“Why six months, though?” I ask. “You could have demanded a much longer term, and we wouldn’t have had a choice in the matter.”
“That’s all the time I have left,” he says. “I’m almost out of the king’s blood, and getting more is no simple task. Rebels lost their lives to procure just the small amount I was given. Which means I have to make this count. The king only meets Shadowbanes in person during the solstice ritual—in other words, once every ten years—and only those who are nominated by their patron prince. You see why I’ve done everything I can to gain Leeran’s favor. If I earn his nomination, I’ll get the chance to stand before the king. And if I’ve collected all his Shades, I can make him mortal and end his life. Or I will die trying.”
“You’re willing to sacrifice your life?”
“I was born into this mission. It’s all I’ve ever known. And yes, I see it as worth my life.”
I don’t know if the heaviness I suddenly feel is grief or respect. My feelings regarding this man have never been more complicated. He’s more than what I thought he was. More righteous, but maybe more dangerous too. Before, he was easy to hate. Now I understand him but still hate parts of him. Particularly the part that has been able to turn a blind eye and obey orders just to get closer to his goal. A goal thatcould light the first spark of a rebellion against the lying Sinless, but will he even live to see it? Can I fully trust someone whose focus is so sharply homed in on his mission that everything else takes second place? He may have promised my survival, but he could never place his crew over that which he was born to do.
My gaze drifts to his hands, his knuckles scarred from countless battles with Shades. Then to the bandaged wound, stitched by my very fingers. Then down to his chest, marked with that dizzying array of lines and glyphs, so beautiful and repulsive now that I know what that ritual circle did. He knew the truth before he was a Shadowbane, which means he bore each cut aware of what it would do. I can’t say whether that kind of dedication makes him deranged or…or really godsdamned attractive.
“It’s getting late,” he says, drawing my attention to his face. “Dark will fall soon. We’ll have to stay quiet until morning.”
Disappointment makes my shoulders sink, but I could probably use the silence. I have a lot to think about. A lot to process. I’ll certainly have all the time I need, what with the nights being at their longest. In fact, tonight just might be…
“Oh,” I say. “Is it winter solstice?”
He frowns, as if giving it some thought. “I believe so.”
“It’s my birthday, then.”
His mouth curls into a sideways smile. “Happy birthday, Inana.”
I return his grin, a truce after our tense conversation. Meanwhile, I bury down the racing of my heart, the traitorous pulse that quickened at the sound of my name spoken so tenderly on his lips.
Chapter Thirty-One
Inana
It is the longest night of the godsdamned year, in more ways than one.
Dominic offers to keep watch so I can sleep, but I couldn’t sleep if I tried. Once dark falls, a Shade decides to share our cave, creeping through the shadows wherever the fire’s light fails to hit. It does nothing but watch us with its hollow eyes, tilting its featureless face as it huddles down in the farthest corner, wrapping its too-long arms around its spindly legs. I don my mask for good measure, which seems to intrigue it more, but at least it can’t copy my face.
That’s one thing that hasn’t changed in my mind since learning the truth; Incarnates are still just as terrifying a threat as they were before. The only difference is now I know why Shades seek to Incarnate. They yearn to be whole again. To be alive. And now I understand what Dominic meant when he said Shades aren’t interested in copying Shadowbanes. They’re only interested in Incarnating off humans, those who are truly alive with their souls intact. The only time they’re interested in Sinless or Shadowbanes is when they smell the blood of their original bodies. The Shades who wear Dominic’s face didn’t copy him; theyarehim. The wild Shades of his that he caught probably matched his appearance only after smelling his blood.
As soon as the Shade gets bored and finally leaves, something elseconsumes my focus: the heavy strain in the air of the cave, the tension taut like a bowstring, stretched between me and Dominic. It’s pulled tighter by the silence punctuated by our breaths, the wordless stares we accidentally share throughout the endless night. I’m so aware of him, so conscious of every inch of space that separates us, and I can’t tell whether I want it to grow or shrink.
No wonder people have gone mad during winter solstice.
I nearly weep with relief once the first blush of sun blooms over the horizon. I’m not amused to find the snowfall as heavy as it was yesterday, and Dominic doesn’t look pleased either. Outside the mouth of the cave, he cuts a thin slice over his palm and lets a few drops of blood fall into the snow. His posture is tense, the quiet words he exchanges with his Shades unhopeful.
I can’t see much of them aside from a ripple of three pools of shadow on the ground. Still, it’s strange to think of them as pieces of him. No wonder their ethereal voices sometimes sound like his. How Lust’s seductive teasing is a little too spot-on. How Pride’s haughty remarks could almost be mistaken for Dominic’s. They came from the lunar energy in his soul. Shadowed reflections of the gods who made him. Who made all of us.
Dominic returns inside the cave only to inform me he’s going to collect firewood again. He doesn’t give me a moment to reply before he’s gone. Is he avoiding me? Desperate to escape before I hound him with a thousand more questions? He doesn’t need to bother. I’m still trying to wrap my mind around what I learned last night.
I pull my cloak tight around me and emerge from the cave, greeting the quiet morning and immediately regretting it. The temperature is miserable and I’m quickly dusted in white. So desperately I want to stretch my legs, to walk, but there’s no way in hell I’m taking a stroll in this. Which means another day stuck in a cave. Another day hardly able to walk more than twelve paces one way, then the other. Frustration ripples through me, a palpable current that moves through my body. I release my annoyance with a grumbling huff and whirl back toward the cave. But when I do, a subtle weight alights upon myshoulder. I pause, expecting to find a chunk of snow has fallen on me from one of the trees above the cave, but…
My breath catches.
It’s a Shade.
The creature is barely visible beneath the sliver of shadow provided by the boughs overhead, but I can make out its tiny squirrel body, its round eyes, the crescent moon perched on its brow. It’s the same little bastard that crawled up my dress a couple days ago.
With a yelp, I step back and brush my palm over my cloak, sending up a flurry of dislodged snowflakes. Another step back, to move out from beneath the shadow of the tree and fully into the light—
My heel slips, meeting air where I expected there to be more ground, and the next thing I know, my breath has been knocked from my lungs. I’m on my back in a bed of snow, blinking rapidly, my mind too shocked to understand what just happened. Then I see the edge of the cliff above me. I recall Dominic holding me back to keep me from stepping off it yesterday. It isn’t a steep cliff, so I felt no qualms about standing so close today, but…fuck, turns out a five-foot fall still feels like shit when it takes you by surprise.
I move my arms and legs, finding them cold but not injured. At least there was plenty of snow to cushion my fall. Gingerly, I push up on my forearms.
