’t want something.
Hal and I stood our ground as the two of them approached. Nismae held up her hands to show she carried no weapons. Ina remained a dragon, fierce and radiant. I kept my knife raised, every muscle in my body prepared to fight.
“You’d better have an explanation for what you did,” Nismae said to Hal by way of greeting. “Asra.” She nodded at me, and I narrowed my eyes.
“First, promise me you won’t hurt Asra,” Hal shot back. “Then maybe I’ll explain.”
“I’m not promising you anything. Not when you broke your promise to me by taking her from me in the first place. Not when you gave Eywin the very thing I left Corovja to protect,” she said.
I stepped back, shocked. How did she know all this?
“First, you never told me what Eywin wanted. You never even told me he was part of the reason we left. I never wanted to turn my back on you, Nis. You know I never would have, but then you hurt Asra. You acted before taking the time to explain what you needed. You could have had us both on your side. You hurt me as much as you hurt her when you did that,” Hal said.
“She refused to join us,” Nismae stated.
Ina arched her neck in agreement. I met her serpentine eyes with a steely expression of my own.
“Just because I didn’t want to become a killer didn’t mean I wouldn’t have heard you out about what you wanted to do,” I said to both of them.
“We’re not here to fight.” Nismae sighed.
“Then what do you want?” I tightened my grip on my silver blade. I trusted her less than I would a poisonous snake. At least snakes were happy to leave people alone if you gave them a wide enough berth.
“I was informed that you’ve pledged your services to the king. We’re here to tell you what a mistake you’re making. Join us instead,” Nismae said.
The reach of her spies was truly staggering. The news was barely a day old and she already had it in hand. My skin crawled as I realized that meant she’d been right behind us on our journey to Corovja all along.
“What in the Sixth Hell makes you think I’d do that?” I asked. Nismae had never given me reason to trust her, and knowing what I did now, I had even less interest in joining their side of the fight.
“We’ll give you any position you want. You can help us rebuild the cities ravaged by bandits. You could open a school to train herbalists for villages that need them.” She’d clearly been coached by Ina, but her words had no effect on me.
Nismae ran a hand fondly along the dragon’s neck, but Ina’s expression remained unreadable, the moon reflecting eerily in her sapphire eyes.
A bubble of anger burst in me. “Or you could consider giving up this mad crusade against the king. He’s been nothing but kind since our arrival.”
Nismae snorted. “Because you gave him exactly what he wanted. You’ve only seen one side of him—the side he wants you to see. He only cares about himself and what benefits him. Try asking him for something you want and see how well that goes.”
I scowled. I wasn’t going to let her bully me into doubting my choices. I’d done what I had to. “No matter what you say, I’m on the side of this fight that will protect Zumorda. Have you even thought about what Ina taking the crown will do to the kingdom? The land? The gods? The demigods, including your brother?” The pitch of my voice increased until I was nearly shouting at her. “This battle could destroy all of Zumorda if Ina wins.”
Ina tilted her head at me and Nismae frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“If a challenger for the crown wins without the backing of a god, the geas between the monarch and the gods will be broken. All six of them will forsake us, tearing apart the magic that holds our kingdom together. It will destroy manifests. It will drain the life from our kingdom. Ina will have nothing left to rule.” I kept my shoulders squared even as fear rose. What would it feel like to have my magic ripped out of my body? Would those like Hal and me even survive it? Perhaps we’d become mortals without manifests, the lowest of the low.
Nismae’s face betrayed no reaction, leaving me unsure if we were telling her something she already knew. “I’m surprised you’re in favor of letting him continue to reign, given what he’s so intent on doing to those like you,” she said.
“Using our blood?” I asked. It wasn’t anything I didn’t already know.
“Trying to use it to give himself your powers. It’s all part of his plan. Get the Fatestone—live forever. Take on the powers of the demigods—become a god in his own right.”
“And you’re so much better,” I snapped. “You stole my blood and are using it for the exact same thing.”
“I believe in the greater good—it’s more powerful than any monarch, and more important than any one person. Our kingdom belongs to its people, not to a king who rules from a castle where he gets to feast every day while bandits destroy people’s homes or children starve in border cities. Perhaps Zumorda will be more peaceful without the gods. We all have some small magic—our manifests, the training that clerics receive. Those things don’t require divine blessing or intervention.”
“It won’t matter if there isn’t any magic left for anyone to draw on,” I said, my voice rising.
“We will not let what you’re talking about come to pass,” Nismae said. “If the gods leave, we will find another way to maintain our kingdom. Ina is the first nonmonarchal mortal to possess the gift of fire magic. She can see it and knows how to access it—she can teach others to do the same. You could become a teacher or a mentor, work to make sure that the magic of the kingdom remains stable. Collaborate with us to develop new ways for all people in the kingdom to contribute to the magic that links us all together.”
