He was lying on top of me, his blood soaking through my clothes. I frowned, struggling to comprehend what had happened, seeing only his eyes glazed with pain.
‘Did they hurt you?’ His voice came out as barely a whisper.
Completely stunned, I shook my head. ‘No, why?’ He’d taken an arrow for me. The man I’d hated for most of my life saved me. How could I even process this?
Two bodies suddenly blocked the light. I recognised them – smugglers. They lifted Jagon off me, and I crawled backwards, staring at the arrow sticking from his spine.
Tymon came over. The former Mule Master was bloody and wild, but his eyes were clear. I noticed that only he and three others were left standing. Everybody else, whether smuggler or Tangrean, was on the floor, dead or dying.
‘You stupid motherfucker. I told you your obsession would kill you, and guess what, you proved me right.’ Tymon shook his head. There was no hostility in his tone, more like the tiredness of a man who realised he’d made bad choices and now had to live with them. ‘What do you want me to do with her?’
‘Leave us… Leave her. We never should have kept her chained for long…’ Humourless laughter rattled in his chest before Jagon looked at me, lifting his head as much as his injury allowed. ‘Roksana… in my bag, there’s a pain-numbing extract. If you’d be so kind.’
For all the pain he’d caused, I should have let him suffer. To endure like I had, like all his apprentices had, but that would make me just like him. I walked to the corner, where I’d seen his bags, and searched through them when I heard a rustling behind me. My hand tightened into a fist as I turned sharply, but it was only Tymon holding a scroll.
‘You could have escaped,’ he said, his eyes drilling into me. ‘Remove your spell from me, and I’ll let you live.’
‘Or I can activate it, and we can both die.’ I smirked when he frowned. ‘You see, I’m faulty. Somewhere deep in my rotten assassin’s heart, I couldn’t let you all die,’ I said, swiping my hand over the sigil on my forearm. It glowed faintly as I dismantled the spell that connected our lifelines. ‘There, you’resafe now,’ I muttered, too tired to argue. His face darkened, and he blocked my way as I moved towards Jagon.
‘I don’t like being in your debt, Nightshade. Not again.’ He reached up and passed me the scroll.
‘What’s this?’ I frowned, but took it.
‘Tangrean plans I found on their leader. Interesting reading.’ He gestured for me to unroll it. ‘They want you, Nightshade. They want you more than they want Dagome… and they’re willing to trade.’
‘What?’ I gasped, struggling to comprehend what he’d said.
‘Read it and consider my life debt paid. Tell Boyan I made a mistake, but once I’m settled on Windmaster Isle, we’ll discuss the future.’ He turned and walked away.
The gods, who so often treated my life as their playground, were finally smiling on me. My flawed heart, which steered the knife – saving Tymon’s life – was right.
As I returned to Jagon with the pain relief, everyone was efficiently packing what they needed from the remaining stores. I noticed Amala with them, the girl still sending me hostile glares.
‘There’s nothing like being hated for being a victim,’ I muttered before kneeling next to Jagon and pressing the bottle to his lips.
‘You were never a victim,’ he whispered, much paler than when I’d left him. His features were sharpened by pain, skin clammy with cold sweat. He was dying, and we both knew it.
‘Can you… fix this? I know what you did to the dwarf,’ he asked, but there wasn’t much hope in his voice.
‘I could try, but I won’t,’ I answered. Even if I could save his life, and that was a big if, Jagon deserved to die, and my minor act of mercy wouldn’t change that.
‘Stay, please, until I’m gone.’ He caught my hand when I moved to stand, and I had to restrain myself from pushing him away.
‘Why should I? You made my life hell. You threatened my friends, my father. You nearly killed me so many times I stopped counting.’ Years of anger and resentment poured from me, but it didn’t bring me any relief. If anything, I felt worse. ‘I should have walked away, and I should leave you to rot here–’
‘But you can’t, can you?’ Jagon’s smile was almost tender. ‘Despite my teachings, despite everything, you keep following your heart… my greatest, most flawed creation.’
‘You didn’t create me, and my heart is not flawed. It never was.’ I bit my lip, shaking my head. ‘At the end of my life, there will be a man by my side, friends who will mourn me, but you… You’re left with an apprentice who hates you. So tell me once more how flawed I am.’
His eyes darkened, something akin to regret flashing across his face. ‘You didn’t always hate me. I remember a time you were happy in my workshop. When your smile was aimed at me. Then there was Irsha, Boyan, and that whore. You were no longer mine. Why, Sana? Was I not enough?’ His voice broke when he started coughing. Red foam choked him. I stared at my former master, struggling to understand his words.
‘I’m no doll to be locked away and played with when you feel like it. All of this… Gods, you must be joking… All of this because I had friends?’
‘And lovers… and family. You were my only family, Roksana. The only woman who ever mattered.’ He pointed to the arrow piercing his back. ‘Take it out; there’s no point prolonging the inevitable.’
‘What if I want you to suffer?’ I said. The smile that spread across his thin lips gave me chills.Why is he smiling?
‘That means I’ve left a mark on your heart. Love and hate are two sides of the same coin, and right now, I don’t care which side I’m on… as long as you’re the one holding the coin.’
