“It wasn’t an attack.” I struggled to slow my breathing to a more sedate pace. At the very least, it didn’t start as an attack. I had to believe that. “I’ve got Zaira with me. I’ll be fine. Send a search party.”
“Yes, my lady.” Lucia bowed and left. She wasn’t good yet at keeping her doubts out of her voice when she disagreed with me; I supposed that was something it took time to learn.
Zaira peered out the window. “He jumped down from here? And he didn’t break his legs?”
“It seems strange to me, too,” I admitted. “Not to mention that he shouldn’t have been able to get here by now on foot, even with a head start through the night. Ruven must be helping him somehow.”
Zaira shook her head. “If Ruven can whisk him off like a gull with a stolen biscuit, your knife girl won’t catch him. He’s gone.”
I leaned on the windowsill to ease my trembling legs. “He was here, Zaira. And I didn’t save him.” And now he was out in the night once more, alone with whatever demon Ruven had put inside him. “I can’t abandon him again. I have to—”
“You have to leave this to other people,” Zaira said bluntly. “You’re on the Council now, remember? You don’t get to go haring off into the night after the most obvious bait I’ve ever seen.”
“But they’re not going to find him. You just said as much.”
Zaira nodded, her dark eyes somber in the starlight. “I did. And he’d let you find him. And that’s the whole pox-cursed problem.”
All the rest of the night I paced before my window while my searchers combed the city of Palova, straining at every night sound like a dog hearing distant barking. Istrella had rushed back into my room with a disk a bit like a sound amplification circle pressed to her wrist over her jess, but could give us no better information than that he was still moving north at a fairly quick pace. I finally convinced her to go back to sleep, but couldn’t do the same myself.
Ruven’s words in the garden reverberated in my memory: I need you to have motivation. I felt extremely motivated. Motivated to find a way for Zaira to burn him to death, then jump up and down on his ashes before they blew away.
Marcello eluded my guards, just as Zaira had said he would. And come the first thin light of dawn, we were back in the coach, jarring along at our breakneck pace farther and farther from any hope of finding him. I couldn’t bring myself to talk, and buried my face in a book even though I found it impossible to focus on the words. Istrella somehow managed to work on creating new courier lamps despite all the bumping and rattling and a wounded arm, her face set with grim concentration as she twisted wire around large chunks of quartz crystal. Zaira appointed herself the important task of testing out Lucia’s capacity for off-color jokes; Lucia appeared well-equipped to handle incoming fire that left my own cheeks burning, but had few arrows in her own quiver to return—a lack Zaira was all too happy to remedy.
At our first post station stop to switch horses, however, Zaira pulled me aside and marched me to the lacy shade of a bare-branched tree, scowling as if she’d caught me pilfering her favorite sweets.
“What is it?” I asked, at a loss as to how I might have offended her.
“What did he say to you?” she demanded. “You’ve been mopey as a lovesick farm boy all morning. I was in fine scandalous form there—you should have been redder than a radish, and you couldn’t even manage a decent shade of pink.”
I opened my mouth to make some retort, then snapped it shut. She wasn’t mocking me, for once; her dark eyes were clouded, not bright with laughter.
“The truth,” I said reluctantly.
“Oh, that narrows it down.” She put her hands on her hips. “I need you to be reliable on this trip, Cornaro. If that means talking about your feelings, I can suffer through it this once. Confess. What did he say?”
“That I abandoned him.” I looked down at the scuffed toes of my boots—my most comfortable pair, for traveling, not the fashionable ones I wore around the city. “That I sacrificed him.”
“And you believe that?”
“Yes.” I met the fierce black rings of the mage mark in her eyes. “While my friend was struggling against a terrible enemy, I left him to his fate for the sake of politics and a good night’s sleep.”
Zaira blew air through her lips. “No, you stayed away because he was dangerous as a dog with the foaming sickness.”
