Page 14

“Nott and Mara were born as one god before their mother desired two children. She ripped their soul and divinity in half and made the Lord of Night and the Lady of Nightmares.” – Esther Weil, Renowned Folklorist

I awoke in my compartment, the curtains gilded by early morning light. My mind was no longer heavy with the weight of malevolent shade spirits. I had the energy to stand and wash and go searching for a new camisole I could wear under my corset. My spirit stirred weakly in my chest as I dressed.

Asher’s shadows crawled in across the floor. He appeared in the middle of my cabin.

“You should knock,” I said, buttoning up my shirt so hurriedly that I missed one and had to start again.

He stood in the pile of my dirty clothing, my handwashed socks dripping dry on the washstand beside him. His bottomless eyes took me in with a sweeping glance—freshly braided bronze hair, my shirt half-open—and his cheeks turned russet.

He put his back to me. “I apologize.”

There was something deeply pleasing about being able to make an ageless force of nature blush, but I chose not to think on that very hard.

“Back from Hel’s gates already,” I said, eager to change the subject. “You work fast.”

“We should talk,” he said to the door, tone somber.

My heart lurched. I took a seat on the bed, winded from dressing. “All right. Let’s get it over with . . .”

“You’re the goddess of magic.” He whispered the words like they were a prayer.

“No,” I said emphatically, “I was the goddess of magic. There’s not a drop of divinity in me now, according to you.”

“Because you broke it into pieces and gave it all away.” The hint of awe in his tone made my stomach flutter and then harden. “I don’t know much about the Upper Realm, but even I’ve heard of you. I saw it all in your mind. You turned yourself mortal. You made yourself into a witch, the very first one.”

“My priestesses needed a way to protect themselves from . . . another, and I . . . I couldn’t save all of them.”

“I know. I saw.” His head dropped forward. Even though I was dressed now, he seemed intent on keeping his gaze turned away from me. “Why keep it a secret?”

Images of the faces I’d known and loved flashed through my mind, blurry by the passage of time. My first coven. “You’re unfamiliar with the gods of the Upper Realm. Suffice it to say, none of them were happy with what I’d done. Eventually, it was easier just to disappear, let people believe I’d destroyed myself.”

“You aren’t a goddess any longer, but you have god blood. Your own blood.”

“Yes. That doesn’t make me particularly popular either. Neither does the gray magic. That was the one thing I couldn’t give away, my god-born spirit. After that, hiding was the only path left for me. The occasional god spy turned up to make my existence Hel, but otherwise life was peaceful. And then I met Lisbeth . . .” When I glanced over at him, he’d finally turned around. I felt his fathomless gaze on my face, but I couldn’t meet it.

His billowy shadows went suddenly still. “But what about our coven? Ruchel favors Fria. Why keep it a secret from her?”

My shoulders slumped forward. “Because I’m not Fria anymore. Lisbeth named me Maven when she was 16 because she thought I was such a ‘know-it-all,’ and that’s who I am now,” I said, smiling faintly at the distant memory. But the smile was short-lived.

“The fear in you—I can still feel it,” he said, flattening his palm over his heart and the tear there in his waistcoat. “You’re not a danger to us here. Gods are easily distracted. They wouldn’t come to the Otherworld to bother you after all this time.”

“I don’t want to be a god. Asher, I hate the gods. I can’t tell the rest of them,” I said quietly. “They’ll want me to save them from all of this, but I’ve nothing left to give. I can’t save anyone. Not them, not my priestesses, not Lisbeth. You saw it all inside my head. You know.”

“The White One,” he said solemnly.

The god of cold and frost.

I cringed at the name and had to shut my eyes a moment. “I don’t want to talk about him. Please?”

“I won’t make you . . . I just . . .” He worked his throat. “I hate that you blame yourself for what he did to the Whitten women.”

I shook my head sharply. “Don’t call them that. They weren’t his women. They were mine. They tried to warn me about the encroaching cold, about his threatening behavior, and I ignored them because I was as selfish and arrogant as every other god.”

“I could feel it in your mind,” he said, “and I don’t know how you stand it. All those emotions . . . They’d have smothered me long ago.”

My eyes stung, and I had to squeeze them shut again. “Of course I blame myself,” I said, breathless. “I was their goddess. There’s no one else to blame.”

