“He is nervous,” Mercurial confirmed. “He should be. As far as wards keeping me out, that depends on their structure.” The Afeya stood up, his hands in front of him, his fingers stretched. “It’s like a web, you see.” He turned his wrists. “Lots of conflicting contracts and bargains. Coming to you sooner was a conflict of contract. And I don’t engage in those. The First Messenger of Her Royal Highness, Queen Ishtara of the Star Court, High Lady of the Night Lands, never breaks a contract. Ever.”
“Isn’t that how you came to exist in the first place? Breaking an oath?” My stomach turned, uneasy with him here. And even more uneasy with what he was insinuating. Because after all we’d been through, all of our interactions, he still scared me. Still made me uneasy. But not as uneasy as I felt about the ability of my enemies to get in his way or overpower him. It was only months ago that Aemon trapped him in the Allurian Pass.
But I couldn’t tell if it was his own Afeyan Queen with the conflicting contract, or Imperator Hart. Both possibilities left me with a sense of dread.
“You know,” he said, his hips undulating as he walked toward me, “the Afeya don’t take too kindly to the Lumerians that forced them into such choices, reminding them of such. Nor do they bargain with those entering into other deals. Deals that derail their initial agreements. Especially when those deals are contracts signed by blood.”
“Considering you have so many plans for me, you could have helped us to avoid this mess.”
“Helped?” He smirked, and held out a hand. A silver comb materialized and he began to slide its teeth throughhis long black locks. “We’ve known each other for some time now. You should know as well as anyone, I don’t simplyhelp.”
“Oh, trust me. I know that all too well. When I’ve needed you these past few months, you were nowhere.”
“For most of that time, I was a prisoner, trapped by Moriel.”
“You know about Ereshya’s shard,” I said.
Twirling his hair around the comb, he twisted the section into a tight coil. “I’m aware of its existence, and location, yes.”
“Then you know I entered this deal to keep it from him. And her.”
“Ah. Yes. Keep the shard away from two evil people. By handing it over to two other,differentevil people.” He clapped. “Bravo. Wonderful plan. Except …” The comb vanished. The ceiling darkened and filled again with glittering stars. “I need you to claim the red shard. The one that actually gives you your power. The one that will not be complete until it’s in your hands. The one that’s missing part of its light because it’s inside you, beating and pulsing and waiting for more. Waiting for you.”
“You had your chance, Mercurial.” I threw my hands up. “You were freed. You came and saw us. You could have said something. Told us what we needed to do,” my voice rose, my anger growing. “You could have given us the information we needed to know over a month ago. Done something so we could have avoided capture, so we could do what you wanted. You knew the Imperator was looking for us. Knew he was close.”
“Knew?” Mercurial asked, his voice dangerously low. “Knew.” His eyes narrowed into slits, his neck stretching side to side, undulating like a snake.
There was a hiss in the corner of the room, an actual nahashim, sneaking out to spy.
Mercurial didn’t break eye contact with me as his arm shot out, his finger pointing at the snake. There was a flash of light, and a scream.
I turned to see the nahashim’s eyes were sealed shut. Its body stood tall, shaking, trembling as it made a pathetic sound, fighting against its sudden blindness.
I sucked in a breath, and turned back to the Afeya.
“Do not insult me,” Mercurial said, “by suggesting what I do, or do not know. I know everything. Everything! And despite what a burden it is, it doesn’t mean I get to share it all with you.” He stepped forward, and I took a step back. “Do you think it is my job to hold your hand and lay out every fucking step for you to accomplish what must be done? I have given more to you than anyone I’ve ever bargained with. And you—you, my lady, my remembered Goddess, you have gotten the most off-track of them all.”
My heart was pounding too quickly, sweat beaded on my palms. “Fine,” I said, my voice shaking. “I’m the worst you’ve ever dealt with. What do I do now?”
“Oh no, no, no,” he sang, pointing a finger to the ceiling. “That’s a question. And I’m afraid you’ve run out of favors to offer me in exchange for answers. Especially since you are nowhere near completing the one thing I asked you to do. Typical of the most frustrating Lumerian I’ve ever dealt with. If you had stayed put in Bamaria, if you had not been so easily deceived, and waited for my directions, you would be a Goddess by now. You would be powerful enough to draw on the link you share with Asherahwithout it killing you. Without destruction. There’d be no question of Moriel, or Ereshya or even Godsdamned Shiviel getting their hands on a shard. You’d have your precious Jules in your arms.”
“And where would my sisters be? Maybe I couldn’t save Morgana … but Meera? She’d be under Moriel’s compulsion by now. And let’s not forget that you’re lucky I did show upin the Allurian Pass when I did.” My voice shook with fear. But I had to remember, he needed me. He needed my power. I had something he wanted. I’d done what he couldn’t. I’d found the first Valalumir shard in centuries, and I’d helped free him.
Mercurial glared, clearly reading my mind.
“I’m right, aren’t I? Wasn’t it the power of the shard’s presence that freed you from Moriel’s prison?”
He leaned back, looking down his nose at me. “Her Royal Highness, my Queen would have come for me. Aemon’s no God yet. He isn’t Moriel … he’s still mortal. Luckily for you and your sisters. The only thing that has saved you thus far is the very thing that could kill you.” He tilted his chin. “Has his formerly not-lordship told you about his little research project at the library? Has he mentioned all the scrolls he’s read, or the worry that keeps him up at night?”
“He’s researching Shiviel. What we did to him.”
Mercurial shook his head. “Is that what he told you?” he sang. “That’s not what he’s doing.”
I froze. I’d seen him stay back each night to talk to the librarians, seen him slide note after note toward them, lists of titles. I’d wanted to ask him about it a dozen times, but I couldn’t. And he’d never freely offered me any information. If anything, he’d gone out of his way to conceal the titles in his possession. My throat tightened. More secrets, more things he was keeping from me.
“Ah,” Mercurial said. “He hasn’t.” He pouted. “Looks like I hit a sore spot.”
“You know what he’s researching?” I asked.
