by Melanie Card
Not until she’d met Ward.
He knew her. He’d seen inside her soul, seen the darkness that lay there—and the good—and accepted her as she was.
She didn’t know how that was possible, and yet she knew in the depths of her being it was true. He saw a potential within her that she hadn’t even known existed. She no longer had doubts about whether he despised her. He wouldn’t have committed himself to her if he hated her for turning him into a vesperitti or for what she’d done before they’d met. He wasn’t that kind of man. And if he’d thought his emotions were because of the spell chaining his soul on this side of the veil, he would have said something. He had the strength of will for that. He had the strongest will of anyone she’d ever met.
She drew the edge of the blanket around him. She didn’t care who saw her naked, but Ward was more modest about those things. If Nazarius came rushing out of the cave, Ward would be—
A smiled pulled at her lips, and she bit back a laugh.
Ward would be all shy. He’d turn bright red and stammer, and he was so charming when he stammered.
Her cold assassin’s heart had truly melted. There was nothing left of it when it came to Ward. He made her squishy on the inside, and she liked it. She never wanted the feeling to end.
Except she didn’t know what she was going to do about him…about them. She had to tell him the truth that she was alive, but they were still in imminent danger and her argument that it was a cruel complication still held. No, whenever he woke she’d take a quiet moment and tell him.
He sighed, drawing her attention to the striking lines of his face. He was gaunt again, making those lines too sharp. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and even in sleep his brow was creased with worry. He needed to eat. There was just no other way around it.
But he’d never consume anyone’s soul, even if whoever it was willingly gave a piece of it. The real question, however, was did she love him enough to force him to consume someone’s blood, or did she love him too much to respect his wishes and let him die?
He’s beyond just needing a little magic. He’s a monster—he shouldn’t be alive. End it. Kill him.
No! She pushed Remy’s voice aside, but the billowing fog didn’t budge. He wasn’t making sense. One minute he was urging her to call Ward and make him eat, the next he was telling her to kill Ward, and in between, he ranted and screamed nonsense.
If you can’t kill him, he needs to eat.
She knew that. She pushed harder.
Make him eat. Eat. Eat. Ea—
If Ward didn’t eat, he’d become feral, as feral as if he was back at the Gate to the Abyss. He’d be dangerous and uncontrollable—
Remy’s essence shattered into a swirling fog of incoherent images and cries, and she shoved at it. She’d deal with it and Ward soon. She promised.
She pulled on her pants and shirt, her throat tight. She couldn’t lose Ward. They were finally together. Beyond all odds, they were finally where they were supposed to be.
She didn’t want to have to make the choice, but it was inevitable. What in the Dark Son’s name did she choose?
Feed him. Kill him. Feed. Kill. Now the words were a screamed jumble. They didn’t make sense. Please, just shut up. Shut up!
Footsteps crunched in the gravel, and Nazarius eased from the entrance to the cave. His gaze jumped to Celia, to Ward, and back again. “How is he?”
“He’s used too much of his soul magic.”
“What are you going to do about it?”
Her eyes burned, and she blinked back the ridiculous tears before Nazarius could see her cry. “I don’t know.”
“We also need to figure out what our next move is with the Innecroestris.”
“Agreed. Give me a minute.”
“Sure.” Nazarius eased back into the cave, his footsteps crunching away.
Celia knelt beside Ward and caressed his cheek. Make him eat or kill him. “Ward.”
He sighed and turned his head toward her. His eyelids fluttered open, and his dark gaze captured hers. Her heart skipped a beat. Such warmth and love in his eyes. She had once thought him guileless, those eyes filled with weakness, but now she knew the truth.
His lips curled into a sleepy smile, and he brushed his finger against hers. An intimate touch, fleeting, yet filled with such certainty.
“We need to figure out our…you know…” She didn’t want to ruin the mood. He looked so peaceful, so content. Blood or death.
“I know. We’re still a short row from Vekalmeer, Stasik and Lauro are building strength to open the Gate of the Abyss, and my family is still hunting me.”
“Just another day then,” she said, forcing a laugh.
He chuckled with her, his tone just as dark. “Absolutely, and easily solved.”
She reached to brush his cheek again, but he captured her hand and pressed her palm to his lips. Her stomach fluttered at his touch and the memory of what they’d just shared. Goddess, she wanted that more all the time.
He kissed her palm again. “Thank you.”
“I should be thanking you, Ward de’Ath.” There were a few choice ways she’d show her thanks, too.
By feeding him.
No!
His lips curled into a wicked smile. She’d never seen him smile like that before. “I can think of a few ways you can repay me.”
She laughed and pulled her hand free. “Where did you learn to talk to a woman like that?”
“You were just thinking it.”
“I was not.” But she had been, among all the other things Remy was screaming.
“Yes. You were.” He tugged her into his lap and kissed her deeply, as confident and sure of himself as he’d been when they’d made love. She would have thought it surprising, except she knew him. When he committed to something, he committed fully. She could melt into this man. She would—again—if he kept it up.
To keep him, he needs to feed. He needs blood, or he needs to be destroyed.
