I have always known darkness.
It has been my friend. Yet it has also been my enemy. Some days, it is a mist over my eyes, leaving me blind to what should be obvious. But some days, I wipe away that fog and see more clearly in its aftermath than I ever have before it.
The darkness was inside me, I think, long before I raised my brother from the dead. My silver heartsglass merely gave it a mouth, made the darkness realize that it too can hunger…
This is not Fox’s fault. This is not Lady Mykaela’s fault.
I have told the bard much of my story—all but its end. Once we leave Daanoris, it will be far too dangerous for him to travel with Kalen and me. And so I write the rest of it now, with the clarity it deserves. I write while the fog is lifted. While I can see.
I am sorry about many things, but I am not sorry about this.
I start with a happy memory. They are so few nowadays. As I write, Kalen patrols the city with my azi, and Khalad is hard at work with his forging. It is a lonely vigil tonight in the Santiang Palace, with none but my own thoughts for company.
My brother always asks me to be candid, though I know it sometimes makes him uncomfortable.
Let me be candid now.
• • •
On the day we were to leave for Istera, I woke up later than I intended and with every desire of prolonging the hour. With a low grunt, I rolled onto my stomach and pressed my face against the sheets, content to breathe into the mattress. The bed was harder than its downy counterpart at the Valerian, but I preferred this. The bed in my asha-ka didn’t have his scent on the covers, and his warmth was better than any blanket. He was the only place I could rest my head and dream without nightmares plaguing me, as they had for the last three months.
I felt the bed dip beside me, felt his lips ghost over my skin. “You need to get up,” Kalen murmured, his voice husky from sleep, but the rough fabric against my shin told me he’d already dressed. I squinted in the direction of the windows. It was a little past dawn. Of the two of us, he was the morning person. I no longer needed to attend classes in the Willows, but with many mandatory nights spent entertaining visitors at the asha-ka, I frequently crawled into his bed a couple of hours past midnight.
I muttered something inconsequential and burrowed my head underneath the pillow. “Go away.”
I heard him chuckle, and the mattress dipped farther. “Tea.”
“A few minutes.”
Kalen nudged the pillow out of the way. “I know you’re tired, but as generous as Zahid has been regarding our room accommodations, I don’t think sleeping in would be a good plan for today.”
That was true enough. Asha were offered some leeway when it came to pursuing personal relationships, as long as those relationships didn’t conflict with their duties. Lord Zahid, the Deathseekers’ master-at-arms, had been understanding of Kalen and me; Kalen’s fellow soldiers were not above some friendly ribbing. Faced with the choice between losing my visiting hours with Kalen or embarrassment from his mostly good-natured comrades, I had quickly learned to live with the latter.
“Five more minutes…”
His breath warmed the spot behind my neck, the part that never fails to break into goose bumps from his touch. His tongue flicked out, and within a few seconds, I was both wide eyed and wide awake.
“Kalen! You cheater!”
He laughed and dodged my attempts to flail at him. “Don’t make me kick you out.”
He was wearing a maroon jobba instead of the dark coat and pants he preferred. Deathseeker or not, Kalen was nobility, and any visits he made to allied countries required formal dress. Remembering that I too needed to hurry home and change given the crumpled state of my hua, I sat up and turned toward the mirror. With common cosmetics, I would have resembled a raccoon. With apothecary spells mixed in, my rouge and liner managed to look only slightly marred. “This is all your fault.”
“I know,” he agreed, unrepentant.
“It’s rare enough for Parmina to give me the night off. I should have been resting. You said you were going to walk me home.”
“We are home.”
“I meant to the Valerian, you lout.”
“I can walk you home now.”
I glared at him. He walked me home in the mornings, regardless of where we ended up the night before.
He smiled back. Gruff as he usually was, Kalen could look insidiously innocent if he wished. “And I will. Councilor Ludvig isn’t expecting us for another hour.”
“An hour?” I swore loudly and hopped out of bed, pulling on my hua haphazardly. “You never mentioned how late it was!”
“Yes. My trying to get you out of bed had nothing to do with that.”
I tugged my waist wrap into place around me and glared at him again. “This is all your fault.”
“I know.”
I reached up and kissed him. “Take me home,” I commanded, “and if we’re late, you get to explain why to Parmina.”
“I would much rather face another daeva.”
I paused. “I need one stop,” I amended quietly.
Kalen squeezed my hand. He knew what I wanted. I always asked for the same detour. “Of course.”
• • •
The graveyard was not far from the Willows. As was the custom, a generous portion of it had been set aside for ashas’ and Deathseekers’ graves, a row of daffodils planted in a line to demarcate their headstones from the rest of the populace. Even in death, the great equalizer, important people pushed up better shrubbery than the rest, I thought.
