“My master has said that on many occasions. He’s not wrong, but it helps me forge better.” Khalad was suddenly eager to change the subject. I made no complaints. “We still need those two memories for Lady Mykaela’s new heartsglass. I’ve looked through several possibilities, but none are of the potency I need.”
“How about a heinous act committed by a Faceless?”
“That would probably work. They’re not known for doing things half…” He trailed off, shocked. “Tea, you don’t mean that!”
“Why not? We have her imprisoned and then she’s in no position to refuse us.”
“I have to side with Khalad on this one,” Fox said. “Aenah’s crafty enough even when she’s powerless. Don’t drag Khalad into a battle he hasn’t volunteered for.”
Khalad’s eyes lit up from behind his spectacles. He tugged at his hair, which was white, like most Heartforgers’. “You misunderstand me, Sir Fox. I’m not turning it down. I can’t extract any memory from a Faceless if she’s not willing, but I’m curious about the other notions I might find in her head.”
Fox groaned. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”
“It’s worth a shot, I think.” Khalad paused and added after a sidelong glance at my heartsglass, “But don’t tire yourself for Kance. He wouldn’t want that. He can be a little…oblivious sometimes. Even more so nowadays.”
Was my crush really that obvious to everyone but the prince himself?
Yes, Fox said in my head. Yes, it is.
“There is something strange about the soldiers, Tea,” Kalen said.
That was true. When the arrows and fiery pitch had failed, soldiers streamed out of the Daanorian palace. It was a suicide mission, and they struggled forward as if every step was agony. It was obvious they were terrified, their eyes rolling back in fright. But despite their reluctance, they continued, drawn onward to their impending deaths by some unseen force.
“Compulsion, and a poor one at that,” the bone witch noted. “He is unskilled and desperate, barely able to control his army.”
Shock tore through me. “But only Dark asha can use such magic.”
“And Faceless. Most likely he wields a seeking stone, modified to channel magic. But the darkrot comes quicker, and to allow him to use compulsion unfettered suggests that his master has already marked him for death.”
The monstrous three-headed azi swept down, and the asha climbed on its back with ease. “You say I have kept you in the dark. I offer you the chance to see with your own eyes. If you are not afraid, come with me.”
But I was afraid. I feared her pet dragon as much as I feared the one who could compel these poor soldiers against their wishes, but after my earlier protest, there was only one choice to make.
I scrambled up the azi’s back, white-knuckled and bathed in sweat, and held on as it flew swifter than any wind. It made for the castle with all haste, the asha sitting beside me as serene as if she were on an excursion to the countryside.
We found the hanjian atop their highest tower. The changes in him horrified me. Only a few hours ago he had stood in golden armor, issuing orders. Now he lay wizened, like some unknown creature had drained him of blood and sustenance, then left him crouched on the floor like an emaciated monkey. He clutched at a round black stone in his hands, gibbering nonsense. A growing shadow surrounded him, lashing at the air like a whip. His heartsglass pulsed silver.
“He is lost,” the asha said calmly. “A pity. I would have liked him to be sane before the end.”
The man saw us and shrunk away.
“Your masters doomed you the instant they gave you that stone, hanjian.” There was no warmth in the asha’s voice. “Soon, the darkrot will consume you until there is nothing left. Release your hold on the soldiers.”
The man howled his impotent fury, barking out something unintelligible before making a cutting motion with his hands.
The shadows around the stone grew. The man’s limbs stiffened, turning black as we watched. His face grew more elongated, eyes bulging from his face. He opened his mouth, and I saw fangs sprouting.
The bone witch did not wait. All three of the azi’s heads lurched forward, and I succumbed to my cowardice, covering my eyes. Even then, I heard the snarls of the beast and the shrieks of the doomed man, the tearing of flesh and the snapping of bone. When the silence returned, I fought the urge to throw up.
“You murdered him,” I whispered.
“I saved those soldiers.” She stood, the man’s heartsglass in her hands. She watched the light from it fade, lips twisted in grim satisfaction. “It is all a matter of perspective.”
4
I resented King Telemaine for his humanity. His dungeon was damp but well kept, bare but with minimal discomfort. For a prisoner who had done her best not only to rob me of my mind and will as well as kill Fox, this was a luxury she did not deserve.
The orders I gave were simple: I went in alone—always. Even Fox was barred from entering, resigned to standing on the other side of the cell door, listening for signs of trouble through our bond.
Not for the first time, I wished the Faceless woman had not been interred to Odalia from Kion. Except Empress Alyx wanted little to do with her, and Telemaine had offered to shoulder the Faceless’s imprisonment, which made Aenah’s proximity to Prince Kance a source of worry. If a Faceless leader could pose as a servant at the Valerian—as my very own asha-ka!—then what other devilry could she devise, even while imprisoned?
I hated her. The Faceless would wield daeva and destroy kingdoms in their quest for power, but Aenah had made it personal. Every injury I suffered since first entering Kion was from her schemes—the damage at the Falling Leaf teahouse, through the seeking stone she had placed to amplify my abilities beyond my control. The azi she had commanded before me, killing several asha at the darashi oyun. The deaths of the Deathseekers who pursued her, and my own near-fatal battle at Lake Strypnyk. I have good reasons to kill her, and it infuriates me that I cannot simply because she has set other schemes in motion that we require knowledge of.
My interrogations over the past several months had borne fruit: an attempt by Usij’s followers to attack the Isteran palace; a move to blow up a diplomat’s residence in Kion; a threat against King Telemaine’s life. Despite these successes, I was always left feeling that—given her notoriety and high ranking among the Faceless—there were bigger plans she was leaving unsaid.
“Be careful,” Fox told me, as he often did. I nodded, and the heavy metal doors swung shut with a loud clang behind me.
“Hello, Tea.” Aenah was chained to the wall, the links allowing only five inches of movement in either direction. I knew this, having measured them myself. It permitted her only enough distance to the bucket she relieved herself in and to the meals that were pushed through a slot in the wall by the Deathseeker on duty.
I felt the strength of the Runic wards crisscrossing the room, blocking the magic and leaving a strange, gaping emptiness, a feeling of incompleteness. In that room, she could use no spells.
The only elegance left about her was the black heartsglass she still wore, for there is no magic that could pry it away without her consent.
“How long has it been, child? Two months now? Three?”
“You know what I’m here for.”
“What you say you are here for never changes,” she laughed. “And yet, you have never asked the one question you have been dying to since we began.”
“I am not interested.”
“How unkind of you to say so, Tea. Do you think so little of Mykaela’s life that you would be quick to throw her away?”
“Leave Mykaela out of this.”
“You know as well as I that is impossible. Mykaela’s well-being is what drives you to accept her responsibilities without complaint, though once upon a time, you feared to serve as her replacement. And now you are here, dooming her to an early death by refusing to listen—”
The words ended in a startled shriek. Aenah sank back against the wall and thrashed, head tossing from side to side as her whole body stiffened in pain. I waited a few seconds more and then stopped, leaving her gasping for breath. There was no room for gentleness here.