Ves,
I’m calling in my favor.
Give this to Ylara.
Vae
I hand the note to Eve, turning my attention to the box. She translates it aloud in common tongue.
“Ylara?” Ryc asks with a justified degree of confusion.
“And what favor?” Fenryn follows suit.
He sounds surprisingly less drunk than he had ten minutes ago. I suppose any degree of a brush with death is sobering.
Lifting the box, the cold unwinding curse snakes itself along my skin and up my arm. I turn, facing Ryc and the others as I sigh.
“The days leading up to my escape from the hells were messy… and hurried,” I say, unwilling to meet any of their stares. Instead I stare at the box in my hands as the sinking feeling in my stomach grows. “I took Vaelyn’s offer of help in exchange for a favor he could call upon later.”
Ifeelthe weight of their stares on my skin through the silence.
“You have to understand,” I say, lifting my chin. “My chances of success were low. I took whatever steps necessary to ensure my survival.”
Which meant making deals with the soon-to-be-devil at the time.
“It’s not an official contract,” I add. “But Vaelyn knows I’m a demon of her word.”
With a swift bite of his thumb, Ryc sweeps toward me and presses it against the lid as he tears back the bow. The box opens, the lid parting to reveal a black-bladed dagger and another note tucked beside it.
All of the blood in my veins turns to ice.
“Is that—”
Ryc doesn’t finish.
He doesn’t have to.
I nod.
It’s the bloodstone dagger I used to kill Netharis.
The one Ryc gifted me months ago.
He takes the second note, opening it as he turns it to me.
There’s a single line written in Malbolge.
Bury it in her heart, Ves.
?????????????
“None of this makes sense,” I say as I pace the length of Ryc’s study barefoot. “Unless… Ylara’s escaped.”
It’s entirely possible.
The veil stands torn—the one thing the shadow hag said needed to happen before she could walk among the living. Of course she would take advantage. I would too.
Refusing Sabien’s offer was a blessing in disguise.
