Dark Immolation

by Christopher Husberg

  45

  North wing of the imperial palace, Izet

  THE DOOR OPENED ALMOST immediately after Cova knocked. Winter stood on the threshold, squinting in the torchlight from the corridor. Her long black hair fell in front of her face. She swept it aside and looked up at Cova.

  “Yes?”

  “Let me in,” Cova said. “Please.”

  Winter opened the door, stepping back into the darkness, and Cova slipped inside.

  “Light a candle,” Cova said.

  Cova heard a rustling, saw the spark of flint and steel, and a candle flame ignited in Winter’s hands. “What do you want?” Winter asked.

  Cova stood, still breathing heavily from her sprint from her father’s door. Still shaking, from… Had she dreamed it? The candle, the letter, the hanging body. Had she dreamed cutting it down, and that awful sound?

  “I want to sit,” Cova finally said.

  Winter sighed and indicated a chair in one corner of the room. “You’re obviously upset, but I have no idea why you are here. What is it you think I can do for you?”

  Cova collapsed onto the chair. She had to get herself together. Her husband was dead. There had been a note claiming he was a spy. Had the note been in Girgan’s handwriting? Cova couldn’t remember. She had not noticed otherwise. But the note could explain how Girgan had been acting lately, his animosity towards her father, his cryptic references and all the times he went off on his own. The explanation made sense.

  And yet.

  Cova couldn’t deny that there were no longer any books in the imperial library about the Ceno order or the Scorned Gods. She had heard the rumors about the succession vote, and the otherworldly bodies found in the rubble of the imperial dome. She knew her father had been acting strangely.

  If her father had discovered that Girgan had even entertained the idea of a coup, this would be how he’d retaliate. Not an obvious murder, but enough of a suspicious circumstance to convince anyone else involved of its folly. Cova put her head in her hands. Could her father be responsible? Had he killed her husband?

  “Cova.”

  Cova looked up, realizing that Winter had been saying her name.

  “It’s late. I’m tired. Either tell me what’s going on or—”

  “My husband is dead.”

  Silence.

  “It looked like he’d killed himself.”

  “I… I’m sorry, Cova. I would never have thought he’d do something like that.”

  “Nor me,” Cova said. She met Winter’s eyes, flickering darkly in the candlelight. “It looked like he killed himself. I don’t think he did.”

  “Cova…”

  “That doesn’t matter,” Cova said sharply. “Not to you. But I’m here to make you an offer.”

  Cova felt Winter’s hand touch hers. She recoiled, remembering Luce’s body hanging in the council chamber. But, when she saw Winter’s face, she realized the gesture was timid, awkward, and Cova was suddenly overcome by the sincerity of the gesture. Her whole life, she had grown up thinking that tiellans were backward, uneducated, cruel beings, far below humans. But if Winter was any indicator, she would have to start changing her views. She still feared Winter. But she was beginning to fear her father more.

  “My husband was killed,” Winter said softly, her hand flittering away from Cova’s. “Whatever happened to Girgan, I… I’m sorry.”

  Cova began to cry. She cried because of her father, she cried because the man she had just learned to love had been taken from her, and she would never be with him again, never feel his touch, hear his voice. He was gone, and she cried because she was now alone. Winter only stood there while Cova sobbed, but the woman’s presence was strangely comforting. Cova had not known Winter had even been married, let alone that her husband had been killed.

  Later, when Cova had cried all her tears, she realized she had two choices. She could believe the note she’d found with Girgan’s body, that he was a spy, that he had lied to her.

  Or she could believe her husband. Cova did not have to think long to decide.

  “Do you want to kill my father?” Cova asked.

  Winter’s eyes widened, but she quickly hid her surprise, her face going blank. “I serve your father,” she said. “Why would I want to kill him?”

  “He killed my husband,” Cova said, as if that was an answer.

  “I thought you said he killed himself.”

  “It looked like he killed himself. I believe otherwise.”

  “And you think your father is behind it?”

  “I see no other culprits. Girgan… Girgan had suspicions about my father. I can only imagine my father found out, and this is the consequence.”

