“He did!” Nimue replied, laughing dazzlingly. “He’s so terrible—a grumpy, single-minded, bullheaded idiot who doesn’t know how to use his words. I adore him so much.” She looked down at Jaqhen. His little eyelids fluttered with sleepiness. “He gave me the most beautiful child in the world. I love them both so dearly.”
Throat tightening, Semras lowered her gaze. Nimue’s love for Ulrech seeped from her voice like the warm glow of the sun. The monster hadn’t been a bastard betraying a lover when he flirted with her all this time, after all.
But it never mattered: he had manipulated her for a game far more dangerous than a side affair.
Nimue readjusted her hold on her child. “I saw threads between you and Inquisitor Velten when I painted your fates. I don’t know what will bind you so strongly together, or if it’s something from a future that can still change, but know it will be hard to break it once it happens.”
“Of course they will be hard to break. They’re cold iron shackles. That’s what binds me to him,” Semras sneered, shaking her hands. “You wouldn’t happen to have a copy of the keys instead of comfortless words? Or know where they might be?”
The seeress looked down at her bound hands. A shadow of unease passed through her clouded eyes, then it left, and she gave her an enigmatic smile. “You will not need it. Have faith in my vision. It was strong, stronger than any of the others, and you didn’t have the shackles in it. They will come off soon.”
“You knew I had them all along, didn’t you?” Semras fought back a snarl. “Why would you still support him, knowing what he did to me?”
Nimue shifted on her feet, eyes fleeing behind her to the bedroom doorway. “I see the future, Semras of Yore. I see what could have been and what may yet be. And what Path would have lain beneath your feet had your hands been free.”
She meant the Bleak Path.
Semras paled, her breath seized by dread. Her captor had a visceral hatred for bleakwitches; if he thought she was or would become one, then she was in much more danger than she first thought. “… Did you tell him that too?” she asked, voice weak.
Eyes still fixed behind Semras, Nimue slowly shook her head. “There are things you do not need a seeress to comprehend. He knew even before asking for my opinion.”
The sound of footsteps on the floor floated to Semras’ ears. Someone knocked on the wall rhythmically as they approached. They stopped, then two more, short and closer, announced their arrival.
Nimue’s smile greeted them. “Thank the Old Crone, my lord Inquisitor! Come, hold Jaqhen for a moment. My lovely child doesn’t nap anywhere else than in someone’s arms these days, and I can’t feel mine anymore. Please relieve me for a moment.”
Semras shivered violently. The monster had found her. Mouth dry, body taut with fear and repulsion, she forced herself to face him.
He stood in the doorway, arms crossed and face fixed in an impenetrable expression. “I hope I am not interrupting anything,” he said. Even his voice sounded calm, devoid of emotion. After a pause, he stepped closer and lightly caressed the child’s head. “I cannot stay for so long, Miss Covenless, but I will give leave to var Hesser for the rest of the day. I do apologize again for taking him from you barely half a day after we came back from the Anderas.”
The seeress’ clouded eyes filled up with warmth. “Thank you, my lord Inquisitor.”
The delicate creases formed by her smile only enhanced her beauty. Shining around her in a cascade of liquid gold, Nimue’s blond hair framed a lithe body that didn’t keep any reminders of her recent pregnancy.
A pang of jealousy twisted Semras’ guts. It took her by surprise. She wasn’t certain of exactly what she was envious of. Freedom, love, security—Nimue had so much more than Semras could ever hope for now.
Then jealousy gave way to dread when the monster’s eyes fell on her. “I must steal my guest back from you. Hang on a little longer, Miss Covenless. Sir Ulrech will come save you soon.”
“As he always does,” Nimue replied, chuckling.
Theinquisitorescortedherout of the annex in a gloomy silence.
Trailing behind him, Semras mulled over the seeress’ warning about truths in lies. Now that she had time to ponder it, she could think of at least one instance he had been an ‘honest liar.’
“‘Notmyfirstborn,’ he said …” Semras muttered to herself, “and I heard ‘not myfirstborn.’” She scoffed. “Pedantic.”
He halted, still steps away from the grand staircase. Glancing at her from over his shoulder, he furrowed his brow into a pensive frown.
She wanted to hold his gaze. Defy him. Stand with her back straight and show no weakness in front of her captor.
But something had broken in her, somewhere between the painful beating of her heart and the stiffness of her fingers straining against their cold iron cage. Her gaze faltered, then fell to the side.
The monster grabbed her arm, and Semras let him drag her numb body into the dark red parlour by the staircase. He closed the door behind them, and the sound of it hitting the frame startled her out of her apathy.
“Miss Covenless told you,” he said.
Semras shrank beneath his attention. “… She told me many things, but not this. I deduced it.”
His frown slowly turned into a sly smile. The mirth didn’t reach his tired eyes. “You are clever enough to know you should keep this knowledge to yourself, I presume.”
