“Your Majesty,” Mistress Parmina said in a voice as clear as a bell, in a ritual as old as the kingdom itself. Her eyes were clear, and her patrician nose lifted despite the dried streaks of makeup that betrayed her poise. “Please welcome your most honored daughter to the Willows, who has served the House Valerian faithfully for twenty-six years. Now she sleeps, and we are all the lesser for her loss.”

“Kion welcomes Lady Mykaela of the Sorrows,” the empress intoned, “and we honor her above all.”

I never wished for this to happen.

I startled, but the unexpected voice was quick to pacify me, taking up space in my head where it did not belong. I do not plan on staying long, Bard. I only wished… I only wanted to see… Her voice quieted, yearning toward the carriage, where her mentor lay.

“Where are you?” I asked aloud. “And where are your daeva?”

Have they enticed you to betray me already? Are you their agent now, set to wait for my contact, to goad me into revealing myself? It is difficult to be certain, to be careful, when there are so many schemes afoot.

“What do you want?”

I want to watch. For a little while. I owe her that much. I wish I could raise her. I wish I could raise Polaire. You don’t die from regret, but people keep dying for it in my place.

We were silent, she and I, watching the rest of the procession pass, until the Lady Mykaela was within the embrace of the Willows. “They will find you,” I murmured.

I expect them to, Bard. Fox knows where I intend.

Why not maintain contact with me this way, instead of abandoning me to my own devices?

My strength is not inexhaustible, as you saw in Daanoris. The Dark pulls too much from me now, more than it ever has, and I need to survive a little longer. I have other traps lying in wait, baits to replenish, and they command greater attention.

The letters you left me—they are unfinished.

Oh?

There was no ending. You promised me an ending. There are missing pages.

Did I? There was no surprise in her voice, no shock. But there was—satisfaction. Eagerness. I offered you my story, Bard. I will not be held responsible for what you misplace in the interim.

And just like that, she was gone, taking more answers from me than I ever had of her.

13

“Talk.”

Unlike in Kion, Yadoshans have little qualms about “interrogating” their prisoners, especially when said prisoner has been caught in the act. The Drychta was in slightly worse shape than when I had found him, with runic wards woven about his person as strong as Kalen could make them. Although he was initially confused, First Minister Stefan understood the situation after we explained, particularly after the man woke and began swearing at us in Drychta.