A small monument stood at the graveyard’s center. It was a statue of Vernasha of the Roses, the founder of Kion, as well as its first asha. A single line was set in bronze at the foot of the statue, a tribute to all those who had served and given their lives to protect the kingdom. My fingers traced over the words:
A life worth dying for is a life worth living.
We stood among the Deathseekers’ tombs first, where Kalen honored in silence all the brothers he had lost. Then we moved toward the ashas’ side, to one grave in particular.
“Good morning, Polaire,” I said, greeting her softly, sinking to my knees. Hers was a shiny, gray slab, free of the moss that claimed those around hers. It grated at my heart that she was here at all. Today, a bouquet of fresh lilies had been carefully placed over the grave—Althy’s doing, I surmised.
These daily pilgrimages did nothing to lighten my guilt. Three months wasn’t long enough. Thirty years wouldn’t be long enough either.
“I’ve been having visions,” I told her softly. “But are they bad dreams or something worse? Sometimes I dream you are alive only to see Aenah use the daeva to kill you again and again. Sometimes the victim changes, and it’s Mykaela or Althy or Likh or Zoya. Sometimes I dream that the Valerian is on fire. The vision is so real that I can feel the heat on my skin and the sun burning in my hair. Only Kalen helps chase those nightmares away. Is this my penance for not saving you?”
Kalen was quiet. He wrapped his arms around me as I tried in vain to slough off my sins like old skin.
I wove a tiny rune before Polaire’s stone, allowed the magic to flow out of my fingers, burrowing into the ground below me. I probed the dirt for any spark that I could channel, any suggestion of life I could steal from her bones and multiply so she could rise from the earth, smile, and tell me how much of an idiot I had been while she’d been gone.
But I sensed nothing. Whatever powers bone witches could wield, they cannot bring back silver heartsglass.
“Tea.” Kalen knew the futility of my attempts but allowed me my self-flagellation. I wondered if he thought it would exorcise the demons inside me. I wondered if he would ask me to stop if he knew it did not. “We have to go.”
I looked down at my own heartsglass, inspecting it closely for any signs of the black that had manifested on the cruel day of Polaire’s death. In the last few weeks, the dark flecks had lessened. The more time that passed since the horrific night I killed Aenah, one of the Faceless, and drove the traitorous King Telemaine of Odalia insane, the less the darkness showed itself there. Small spells masked its discoloration—Kalen was my sole accomplice in and confidant to this fact. Fox had far too much on his plate nowadays, and this was not a guilt I could advertise to friends—bone witches have been killed for lesser transgressions.
A black heartsglass was made from rage and murder. Only the Faceless bore such darkness, and the Willows would have my head should it manifest in mine. Even now, I hold no regrets for killing Aenah, though I wished I had turned King Telemaine over to his son, instead of destroying his mind. Prince Kance didn’t deserve to lose his father that way, and his anger at me, his decision to exile me from Odalia, was the direct result of my recklessness.
There was no black in my heartsglass today. But it is like droplets of blood, dripping into a bowl of fresh spring water, I thought. Mix it well enough, and you can’t see the blood. But would you drink it? Let the taste run down your throat? How can one know liquid so clear could also bear such a taint?
I bent my head and, briefly, allowed myself to wash her grave with a few more tears.
Kalen helped me to my feet. His warm brown eyes studied me before he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. Faint wisps of rune surrounded us—Heartshare was a near-permanent runic spell that allowed two people to share strength. Kalen had saved my life with it. It was not as strong a bond as I shared with my brother, but I was connected to Kalen through it nonetheless. He knew my heart’s pain and understood, and I could not have loved him more for it.
• • •
We rode outside the city of Ankyo for a mile, to where the others waited. By asha standards, this was an unusual rendezvous point. We also had an unusual means of transport.
Those of us who formed the delegation wore woolen cloaks despite the hot day. Councilor Ludvig, the previous adviser to Istera’s King Rendorvik, was garbed in Isteran colors—blue and silver, in a deftly embroidered long coat he called a gákti. Likh, lovely as ever, was in an eye-catching cerulean hua, tasteful crewels skimming up his sleeves. Althy’s garb was plainer, with white doves sewn over a sky-blue fabric. Rahim, as always, was dressed to kill. His sherwani was a magnificent display of beadwork waves stitched along the edges of his shirt, with a collar of pewter threads surrounding his thick neck, which was half-hidden by his long, angularly trimmed beard. He wore no cloak himself—the man claimed to have shrugged off Tresean winters and was as invulnerable to the Isteran cold. In contrast, Khalad looked like a merchant in his rough, brown čūqā.
