She wiped her lips. Her eyes, often bright, looked dull.
She took another swig and then another. She tipped back the flask until nothing was left and then dropped it, watching it bounce and skitter on the stone path.
“Ferma,” he began.
“I’ve done a terrible thing,” she whispered.
He looked at her. “We all do terrible things.”
The Yumi made a sound caught between a laugh and a sob. “You would know.”
He waited for her laughter to die off, and it did. She looked up at the sky, the shadows carving out harsh lines along her eyes and mouth.
“What did you do?”
For a moment, she said nothing. She just looked up at the night. When she finally spoke, her voice sounded as if it came from far away.
“I killed the priests,” she said. “The king ordered me to, and so I did.”
Yassen felt his stomach drop. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and her voice sounded so small. “I never question my king.”
Don’t ask questions.Wasn’t that what he had told himself during assignments? When they sent him the name and location, he never askedwhohe was to murder, norwhy. He merely did what he was told because he was a good soldier. The Arohassin had trained him like a shobu, and he became their warrior.
Imagine a house, his old mentor Akaros had once said.Imagine a house with emotions as rooms. One room for sadness. One room for guilt. Another for pain. Let the emotion consume that room, but that room only. And when you’re done experiencing that emotion, shut the door. Lock it, and step away.
It had been hard to do at first. To let nothingness take over and drain away his morality. It felt unnatural. But Yassen had been a quick learner.
He would look into the snake’s venom-colored eyes as it wound its way inside him, hissing of his guilt. He saw it, and then he would slowly close the door. Shut it in. Step away.
“Then don’t allow yourself to start questioning. Questioning will do you no good.”
She blinked. “Is that what you tell yourself?”
“Yes,” he said. He felt the familiar rattle in his chest, but he pushed it away. He could not be shaken, not when he was so close to the end.
“If you allow yourself to regret, you’ll freeze,” he said. “And when that happens, you become useless. The only thing left to do then is die. So either you move on, or you go quietly off into the seven hells.”
He stood and picked up her flask, handing it to her. “There’s no use in feeling sorry for yourself. We’re all going to burn anyway.”
He turned to leave, but she gripped his arm. Her eyes bored into him.
“But Ikilledthem,” she said, her voice breaking. “The Fire Order. The holy ones. He gave the order, and I killed them. I cleaned up their blood. I didn’t stop to ask why. I—I should have—”
Gently, he pried off her fingers and folded her hand. Squeezed.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “If you burn, I’ll keep you company.”
CHAPTER 26
ELENA
Fire gives both life and abandonment. It reveals your true friends yet lets your enemies lie in its shadows. One should be wary of fire and the things it grows.
—from the diaries of Priestess Nomu of the Fire Order
Elena watched Jangir on the monitor as he paced, wringing his hands. He had only been in the cell for two days, but given the state of his disheveled hair, it seemed longer. His white kurta hung off his shoulders, fluttering behind him as he paced. He stopped suddenly. Cocked his head as if he had heard a voice and then mumbled something the sensors did not catch.
