What’s more frightening, however, is just how much power we have... and the fact that my magic level—one known as sidereal—is above sovran, above the king himself, who is the only recorded sovran magi in Everlea. Though he’s not technically amagi...
Secret starsdamned deities.
He, too, had been closemouthed about Fero. It’s clear there’s no love lost between his father and him, but I’m hopeful that when he returns from his palaver with the Aspacana, he will be more willing to open up. He has been gone for the past week to manage the growing tensions after exposing Masišta’s treachery. And there’s still the matter of the traitor behind the theft of the azdaha eggs and the arrangement with the Aspacana: theoracle,whom, now that I have my memories back, I remember as the mastermind of treachery in Oryndhr as well.
I glance up. “Ani?”
Her pencil stops scratching across the parchment. She’s engrossed in translating yet another book from a language I don’t recognize. “If it’s not about history or practical magic, I don’t want to hear it. And there’s no such thing as baby-gods. Let it go.”
I snort at her deadpan expression. “Itispractical. Technically,” I say, and she waves a hand for me to continue. “If a person was... contaminated... by a dark spirit, could it be expelled? Or is that person lost for good?”
“Is this about Laleh?” she asks, blue eyes sharpening. It’s not, but I’m interested in what she has to say, so I nod. “Necromancy is powered by corpus magic and a blood enchantment. If the magic is removed, then her mortal body would decay.” Her brow wrinkles when I flinch at the bluntness of her delivery. “Does that answer your question?”
“I suppose. I just can’t get my mind around how real she seemed.” I could see how people who had lost loved ones might be attracted by the idea of keeping them, but they’re not who they were. “It was Fero’s doing, I gather,” I whisper, and wrap my arms around my middle.
“Or a powerful corpus magi.” Ani tilts her head. “As Starkeeper,youcould.”
“I could never do anything like that.”
She nods. “Good. Because the cost of sanguimancy is a little bit of your soul each time. It’s like a drug: the more you use it, the more dependent you become on it.” She purses her lips, looking perturbed. “We only have a few registered dominant corpus magi. It could have been any one of them. Necromancy takes a lot of power and skill.”
“How do you just know all this?”
She rolls her eyes. “I like to read. So should you.”
Oh, right. I stare sightlessly at the text in front of me. I make it a handful of minutes before I push back in my chair and clear my throat, earning myself a belabored groan from her.
“What now, for the love of Zora?”
“Could someone be saved if they’ve been taken over by the remnant of a god?”
“You’re referring to the Oryndhrian king, I presume?” Ani asks, and when I nod, she frowns. “Why do you care? He’s the one who bound you and tried to use your magic as a weapon. You should be happy that he’s suffering.”
I gape at her. “I don’t think I can be happy thatanyone’ssuffering, especially someone who didn’t consent to be used. Yes, he’s made mistakes and I’ve been hurt in the process, but he wouldn’t do that if he wasn’t coerced.”
“How do you know?” Ani asks curiously. “People do unspeakable things for power.”
I understand that more than anyone, and I would stake my life on the fact that the man I once loved—might still love—would never damn his people to an eternity of servitude and horror. “I just do. The Roshan I know would never welcome that. He fought against the crown for his people for years in hiding and... he died to save me. He’s still there. I can feel it.”
Ani’s gaze is sharp, her eyes flicking away and then back to me, a blush forming on her cheeks. “Do you still love him? The king of Oryndhr?”
My breath shudders to a stop, that raw, unhealed wound tearing open again. It wouldn’t hurt so much if I didn’t still care. “I don’t know,” I say slowly.
“You don’t know if you have feelings for him?” my friend prods.
I lick dry lips. “I... Maybe. It’s not that simple.”
The clatter of a helm falling onto the marble makes me swing around. Darrius is standing there, the fleeting look of hurt on his face making my stomach swoop.Stars.Did he overhear me? I push out of the chair and glare at Ani, who could have easily warned me he was there.
“Darrius,” I say, trying to read his inscrutable expression. “You’re back.”
“Yes.” His beautiful face is tired, with dark shadows under his eyes, and he smells of horses and leather like he hasn’t had a proper bath in days, but the bond doesn’t care. Light travels down my arms in stardust spirals to mingle with his shadows. As always, I feel a sense of awe seeing my natural magic in action. The cuffs had smothered so much. He watches their dance with a certain dispassion, as if oddly resentful that our magic is happy to see each other.
“How are the clans?” I ask.
“Chaotic.”
I bend down to grab the fallen helm. “Any news on Masišta?”