At Rahim’s insistence, I had worn his latest creation—a beautiful mahogany hua, stitched with a jewel-eyed, three-headed dragon, which was partly concealed by my waist wrap. My mastery of the azi was no secret, he pointed out, and it was important for me to command such narratives in subtle ways. I slipped a small knife into my sleeve, a growing habit of mine.
My brother wore a huge grin on his face when we approached. “Have a good rest?” His voice was mild enough, but I knew Fox. We had perfected our Veiling rune and rarely stumbled into each other’s minds whenever one of us wanted privacy—but we knew anyway.
“As if you spent the night alone,” I grumbled at him with a sideways glance at Inessa. As usual, the princess looked stunning. The way they snuck adoring glances at each other was almost oversweet. Three months ago, Inessa had been engaged to both Prince Kance of Odalia and Emperor Shifang of Daanoris. My brother had fought her and both engagements nearly every step of the way.
How much things change in a short time, I thought with another pang of sadness.
“You’re late.” Zoya’s presence was suspicious. Mykaela, Inessa, and Fox were there to see us off, but Zoya wasn’t the type for such sentiments.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
She shrugged. “Mistress Parmina sold tickets for an azi viewing. They are to be summoned by none other than Lady Tea of the Embers herself.”
I groaned. That particular moniker had spread quickly, a not-so-subtle reference to my connection with the daeva.
“She’s dispatched me here,” Zoya continued, “to ensure your pet dragon actually arrives and her guests receive their money’s worth.”
“An azi viewing?”
“Rather like a cherry blossom viewing, but with daeva. They’re at the fourth floor of the Falling Snow cha-khana, which has a very good view of this particular terrain. Why did you think she suggested this meeting place? Because she was concerned about her safety or yours? You don’t know your mistress very well.”
“Did she promise you access to my room for your part in this? My room, which happens to be right next to Shadi’s?”
Zoya’s smile was so bright it was blinding.
“I wish Fox and I could come with you,” the princess murmured to me with a sigh.
“But there are no emperors in Istera to be accidentally engaged to, Your Highness,” said Zoya.
“You have a very lovely mouth, Zoya. It would look even lovelier if it remained shut for the rest of the day.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
“How is the old Heartforger?” I asked Khalad.
He smiled sadly. “Feeling his age. His own heartsglass is weakening. The exertions at Daanoris finally caught up to him, and I’m not sure he can shake it off. We brought him to Holsrath for treatment. They have better facilities to help him there. We both knew that day was coming, but…”
“I’m so sorry, Khalad.”
“Kalen was a lot of help.”
Kalen was the new Duke of Holsrath, a title he hated for how he came to it. His father’s death at the hands of King Telemaine and Aenah was a painful subject, and not one he liked to talk about. “It was nothing,” my love murmured, looking a bit abashed. “Just glad I could be of service to Khalad.”
It felt odd to not be traveling with my brother. As the Kion princess’s official consort, Fox grew more involved in the politics and day-to-day administration of the kingdom Inessa would one day rule. They were frequent visitors to the city, overseeing new constructions to the marketplace and tending to those in the poorer slums, often with Khalad and me in tow.
As if sharing the same thoughts, Fox smiled sheepishly. “I’m half-tempted to jump onto the azi’s back with the rest of you when it arrives.”
“And I’m whole-tempted to drag you back to Ankyo on your ear,” Inessa said tartly. “I’m not going to spend the next two days alone with the Drychta and Yadoshan ambassadors talking about trade deals. They’re more likely to murder each other than reach an agreement.”
“You have your own responsibilities now, Fox,” I said. My feelings were strangely contradictory. I had only ever wanted Fox to have a life of his own, to be happy. But I could not stamp down the spark of resentment that he was no longer at the forefront of my life, nor I at his.
“It’s strange to be away from you,” my brother admitted, rueful.
“We don’t have much time, you know.” Zoya scanned the sky. “Are you certain the azi will come when you’re not lodged inside its head? I’d rather not have the asha elders hear of our plans early enough to stop you.”
“You didn’t need to come and see us off, Zoya,” Althy reminded her gently. “And don’t use Parmina as an excuse.”
“And not get the chance to complain?” she chided.
“We still have room for one more,” I encouraged Mykaela. Physically, my mentor was in peak health. Her bright-silver heartsglass, lost for so many years, now hung around her neck where it belonged. But Polaire’s death had hit her the hardest. It would not do, I had argued, to have her spending the rest of her life in vigils by Polaire’s gravesite when Polaire had sacrificed so much for Mykaela to keep living. Still, the older asha split her time between her friend’s tomb and her old lover King Vanor’s crypt. I had often wondered about the conversations she had with the latter but didn’t want to pry.
