I didn’t know what to do. Hope had disappeared with the deadly swipe of that spiked tail that ended Polaire’s life. My world had shrunk until there was nothing but her dead body, the sounds of Mykaela and Althy’s crying, and both Fox and Kalen’s voices in my head, asking, worrying. Tea. Tea. Tea!
Kalen’s control faded; I took over. I could feel nothing but minds all around me: Mykaela and Althy’s grief, Zoya and Khalad’s horror, Fox’s anger and hatred. And Kalen, anguished and stunned and loving.
But the heartbreaking, wrenching silence of Polaire’s mind was the loudest noise of all.
From somewhere nearby, I watched myself scream, and the world screamed with me. The azi screamed at my anguish, and Aenah too screamed as I punched brutally into her mind. The Dark surrounded me, filling me in ways I had never imagined before, filling me to the brim until I overflowed with Darkness. I welcomed the power, desperate to feel more than the heartache I could not prevent.
I expected the sickeningly sweet darkrot, the anger and the rage, to slowly eat away at my mind. But with every new surge of power came only fervor and impatience, the realization that I still had room to take in more of it, and more, and still more. Sparks flew from my fingers as I traced more runes, lingering on their curves and hidden corners. I had too much of the Dark in me, too much for even the Faceless to counter, and I wrested control of the azi from her one last time.
I remembered my short foray into Usij’s mind, remembered the atrocities I had seen committed there, and twisted those images so that to Aenah’s mind, she was undergoing the knife and its pain and blood. The Faceless wriggled on the ground like she was live meat on a hook.
And still I saw more visions. I saw memories of burning and loss, the dead child she held in her arms while she screamed at the gods, pleading at first and then rejecting them completely. I watched the trail of bones and corpses she left behind her as she moved from Arhen-Kosho to Odalia to Kion and Yadosha. It amassed decades of cruelty and blood. I saw her wars against the asha of the Willows—battles fought as she raised daeva after daeva, only to be repelled by bone witches that came before me. I rifled through Aenah’s mind, my desire to find her truth stronger than my revulsion for the bloodshed spinning through her thoughts.
Then the scenes changed. The asha no longer appeared as adversaries but as collaborators. I saw Mistress Hestia, and my blood ran cold.
“They cannot know.” They were Mistress Clayve, Mistress Joliene, and Mistress Fatima—upstanding members of the association, all. Mistress Hestia held the Faceless’s book in her hands.
“Mykaela is too powerful,” Mistress Hestia said. “She shall be better off without her heartsglass. Best to keep her alive, at least till the next bone witch comes along.”
The vision faded, but my wrath grew.
Telemaine started forward, but Khalad was faster. He slammed an elbow into his father’s stomach, and when the elder king grunted and lowered his blade, Khalad wrested it away, landing his father on the other end of its point.
“No!” Aenah begged. The images I inflicted were invisible to everyone else, but she suffered with them. Yet to see her twisting and writhing on the floor at her memories was not enough.
I wanted to kill her.
I wanted to do more than kill her.
Aenah raised her head, her eyes focused not on mine but on my heartsglass. A cross between a wail and a giggle rose in her throat. “It’s…happening,” she gasped. “It’s…happening…oh…Tea…”
I did not want to hear her voice ever again. The woman’s eyes widened as I forced my final Compulsion on her, fixing her mouth shut and rendering the rest of her immobile. Even without my influence, I could sense the azi’s thirst mixed with our shared revulsion for the woman who had made our lives a living hell for so long.
The Faceless made a strangled, hacking noise as the azi moved toward her. I saw her eyes, wide with fright, and I reveled in her forthcoming destruction; I fed off her growing fear.
“Aughhk,” the woman warbled through unmoving lips. In her head, I could feel her shrieking, shrieking, shrieking, and it was a splendid melody. “Aucgghk-ack-gauug—”
All three of the azi’s heads dove down toward the Faceless, their mouths open.
There was a loud, sickening crunch of bone.
King Telemaine gaped at the body that had once been his lover, still twitching as my pet consumed her. He backed away from me, but I did not waver. Even in the worst of my rage, a part of me knew that to kill him would mean my head. Whatever crimes he had committed, the darkrot was fierce inside me, warping my desires. My desire was grotesque and cruel, hollering for more blood, for more vengeance.
It was easy enough. I luxuriated in the king’s fright. I allowed my magic to sink into every pore of him until his consciousness was steeped in my hatred.
“For the rest of your life, this is all you shall have of your lover: a vision of her as living carrion,” I whispered to him. “You will relive this moment in your mind for the rest of your days, and it will be all that you shall remember. Your lust for power blinded you, causing immeasurable pain to those you should have protected. Now you shall watch with open eyes and see.”
An agonized scream erupted from Telemaine; he clawed at his eyes. Khalad and Zoya rushed to his side, fighting to restrain him.
I left him there in a heap, removing my presence from the azi’s heads so it could enjoy its feast in peace, but I managed only a few steps before I was on the ground, struggling to breathe. Mykaela held the lifeless Polaire in her lap with Altaecia beside her, their faces washed in tears. Likh’s legs had given way, his hands over his mouth. Zoya stared at me. In their gazes, I found shock and repulsion. And Fox—
Oh, the expression on my brother’s face. I felt shame—not for killing Aenah and destroying Telemaine but for the way he looked at me, the fear rippling through him.
I reached out for Polaire, wove the Resurrecting rune. I can bring her back, I thought. I am so filled and so alive with the Dark, I can do anything. She will return to nag me for my shortcomings and bully me into doing everything she wanted—
But the asha did not move. My spell barreled into her twice and thrice and four times and seven and fourteen and twenty until I began screaming into her quiet mind to live, to live, to live, damn you—
“Tea,” Kalen said hoarsely. “Stop. Please stop.”
The right side of my body felt sticky and warm, and I began to shiver.
Kalen’s arms circled me, the Heartshare rune flaring once more before his presence took over every inch of my being, warm and inviting—the only forgiveness in the room I could find. The darkrot melted away as I let go of the power for an emotion greater than hate and, sobbing, allowed the soothing murmur of his voice to carry me away into darkness.
There was only silence broken in moments by the sounds of weeping.
The monsters were dead; the creatures that had once been asha lay strewn in bloodied heaps around us, grotesque even in death with their stiffened limbs and gaping mouths. They retained their monstrous forms, their secret selves exposed for the world to see.