“Such a little thing,” Jezara repeats, her voice almost dreamy. “I wonder if it’s my fault, her being called so young… .”
Understanding dawns, and I swallow hard. This time when I glance at Techeki, his eyes meet mine for an instant before returning to the face of his old friend and goddess.
“She will do well,” Techeki tells her, eyes wet with tears. “And I will look after young Nimhara, I promise you.”
Jezara starts to turn her head when her eyes find me and halt there, sense and understanding draining away. “You seem familiar, child… . Will you hear my blessing?”
I feel a tear slip down my cheek and splash onto my hand. Swallowing hard, I nod and bow my head with my palms to my eyes. I’ve never made the gesture myself—I’ve been its recipient since my earliest memories. But it comes easily, and as I wait, Jezara begins to speak.
“Blessings upon you,” she whispers, letting her eyes close again. “Light keep you safe, and light guide you on your path. May the warmth of healing go with you… .” Her lips move as though she would continue speaking, but no sound comes out, and her brow furrows.
Techeki reaches down and takes her hand, his eyes on the place where his palm touches hers. The crease in her forehead eases, and the tiniest of smiles touches the corners of her lips.
“May you walk lightly,” I whisper, picking up where she left off. My blessing and hers are not the same—no two deities share the same. “May forgiveness and compassion keep you, until …”
I spoke these words not long ago, on a lonely riverbank as a boy bled to death, as helpless then as I am now. My throat constricts, and it isn’t until Techeki lifts his head, his green eyeliner smudged with tears, that I find my voice, and the rest of my farewell.
“Until we meet again, Divine One.”
For a moment after Jezara’s last breath sighs out of her, there’s no sound. My body is empty, a dark and aching hole where once there was a heart.
I lift my eyes to see Inshara standing not far away, watching us with blazing eyes, my crown upon her head. My vision dims. Blood rushes past my ears. The world begins to fall away.
“Techeki, go,” I whisper.
“What?” Techeki straightens with a jerk, unwilling to leave Jezara’s body. “I must—Divine One, please—”
“Go!” I order him, not taking my eyes from the woman wearing my crown, my red robes—that same crimson as North’s sash, tossed to the ground before me when Elkisa brought me news of his death.
Inshara has taken everything from me. My crown. My best friend. The boy I gave my heart to. My father, my people, my home, my life’s purpose. And finally, the only other alive in the world who could possibly understand me.
The mist is gathering around me once more, having seen to it that the sky-steel river would not harm me again. I can feel it, roiling, waiting. I can see it, flickers of violent green and purple in the corners of my vision. It tastes coppery and strange on my tongue—it tastes like blood.
It bends to my will, this mist. I am the only person in this world who can feel its caress without being twisted beyond recognition.
Inshara has no such protection.
And I will make her pay.
THIRTY-FOUR
NORTH
I fight my way up the steps, dodging the fleeing guards and priests and Graycloaks trying to get away. I nearly stumble over something soft, then halt as a hand shoots out and grabs at my arm.
“Stop!” Techeki holds fast, my momentum whirling me around and toppling me down beside him. “They’ll kill you!”
Wrenching my gaze away from Jezara’s body next to him—Oh, skies, what did I stumble over?—I turn toward the terrace.
I freeze.
Mist screams through the air, singing like the blade of a sword. Inshara’s backed against the wall of the upper terrace, summoning meager flickers of magic that do little to halt the onslaught of blows coming for her.
And Nimh …
Nimh is fury. The very air around her bends, as if the aura of mist and rage she’s wrapped around herself is so dense not even light can pass through unaffected. She’s advancing upon Inshara the way she advanced upon the city. Only this time her eyes are clear—and she’s terrifying.
The mist comes faster and faster, the wind ripping at my clothes and roaring like a train passing inches away. A boulder the size of my body heaves itself up, tearing its way out of the paved terrace to smash into a hundred razor-sharp fragments that join the whirling storm around her.
