Page 27 of Bloodwitch

She had been stunning, even at age seventeen, and she was even more stunning now. Especially as a slight smile toyed across her lips.

“Let us sit.” Vaness eased onto the iron chair, her posture perfect. “We have much to discuss.”

“Hye,” Vivia agreed, and for half a breath, she debated mimicking the Empress’s grace. Everything felt so soft, so dainty, so far removed from everything that Vivia was… and yet somehow, everything Vivia wanted to be.

But no, she was not here to be cowed. She was not here to be manipulated. She was here for Nubrevna, and nothing more. So as she sat with the same brusqueness she would use around any of her soldiers, and as she patted once more at the edges of her face, she summoned her inner bear. “Wedohave much to discuss,” she declared. “Such as, first and foremost, what exactly in Noden’s watery Hell am I doing here?”

Tucked within a hollowed-out wall, Safi watched the Empress of Marstok face off with the newly named Queen-in-Waiting of Nubrevna.

Until this morning, Safi had thought she preferred the throne room for this sort of work. Her legs might grow stiff from standing, but at least she was in the open. At least sunlight and fresh air could wash against her skin. Now she realized that darkness was better. The heat and the walls and the lack of anyone to look at her or await a declaration oftrueorfalse—that was better. That was safer.

Every day since arriving in Azmir, Safi had spent at least an hourin a stifling space somewhere. There was this one, a second in the imperial dining room, and a third in the vast amphitheater where the Sultanate met each day to handle the infrastructural and economic problems of the empire.

Normally, there were too many voices to keep up with. Normally, Safi had to rely on her gut to sense decay in the room. Of course, until today, there had been no decay, and although Bayrum of the Shards might have been the first, Safi was sure he wouldn’t be the last.

So, as long as Safi was in this wall, then she did not have to fear her magic. She did not have to fear another sudden death. She could listen, she could evaluate, and she could choose her words carefully. Perhaps best of all, though, was that in the darkness, Safi could work.

She had already taken twelve books from the Empress’s personal library, and she had even takennoteson one of them. Iseult would have been wildly impressed. The book,Crafting Painstones,had seemed a logical starting point, and the text covered Painstones as well as bewitched tonics and tinctures. Healers, Safi had learned, embedded their power into the act of creation itself.

And that had given her an idea: if she could hold a piece of quartz while using her own powers, maybe she too couldembedher power into the rock.

Vaness had kindly provided her with a fresh wedge of rose quartz as well as a handful of other gemstones—no questions asked, thank the gods—and now Safi was setting her plan in motion. She let her magic swell to the surface as she watched on.

And what Safi saw was utterly enthralling. In fact, she had no idea how she hadeverconsidered Vaness boring. Now, she was anything but the Empress of Insipid.

Never in Safi’s life had she seen two such women competing for space in a room. She’d seen plenty of men do it, clucking about like roosters in a yard. And she had seen men try—and fail—to bend women whose spines were made of steel.

This was something else entirely. It was two women a thousandfold stronger than any man, each with agendas all their own and witcheries that could slay. They stood like rivals in a Cartorran pugilist’s ring, but instead of tile and sand to cloak the earth between them, an iron table and water carafes waited. Weapons for the taking.

The wind chimes twinkled, a soft prelude to what would certainly be a symphonic explosion. To compound the tension of it all, Safi’s magic trembled as truth and lie crashed against her in unison. Both women rang with honest clarity; both women grated with practiced falsehood.

The symphony began.

“The reason you are in my ‘blighted city,’” Vaness declared, “is because the last time I saw you, you were stealing one of my ships.”

“And the last time I saw you,” Vivia countered, “you had sabotaged one of your ships so that I would steal it.”

“A distraction.” Vaness flipped up a hand. “I wanted the cargo your brother carried. It was worth the price of those weapons.”

True,murmured Safi’s magic—and she imagined pouring that truth straight into her quartz.

Vivia seemed to also sense Vaness’s honesty, for she stiffened, briefly, as if surprised. “You mean it was worth losing your weapons to claim this Truthwitch you supposedly have. Let us see her then, if she is so special.”

“So that you can stealherfrom me too?”

“Perhaps.” A casual shrug from the Queen-in-Waiting. “Tell me: was she worth the cost of war?”

“Tell me: were my weapons?” The Empress’s eyebrows bounced high. “Your actions were the first to risk the Twenty Year Truce. It was pure chance that the magic in the document deemedmyact the greater crime.”

“I stole a ship. You landed on Nubrevnan soil with soldiers. I think the magic gauged properly.”

“Says the woman who turned her own navy into pirates.”

“Says the woman who freed my Foxes from a Saldonican prison.” Vivia thrust out her chin. “Why did you do that?”

“Because the Truthwitch asked me to.” Vaness plucked an invisible hair off her gown. “Iwould have left them to rot.”

“And why wouldshehave asked you to do it?” Vivia pressed. “Why would she care?”