4

I resented King Telemaine for his humanity. His dungeon was damp but well kept, bare but with minimal discomfort. For a prisoner who had done her best not only to rob me of my mind and will as well as kill Fox, this was a luxury she did not deserve.

The orders I gave were simple: I went in alone—always. Even Fox was barred from entering, resigned to standing on the other side of the cell door, listening for signs of trouble through our bond.

Not for the first time, I wished the Faceless woman had not been interred to Odalia from Kion. Except Empress Alyx wanted little to do with her, and Telemaine had offered to shoulder the Faceless’s imprisonment, which made Aenah’s proximity to Prince Kance a source of worry. If a Faceless leader could pose as a servant at the Valerian—as my very own asha-ka!—then what other devilry could she devise, even while imprisoned?

I hated her. The Faceless would wield daeva and destroy kingdoms in their quest for power, but Aenah had made it personal. Every injury I suffered since first entering Kion was from her schemes—the damage at the Falling Leaf teahouse, through the seeking stone she had placed to amplify my abilities beyond my control. The azi she had commanded before me, killing several asha at the darashi oyun. The deaths of the Deathseekers who pursued her, and my own near-fatal battle at Lake Strypnyk. I have good reasons to kill her, and it infuriates me that I cannot simply because she has set other schemes in motion that we require knowledge of.

My interrogations over the past several months had borne fruit: an attempt by Usij’s followers to attack the Isteran palace; a move to blow up a diplomat’s residence in Kion; a threat against King Telemaine’s life. Despite these successes, I was always left feeling that—given her notoriety and high ranking among the Faceless—there were bigger plans she was leaving unsaid.

“Be careful,” Fox told me, as he often did. I nodded, and the heavy metal doors swung shut with a loud clang behind me.

“Hello, Tea.” Aenah was chained to the wall, the links allowing only five inches of movement in either direction. I knew this, having measured them myself. It permitted her only enough distance to the bucket she relieved herself in and to the meals that were pushed through a slot in the wall by the Deathseeker on duty.

I felt the strength of the Runic wards crisscrossing the room, blocking the magic and leaving a strange, gaping emptiness, a feeling of incompleteness. In that room, she could use no spells.

The only elegance left about her was the black heartsglass she still wore, for there is no magic that could pry it away without her consent.

“How long has it been, child? Two months now? Three?”

“You know what I’m here for.”

“What you say you are here for never changes,” she laughed. “And yet, you have never asked the one question you have been dying to since we began.”

“I am not interested.”

“How unkind of you to say so, Tea. Do you think so little of Mykaela’s life that you would be quick to throw her away?”

“Leave Mykaela out of this.”

“You know as well as I that is impossible. Mykaela’s well-being is what drives you to accept her responsibilities without complaint, though once upon a time, you feared to serve as her replacement. And now you are here, dooming her to an early death by refusing to listen—”

The words ended in a startled shriek. Aenah sank back against the wall and thrashed, head tossing from side to side as her whole body stiffened in pain. I waited a few seconds more and then stopped, leaving her gasping for breath. There was no room for gentleness here.

“I’ve told you many times before. You will leave Mykaela out of our conversations.”

Aenah coughed weakly, then laughed. “You are persistent. What an ally you would have made.”

“Tell me what I need to know.”

Aenah’s lips twisted into a smirk. “What would that be, I wonder? Should I tell you about the strange illnesses flitting about the nobility in the upper kingdoms? That Usij is behind it perhaps? Or that Druj intends to wreak havoc within the Yadosha city-states next? Perhaps I should tell you what you have always been afraid to ask: Can Mykaela be saved? Do the elder asha prevent her from finding her heartsglass? Or”—Aenah leaned forward, shaking off my attack like it was but a shower of water—“that there might be a way to bring the dead back to true life, unfettered by runes and bonds? What would you choose, Tea?”

The silence that followed was the quiet of the tombs. I clenched my fists, refusing myself any emotion. It was always like this. While I could use Compulsion to command her physically, I could not compel her to speak any secrets she had no desire to say. A strange barrier to them lay in her mind, one I could not yet batter down.

