It was an honor to work with the dead, but it took all night for me to break down Hyacinth Wyrslaine for her funeral rites. The overlapping sigils of Life and Death oozed white and green ink all night, the power of the binding leeching from her body and into the pool with her blood. Her wrights were still trying to revive her, their prickling existence twining about me like eels, and twice I stabbed her through the heart while washing her. They did not fade until I cut her heart from her chest and set it aside.
“What flowers will grow from you?” I asked her once I was done.
Creek’s ghost drifted through the pool to me, no ripples or wake at his feet, and said, “None.”
As dawn’s harsh light crept over Mori, shading the world red, I washed my hands and left Hyacinth for whoever came for her. The city outside the palace was silent and the streets bare. Only a few soldiers, all of them in the black-and-red uniforms of the Wyrslaine family, patrolled, and there were fewer the farther from the palace grounds I wandered. The Wheels was oddly empty, and the morning market hadn’t even been set up. The quiet ached.
It was unnatural. Back in Felhollow, there was never silence. Autumn would be spilled across the town this month in a wave of crinkling auburn leaves, and the houses would be golden with ears of corn hung up to dry. They’d be throwing back a single shot of shine from leaking snowdrop blooms, their hands sticky and cold, and celebrating the end of summer. Five winters I’d spent curled up with Julian and Mack before hickory fires, and I might never return again. I needed home.
I rapped at the door to the Chase quarters in Noshwright. “Julian?”
I needed home to still need me.
Footsteps shuffled toward the door. It creaked open, a pair of bright black eyes glaring at me through the crack. Mack’s tired face fell.
“Where’ve you been?” He yanked me into his arms and shut the door with a kick. “Jules! Lore’s here!”
“Only one undertaker left now the Sundered Crown’s dead,” I muttered and wrapped my arms around him. “You heard?”
“Course we heard,” he said, locking the door. “What happened? Basil said you were there.”
“Alistair killed his mother and made himself the Crown.” I pulled away from Mack. “Basil said?”
“They write.” He nudged me into the room and murmured, “They’re a nice break from Jules. He’s caught up in his father’s case.”
Mack nodded toward the paper-covered dining table, and a clatter came from another room. Julian always woke up slowly, stumbling about like a minute-old calf.
“How’s this going?” I asked and picked up one of the pages.
“Bad.” Mack sighed and twisted one of the gold coils on a loc. “Will knew he was getting arrested, and I don’t like that he let you make that deal. He’s hiding something. He’s not here, by the way. Took off to some councilor friends soon as the word got out about the Crown.”
“Thanks.” I squeezed his arm.
Mack’s distrust unnerved me; he’d been Julian’s friend long before either knew me, and their families had been friends for decades. Will could only do so many things to break that sort of trust.
“Lore!” Julian skidded around the corner and scooped me up, crushing me against him. “What happened?”
My skin itched at the closeness. There was so much going on and so much that had touched me. Julian’s grip was unbreakable, his hands gripping my ribs so tight I feared they’d bruise. I shuddered, and he pressed his mouth to mine. His teeth clacked against mine.
I kissed him quick and pulled as far away as I could. “Sorry. The last few days have been a lot.”
There was too much in the world, and too much in me. The whole of me was like a rotting wound, feverish and tight and fit to burst if prodded.
“Crown’s dead,” he said and brought his hand up to my face. “Father said his friends saw you there?”
I nodded and tilted my head away. “Alistair killed her. I’m fine. I was there, but I’m fine.”
“Alistair?” Julian tugged my hair over my shoulder and tangled his fingers in it. “Shit. You sure you’re safe there?”
“As safe as I can be anywhere given the deal I made.” I couldn’t pull away, so I led him to one of the chairs around the table. “We need to talk about Will’s case now that Alistair’s the Crown.”
“Course,” he said and sat in the chair across from me. “Can you get him off?”
I rubbed my arms. “My contract stands, but Alistair is certainly in a more forgiving mood than his mother these days. What have you found?”
“Nothing good.” Mack passed me a stack of papers. “Inconsistencies in wages, a few employees I can’t find any records of outside them getting paid, and folks missing no more than a halfan a year. Adds up to thousands over the years, and he’s already used most of it to buy up two of the old churches in Formet. He won’t tell us why.”
“None of it’s treason,” said Julian, fidgeting with the edge of a page.
Mack snorted. “He’s not paying people what they’re owed, Jules.”
My chest ached. Will was supposed to be better than the other councilors. He was supposed to be fair.
“He bought that old church outside Felhollow.” Mack set the papers down. “But with whose money and why?”
Felhollow had trusted him, and now Will had dragged it into this mess.
“I think,” I said slowly, “Will’s going to owe some money and jail time no matter what.”
