Tears pool in the corners of my eyes, and I finally let myself cry. Weep, even.
Which is exactly how that nosy little servant, Hadassah, finds me.
“Merciful seas!” She drops the tin of gruel she’s carrying and hurries to where I lie. She even has the audacity to kneel at my side. As if she cares whether I live or die. I expect her to smell of sweat and foul lye soap like the servants in the Sky Palace, but the rich scents of bergamot and jasmine envelope me as she dabs my face with her filthy skirt.
“What happened? What did he do now?” she asks. “Is that hot-spring water?”
“Get your scorching fingers off me!” I roar. Every brush of fabric stings like embers burrowing into my skin.
“Sorry! Sorry!” She retracts her hands and appraises them for a long moment. Then she flutters back across the room, fetches the tin bowl off the floor, and holds it between her hands. She whispers something in Zemyan and the metal liquifies, spreading into a hovering puddle of silver.
“Do you honestly think you need to forge a weapon right now?” I growl. “I can’t even stand up.”
“Hold still.” She returns to my side, brings the metal to my face, and drapes it gently across my forehead like a wet cloth.
“Get that off me!” I shout, but it’s too late. The metal is already dripping down my face, coursing down my neck and chest, expanding to cover every inch of me until I’m entombed in tin. I pull in a breath to scream, but it quickly becomes a sigh. Somehow the pain and heat are fading. Draining out of my body like blood from a corpse.
“How?” I ask, my voice soft and dreamy. I’ve never felt such overwhelming relief. My eyelids flutter shut and I feel as if I’m floating away. So light and cool and weightless.
“It’s a simple manipulation. Metal conducts heat better than flesh, so given the choice, heat will always choose metal.”
The sound of Hadassah’s voice breaks the spell, and I remember where I am. And what she is. “Why would you help me?” I bark with derision, frantically swiping at the strange metal coating. But it continues to course over me, spilling over the edges of my body and pooling on the ground like syrup.
“Because we can help each other. I need to know what Kartok is doing and—”
“Won’t he punish you?” I interrupt. I want to glower at her, but it’s difficult to do anything but sigh as the pain continues to slough away.
Hadassah gives a little shrug. “He can only punish me if he catches me.”
“Do you truly mistrust the generál enough to risk his wrath? And to strengthen your enemy? I thought he was the lauded hero of your country?”
“He’s been the bane of my existence since the day I was born,” she mutters darkly. “I told you—he’s hurt me, too. And worse, his scheming and power-mongering will hurt Zemya. So if he wants you injured or dead, I want you alive and kicking. If he demands answers, I’m going to ensure your lips remain sealed tight. Whatever it takes to undermine him.”
I appraise her, my eyebrows knitting.Why does it matter to you?
The lowborn servants in Ashkar couldn’t care less about the state of our government or leadership. They’re just trying to survive the great freeze. But I say none of this because Hadassah’s jewel-blue eyes are glittering with animosity. Contempt emanates from her pores the way ice seeps from mine, and it fills me with a frigid rush of hope. It doesn’t matter why she’s angry and desperate. Only that she is.
Hatred is something I can use; desperation makes her someone I can use.
“If you really want to anger him, release me,” I dare her.
“So you can kill me and every living soul in this palace, then bring your bloodthirsty warriors back to vanquish the country? I think not.”
“Ah, there it is—your true opinion of me. I knew all of this congeniality was a sham.”
“You act as if my animosity isn’t merited,” she snaps. “You’ve been attacking us for centuries!”
“Yourancestors are the ones who started this endless war—attacking Ashkar even after they were banished for practicing wicked magic.”
The laughter that bursts from Hadassah is surprisingly low and cynical. “Is that the lie your king told you?”
“It’s what hundreds of years of records have told me. Zemya has always been the aggressor.”
“Wrong!” Hadassah’s vehemence makes me jump. “Ashkar attackedus.We had already been cast out, but that wasn’t enough. You wanted to utterly destroy us. To ensure we never cultivated our magic or thrived in this arid land. Our ancestors had to defend themselves. We arestilldefending ourselves.”
I glower at Hadassah and shake my head. The ancient Ashkarians had no reason to attack after the Zemyans were banished. All we’ve ever wanted was to be left alone, but the Zemyans couldn’t abandon their bitter grudges. “How must it feel,” I ask, “to be so thoroughly brainwashed? The entire foundation of your country is built on lies.”
“How can you be certain the lies weren’t shoved down your throat?” she volleys back.