“Tell me more about Yadosha and about this strange sickness.”

Aenah sighed, disappointed. “Usij and I do not always see eye to eye in how to lead the Faceless, but I kept myself abreast of his comings and goings to ensure his schemes do not interfere with mine. I know he intended to poison a few royals as the first step to achieving shadowglass.”

“And what does shadowglass do?”

“This has been a fixation with you as of late. Why so curious about shadowglass?”

I said nothing, only waited.

“Perhaps I shall tell you this time.” Aenah grinned. “It is the prize we all seek, Lady Tea. Did you not wonder at the color of my heartsglass that fateful night I revealed myself to you?”

“That fateful night we caught you,” I corrected her.

“However it happened, black heartsglass is the ultimate fate of bone witches like us, Tea. Dark asha do not live long lives. But when they do, it is only a matter of time before their hearts become corrupted.”

The air turned hot, took on a spiteful edge. She smiled again, with a mouth full of secrets. “How long will it take for yours to turn as black as mine, Tea? A year? A month? A day? I have been inside your mind. I know of the shadow that makes its home there. Do the others know? Does your brother know? Perhaps not—they would not grant you this much freedom if they did.”

“Enough!” My fingers itched for more runes. If only I had full control of her heart, I could use it to wring every drop from it until it bled knowledge—but no asha would permit such torture, even on the worst of criminals. And so I put aside my anger because if there is one thing I am, it is that I am not her.

“If you will not provide information about Yadosha and this sickness you speak of, I will leave. What does the illness have to do with black heartsglass? What does Druj intend to do in the city-states?”

“Druj is a fool who plays the same old tricks but crows like they were new. The target is Lord Besserly this time, at his residence two days from now. And as for the royal illnesses…” She smiled again, but this time, her mouth was bitter at the corners. “The old Heartforger and his apprentice. How sad of the young lad to be stripped of his titles to serve a crotchety old man with little humor to his name.”

I remained silent.

“They praise Blade that Soars, the first forger, and Dancing Wind, the first asha.” She snickered. “Blade that Soars and Dancing Wind doomed us from the beginning. When Hollow Knife was close to finding the key to immortality, they united to kill him. The prince would have saved us all—no death, no diseases. But you are gullible fools to believe Dancing Wind’s lies, that she would do it simply out of love. Love! Ha!

“Well, we all diseased in our own way, sweet Tea—our heartsglass tainted by mortality. Whatever our wars and petty quarrels, in time, it will matter little. Riches and glory do not matter when our bodies rot.

“There is a way, or so it is said, to achieve immortality. But the ingredients we require are not as trite as happy or sad memories. Lineage is important. We require royal memories.” She chuckled at my confusion. “The legends talk of the five Great Heroes, descendants of Blade that Soars and Dancing Wind, who put down the first Great Daeva who roamed the land. But their slaying was incomplete, so the Great Daeva was split into seven lesser daeva instead.”

“I do not wish to sit here and listen to children’s tales, Aenah,” I said, fuming.

“This is far more than myth, Tea. For the Great Daeva’s bezoar granted immortality. Surely you do not go about collecting bezoars and still not believe that such a possibility exists?”

“But what does that have to do with nobles falling sick?” I asked impatiently.

“Not just any nobles—nobles who can trace their lineage back to the Five Great Heroes.”

I stared at her.

“Must I spell the rest out for you? I would take good care of your Odalian king if I were you. His family belongs to the house of Wyath, of the Great Hero Anahita’s line. A pity if that family should fall sick under unusual circumstances. Quite ominous circumstances for a betrothal, I’d think.”

“I require a memory from you,” I interrupted, refusing to rise to the bait.

“Oh? Does the young Heartforger have need of my assistance?”

“He requires a memory of an atrocity committed.”

“I can provide enough of those with more to spare.” She smiled. “But I would like something in exchange.”

“This is not a request. There will be no exchange.”

“Then I refuse. Perhaps when we have more to bargain with.”

“I could compel you.” That was not true. And heartforgers could not draw memories from the unwilling.