Mykaela shook her head. “We still have much work to do, Tea. It’s hard enough for the asha association to relinquish one bone witch, much less two.” She smiled at me and took my hand. “There are other battles to be fought here. And I expect you to bring back valuable information when you return.”
I nodded. The asha association and I were not on the best of terms. I believed they were at least partly responsible for losing Mykaela’s heartsglass, to prevent her from becoming too powerful for their interests. But Mykaela and the others didn’t think they would go so far. They believed the association hoarded their influence while still adhering to the asha codes. I had little evidence to change their minds.
Recently, we’d received word about strange creatures prowling near Istera—creatures that resembled smaller daeva. Officially, we were to head to the ice kingdom to investigate the sightings. Unofficially, we were following up on the only lead we had: Aenah’s cryptic words before she died.
In her last moments, the Faceless had shared how the legend of the Blade that Soars and Dancing Wind were corrupted sources, and that only the true version held the answers to the mysterious and powerful shadowglass that Aenah and the elder asha were keen on possessing. We hoped that Istera, which was home to the world’s oldest library and largest collection of books on runic magic and asha history, would provide clues.
“I’ve never ridden dragons before,” Rahim said to me, rubbing his hands excitedly. “But ah, my uchenik, I always wanted to.”
“Always wanted to?” echoed Likh, who had ridden the azi before and did not feel the same way.
“It must feel good to be up so high, looking down at the world below.” Rahim combed at his beard with thick fingers. “Good to think about how little one’s problems can be when everything is small in the grand scheme of things, no? Was that not how you felt when you rode the azi, dear Likh?”
“I was mostly thinking about not throwing up,” my new asha-brother admitted, the latest recruit to House Valerian. The asha association had initially opposed his candidacy, but after his part in fighting the Faceless in Daanoris had been revealed, support for him among the other asha had been too overwhelming for the association not to concede.
“We’d best be going, Tea,” Khalad reminded me with a small smile. “Let’s not keep Mistress Parmina waiting.”
I laughed at that, then cast my mind out, searching—and finding—my target as its familiar presence seeped into my thoughts like molasses over scones. The asha association had wanted me to kill the azi. With both Mykaela and Empress Alyx’s blessing, I had refused. Controlling the azi made the association wary to plot directly against me. And a docile azi, much to my surprise, had brought even more tourists to Ankyo. Where my attempts at invoking empathy in the asha leaders had failed, greed had prevailed. “It’s here,” I confirmed.
The words were barely out of my mouth when the azi landed, not ungracefully, several meters away. The sight of the three-headed dragon was familiar to many of us in our gathering, but Councilor Ludvig and Rahim swore in unison, staring at the large daeva. Likh gripped Khalad’s arm.
“Good luck,” Zoya said, as the Heartforger began clambering up the beast’s back, assisting a nervous Likh once he found steadier footing. “Just so it’s official, Tea, I will be crashing in your room while you’re away.”
I rolled my eyes. “Everyone knows you’ll be in Shadi’s room, Zoya, no matter what Mistress Parmina promised you.”
The asha grinned as the others dragged personal trunks up the azi, the creature sitting quietly with minimal fuss.
“Be careful,” Mykkie told me. “None of those reports we’ve received from Istera match what we know of daeva. Keep an eye out, and you and Althy watch over Likh. This is only his second trip outside of Ankyo.”
“I will.” I hugged her. “Don’t overwork yourself.”
“I will try. I shall let Fox know of new developments here, so he can relay them to you.” She stepped back and looked up at the azi. It crooned and bowed its head respectfully at her.
“You better not get into trouble in Istera without me around,” Fox said.
“You better not get into trouble in Kion without me around,” I shot back, and nearly knocked him over with the force of my embrace.
“Quit dillydallying,” Althy said from atop the dragon. “Or we’ll be all day trading good-byes.”
I hugged Fox one last time, did the same to Inessa, and accepted Kalen’s help climbing up the azi. Once we were all settled, the daeva made a soft keening noise and flapped its magnificent wings. It leaped into the air, and I watched as my friends grew smaller as the azi ascended. The creature sang out. Rahim swore again.
Smiling, I glanced down for one last look at Ankyo—and startled, mouth agape.
The city was on fire. Balls of flame fanned against the gates, and I watched in horror as buildings and houses collapsed, thick clouds of dark smoke rising to obscure my view. Everything burned—
“Tea?”
I jumped when a hand touched my shoulder.
Kalen looked at me quizzically. “Is something the matter?”
“I…” The city of Ankyo gleamed back at me from below, pristine and unchanged. Soon, even that view disappeared, as the azi barreled through the sky, the Swiftsea soon replacing the land below us.
“It’s nothing,” I said shakily, but I kept glancing behind us, struggling to see any telltale trace of smoke and finding none.