  “You want your father dead?” Winter asked.

  Cova thought long and hard before she answered. “No,” she finally said. “I don’t want him dead. He is my father, and I love him, but… but that does not change the fact that he must die.”

  Winter muttered something. Cova thought it sounded something like “loving to destroy” but she couldn’t be sure.

  Then Winter met Cova’s eyes, her voice firm. “How do I know you aren’t testing me?”

  Cova blinked. “Testing you?”

  “How do I know Daval did not send you to test my loyalty?”

  “I…” Cova had not thought of that. “He didn’t,” she said. “My husband is dead, Winter.”

  Winter did not respond for a moment. She appeared to have her eyes closed. Had she fallen asleep?

  “Again, I’m sorry about your husband,” Winter said. “And… I believe you.”

  Cova nodded. That had been surprisingly easy. “Will you help me overthrow my father? Will you help me kill him?”

  Winter stared at Cova for a moment, and then closed her eyes once more. Cova frowned. What was she doing?

  Winter’s eyes snapped open. She nodded. “I will help you.”

  “Very well,” Cova said. Now what?

  “We need a plan,” Winter said. “Do you know when and where you want to do this?”

  Cova stood. “I… I have no idea. I suppose it would be best to get him alone. Perhaps in the emperor’s chambers. I think I could distract the Reapers that guard them, but if Urstadt is there we will not stand a chance.”

  “Urstadt might not be a problem,” Winter said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Currently, your father blocks my powers. But you saw what I did to Luce when I was given free rein. If he was not blocking me, I could handle Urstadt.”

  Cova said nothing to that. Given what she had seen in the council chamber, Winter was probably right.

  “You think you can get around his blocks?” Cova asked.

  “I may have a trick up my sleeve,” Winter said.

  “Anything else?”

  Winter shrugged. “This was your idea. You tell me.”

  46

  Harmoth estate

  THE NEXT MORNING, CINZIA sat in her room alone, gazing out at the grounds. She was shocked at how empty they looked; a few hundred Odenites remained, but many more had left with the Beldam.

  Between the Kamite attack, the Beldam’s departure, the loss of the followers she had taken with her, and Wyle’s work with Knot the previous night, too much had happened in the past few days. Cinzia was not sure she could keep up with it all. While she was relieved that Knot was himself again, she was uneasy. What Wyle had done to help Knot was beyond her understanding—as beyond her understanding as how Jane healed dozens of people.

  The similarities between psimancy and Jane’s abilities were not lost on Cinzia. Not to mention the way she herself had saved Jane, or even when she translated the Codex for that matter. Cinzia did not know enough about either form of power to make a judgment. But they were similar enough to make her uncomfortable.

  And her unease did not end there. She may have succeeded in trusting Canta once, but the fact that Ocrestia and Elessa had healed others too, while Cinzia had been unable to, was evidence that she still
had much to learn. She saw again the dark eyes of the man who had grasped her arm, his voice like burning darkness. She knew it had to be connected with whatever had possessed Kovac. The Nine Daemons. It seemed they were destined to face the otherworldly beings at some point. Cinzia did not know how to face such terror. She still had not told anyone of what she had experienced; she had murdered a helpless, wounded man. The man had been possessed by Azael, but Cinzia was not sure that excused her actions.

  Cinzia jumped at a knock at the door. She rose from her seat at the desk and took a few deep breaths before opening it to find Wyle grinning at her. Cinzia blinked. Of all people, she had expected him the least.

  “Hello, Wyle,” she said, returning his smile with difficulty.

  “We’re leaving soon,” Wyle said, glancing over Cinzia’s shoulder. “As you know.”

  Cinzia nodded. “I do know,” she said. “Do you require my assistance?” He was looking at her in an odd way. Almost nervously.

  “No, no.” Wyle cleared his throat. “I just…”

  Then, before Cinzia knew what was happening, Wyle leaned forward. She felt herself lifting her face to his, and their lips met.

  When they parted, Wyle’s grin was wider than ever.

