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.
CHAPTER 28
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 fore
head, 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 requir
e 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.”
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