“I left him when he needed me.” My voice had sharpened to a hair short of shouting. I took a deep breath and gentled it; Zaira deserved better. “And you know he would never have left me if our situations had been reversed. He was right. Whatever you call my reasons—for my own safety, for the Empire—I sacrificed him. Just like I did Ro…” My throat squeezed shut on Roland’s name. Zaira watched me, frowning, and offered no help as I swallowed and tried again. “I can tell myself it’s in the service of the Empire, or that it’s my duty as one of the Council, but it’s still my choice. This is what I’m becoming, Zaira. I don’t think I would have done this a year ago.” I wound my fingers in my hair and pulled as if I could somehow rein in the wild grief bubbling up in my chest. “I keep losing little pieces of myself. I’m afraid of what’ll be left at the end.”
“No,” Zaira said flatly, “you’re not losing pieces of yourself. You’re throwing them away.”
I stared at her, miserably unable to argue.
She jabbed my sternum with a sharp finger. “Ever since you erupted that volcano on your cousin, I’ve seen you wrap yourself in duty like a beggar’s shroud. First the Falcon law—and I’m glad you passed it! But it’s no excuse for not living your own damned life. Then the election, and now it’ll be Council business. If you put on your duty like a mask, eventually that mask is going to become your face.”
Her words slid between my ribs like an assassin’s knife. I lifted my hands to my temples, almost surprised to find them soft and warm. “I don’t want to forget how to be a person,” I whispered.
“Then be one. People make mistakes.” She shrugged. “They make a plague-rotten mess of things. Maybe you could have saved him, and maybe you couldn’t have, but either way, it’s done. All you can do now is try not to ruin everything next time.”
I almost snapped at her that it was easy for her to say, since she’d never killed someone she loved. But then I remembered in a guilty rush that she had.
Up until less than a year ago, she’d killed everyone she’d ever loved, with the exception of her dog. And she was still the most human person I knew.
I let out a long, shaky breath. “Very well. You’re right.”
Zaira grinned. “As usual. Say it.”
“Fine. As usual.” I pulled my spine straight. “I suppose the Council of Nine could use another human on it, mistakes and all.”
“Another?” Zaira snorted. “You give them too much credit.” She glanced over toward our coach; they’d finished switching out our horses, and even changed a wheel. “Looks like they’re waiting for us. Come on, High Lady Moodybritches, let’s go.”
After a long, miserable day’s journey, at last we crested a hill and Ardence came into view.
The city embraced the river that ran through its heart, a thick sprawl of cheery red roofs and soaring temple spires standing out from the winter-brown fields around it. Snow dusted the hilltops surrounding the city, frosting the trees like sugar on a pastry, but the valley remained untouched. Smoke rose up from hundreds of chimneys, reaching toward the gray sky before dissipating into a thin haze. It should have been a cozy sight, a promise of mulled wine and well-stocked libraries and warm comfortable beds, with friends’ smiling faces to greet us.
But far in the distance, up the river and over the hills, toward where the mountains lay invisible beyond the smothering clouds, hundreds of dark birds wheeled in the sky. From this distance, they were no more than tiny black specks, but to be visible at all from this far away they must be vultures and ravens, gathering for a great feast.
Ruven’s army was coming. And it left
a wake of death behind it.
By the number of chimneys still merrily puffing away, plenty of people remained in Ardence. Whether they’d stayed out of determination to fight or blithe unconcern about the army bearing down on them, now they were in harm’s way. It was our task to make certain they didn’t all become Ruven’s puppets, and Ardence the newest outpost of his domain. I shivered to imagine the city grown through with twisting dark trees, chimeras and wolves roaming its streets.
“You know what would be nice?” Zaira said, staring out the window. “Visiting Ardence without worrying about setting thousands of people on fire.”
“Perhaps in the spring,” I suggested.
“It’ll be good to see Domenic, though.” She made an appreciative sound. “He’s a fine piece of landscape.”
“Does he know you’re courting Terika now?” I asked.
“Sure. I’ve talked to him on the Mews courier lamps once or twice.” She made a face. “Back when the Mews had courier lamps. Last I heard, he was entertaining some potential courtships, himself. He’s got to make an heir, after all.” Zaira waggled her eyebrows suggestively.