“If that is the plan, I want to hear it from Ina,” I said. “She’s the one who will be queen. She’s the one who will have the power, not you.” I had no intention of being swayed by their mad ideas, but I wanted to know if any of the Ina I knew still remained inside.
Nismae’s expression darkened. “The queen trusts me to serve as her voice.”
“Well, I don’t,” I said. Nothing she’d done had ever given me reason to trust her. At least I had once had trust with Ina, even if we’d both broken it repeatedly since then.
Ina hissed, sending a plume of smoke blossoming into the night air.
“She stays in this form now,” Nismae said, clearly growing frustrated. “People rally behind the dragon. She is the symbol of change and revolution and will soon be our queen.”
“I don’t care about your revolution, and if you want me to join it, you’ll let me speak to Ina. Alone,” I demanded.
“Just let her, Nis. We should talk, too,” Hal said.
Her facade cracked for only an instant, and then she was composed again. “You made your choice, and I will respect it.”
“If you respect it, then talk to me about it for a minute,” Hal said.
“Fine.” Nismae finally relented, though she didn’t look happy about it. “Talk to Invasya if she’ll agree to take human form. But keep in mind that if you make any move to hurt her, I will find a way to destroy you.”
Anger and resentment flared in my breast. “I’m not the same kind of monster you are,” I said. My gift was dark and dangerous, but I would never hurt Ina or anyone else on purpose.
“You know nothing about me,” Nismae said. She kissed the scar on the dragon’s cheek, and then she and Hal walked away.
“I won’t have a conversation with you like this,” I said to the dragon.
She hissed in reply. She was used to getting her way.
“I am not afraid of you,” I said. “If you want me to discuss joining your cause, you have to be in a form with which I’m not obligated to hold up both ends of the conversation.”
She snapped her tail in irritation.
I sat down and pulled up some long strands of grass to braid and waited for her to give in. Ina was not the patient sort. I could outlast her by days.
Finally, she shrank in on herself, more slowly than usual, until she stood over me. She still wore white as she had in Orzai, the luminous cloak a sharp contrast to my own mantle of shadows. Her white hooded robe hung from her shoulders, her white dress girded with silver rope beneath her breasts. Below that, her belly was large and round. Though I had expected it, the reminder was still a blow.
“What do you want to talk about? Nismae already told you everything.”
I stood up. “It looks like the baby will be coming any day.”
“One hopes. It’s much more comfortable to stay in dragon form right now.” She gestured at her belly with irritation.
“You won’t have that option when the time comes.” I said, wondering what they planned to do when she went into labor. I doubted many of the Nightswifts had given birth. It wouldn’t be convenient in their line of work.
“Don’t remind me.” She sighed. “Nismae is always by my side, but the Swifts’ most experienced medic is so timid.”
“You’re afraid,” I said. She was trying to be flippant, but I could see the truth in her eyes. Taking on the king didn’t frighten her, but giving birth did. She wanted someone with confidence and experience to be there when the time came—someone like me.
She didn’t respond to my statement. She’d never admit weakness.
“Tell me the point of defeating the king if there is no kingdom left to rule over?” I asked.
“We’ll save the kingdom from that fate. Nismae has studied magic for long enough that she’ll find a way. Right now we have to stay focused on our goal—it’s time for change,” she said. “Perhaps the gods will see what we’re trying to do for the kingdom. We want Zumorda to prosper, so our people don’t have to live in fear of bandits or excessive taxation. Surely the gods will see our side.”
“But you don’t have a plan. You don’t have a way! And in the meantime, the people will suffer. The demigods will suffer. The landscape of our kingdom will be changed forever.”
Ina scowled. “I thought you would see that our cause is better for the people.” She paused. “And I thought you cared about me.” She looked at me with an imploring expression I now recognized for what it was—manipulation.
“I didn’t just care about you. I loved you more than reason,” I said.
I’d loved her more than anything, even myself.
That had been my first mistake.
“Then come with me. Do what’s right.” Her voice had the same seductive lilt she’d used on me a thousand times before. But she wasn’t Hal—she didn’t have the power of compulsion. And now that I could see her clearly, I wasn’t going anywhere with her.
“I can’t put my faith in someone who betrayed me. This time, I choose reason. Not love.” I would never choose love again. I spared Hal a guilty glance, trying to tamp down the warm feeling that welled up when I looked at him.
“I still would have put my faith in you,” she said with a little half smile. “You would never hurt anyone on purpose, Asra, and that is both your strength and your weakness.”
Before I could answer, she changed form and launched herself into the sky. As the dragon passed over the trees, Nismae rose as an eagle to join her.