“I had a good reason.”
“You always have a good reason! But did you ever once consult the rest of us, to see what we thought or what we felt?” Zera was shouting again, and it felt good. The rag dolls, though, became more agitated as her voice grew louder.
She stopped herself.
All the dolls and Kreya were watching her, and she felt shivers run over her skin. She drew herself taller and wrapped her coat closer around her.
In a tight, quiet voice, Zera said, “You had to grieve—fine, I can understand that. But youabandonedus to do it. After abandoning us on the battlefield.” She hadn’t intended on unearthing the same argument they’d had in Cerre—This isn’t why I came,she thought—but Kreya still didn’t seem to understand. Or maybe she did, and didn’t knowhowto change. In truth, Zera wasn’t certain what she wanted Kreya to do or say to fix the way she felt. All in all, it was a very unsatisfactory way to feel. She usually knew exactly what she wanted and then got it.
“I did abandon you then, and I’m sorry. But I wasn’t grieving,” Kreya said softly.
“Of course you were. Your husband died!”
Kreya moved to the bed. Slowly, she unpinned the linen and began unwrapping the fabric from the corpse’s head. Zera inched closer, unable to help herself. The cloying scent of dried flowers only partially masked the aroma of decay. It was an unmistakable scent. Even though she hired people to process animal carcasses for her now, she had never forgotten the odor. It crept through all other scents, souring them.
Shifting in front of Zera to remove the fabric, Kreya blocked her view. And then she stepped back. She’d only unwrapped the linen from around his head, but it was enough. Zera would have known that face anywhere. Even in death.
“Jentt.”
“Yes. I wasn’t grieving because I hadn’t yet said goodbye.”
Zera stared at him, his face ashen but oddly...
“He’s not very dead.”
“Oh, right now he’s very dead.”
“I mean, he looks as if he died a few days ago. Not twenty-five years ago.” She knew death, as much as she tried to surround herself with life. All the guests she encouraged, all her servants, lovers like Guine—they were to balance out the death that dominated her work, her memory, and her dreams. “Kreya, dearest, tell me: why does he look as though he just died last week? It doesn’t make sense. Isawhim fall on the plains twenty-five years ago. We all did.Youdid.”
Kreya didn’t answer for a while. She stared at her late husband’s face. With one finger, she stroked his sunken cheek, and then she began lovingly rewrapping the linen.
“Did he or did he not die on the plains?” Zera demanded. She’d mourned him for years. Missed him. Reviewed every last second that led to his death. If he’d survived and Kreya had hidden it from her... from all of them... from the world! All of Vos had mourned the fallen hero, who had sacrificed himself for everyone. If she’d kept him secret—
“He did die that day.”
Zera exhaled. At least that bit of the past was preserved. Speaking of preservation, though... “How did you do it? Keep him so... fresh?” It was a terrible way to refer to someone they all had loved. But it was a valid question. His body wasn’t chilled, and he wasn’t submerged in formaldehyde. He should have decayed much, much more.
“I know how to bring him back.”
For once, Zera had no words.
“It took me many years to learn how. And it’s not an easy process. It requires . . . an ingredient that is not easy to come by, and so far, I have not been able to obtain it in enough quantities to sustain his life for long. But if I could, then I could bringhim back permanently!” Crossing to Zera, Kreya took her hand. “That’s why I need the talismans. So I can use them to obtain what I need.”
Zera felt... She didn’t know how she felt. As if the world had tilted, sliding everything to the side. Such a thing shouldn’t have been possible. She’d never heard of it. A bone maker’s power was to animate the inanimate. It created a false semblance of life. Never life itself. But here was Jentt, with a face only a few days dead, as proof. “What do you need? What ingredient could possibly work such a miracle?”
Kreya took so long to answer that Zera thought she wasn’t going to. But then she did.
“Human bone.”
“Excuse me.”
Zera made it as far as the stairwell before she vomited. Hand against the grimy wall, she knelt and emptied her stomach. When she finished, she wiped her lips with the back of her hand. She rose shakily.
She sensed Kreya hovering behind her. “Tea?”
Her mouth tasted as vile as what Kreya had done. It was unthinkable, a crime against man and nature, a perversion of the natural order. Everything they’d been taught, everything they’d believed, everything they’d fought for...
“You’ve become a monster,” Zera spat.