“Ah.” My ears warmed. “I suppose he does.”
Zaira grinned. “Don’t you need to make one, too? Now that your mamma is the doge, you need a wee Cornaro lined up to take your precious council seat if someone pushes you into the lagoon.”
I sank into my coat collar, wishing I could disappear. I could tell Istrella and Lucia were listening, though the former was pretending to focus on her courier lamp and the latter kept her gaze riveted out the window. “I’m certain if I perished tomorrow my mother would adopt whatever distant cousin she found most promising, to ensure a clear succession.” Adopted heirs were common enough for patrician couples who couldn’t otherwise have children, and my mother was too canny to allow a succession struggle in her own house. “But yes, certainly it would be more ideal for the Cornaro family and the serenity of the Empire if I, ah, produced an heir of my own.” Which meant marriage. Which meant I had to think more seriously about where exactly I planned to take this courtship with Kathe.
“You can suck the fun out of anything, can’t you?” Zaira observed dryly.
Lucia shot me a sympathetic but amused glance, then pointed out the window. “Look! The garrison.”
As I leaned close enough to the window that I could feel the cold air pouring off the glass onto my burning face, I’d never liked Lucia more.
A black mourning flag flew over the imperial garrison, a sprawling fortress that perched on the last hill looming above Ardence. The full complement of the castle’s officers turned out to meet us in the stable yard, rigid at attention, with black mourning bands on their uniform sleeves as well. I was startled to see such a formal welcome—it hadn’t been like this when I visited last year—but then I remembered that receiving a member of the Council of Nine was an entirely different matter than receiving the Cornaro heir.
Once the initial formal reception relaxed, the garrison commander and a couple of his most senior officers lingered to speak with me as soldiers efficiently unloaded Istrella’s belongings and cared for our horses. Istrella was already staring up at the runes warding the castle walls, hands on her hips and artifice glasses down over her eyes, clearly ready to make improvements.
“We’re still not able to reach the Mews directly,” the commander began delicately. “Should we expect more Falcons to reinforce us soon, or…”
“Not for a few days.” I dropped my voice. “The entire Mews is still under quarantine.”
The commander looked vaguely ill. “I see.” He glanced over at Zaira, who was enthusiastically greeting a dog who’d gotten loose in the stable yard. “I’ve heard the stories about what fire warlocks can do, of course, but does Colonel Vasante truly think one warlock will be sufficient against an army?”
In theory, Zaira should be more than sufficient. Balefire grew and spread with every life it consumed, so the greater the numbers of the enemy she faced, the more powerful she became. But even killing a handful of opponents wrought a change in her, as the fire filled up her soul with a pitiless and terrible majesty, and left her shaken after. I had no idea what unleashing her balefire against an entire army would do to her, and seeing her unguarded grin as she scratched the dog’s ruff pierced my heart.
“You won’t ask that question again after you’ve seen balefire,” I said quietly. “I just wish we didn’t have to use it.”
We couldn’t stay at the garrison for long; the sun was already hanging low over the hills, and we needed to make it down to Ardence before dusk. After a brief discussion of strategy with the garrison commander, and a promise to communicate further via courier lamps, I pulled Istrella aside to say good-bye while Lucia traded information and discussed logistical details with the garrison officers.
“Will you be all right?” I asked, scanning her face anxiously. “I hate to leave you here alone.”
“Oh, I won’t be alone.” Istrella gestured vaguely around the fortress, which swarmed with soldiers busily preparing for the approaching army. “Besides, they have a brand-new artificer! A family came here with their little girl this morning, after they heard about the new Falcon law. I think she’s nine. Apparently they’d been hiding her, but now that they know she won’t have to go to the Mews, they want to get her some training. She’s adorable. I’m going to let her watch me work and answer questions!” Istrella bounced on her toes. “And I’m also going to go out tomorrow and lay down some trap circles in the fields north of the city, since they’ve evacuated those farms. I’ve never done those before!”
