“You never fail,” Ciaran said at last. His voice carried the weight of an old truth.
“Failing is boring,” No One replied simply. His attention shifted to Hope. “One last thing before you leave: the worst enemy of success is patience.”
The ticklish sensation of an incoming familiar ink on her forearm woke Hope up.
Ayla’s silver handwriting vanished right after she finished reading her words. The bed was empty, but a thin trail of shadows still lingered on her ankle, comforting—safe.
Ciaran was probably with his father or doing Darkness Commander duties and liaising with the courtrades, who had been chasing and whispering to him for a meeting the previousnight. He and Hope had been very busy the previous night, though.
Her core tightened with the memory of the most intimate connection and bond she had ever experienced. She could have never imagined anything remotely similar was even possible. What she felt towards him, and what she felt from him, was otherworldly.
Ayla was waiting for her in the woods by the West House, the reddish moonlight softening the sharp edges now carved into her face. When Hope approached, Ayla rose from the tree branch and stepped forward. She looked different, but not physically. Her smooth red hair covered her chest, perhaps longer than before, her pale skin contrasting, the shiny silver of her metal eyes following Hope as she approached.
“Hello there, North Ruler,” Hope greeted her.
“Long time no s—nevermind,” Ayla replied with a nod. “I bring you a piece of heart.”
“I already had dinner, thanks,” Hope chuckled, as Ayla pressed a metallic bag into her palms. “Much appreciated.”
“She grows closer,” Ayla whispered, voice hollow, resigned. “How will you destroy the three pieces you have?”
“That is an excellent question.” Hope clutched the metallic bag tighter, its cold weight sending a shiver up her arm. “How’s Nina?”
The pause was heavy. Ayla’s jaw worked as though the truth itself cut her tongue. “Her nightmares come almost every night now. Her hair…” She drew in a shaky breath. “They said it’s more than half black. And the iris of one of her eyes is nearly gone. It’s no longer the ocean-blue we knew. Just black, like ink spilled across glass.”
The Black Lawful Stab at Hope’s belt hummed violently, so loud it seemed to vibrate inside her ribs. Hope’s gaze snapped toAyla’s hand—and her stomach dropped. Black ink coiled around her skin like vines, trailing from her nails to her wrist.
“She is now connected to you, too, isn’t she?”
Ayla’s eyes flickered, then lowered. “She is. I can hear her. But Nina doesn’t know. I won’t let her. She doesn’t need to worry when—” her voice cracked, then steadied with iron. “When there is no need to.”
Hope’s chest tightened, understanding sparking with compassion and grief. “But thereisa need, Ayla. The Cardinal Queen has access to you, just as she has to Nina. Nina would want to know. She would want to stand with you. She wouldn’t want you to bear this alone.”
Silence stretched. Only the thrum of the three pieces of heart Hope had on her body filled the air. The metallic bag with the North piece in her hand was a new addition to the Southern piece in the crystal case from her pocket and the cage of shadows with the West piece.
Finally, Ayla sighed. “Indianna has been working on a cure. To strip the ink from the body, so Nina won’t end up like Raoul. And, now, to save me too. But you’re right. Nina would want me to share it all with her. Even if it means more sleepless nights.”
“She might even welcome an excuse to stay awake,” Hope said, softer now, “if it meant avoiding another Queen’s visit.”
That broke a chuckle from Ayla, thin but real. “That’s exactly what she would say.”
“How far is Indianna from a cure?”
“She doesn’t know. And we don’t speak to her much. She barely leaves her lab—eats there, sleeps there, lives among pipettes, tubes, blackened specimens. She’s pulled strands of ink from Nina’s hair, scraped it from my nails, and she studies them until her eyes burn.”
Hope swallowed hard. She could argue those weren’t living conditions. But what was the point? When a clock ticked right infront of their eyes, by black ink spreading night by night, every second mattered. Hope would have done the same if she had Indianna’s knowledge.
And the clock of their lives was ticking because the Cardinal Queen was still alive.
“Please tell everyone this will be over soon and we will be together again, as a family,” said Hope.
“I will. Be careful and let us know when you need us. We are ready.” Ayla hugged her briefly, and then moured away.
And then, it came.
The sharp, invasive lash of the Queen’s ink message struck through her forearm like a spear. Hope staggered, clutched her head, but she couldn’t block it. Not this time.
Hope inhaled sharply before another message appeared on her. A message not directed at her.