Oddly enough, she grinned. “Perhaps. There is nothing more exhilarating than the ability to impose your will on others. Do it, Tea. Compel my mind. I do not need to cast spells to know you wish to test your strength against mine, to see if you could make a better Faceless than me.”

I banged on the door, my signal that the interview was at an end, her morbid eagerness unsettling me. Aenah’s laughter rang through the halls before the doors slammed shut. My angry thoughts swimming out to Fox were the only answer he needed about the productivity of our session.

It was easy enough to find Polaire and Mykaela for consult. They were in the latter’s rooms, curtains half-drawn to allow in afternoon light, which surrounded Mykaela’s yellow locks in a golden haze. Polaire, whose short, dark hair had no patience for sunlight, arched an eyebrow at us.

“A plot against the king?” she asked. “What proof does she have?”

“What little she reveals has always proven true,” I pointed out. “It would be good to alert the Yadoshans in any case.”

“Did she say anything else about shadowglass?”

“A little. The Faceless believe it will bring them immortality and that it requires the bloodlines of the Five Great Heroes. There may be a connection to a few sleeping sicknesses in other kingdoms.”

Polaire frowned at me. “You must keep pushing, Tea. Compel words from her mouth if you have to.”

“Why do you think this is important?”

“Because the elders believe so, because she seems to think so, and because she is being deliberately ambiguous about it, which makes me uneasy,” Polaire responded.

“Aenah told me that the elder asha might know something about…” I paused, glancing back at Mykaela. “About Mykkie’s heartsglass. She insinuates that they might know where it is.”

Both asha stared at me.

“Impossible!” Polaire scoffed. “Aenah is not to be trusted, Tea.”

“You trust her enough when it comes to providing information on everything else,” Fox pointed out.

“Information we can verify. This smacks of an attempt to sow discord.”

Mykaela tapped a finger against her lips, looking thoughtful. “King Telemaine is not a descendant of House Wyath.”

“What do you mean?” Polaire asked.

Fox’s eyes widened. “King Randrall the Quiet, the dead king Tea raised by accident two years ago.”

“The one who declared that King Telemaine’s ancestor was the offspring of the queen and the commander of his army and therefore not of his lineage. We went through great lengths to have that confirmed,” I said.

“Doesn’t that affect King Telemaine’s claims to the throne?” Fox asked.

Mykaela shook her head. “King Randrall had no other surviving kin. He claimed the queen’s son as his own, so his legitimacy holds. Even so, Prince Kance and Khalad can still trace their line to House Wyath through their mother.”

“Politics are confusing,” my brother complained.

Polaire frowned. “We should launch our own investigation into that strange illness—which kingdoms have been affected and so forth. I’m surprised we have heard so little about it.”

“Kingdoms would not boast of it,” Mykaela said. “And they might not be aware of the connection.”

The shadows flitted through my mind again, and I saw wings beating on either side of me as the azi soared high into mountaintops that no human had ever scaled. The cold wind felt good on my face, but I closed my eyes, unprepared for the sun’s bright glare. I felt the azi nudge my mind affectionately. Master? it queried. Play?

“Tea? Are you OK?”

I felt a hand against my forehead. The mountains and the crisp air disappeared, leaving only the others looking back at me.

“She’s had a tiring day,” Fox said.

“You’re to return to your room and not leave it until dinnertime, Tea,” Polaire commanded. “We’ll look into the plot against the Yadoshans and these sicknesses.”

“But—”

“No buts, Tea! Go! And I’ll check up on you shortly to confirm you’re in bed as prescribed!”

Polaire always made me feel like I was a child of six, and I said as much to Fox as we left the room. “It was still my information. I would have appreciated a thank you at least.”

“She orders me about in much the same way. I haven’t met anyone who hasn’t gone through the same treatment when it comes to Polaire.”

But my mind remained ill at ease. The thought of having a black heartsglass like Aenah’s weighed heavily on my mind. How long did it take for silver to change? A month? A year? What other effects would it have on me?

Aenah was right about one thing: I had kept my links to the azi hidden from all, even my brother. I did not want to spend the rest of my life in the dungeons like her, left with a rotting heartsglass and no future to look forward to.