Anger rose inside Killian like the water steaming inside the kettle. “I don’t accept that.” He turned to Privya, who watched him with one brow arched. “Can’t you do something? Can’t you—”
“What, grow a new soul?” she asked, amusement coating the cynicism in her deep voice.
Killian opened his mouth to retort, but the door behind him swung open.
Elyse stood on the threshold, palm pressed flat against the door. Her face was still pale, but she wore clean clothes and looked refreshed—except for the scowl that tainted her features. She didn’t speak, but she didn’t need to. That expression was like a predator’s claws, announcing her deadliness. She made sure each of them had a chance to note her silent warning before stepping into the kitchen. She seemed to have recovered well. Her gait was normal, if a bit slow.
The kettle over the hearth began to screech. A flustered Corin turned to it and snatched it from its hook, halting its shrill cry. She poured the steaming water into an awaiting mug.
Privya eyed Elyse with a wry smile. “How’s my favorite patient feeling?”
Instead of answering, Elyse strode to the counter. She waved her hand and beckoned the mug from Corin’s hand, which was now filled with hot water. Without spilling a drop, the mug landed in front of her on the counter. Corin looked displeased, but she made for the cabinet to retrieve a new mug.
Elyse looked toward Sera and asked, “Citronascia?”
Sera shook her head. “I don’t have any.”
Elyse huffed and moved toward the cabinet beside the hearth, where Killian knew a cache of various teas was stowed. He hadn’t seen her drinking citronascia—the bitter tea that provided basic magical protections—but he had no doubt that she had taken it every morning. He had even less doubt that she would be in a fearsome mood without her usual defenses.
Killian was about to open his mouth to confront Elyse about the previous night’s behavior when Manny said loudly, “I have a question, Elyse.”
Elyse glowered over her shoulder from where she rummaged through the box of teas. “And I have a statement: it’s idiotic to announce one’s question instead of simply asking it.” She went back to searching in the cabinet.
Manny shifted his weight. “Why didn’t Lazarus kill you last night?”
Admittedly, Killian had wondered the same thing. He momentarily put aside his desire to confront Elyse and traded it for curiosity.
When Elyse didn’t turn around, Manny continued. “He could easily kill you, couldn’t he? But he was pulling his punches.” He pivoted toward her, awaiting the answer. “And why bother with the birds? Why not just destroy the city altogether?”
Apparently having finally selected a tea, Elyse rotated to face the group. She carried the small linen bag to where her mug sat waiting on the counter but didn’t meet any of their gazes. She plunked the bag into the still-steaming water and dipped its string several times. Eventually she asked, “You really don’t understand, do you?”
Manny shrugged.
Elyse placed both hands on the counter and squared her shoulders, like she was about to lecture them. “Lazarus is a demon—a creature from Hell that thrives on chaos. It’s all a game to him. He wants to sow fear, to pit people and kingdoms against one another, to crush the economy and set the world into anarchy. He can’t do that if everyone is dead.”
“So the birds are… theatrics,” Nina said quietly, like she was retreating into her previous self. Somehow, that seemed worse than any other atrocity Lazarus had committed. Finding the bodies in Vincennes and seeing the birds in Levoy were, without a doubt, horrendous. But seeing Nina’s confidence regress was a personal affront.
Elyse simply nodded. “The birds were for his own entertainment. To watch people scream and bleed.”
Manny shook his head and a lock of blond hair fell loose from its hold. “I can understand that, but why let us live? Why letyoulive?”
Killian found himself looking eagerly to Elyse for an explanation.
“As I said,” she answered, sounding annoyed, “it’s a game. A game cannot be played without opponents.”
That was something Killian understood. He thought of all the hours he’d trained at Elyse’s obstacle course and how, as brilliant as the engineering was, it paled in comparison to true combat. There was no better feeling than seeing your enemy yield at the end of your sword.
“But,” Corin pressed, “opponents can defeat you.”
“Yes, but that’s the thrill,” Killian said, his understanding deepening. “And we can’t defeat him—not yet. He knows that, so we’re not truly a threat to him.”
“Like a cat playing with its food,” Sera mused.
“But the cat does eventuallyeatthe food,” Manny added, waving his hands to emphasize his point. His eyes flashed wildly around the room. “Does that not concern anyone else?”
“He will grow bored of us eventually,” Elyse agreed. “We’ll have to kill him before it comes to that.”
Corin slid a steaming mug of richly dark liquid in front of Killian. “It’s like Jojo and Tut,” she said distantly.