She wasn’t going to give in to Remy, but she couldn’t get him to shut up. She eased away, breathless, pressing her forehead to his and capturing his face in her palms.
“Ward, I—” She had to tell him the truth about being alive before she lost her nerve.
“Tell me later.”
“But—”
His smile turned sad for a moment. “Whatever it is, it feels like an extra worry. It can wait.”
“Oh, and you know me so well now?”
“The soul chain tells me.” He brushed his fingers over her heart. “It’s important but not immediate. Let’s deal with the imminent danger first.”
She sighed. “Right. Nazarius is waiting for us.” She slid from his all-too-ready lap. “I’ll give you a moment to compose yourself.”
His faced turned bright red, and he coughed. There was the Ward she loved.
Yes, yes.
“And I promise,” she said, “I’ll thank you again, soon.” Remy wailed and jeered, anger and joy and confusion rushing through her.
He tugged the blanket tighter around his waist. “Stop teasing me or I’m never going to be fit for public again.”
She sauntered toward the cave, exaggerating the sway of her hips. “Promises, promises.”
She smiled, unbidden and for just a moment free of Remy’s splintered fog. For that heartbeat, she’d never felt so light.
“Well, if I hadn’t known before, that smile says everything,” Nazarius said. “It’s about time.”
Yeah, well, Ward was a special kind of man, careful with his heart.
He isn’t a man anymore. He was something great, now he’s dead. Nothing. A monster. The word “monster” roared through her. The world flickered black then red. She pushed at the enveloping darkness and fog but only managed a crack, just enough to see Nazarius and the way back into the cave.
“Are you all right?” Nazarius asked.
“Fine.” Now was not the time for weakness. “Ward will be along in a minute.”
She f
orced her legs to move and headed deeper into the shadows of the cave to get herself under control, but Jared saw her. He rose from Declan’s side and headed toward her. This was a conversation she didn’t want to have. Yes, Ward was an abomination, according to everything the de’Ath family believed, and Ward had also broken the Goddess’s sacred laws by knowing the inner secrets of the human body.
“You left him alone?” Jared asked, his voice low.
So this was how it was going to go. “He was looking hungry. Should I send him your way?”
Yes, make him eat.
“He wouldn’t—”
Celia shifted closer, leveling her iciest stare at him. “No, he wouldn’t. That’s what makes Ward, Ward.”
“You know you can’t trust him.”
“I trust him more than I trust you. Ward’s saved my life more times than I can count.”
“With surgery?” He jerked his chin at Declan.
“No, but I trust Ward will do whatever he needs to do to save lives.” She dropped her hand to where her dagger would have been if Ward hadn’t used it for the surgery. “And I’ll stop anyone who intends to do him harm.”
Jared shuddered and inched back.
Good. She hadn’t completely lost her touch.
“You will receive your judgment,” he said, “and so will that monster in my cousin’s body.”
“But you won’t be the one dealing it out.”
He gulped. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means we have bigger things to worry about than Ward being a so-called monster. There are two Innecroestri on Vekalmeer. One can summon sangsal from the fissure, and the other has the Eye of Ivia.”
The color drained from Jared’s face. In the dim lantern light, he was suddenly too pale and his eyes too wide. “The Eye?”
“I see you’ve heard of it.”
“I—”
Heat tugged at her chest, and her gaze jumped to the entrance. Ward entered, shirtless but wearing his wet pants. A hint of blood still stained the thighs. It was probably the best washing he could do given the circumstance, but she didn’t want to think about how even the hint of blood was testing his willpower.
“All right.” Nazarius motioned Celia to join him and Ward.
“You, too, Jared,” Ward said. “And Maura. We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“I’m not helping you,” Jared said.
Celia shot him a dark look. “I’m pretty sure Vekalmeer and the Eye outweigh working with a blood magi and a vesperitti.”
Jared took in a ragged breath and glanced at Ward, who raised an eyebrow.
“Fine.” Jared shuffled over to them.
“First, how is Declan?” Ward asked, heading to Maura and Declan in the little alcove where they’d moved him.
“No change since you finished. His color is still a little pale, but not worse,” Nazarius said.
Maura shifted so Ward could kneel beside Declan.
“His pulse is still a little weak, but I think it might be getting stronger,” she said.
Ward felt Declan’s pulse then checked the bandage around his chest. “Good. The stitches are holding.” He pressed the back of his hand to Declan’s forehead. “His temperature is good, too.”
Nazarius pulled up a cushion and sat beside him. “So. Our Innecroestri problem. Thoughts?”
“Lauro has the souls of dozens of villagers within the Eye,” Celia said, drawing close.
“Dear Goddess!” Maura made the sign of the goddess-eye in the air. “That will make him incredibly strong.”
“Stasik still only has three sangsal-infected pirates,” Ward said. “But that’s still three more than I really want to face.”
“Only a strong will can force the sangsal back through the fissure,” Maura said, her gaze lingering on Celia.
“And how do we deal with the Eye?” Nazarius asked.
Gain control. If you possess the Eye, you control its power. Ward will eat, and you’ll be even more powerful.
Celia ground her teeth, determined not to show that Remy’s essence was screaming in her head. “What about getting the Eye away from Lauro? Would that work?”