My thoughts went whirling down into darker places. I brought forward my mental mortar and pestle and ground my fist into my palm, breaking down the sour feelings until the tightness in my chest slackened.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“It’s . . . it’s silly, but it helps.” I showed him the gesture again and explained it.

Staring down at his own hands, he mimicked the movements like he didn’t think it was impractical at all.

“If you’re ready now,” he said after a time, “I have a task for you.”

I blinked up at him. “A task?” I knew he’d have something for me eventually, but I wasn’t expecting it quite so soon.

“I saved you from the shades,” he reminded me.

“And I’m grateful—can’t you tell?” Sitting up had become too much of a chore. I sprawled across the mattress. “Can it wait until I can stand on my own for longer than a minute?”

“I don’t think so. Our coven is falling apart, and I want you to fix it. Ruchel and Emma argued late into the night before you woke. Nola believes the blessed wax you used during the first trial was sabotaged.”

The bed beneath me was feeling too comfortable, even thin as cardboard as it was. My eyelids fluttered. If I could have slept for another decade or two, I would have. “Emma probably did sabotage me,” I said dryly.

“How can you be so certain?”

I shrugged. “It’s what I would’ve done.”

“Remind me never to wrong you.” A chortle rumbled out of him, bringing out the blush undertones in his fair skin. He was handsome when he laughed, less Otherworldly. “Go and fix it. We need our coven whole again, and every time I’ve tried to intervene, I just get all of them shouting at me. I don’t want any more shouting.”

“Fine.”

His amusement brought a lightness to my limbs that hadn’t been there before. His shadows swallowed him whole, and he melted away under the crack in the door.

* * *

My appetite returned with enthusiasm. I was on my second fruit plate, headed back to the lounge with my breakfast, when the arguing reached my ears. I hurried through the next dining car, sidestepping a beast-born with pointed ears and a furry face, satchel bouncing against my hip.

“Stop avoiding my questions,” Ruchel groused at Emma. They faced off in the center of the car.

“I didn’t bring harm to our coven,” Emma shouted.

“That’s not what I asked,” Ruchel fired back, hands balled into fists. “You can tell me to my face you didn’t bring harm if you believed what you were doing was right. Answer me directly or get the fuck out of my sight! Did you tamper with the wax you put in Maven’s ears or not?”

“She’s fine now!” Emma said. She knotted her witch’s hat angrily, twisting it between her hands. “Let it go!”

“Ruchel—” I started.

“Not now, duck,” Nola said from the bar. “She’s on a tear. It’s her duty as high witch, so let her handle it.”

It may have been her duty, but I didn’t want my coven to fall apart any more than Asher did. We needed them. Secrets had caused this mess, but how did I undo all that now? Wouldn’t confirming I was lying all along just make everything so much worse?

I set down my plate on the bar, and Nola helped herself to it, tossing a burgundy grape into her mouth and chewing it loudly. She settled in on her stool to enjoy the show.

“Wait, Emma,” I begged. “I have a question.”

“Now’s not the best time,” she said through gritted teeth.

Liesel curled up in her cushioned chair, watching the exchange with big eyes, her knees hugged to her chest. Blue sat beside her, a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“It’s relevant,” I said. “If I scratch at the wax when it’s in my ears, could that let the shade in?”

I could feel Ruchel’s ochre gaze searching my face. The hair on the back of my neck rose under the intensity of her scrutiny, and I lowered my lashes. My words were deceptive, but by phrasing it as a question, it wasn’t directly a lie. Or so I hoped. I was weary of all the lies.

Emma turned to me, scowling. And then her brow softened, realization dawning. “Yes,” she said gently, accepting the lifeline I’d just tossed to her. “Scratching at it could let them in.”

“Well, damnit, ducky,” Nola said, mouth full of fruit, her tongue turned burgundy from the grapes. “She told us not to fuss with it once it was in there. Why’d you go and do that?”

I shrugged my shoulders, then took back my plate before she could eat all of it. “I’ll be fine next time. Won’t I, Emma?” I aimed the question like a dart right at the green witch.

Nola snatched more of my grapes with her long arm.

Emma’s lips pursed. “Yes. You’ll be fine next time.”

Ruchel’s hands loosened from their fists. The tension in the car dropped, and the conversation switched to trial three strategy. Later, I went after another plate of breakfast—Nola had eaten most of my last one—and Ruchel followed me.

