Page 62 of Scorched Earth (Dark Shores #4)

LYDIA

The chamber she was brought to was large and circular, the walls carved in swirling curves to depict the dunes and illuminated by sconces burning a scented oil that immediately calmed Lydia’s rapidly beating heart.

“Wait here, Marked One,” the servant murmured, shutting the doors and leaving Lydia alone.

But not in silence.

At the center of the chamber, a large fountain made of silver rose nearly to the ceiling, the water flowing to strike shining basins that each produced a different tone, creating a strangely hypnotic music that drew Lydia closer.

Crossing the space, she watched the water flow with fascination, marveling at the craftsmanship it had taken to produce such a sound.

Which was why she didn’t hear Ceenah enter, nor sense her presence until the Anuk queen said, “Beautiful, isn’t it?

Xadrian’s father gifted it to me. He purchased it from the Maarin, who said it was made in a far-off land.

It took our own craftsman a year and a day to align the pieces so that it would play the music that was intended rather than the noise of falling water. ”

Lydia cleared her throat. “It’s from a place called Faul, across the Endless Seas, Your Grace. I’ve seen its like before.” In a senator’s villa, the fountain taken in lieu of taxes owed during the man’s governorship of the province. “They are both rare and precious. A generous gift.”

“He gave me many gifts, including my son,” she answered. “Then I caught him in bed with one of my servants and I gifted his soul back to the Six.”

Lydia blinked at the revelation but held her tongue.

“I was only seventeen,” Ceenah continued.

“Newly queen after my mother’s death, the Six protect and keep her soul, and I was accused of being impulsive and emotional in my reaction to his betrayal, for his family was a tribe of great importance.

Yet fifteen years have passed, and I’d make the same decision today.

I will suffer much but never a liar in my house.

Why did you wish to speak to me, Marked One? ”

Lydia bit the insides of her cheeks, hearing the warning. “I wish to speak to you of how you used your mark on Agrippa, Your Grace. I… I want to know how you took the life out of him without succumbing to the Corrupter’s influence.”

Ceenah made a soft humming noise, circling the fountain. “Why do you wish to know?”

Don’t lie. “Because I’ve never seen it done in that manner. The corrupted take, but they keep it, whereas you just tossed his life out into the room. My hypothesis is that by not keeping it for yourself, you avoid inviting the Corrupter into your heart.”

“The Corrupter is in all our hearts, as are all the Six, to a greater or lesser extent.” Ceenah cocked her head, brown eyes considering.

“It seems you understand very well what I did, so what is your question? Or did you merely wish to have your hypothesis confirmed?” There was a hint of sarcasm in her voice that reminded Lydia of Xadrian, the apple clearly not falling far from the tree.

“I want to understand how you expelled the life into the room,” Lydia said, palms slicking with sweat.

“The same way I would put it into someone to heal them, which you clearly know how to do.”

Lydia clenched her teeth, frustration rising in her chest because she knew the woman was baiting her. “I mean, how do you overcome the urge to keep it?”

“The same way I overcome any urge. Willpower. Morality. Dedication to the Six.”

So it was as simple as that. Lydia’s shoulders slumped with the confirmation of what she’d suspected in her heart.

There was no trick, no technique, no skill to be learned.

She succumbed to the Corrupter because she didn’t have the willpower to overcome her own urges.

Because she was weak. Tears welled in her eyes, and Lydia scrubbed them away furiously.

Ceenah kept circling the fountain, only its music breaking the silence between them until she said, “There is a reason why the Corrupter made the keeping of stolen life the sweetest of pleasures. Temptation is his weapon, and he wields it with a mastery very few can resist. That is why it is taught that the corrupted have a separate mark, not that they were marked by Hegeria and turned to darkness. It is easy to resist temptation when you do not realize it exists. Except it does leave Hegeria’s marked woefully unprepared if they stumble across that line.

Which is why in Anukastre, we teach our children the truth.

Teach them how to be strong. How to be true to the Six, and to themselves.

Most choose never to cross the line, for it is also easier to resist a temptation you’ve never tasted. ”

Lydia knew the taste far too well. “But some cross the line? Like yourself.”

“Yes.”

“Do… do many of them succumb?”

“Yes. And they are executed.”

Lydia closed her eyes, knowing the question that was coming.

“Have you crossed the line, Lydia of Mudamora?” The cold blade of Ceenah’s sword pressed against her throat. “Have you succumbed?”

Lie lie lie! “Yes.”

Lydia squeezed her hands into fists, waiting for the cruel slice of the blade that would end her life, but Ceenah lowered her sword. “Only you fought back to yourself, which means you are strong indeed.”

Her eyes shot open. “But—”

“I return to my first question,” Ceenah interrupted. “Why do you wish to know how to take life without keeping it? Why not instead ask how to avoid taking it at all?”

“Because I want to be able to defend myself and my friends,” Lydia answered. “I have little martial skill, but my mark is as dangerous as any blade. If I could use it as you do, I’d be a different sort of warrior.”

“You speak the truth.” Ceenah’s fingers flexed on the grip of her sword. “Yet not the whole truth.”

“That is the whole truth!” Her frustration was rising on a tide of anger because she’d already confessed so much. Yet it wasn’t enough. “That is the reason. I want to be strong but not at the sake of my soul. I don’t want to be used but I also don’t want to use others. What more is there to say?”

“You tell me.”

Lydia’s anger was taking over, and the ever-present darkness that lurked within her was using it to rip down the walls of her control, the Corrupter’s voice whispering up out of the darkness. “I want to be strong enough that the Corrupter can’t control me. Can’t make me serve his will.”

“None of the gods can control you,” Ceenah said. “None of them make you serve their will, least of all him. ”

That wasn’t true. She could hear him, hear his cursed voice whispering for her to take, to kill, to revel in the strength of stolen life.

Understanding struck her like a slap to the face. It wasn’t the Corrupter’s voice she heard in her thoughts.

It was her own.

“I want to be master of myself,” she blurted out. “I want to be in control of myself. Not by hiding from what I’m capable of, but by using my power on terms I can live with.”

“Good,” Ceenah said. “Then let me teach you how.”