“Wresting the king away from his sickness will not erase the deathshead covering his face,” Félicité explained.
My heart fell as her words sank in.
“There is, of course, another way.” Calamité’s grin was vicious. “We know about the candles, Hazel.”
I froze. Merrick had made it seem like they were a terribly hushed secret, one to be kept at all costs. But Calamité knew. Which meant Félicité knew. Which meant all the other gods trapped within their crowded body knew.
“You take Marnaigne’s flame onto one of your unused candles and he’s good as new,” Calamité went on, speaking slyly from his corner of their mouth, as if that would keep his words from Félicité. “Cured. No more sickness. No more deathshead.”
“But…but then I lose a candle.”
“You’ve got another. What’s one little life compared to the tens of thousands, the hundreds of thousands, that Marnaigne touches? That Marnaigne protects? You were so concerned about the war and the orphans and the…whatever, before. This one little act could save them all.”
Félicitétsked. “You’re both treading on dangerous ground.”
“What do you say?” he went on, unconcerned. “One life for countless multitudes? It seems an easy decision, don’t you think?”
When he put it that way, it did, of course.
And there was still the third candle. Two lifetimes were enough, so much more than enough.
But when I tried to agree with the god of chaos, the words stuck in my throat.
It was tempting. It was so terribly tempting. But I shook myhead.
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t get to the candles without Merrick. And he’ll never agree to any of this.”
Calamité looked offended. “Do you really consider your kindly uncle so toothless? I could have you there with a snap of my fingers.”
Many years before, I’d traveled to a small seaside town to help with an outbreak of the pox. After nearly a month spent at sickbeds, I finally made my way to the shoreline and stood in awe of the water before me. I’d kicked off my boots and waded into its cooling depths, letting the waves rush over my bare feet. With each sweep of water, the sand beneath me was tugged back, and I’d felt it pulling at me too. Half delirious with exhaustion, I’d nearly allowed the water to take me deeper, dragging me into depths and currents I could not swim in.
I felt like that now. Calamité had set a plan in motion, and I was helpless to do anything but go along with it.
“The candles all look the same,” I pointed out, playing my final card of resistance. “There’s no way I could pick out the king’s from any of the others.”
“No,” Calamité agreed. “Not with those mortal eyes.”
Félicité made a sound of disappointment I knew she did not feel. “So unfortunate we aren’t able to traverse the grounds of his domain.” She shrugged her shoulder, the matter closed. “Oh well.”
Calamité scoffed. “As if I’d allow such a minor snag in logistics to derail this master plan of mine. Of Hazel’s,” he corrected himself quickly.
I could hear the goddess of good fortune grind her teeth. “Brother, I swear if you—”
“I don’t want to save the king like this,” I started. I didn’t know how I’d fix this, but it didn’t feel right. It felt very, very wrong. “I’ll find another way. I’ll—”
“Of course you do and of course you won’t. Close your eyes now, healer,” he interrupted, reaching out to press his thumb against my forehead.
A sudden wave of motion swept over me and I scrunched myeyes closed, trying to squirm away from him. I’d never been struck by lightning, but this was what I imagined it felt like. Bolts of power sizzled from my head down through my veins, electrifying my senses and burning the ends of my nerves. I fell to my knees, a meteor striking Earth, and curled in on myself, hunching over in a shell of protection.
“What did you do to me?” I shrieked.
“The Dreaded End isn’t the only one who can bestow gifts,” Calamité said.
Félicité sighed. “He’s going to be so mad at you.”
“Take it away, Félicité, please!” I howled, pawing at my face. “I don’t want to do this, I don’t want this, I don’t—”
“I can’t,” she admitted softly. “But this gift won’t last forever, mortal, I promise you. Only an hour or so, at most.”