  “I…” Cinzia wanted to say something, but she had no earthly idea what.

  “Word has it you folks are headed to Triah,” Wyle said.

  “I… yes,” Cinzia managed. “I think so.”

  “Look me up when you get there.”

  “I will.”

  Wyle nodded, and opened his mouth as if he were about to say something, but stopped.

  Something in his eyes changed, in that moment. Cinzia couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly, but something changed. His smile faltered. Then, just like that, it was back.

  “I look forward to it,” Wyle said. “Until we meet again, Cinzia.”

  Before she could respond, he was gone.

  * * *

  Cinzia wandered down into the drawing room, still reeling from her encounter with Wyle.

  She had just kissed a man for the first time.

  She had kissed one or two boys, when she was young. She remembered Jonn Eyden, a few months before she left Navone for the seminary. Scrawny, with shaggy hair, but Cinzia remembered almost laughing at how much he had trembled when they kissed. That had been almost eight years ago.

  Cinzia resisted the urge to place her fingers on her lips, remembering the unfamiliar excitement that had welled within her as Wyle had leaned down. Wyle was definitely not a boy, that much was sure.

  And yet there was something about the encounter that made Cinzia uncomfortable. Not the kiss, but something Wyle had said…

  Her parents were both in the drawing room, along with the triplets—Soffrena, Lana, and Wina—Knot, and Astrid. Cymbre and Jendry were there, too, and seeing them Cinzia felt her cheeks flush. She knew Wyle couldn’t yet have told the rest of the cotir what had passed between them, but the thought of it still made her uncomfortable—although the feeling was not entirely negative, she was pleased to note.

  She had to find Jane, Cinzia realized. To tell her about Wyle, of course, but for more important reasons as well. They had to decide what to do next—whether to pursue the Beldam and those who had followed her, or to leave them behind and continue on to Triah without them.

  “Cinzia, you look flushed. Are you well?”

  Cinzia smiled at Soffrena. She must have been blushing more than she thought. “I’m fine, sister, just looking for Jane.”

  At that moment Wyle walked into the room. He was no longer grinning, but had a purposeful expression on his face. Cinzia looked away, her mind still working over what he had said to her. He had told her to look him up when she arrived in Triah. Cinzia blinked. Knot had told her that Cymbre, Wyle, and Jendry were a Tinskan cotir. Why would they be going back to Triah, unless…

  Unless they had been sent from the Circle City in the first place.

  A crash echoed from the far end of the room. Cinzia turned to see that the sides of the huge inglenook fireplace had given way, smashing the massive marble mantelpiece into the ground. Splinters of wood and broken marble littered the floor.

  “Goddess,” Cinzia cried. She looked around. “Is everyone all right? Did…”

  “Everyone, stay calm.” Wyle walked to the center of the room, hands raised. “We don’t want to hurt any of you. But we’ve just received new orders. And I’m afraid we have some unfinished business with Jane.”

  Cinzia’s eyes narrowed. “Wyle,” she said, striding towards him. “What are you talking about?”

  “Cinzia,” Knot shouted, “stay away from him!”

  Cinzia turned to see Jendry holding a blade to Knot’s throat while Cymbre bound his hands. Near them, the ruins of the fireplace shifted ever so slightly. Cinzia gaped in horror as she saw a small hand reach out from beneath the cracked marble of the mantel.

  “Astrid?” Cinzia whispered.

  “Watch him,” Cymbre said, shoving Knot towards Jendry. “I need to focus on the vampire.”

  Cinzia’s gaze returned to Wyle. Very different emotions began to well up within her than the ones she had felt when they had kissed minutes before.

  “You’re not from Tinska at all, are you?” Cinzia demanded. It all came together for her, now. The Nazaniin, first and foremost, were assassins. Jane was a marked woman. The cotir had not been sent from Tinska to help Knot. They had been sent from Triah to assassinate Jane. Helping Knot—and gleaning information from him—had only been a perk.

  Wyle smiled, but the expression was empty. “I’m sorry, Cinzia,” he said. “I didn’t know we would be ordered to do this when I saw you last.”

