Page 61 of House of Dusk

Really? Fates, they weren’t children. Sephre had seen at least a hundred naked men in her life, though granted a fair number of them had been dead at the time.

Still, she did as he asked. She heard the clank of his belt and scabbard.

A whisper of cloth. Then the splash of a body entering the water.

She waited another few heartbeats before turning back.

He was waist deep by then, and still alive, so that was something.

Sephre dug her fingers into her arms, hugging herself as she watched.

He’d left the small lamp in the sand beside his sword.

She considered picking it up, cupping it in her hands.

It would be almost like holding the holy flame.

She stared at the waters, thinking of what Nilos said.

Remembered washing her hands after a long day working in the garden, the dirt worn into her skin.

She could never get them completely clean.

There was always a smudge, a bit of earth dug under her nails.

Was that how the cycle of life and rebirth worked?

You washed away the worst, and the rest of it just. ..stayed with you?

Reaching the barge, Nilos wrapped one arm through a rope that trailed from the side, then kicked away and began to tug it slowly back toward the shore.

He moved cleanly, muscles shifting under amber skin, though she could only make out a few intriguing glimpses. Fates, it had been a long, long time.

It was with no small amount of regret that she turned her back to him as he began clambering back to shore.

“I didn’t take you for the shy sort,” she said.

“Or is it that you know you’ve got a spectacular body and don’t want to tempt me into breaking my vows?

Because you should know there’s no expectation of celibacy at Stara Bron. ”

He made a choked noise. She wished she could see his face. He deserved it, after the way he’d taunted her ever since they’d met. “Are you all right?” she called. “Not collapsed and dying of poison?”

“I’m...” He coughed. “It’s not either of those things. It’s—” A pause. An indrawn breath—“Turn around, then.”

He didn’t sound embarrassed. He sounded afraid. Her humor dimmed. She hadn’t meant to torment the man, even if he did deserve it. She braced herself, uncertain what to expect. Then she turned.

He stood before her, almost as bare as a fresh-kindled flame. Sephre wasn’t entirely sure whether she resented the breechclout or owed it a life debt. But it wasn’t his sculpted thighs or his bare chest or the intriguing cut of the muscles at his hip that made her draw in a sharp breath.

It was the marks. Fates, there must be at least a hundred.

Scattered across his chest, his thighs, his arms. Each a twin to the one on her own arm.

A hundred fragments of the Serpent’s power.

When had his eyes turned green? At twenty?

Fifty? She forced her gaze to his face. There was something achingly open there.

No shadowed gaze, no inscrutable smile. She understood the gift he was giving her.

Sharing this truth. Her chest clenched tight, and heat swarmed up her throat, her cheeks.

“Oh,” she said, wincing inwardly at how foolish it sounded. “So. I guess this is why you can enter the water and I can’t.”

He actually smiled at that. “Yes.”

“And...this is why you won’t see your family?”

His smile vanished, and she cursed herself for it. But she needed to understand this.

He brushed a hand over his shaven scalp, sending a shower of droplets to the sand.

“I...I still feel like myself. That’s the problem.

I don’t know where I stop and where it begins.

It’s not as if there’s a strange voice hissing inside me or anything like that.

The last time I tried to visit, my mother cried because I hadn’t eaten any of the almond cakes she’d baked.

My favorite, apparently. But food doesn’t taste the same, now. ”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it with every corner of her being. Then she cocked her head, curious. “Why didn’t you want me to see the marks? Did you think I’d be frightened?”

That won her a faint smile. “I suppose. You’re the first person who’s seen them. I’ve been alone for...a long time now.”

Yes. She knew something of that. She took a step closer.

There were still droplets of poison beading his skin, but they would be dry soon.

And she didn’t want him to think that she was afraid of him.

Even though a part of her was. Afraid of how much she’d come to appreciate his company in the past few days.

“I understand,” she said, wanting to return his gift of trust. “Knowing people might see you as...tainted. If they knew the truth.”

“Is that what you think?” He held himself still. Waiting.

“I only know who you are, now,” she said. “And I like that person. That is, you’re...a good companion. For traveling.”

“For traveling,” he echoed, but there was a trace of a smile on his lips now. “As are you.”

She might have done something ridiculous, like reach out and touch his shoulder—a very fine shoulder, that she wouldn’t have minded touching—but Nilos stepped to the side then, ducking to collect his abandoned tunic and sandals. “I should...We need to keep going.”

“Er. Right. Yes.” And she ought to stop ogling the poor man. Sephre wrenched herself back around and stared determinedly at the pattern of her own steps in the black sand. Listened as Nilos opened his satchel, a snap of cloth being shaken out.

And then another sound. A breath, sharply drawn. A thud that sent her heart galloping even after ten years. The sound of a body, falling to the ground.