Jared hugged himself. “I have no idea. Grandfather would know.”
“Even if we can get close enough to steal the Eye from Lauro, we still have two Innecroestri to deal with,” Ward said.
“And there are only three of us,” Nazarius said.
Jared sat forward. “Four of us.”
Ward cocked an eyebrow. “Still. Four against two Innecroestri, three sangsal pirates, and whatever Lauro can do with the Eye…?”
“Even I don’t like those odds,” Celia said. They needed help.
You need more necromancers or more blood.
Not blood. Necromancers.
They won’t listen to you. You need blood. Ward needs blood.
Goddess, why wouldn’t Remy just shut up? But it wasn’t really Remy, just a fragment of his essence. Dark Son’s curses, why couldn’t it offer anything useful?
She pressed a finger to her temple. Focus. The necromancers wouldn’t listen to her. But they would listen to Jared. They were back to their original plan.
“Maura. If we leave you here with Declan, will you be all right?” Celia asked.
The old woman frowned. “Better than dealing with what’s out there.”
“All right. Here’s what we need to do. Jared, you and Nazarius get the necromancers. Say you’ve found us and lead them to the village. There were still a few boats at the dock, and we need to get them to the island.”
“What are you going to do?” Nazarius asked.
“Be bait,” Ward said, as if he’d read her thoughts…which he might have. Boy, that was going to take some getting used to.
“I’m projecting my thoughts again, aren’t I?” Celia asked.
“I’m only getting hints, but this plan is obvious. We need to get my family and the other necromancers to the island. They won’t believe it’s Vekalmeer because the island is myth, and they won’t believe that there’s one, let alone, two Innecroestri on the island—”
“Because all the Innecroestri except one woman are dead,” Jared said.
“Which is so wrong it’s almost laughable,” Celia said.
Ward’s fingers shifted to Declan’s throat, unconsciously checking the youth’s pulse. “The necromancer elders need to see me, and see me fleeing to the island. It’s the only way to guarantee that they’ll be there.”
“It’s a terrible plan,” Nazarius said.
Yes, terrible. He needs blood. Celia shot Nazarius a dark look. “I’d love it if you had something better to suggest.”
Nazarius handed Celia her dagger, cleaned from the surgery. “So would I.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ward finished checking Declan then headed back out of the cave. He couldn’t stay there faced with the gnawing hunger and the promise of easy blood. His magic on Declan still held, the false healing keeping the youth alive, but not perfectly, so his body would work to knit flesh and sinew back together. Ward had never known necromancy to be used in such a way, and a part of him wondered if what held Declan together was even necromancy. It felt wrong, different, but he couldn’t say how or why.
His wet shirt lay on the rock in the shadows where it’d be easier for him to find among the magical glow of sunlight, water, and forest. Blood still stained the front, and weak magic sparked from it. Behind him, shuffling footsteps drew closer.
It had to be Maura. No one else walked with an uneven gait. This was not a conversation he wanted to have, but escaping her wasn’t an option. There was nowhere to go.
He sat on the rock by his shirt and focused his attention on the light dancing over the lake. Perhaps she didn’t want to talk, just wanted to see daylight before the sunset in a few hours. She wasn’t having the best day, either. Her village had been slaughtered, and she’d been forced to flee her home.
“You’re not what I expected,�
� she said, her voice soft.
Ward bit back a sigh. So much for not wanting a conversation. “I get that a lot.”
“I’m sure you do.” Her aura flickered at the edge of his vision, a hint of fear, a bit of determination. This woman might be old, but a core of steel lay within her, making her willing to face what she thought was a monster.
“You said you studied at the Olmech School.” She shot a pointed look at the rock where Ward sat, and he shifted over, surprised she wanted to get so close.
“Yes.”
“That’s a good school.” She eased onto the rock beside him.
“It was.”
“But they didn’t teach you how to cut open a man like that.”
“No. They didn’t.” He’d learned that in secret. One of his professors had introduced him to the illegal world of surgery, to its beauty and power. He could understand why physicians feared surgery. It could be too easy to put his hands in someone’s body to save them and mistake the sensation as being akin to the Goddess instead of being blessed by her.
“You could have consumed his soul.” She leveled a hard stare on him. Her gaze bored into him as if she could see his soul and weigh it. Perhaps she could. “I know you want to. I know you’re fighting the hunger.”
His stomach twisted. He ground his teeth and focused on the lake, the light, anything but the need consuming him from the inside out. “What do you want?”
“I want to know what kind of man ends up the way you’ve ended up.”
“A man with the worst luck ever.”
“I’m not so sure about that.” Her gaze slid over his face again, seeing but somehow looking deeper.
“The path might have picked you, but everything I sense in your soul—everything that isn’t monster—couldn’t have turned away. Your honor and sense of what is right wouldn’t let you.”
“You can see that?”
She turned to the lake. “I sense. I don’t see.”
“And the monster I’ve become? What will happen with that?”
“It will continue to grow in strength until that’s all that’s left. It’s grown faster than I’d have expected since you’ve been to the island.” She tilted her head as if hearing something. “Except I’m not sure that’s your monster. I can’t quite tell.”
