It felt like a chain coming undone, the possibility opening up before her. She would find a way to reverse the damage she had done. A way to ensure Vera’s case against Allaster at the Conclave failed,even if it meant revealing her con. She had only to hold Vera off long enough to reach a solution, to convince the Ambassador that whatever claims Thane made against her were false.
Except Thane was looking at her in a way she knew too well. It was the stare of a hunter before his trap, watching it close about his prey.
“I had truly hoped it would not come to this,” said a voice.
A cloaked figure stepped out from behind the sydara vine trellis, lowering their deep hood with white gloves. Ambassador Vera stared back at Kasira without expression, clasping her hands at her waist with the poise of a priest prepared to hear her sins.
Kasira had fallen for Thane’s con.
He had known all along that she cared for the Library. He’d manipulated her emotions, tricked her into saying the very words that would damn her, and ensured Vera was there to hear them. Kasira had been so frantic about May that she hadn’t stopped to check the rooftop for another’s presence.
Her fury grew molten at Thane’s satisfied grin, but she withheld it, desperate to keep her mind clear. There had to be a way she could twist this. A means of ensuring she didn’t lose everything again.
“Don’t worry, Kasira.” The softness of Vera’s voice would have been almost comforting were it not colder than the mountain snow. “I have a new bargain for you. I need your testimony at the Conclave. If you refuse and the Conclave fails, I will take the Library by force, and I will make sure every person you have forged a connection with here spends the rest of their lives in a windowless cell, save the Librarian.”
There was no life in Vera’s eyes as she said, “Him, I will kill.”
Kasira’s mind reeled back to her vision of Amorlin from when she had drunk from the pool, to the sight of a Kalish flag unfurling along the Library’s face and a battlefield drenched in the blood of people who had become her friends. Vera had sought to take control of Amorlin quietly, to add its power to hers and eventually challenge her cousin for the throne, but if her choices were between taking it openly and not having it at all, she would do what she had to.
“That was not our agreement,” Thane snarled, stepping toward Vera. “You swore that if I proved her disloyal, her life was mine.”
Vera dismissed his furor with a glance. “It appears that my cousin may be more aware of my plans than I originally thought. It’s even more vital now that the Conclave succeeds, and I need Kasira in place afterward to deal with the fallout.” Her gaze shifted to Kasira. “And if you so much as think about taking my cousin’s offer, I promise there won’t be a stone left standing of this place when I’m finished with it.”
Thane drew a slow, deliberate breath. “I am not someone to break bargains with, Ambassador.”
“You will do as you’re told, or you’ll be returned to Belvar,” Vera replied, and in that instant, Kasira understood the Ambassador’s true weakness: She was far too used to her power, to the authority it granted her.
She did not expect to be disobeyed.
Thane’s knife was in Kasira’s gut before she had time to process where it’d come from, an uncomfortable pressure her body couldn’t understand. Then came the pain. She gasped, stumbling back, and the knife tore free with a sickening squelch. Her hand pressed to the wound reflexively, hot blood sliding between her fingers. He slashed again, faster than he had any right to be, and caught her across the thigh. The knife bit to the bone.
“Stop!” Vera surged forward, but Thane was quicker. His elbow caught her in the temple, and the Ambassador crumpled.
Thane rounded on Kasira. “Stupid girl,” he chided, inspecting the blood-coated blade. “You always thought you knew better than me. I told Loraya you were too clever for your own good, but she didn’t listen. She couldn’t see through her love for you.”
Kasira dropped to one knee, her mind flipping and turning and ohhell, it hurt so much. The blade was serrated; it had torn her insides apart with one strike. And her leg—she couldn’t make herself look. He knew his craft well; he’d opened an artery. She reached for the magic with fumbling, invisible fingers, but it felt a thousand leagues away.
Thane flicked her blood from his knife and advanced on her. “It’s your fault Loraya died. Your fault she’s gone, and I will exact that pain from your flesh.”
“You’re not the only one who loved her!” Kasira screamed, groping for one of the knives in her belt. She barely had it out before Thane smacked it to the ground. She felt the sydara vine at her back, felt its leaves rustle and inch outward, reaching for her.
“Don’t delude yourself, Kasira,” he growled. “You aren’t capable of love. It’s too in your nature to deceive.” He lifted his knife to beneath her chin, tilting her gaze up to his. “Go on. Tell me one true thing about yourself.”
Kasira grit her teeth. The pain had settled, leaving her numb, but her mind couldn’t catch up. She could barely find the words.
Thane chuckled quietly. “You are made of lies. There is nothing real about you.”
“I care about the Library,” she croaked out. “About Allaster and May.” And Gievra and Fen and Carlia and Iylis. “I care, and it doesn’t matter, because no matter what I feel for them, I don’t—I’m not—”
“You’re not worthy of them.” Thane’s smile turned saccharine, and she shuddered. She had refused to acknowledge how she felt because she didn’t truly think herself capable of such love. Thane was right—she could no longer tell what was real inside of her and what was a con, and the Library deserved someone better than that. Someone who would take care of it, not someone who ruined everything she touched.
“Oh, Kasira.” Thane shook his head. “They won’t even miss you when you’re gone.”
Her vision blackened, the truth of his words more painful than any blade.
Then something tore at the edge of the magic, a force clamoring for her attention, like a beast trapped in a cage. She reached for it, clung to it, familiar and cool as an evening breeze.
Gievra.