Old instinct sent her diving for Nilos’s sword. It took her a heartbeat to sweep it up from the sand. Another to pull it from the scabbard. Deep inside, something wailed. Was it truly so easy, to snatch up a sword again? To be ready to kill? Did the past ten years mean nothing?

It’s not killing if it’s a demon, she reminded herself. Spinning, she prepared to slash whatever skotos had come for them to tiny pieces. But it wasn’t a demon from the underworld.

It was a man. Her fingers trembled. She tightened them.

Prince Ichos stood over the slumped body of Nilos, but his gaze was on her. His sword braced for her attack.

She risked a single glance to Nilos. No blood. And she thought she heard a groan. He was still alive, thank the Fates. She did not pause to interrogate the burst of relief that flared through her. The prince must be her focus now.

The boy stood well. He had been trained, she could see that. He was probably very good.

She had been very good too. But that was ten years ago. She clenched her jaw, watching for anything that might betray an imminent attack.

“Drop the sword,” ordered the prince. “I’m not here for you, sister.”

She did not drop the sword. It would be easier to simply attack, but all she could think of was that little boy, scrubbing at his eyes as he watched his mother sent away from him. No, she didn’t want to kill Ichos. Someone’s awfully confident. Right, well, she didn’t want to get killed either.

“I know why you’re here,” she said, careful not to move, to hold this fragile moment, blades still bare of blood.

That was another bolt of relief. He must have knocked Nilos over the head, or choked him to unconsciousness.

“You’re very good at following orders, aren’t you?

Letting other people use you to kill for them? ”

“I’m the prince of Helisson,” Ichos snapped. “I have a duty to obey my father.”

“Is it duty?” she asked. “Or is it just easier this way?” This was the gap in his armor. The crimson flush spreading over his cheeks was proof enough of that. And if she could just strike true, she could end this without spilling blood. That would be nice.

He stared at her, brow furrowing. “You’re an ashdancer. Why are you defending one of the Serpent’s minions?”

Fates, the prince wasn’t that much older than Timeus.

Raw and eager and probably desperate to prove himself.

Just as she’d been, when she was his age.

“I know Lacheron,” she said, pressing her attack.

“I was his tool once. I fought in the war. I did—” her voice cracked, but this was the weapon she had to use—“I did terrible things. I let myself believe it was the only way. But it’s not. You can choose your own path, Ichos.”

Was she reaching him? It was hard to tell.

He was a stranger. But he had lowered his blade a handspan.

His jaw worked, as if he were chewing her words.

Maybe getting ready to spit them back out.

Who was she, after all? Just some nameless old woman.

Sephre hadn’t even listened to her own father.

She doubted she could change the prince’s mind.

But maybe this seed of doubt would be enough to distract him.

She risked a glance to Nilos, still crumpled on the sand.

But breathing more quickly now. His eyes fluttered. Nearly there.

“I’m no one’s tool.” The prince glowered at her. “Everything I do is for the sake of Helisson. For my people.”

The crumpled heap that was Nilos moved slightly. Sephre shifted her stance, to keep Ichos focused on her. She was his target now. And he was hers. He’d shown her where to strike.

“You want to do the right thing. That’s how the Ember King works,” she said. Might as well use everything she had. Fates, she hoped this would work. “He lies. He uses other people to do his dirty work, and then dresses it up as heroism and glory.”

“My father never lied to me,” snarled Ichos.

“Not your father,” she said. “The true Ember King. The one who’s been manipulating all of you, all along. Lacheron.”

The prince stared at her. She knew that look. She’d had it on her own face, when Nilos had confronted her with similarly unwelcome truths.

“That’s not—”

Sephre hurled her sword at him. The prince yelped, ducking.

And Nilos shoved himself up from the sand.

He was not quite as lightning swift as in the past, but for a man who’d just been half unconscious it was a fine showing.

He was still faster than Sephre, which meant that she had to take a flying leap into the barge as Nilos took up the pole and began to shove the vessel into the deeper waters.

She rolled up, pulling herself onto the wooden seat. Looking back, she found Ichos on the shore, his shoulders hunched, body coiled. For a moment, she feared he might leap into the water, to his own doom. Don’t do it. Be more than this.

He couldn’t possibly have heard her. And yet the prince suddenly shivered, as if casting off a wet cloak. Then he turned and stalked away from the shore. Sephre breathed out, her body loosening, melting.

“That was well done,” said Nilos. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me,” she replied tartly, to cover the unaccountable flush his words provoked. “Just stop going on about how you saved my life. We’re even now.”

Shadows enveloped them, as they drifted deeper. She couldn’t see his face, but she heard the faint huff of his laugh, and it lightened her spirits. Which was probably a good thing, given where they were now headed.

The Labyrinth of Souls.