It was disconcerting to hear a fourteen-year-old girl so enthused at the idea of creating death traps that could kill or mangle dozens or hundreds of people. But I forced a smile. “Well, if you’re sure you’ll be fine.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve got so much to do. It should be fun!” Her smile faded. “Assuming my brother doesn’t remember he left my power unsealed and shut down my magic.”
The wavering note in her voice went straight through my heart. I clasped Istrella’s shoulders, trying to catch her eyes through the round red-and-green lenses of her artifice glasses. “Istrella, listen to me. Marcello may try to seek you out. If you see him—if he talks to you—well, while he’s under Ruven’s control, he’s not himself. He’s not safe.”
“I know that.” Her brows contracted. “I’m not stupid. I was controlled, too, remember? And you both kept trusting me, like idiots.”
“I suppose we did.”
“If I do the same thing, I forfeit the right to make fun of him about it forever.” Istrella shook her head. The light caught her glasses just right, sparkling in a drop of moisture at the corner of her eye. “I’d never do something to risk that. Don’t worry about me. You stay out of trouble yourself.”
“I’ll try, Istrella,” I promised.
The edges of her smile trembled. “I hope he can come home soon.”
I swallowed a sudden hard lump in my throat. Marcello should be here with his sister, to be her moral anchor while she was making these deadly weapons, and to be with her when she saw them in use for the first time.
“I hope he can, too.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A heavy complement of soldiers manned Ardence’s gates, and cannons lined the walls. Its suddenly militant appearance made the familiar city strange to my eyes, but it was all the people leaving through the gates that tore at my heart. Families on foot carried belongings and children. Wagons overflowed with too many people trying to bring too much of their lives with them; a little boy perched on a pile of trunks dropped his doll in the gate and wailed anxiously until a guard ran after his wagon to hand it up to him. The sun would be setting soon, and it was too late to be only starting out; these people likely had nowhere to go. The soldiers asked everyone leaving if they had food and water, and gave them a loaf of bread or filled their flask for them if they didn’t; I suspected that was Domenic’s order.
“Not enough people are leaving,” I murmured to Zaira as the soldiers cleared the departing crowd to the side so our carriage could pass through.
She stared at me. “What are you talking about? Hundreds of people are leaving.”
“Ardence has a population of about sixty thousand,” I said. “Hundreds are leaving, yes. But more are staying.”
Zaira’s chin jutted out. “We’ll just have to make sure they’re safe, then.”
I’d known the people of Ardence were bold and resilient, but I was still shocked as our carriage rolled through the city to see people strolling the streets as if it were a normal day, to hear music and laughter coming out of taverns, and to see lights coming on one after another in window after window as dusk began to fall over the city.
“Do they even know there’s an army coming for them?” I wondered, staring at a pair of children playing beneath the statue of the Grace of Victory fighting the gorgon.
“They’re too used to being safe.” Zaira shook her head. “People like that never believe they’re in danger until it’s too late. They’re trusting the Empire to take care of them, like brats waiting for mamma to wipe their noses.”
Right now, Zaira was all the Empire had to give them. I didn’t say it aloud, but I could tell by the frown furrowing her brow that she was well aware of that.
“I wish they’d at least gotten all the brats out of the city,” she muttered. And a minute later, when a dog trotted by, its nose down and tail up, on some serious canine business, Zaira groaned. “Not the dogs, too. Hells. I can’t let Ruven get the dogs.”
I refrained from any commentary on her priorities. If knowing there were innocent dogs in the city made it easier for her to do what she needed to do to protect Ardence, I wasn’t about to argue.
It was strange, sitting down to drinks with a friend in a room where I’d seen a man murdered.
Domenic Bergandon, Duke of Ardence and my old university friend, had welcomed us into the lavish River Palace with all appropriate pomp and splendor; half the court and most of the ducal guard seemed to have turned out to greet us. But he whisked us off as soon as he could to receive us in his own apartments, where we could have a far friendlier and less formal greeting in private.
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