Julian flopped onto a chair. “It’s all minor stuff though—labor violations and some iffy tax records. He shouldn’t go to jail for stuff every business in Mori does. It’s the only way to turn a profit.”
I winced.
“Just because everyone’s exploiting folks doesn’t mean he has to,” I said.
“If he got rich undercutting Felfolk,” said Mack, “would you be all right with it?”
“He bought an old town in Ipswit. Whole place is mostly graveyard now. Why? He’s sending guns to nearly every main city, and he’s not bought any ammunition, only received it from friends.” I flipped through a ledger detailing the exchanges. “No, he’s sent some to every holding except Drail. You know why?”
“No. He doesn’t know anyone down there,” Julian said. “That’s that Oakeshaw woman’s holding, and he doesn’t like her. Some disagreement between councilors and courtiers.”
Dripping-Rain-of-Life was in the southwest of Cynlira, as far from Mori as you could get, and where I’d have gone if I hadn’t moved to Felhollow.
“Julian, I love you and Will, but right now, I’ve got some disagreements with Will,” I said.
“Why?” he asked. “Y’all never questioned it before.”
“Maybe we should’ve.” Mack gestured to the array of ledgers on the table. “Will’s up to something, and it might not have been treason, but it’s not good. I think you know that, but I can’t lead you to the right answer. Neither can Lore.”
Julian groaned and rubbed his face. “Look, my father told me something, but he made me swear I’d keep it to myself. It’s not bad or wrong, not like you two are thinking. It’s just dangerous. If this were Felhollow, I’d know I could trust you, but can I here? You’re calling him ‘Alistair’ and working with him every day? You never wanted anything back home, but now you’re amassing power like bees hoard pollen.”
“Of course you can.” I’d have said our relationship was built on trust, but I couldn’t. I’d never let him know all of me. I didn’t think I could. “I couldn’t lie if I wanted to.”
His brows wrinkled. “What do you mean?”
“The Sundered Crown left me a parting gift.” I tapped my lips. “She caught me lying one too many times and destroyed my ability to lie. I still can’t.”
She had left me with only the horrible truth of knowing myself and exactly what I was willing to do.
“Shit, Lore,” whispered Mack.
I nodded. “Stabbed me. Stopped me lying. Killed another wrought working with us. It all pushed Alistair over the edge.”
“She do anything else?” Julian asked, looking me up and down.
“Not really.” I shrugged. “I’m only around because Alistair wants another person with a vilewright nearby to study the Door. I’m on the same level as kitchen cats.”
“Necessary, fed, and occasionally kicked?” Mack asked.
“Exactly,” I snapped. “I don’t want to be powerful. I want to be safe, and I want Felhollow to be safe. I want my friends to be safe. This isn’t about power, Julian; everything I’ve done is about surviving. I came here to help Will and you because I love you. Because you’re my family. I would hope you’d think of me as such.”
I’d always been afraid of coming off as cold, but now I couldn’t find it in me to care.
“You’re family, but this is my father.” Julian hit the table. “I hate this. I hate we’re here and involved in this. I hate knowing it all. None of this would matter if my father hadn’t been caught.”
“He’d still have been doing bad things though,” I said.
Sometimes, I looked at Julian and he was home, but other times, there was a deep, dark loss; the boy he used to be was so different from the man he was. There was nothing wrong with it. We grew. We bloomed.
The world was a garden, and we’d grown apart despite all our care and tending.
“I’m sorry.” Julian took my hands in his and kissed each scar. “I really am. I wish he’d not done it.”
“Done what?” I asked, stuttering.
“He committed treason,” said Julian, wiping his tears on his shirt. “He hired some vilewrought girl and her friends to kill Alistair Wyrslaine, except they failed, panicked, and tried to get to Felhollow to tell him.”
Mack doubled over and grumbled into his hands.
“That girl,” I whispered. “Those bandits weren’t bandits at all. He set them up to get them killed.”
“They were going to take the money and leave even though they failed and led Alistair Wyrslaine right to him,” said Julian as if that explained everything.
“How long have you known?” I asked. How long would he have let me stew in my contract with Alistair?
“Few days. Not before.” Julian sniffed, his eyes red. “Took me a while to think about it. I couldn’t believe he’d do this to me. To us. He stood there and let you deal with that boy. He knew he was guilty, and he let you defend him. I hated him at first, then I was sad. It is what it is.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. I’d thought the same thing, screamed it, when my mother was dying. Grief left no ugly emotion unturned.
“Maybe he’s right. Maybe someone should kill the Heir.” Julian snorted. “The Crown. It’ll get you out of that contract.”
Mack, eyes wide, turned to me. “Does him dying even get you out of it?”
The vilewrought girl had failed at killing Alistair, and he’d been chasing her. He’d known about the treason from the start, even when writing up my contract. He’d known I’d never be able to save Will.
“Fuck,” I said. “Alistair trapped me.”