Page 133

“He does not speak, you know this,” he said, matching her exasperated tone. “Not in the way you think, at least. Ronin could hear Him, but even those whispers were not... whole.”

She replied without thinking, putting a hand to her temple.

“He speaks to me.”

The silence was strangling. The same tightness in her head wound around her throat, firmer than a lover’s hand.

Again, she expected the flare of red. Shehopedfor it, even.

But Taristan remained. A line creased between his brows. Even as Erida pulled back, he pushed forward, holding the inches between them.

“What does He tell you?”

His voice grated, lower than she ever knew it could be.

“Let me stay,” she said. It sounded like an admission or an apology. “Let me in.”

Taristan seized her by the shoulders, his grasp hard and unbreakable. It was not a lover’s embrace, but something more desperate.

“Do not,” he whispered. “Do not give Him that.”

Erida stared back at him, tracing the veins along his neck and the shifting presence behind his eyes. It moved even as Taristan held her, as if simply standing to the side. She wondered if What Waits would do the same to her. Would her blue eyes burn red and golden, alive with the light of a dark god?

Would it be worth it?

Taristan’s teeth gnashed together, exasperation on his face.

“It is as Ronin says. What Waits requires sacrifice. I have given enough,” he forced out. “You need not do the same.”

Gently, she took his hand, turning it over. She examined it as she would the pages of a book, reading every callus and scratch. There was no gash across his palm anymore. The Spindle wound disappeared before helost the ability to heal. But she remembered his blood welling up between his fingers, dark red against the edge of a Spindleblade. He shed blood to tear every Spindle, giving pieces of himself every time.

Strangely, she thought of Ronin out in the wilderness.What will he have to give to bind a dragon? What price will he pay?

“What did you give, Taristan?” Her voice hitched as his hand flinched in her own. “When Ronin first came to you?”

He pulled away from her, his expression going sharp and tight.

“I promised a price,” he murmured, his face shadowed. “I promised a price, and before the doors of a forgotten temple, I paid.”

With your brother’s life, Erida knew, finishing what he could not say.

“What would anyone give to earn their destiny? To rule their fate?” he pushed on, shaking his head. “Imagine you are not queen of all you see, but still feel that power in you, just waiting to be grasped? What would you give to take it?”

Erida did not need to think long. She felt sick and determined, all at the same time.

“Anything.”

It was not yet dawn when Erida rose, unable to sleep. Taristan did not stir when she slipped from the bedchamber. He was a heavy sleeper, near dead against the blankets. She looked back once. Only sleeping did his face smooth, his cares worn away, the weight of blood and destiny finally lifted.

In the corridor, the Lionguard waited, all ten lined up outside the antechamber to their bedroom. Erida let them fall in behind her, trailing like her nightgown and heavy robe.

She paced slowly, thinking, her mind a blur of too many thoughts.

Most of the Konrada tower was open to the cathedral floor below.Sculptures loomed down from the twenty sides of the tower, the gods and goddess of the Ward frozen in stone. Lanterns on massive chains hung from the vaulted ceiling, trailing a hundred feet down. They burned all night, casting a warm glow over everything.

To Erida, half-asleep, the soft light turned the world into a dream. It made her steps easier.

She could pretend this wasn’t real.