“The other Stoneborn wanted to put him back in the well.” His tone was soft, edged with regret.
It wasn’t what I had hoped to hear. I spun around, voice rising with outrage.
“So it was mercy forhim? Not for the mortal cities that Skyfather wanted Marit to wipe out? Not for Marit’s own priests, the ones he killed?”
Taran tilted his jaw.Yes?
“I suppose you would have killed him for purer reasons?” he demanded.
“By the time you were standing over your friend with a knife, his priests dead around him, I think nobody hadpurein sight. Do you know how we prayed that the gods would come and save us from Death? Are any of you better than he is, or was Wesha protecting us from you too when she locked the Gates?”
“Ah. Sounds like you’re closer to the ‘big wave and start afresh’ camp than you think, then,” Taran said, mocking me. “No. Noneof us are any better than the others, and I’m sure there are good reasons to murder us all. Alas, the Allmother is strictly opposed to it.”
I stared at my feet. I still had my own boots on, and they looked worn and crude with Wesha’s dress.
“I saw Death kill thousands of people, but I had no idea he came from such cruelty,” I said, shoulders sinking.
“Cruelty?” Taran asked incredulously. “What do you know about it? All I’ve done since you arrived uninvited is house you and keep you safe. You haven’t suffered any cruelty.”
“I didn’t want to come here! I just wanted my betrothed back, and if I can’t have him, I want to go home.”
I knew I sounded childish, but the contempt of the gods I’d spent my life worshipping was grinding down my soul.
Taran looked at me with confusion, like I’d shown poor manners. Teuta, who wouldn’t have bowed to the queen, had deferred to him—this was probably the first time a mortal had ever spoken to him harshly.
“Are you used to getting what you want?” he asked.
I pressed my lips together, shook my head. Though when I’d set sail for Wesha’s prison, I’d held the naive belief that surely, after everything, the gods owed mesomething.
“No, never.”
His expression was faintly pitying. “Me neither.”
With that deflating agreement, I stared at the full banquet tables, at this unimaginable plenty set out while people were starving in the mortal world. It wouldn’t rot in the Summerlands, not if it sat out for three hundred years, but it had not occurred to any of the gods to simply share their bounty and hope for the mortals to return to worship out of gratitude.
Taran refilled his plate with more food, then pressed it into my hands.
“Here,” he said beneficently. “Better take this back to my rooms, if neither of us is going to cook. I’ll be minding Marit for the rest of the day.”
“Alright,” I agreed, dejected. I took the plate from him and turned to go.
My lack of fight seemed to make him frown.
“If you’d like, I’ll ask if anyone’s seen Napeth,” he offered.
“Would it matter to you if he were planning another war?” I asked, voice numb.
“Well, of course not, since I’m not about to tell him he can’t have his wife back. I’m just mildly curious on your behalf.”
I hadn’t really expected him to answer, but then I recalled that he was now obligated to, truthful or not. I halted because, for a moment, it felt like I’d caught him in another lie.
Taran swept by me and brushed a thumb over the lapel of my cloak one more time.
“I think I’ll put you in green,” he said, making it sound like the conclusion of a long, thoughtful deliberation. He pointed at his face and smirked. “To match my eyes.”
11
It took memore than an hour to find my way back to Wesha’s palace. Without the sun, I had no sense of direction, and the peaks that encircled the City seemed to change with my perspective too. Had I come with the Mountain to my back, or my left?