  Cinzia shook her head. “But you knew it was a possibility.”

  Wyle shrugged. “Anything is a possibility.”

  “We will not give you Jane,” Cinzia said. He could not kiss her, treat her like he did moments before, only to betray her. She would not let him.

  Wyle took a step closer to Cinzia. He spoke more quietly this time. “I know this is difficult,” he said. “But we’re professionals, Cinzia. We’re going to get the job done. Just… fetch your sister. Then we won’t have to hurt anyone else.”

  Cinzia’s rage bubbled up and she slapped him hard. Wyle rubbed his cheek but he did not seem angry. Instead his eyes were sad. Which made Cinzia furious.

  “Lana,” Wyle said, looking across the room at one of the triplets, “do you know where Jane is?”

  Ehram and Pascia, who had already moved to stand between the triplets and Wyle, clasped their arms around them more firmly. Lana looked at each of her parents, then at Cinzia.

  “Lana,” Wyle said, “I need you to fetch Jane for me. I need you to do it now.”

  Ehram glared at Wyle. “We’ve taken you in. Given you food and shelter. This is how you repay us?”

  “We’ve repaid you by fixing that facsimile of a man over there.” Wyle nodded at Knot. His eyes remained on Lana. “Lana, if you don’t do as I ask, there will be consequences.”

  “How dare you threaten my sister,” Cinzia said. But she knew there was nothing she could do. Knot was incapacitated. So was Astrid. Unless… unless Canta granted her strength, the way She had given her strength and speed to save Jane. If Cinzia trusted, it could happen.

  She began to pray.

  Wyle sighed. He looked at Cinzia. “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Cinzia braced herself for whatever was about to happen, whatever pain he might cause her.

  Then she heard the screaming.

  Please, Goddess, Cinzia pleaded, grant me strength.

  Soffrena had fallen to her knees, clutching her head between her hands.

  “No!” Cinzia shouted, shoving Wyle in the chest with all her might, but he absorbed her attacks easily, his gaze focused on Soffrena. Slowly the girl’s screams faded, and she collapsed to the floor, whimpering.

  “Lana, do as I say, or your sister will suffer further.”

  Lana�
�s terrified eyes moved back and forth between Ehram and Pascia.

  “Go, Lana,” Cinzia said. “Find Jane. It will be all right.” Lana did not move. “Go,” Cinzia said.

  Lana hesitated a moment more, and then rushed out of the room.

  Please. Help me protect my family.

  Cinzia rushed to Soffrena, her parents already kneeling at their daughter’s side. Wina was crying. Soffrena stared up at the ceiling, eyes blank.

  “She’ll be fine,” Wyle said. “Give her a few hours. She’ll have a splitting headache, but that’s it. As long as Jane gets here.”

  Give me strength, Goddess, please…

  Cinzia gritted her teeth. She did not feel any different. Time had not begun to slow. She felt no stronger. Would Canta really abandon her, now of all moments? She glanced over her shoulder at Knot, still bound and held at Jendry’s swordpoint. He seemed to be concentrating on something, but on what Cinzia couldn’t be sure. She looked over to where she could still see Astrid’s hand protruding from the ruins of the fireplace. The girl groaned something incomprehensible, so at least she was alive. Cinzia was not sure how the vampire would be able to free herself before nightfall. It would take a dozen grown men to move it.

  Cinzia shook her head. Then she stood, and walked towards Wyle, face hot with rage and helplessness.

  Goddess, give me strength to help my family.

  “What in Oblivion is wrong with you?”

  “Look, Cinzia, I—”

  “You expect me to let you kill my sister?”

  “I expect you to know that you don’t have a choice.”

  Cinzia glared at him. “You don’t have to carry out your orders.”

  Wyle looked at her strangely.

  “You can stay here with us,” Cinzia continued.

  Cinzia heard Jendry scoff. She ignored him, and took a step towards Wyle. They were close, now. Bodies almost touching. Cinzia raised her hand, as if to touch his face.

  “We could spend more time together,” she said quietly. “We could… see where this goes.”