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” she asked once we were alone, leaning her hip against the table by the entrance to the car.

I finished swallowing a slice of iced pear. “Of course I don’t think that.”

“Why’d you let Emma off the hook?” She folded her arms over her chest.

I took a seat in the nearby chair. The food was helping, but I wasn’t at full strength yet. My joints ached and my legs felt soupy. “She’s suspicious because she thinks I’m lying to everyone . . . but I am lying to everyone. How do we punish her for being right? Emma just wants her sister safe. She’ll come around.”

Ruchel sighed at the ceiling. “Fine, but if you end up needing a wheelbarrow today, I’m making her build it and do all the pushing.”

I didn’t argue.

The bell chimed three times, and the Schatten let us off at the ebonized platform. The city streets stretched behind Wulfram, as pristine as it had been my first day here. The damaged buildings had been repaired, the stores restocked, broken windows replaced. An arena reset.

I could hear the rumble of nearby beasts, the growl and the thunder of their heavy feet on the pavers. My stomach plummeted. I readied my revolver.

The clock struck the first hour, and the gates parted. Prisoners rushed the entrance. I was in no fit state for moving quickly, so Nola and Ruchel kept me between them. We marched for the tower at a steady pace.

Eyes wide and head swiveling, I watched for the first onslaught of beasts, but a gathering of shadows appeared on a nearby roof. A foggy mist formed, so dark and dreadful, a patch of cosmic darkness as big as a house and as threatening as a hurricane. It cast a shade across the streets, blanketing us all. The prisoners raced ahead, pushing between us. Under the cover of that death aura, not a single garm left their hiding place.

I let out a breath, the relief so great it raised my spirits. Ruchel guided us down cobblestone side paths that were less populated. I made it a solid hour before I was winded and needed a rest. My pace slowed further after that, but Nola reassured me we were still on track.

We made it to a water garden that had gone nearly dry, and we refilled our supplies with what remained. When Ruchel suggested a wheelbarrow be fashioned, Emma was willing, but I felt confident I had more steps in me. I wanted to get as far as I could before I put my coven out.

We kept to the shade, weaving down side alleys and backroads, avoiding hot spots for garm. A brush of wintery magic alerted me Asher was near.

He appeared at my side, his snowy hair pulled up in a messy knot. “You’re slowing down our coven.”

“I am not,” I ground out, dragging my boots through loose gravel. My feet felt like lead. My heels had gone numb in my shoes. “Nola just said a moment ago that we’re on schedule.”

“She’s just being nice,” he said.

“Nola’s not nice.”

“I was being nice,” Nola called over her shoulder.

Asher raised a white brow at me smugly. “If I offer to carry you, are you going to be stubborn about it?”

I came to an abrupt halt on the narrow street. I looked him up and down, trying to spot the trap in his words. “What will that cost me?”

“I don’t know yet, but I’ll think of something. Are you going to let me? I overheard you being stubborn about the wheelbarrow back there.”

I tucked my revolver and dagger into my satchel to get them out of the way. “I didn’t want to inconvenience Emma or waste magic if I could avoid it. Turns out I don’t mind inconveniencing you at all, though.”

“That’s the spirit, Trouble,” he said, squatting down so I could climb onto his back.

Under the leather of his waistcoat, shoulder muscles bunched and hardened beneath the pads of my fingers, and my stomach fluttered. His big hands cupped my thighs, holding me in place against the solid plane of his back, and I became aggravatingly aware of the thump of my heart trying to beat through my chest.

I needed it to stop before he felt it stuttering against his back.

Do try to focus on not dying , Lisbeth’s voice chided me. Just kidding. What harm is there in noticing him? It’s not as though you plan to keep him . . . right?

A layer of travel dust had settled over me, darkening my sweaty skin. Dirt from my hands smeared his satin shirt. I smelled like salt and grime. I thought about apologizing for it, but then his shadows slid over me, dropping the temperature of my overheated body by several degrees.

I laid my head against his shoulder, struggling to stay alert to my surroundings. The heat of the day had zapped me of my remaining strength. His scent of spicy magic and woodsy leather wafted to my nose, chasing away everything else. I was so comfortable it was impossible to care much about things I had no control over.