“The bones of a bird are light, easily broken.”
Better, then, to waste away alone in the shadows and crush all that come near. What a fate. Pathetic creature.
What a fate for the boy who had won her heart with such ardent loyalty toward his friends. It was one of the few things Nadya did not think was a lie. Parijahan and Rashid had not been pawns in this grand game he was playing. Maybe condemnation to isolating madness was what he deserved, but he had been so lonely that this was a truly cruel twist of fate.
He nudged at the thread between them, searching for a weakness she did not think he would find.
Surely you can break it. Are you not so very powerful? Are you not a being of dark divinity?
She was goading him; she wanted to hear his voice, rattled and twisted as it sounded.
“Who are you?”
And though she had known this question would come, it hit her like a punch to the gut.
It doesn’t matter, she managed.
The pieces reassembled, as his focus sharpened to curiosity. As he casually dismissed her as no one at all. She had no magic for him to wonder about; a peasant acolyte from Kalyazin could not hold his interest.
She ignored the twinge of pain at this realization.
Damned boy. Surely you can ignore one irritating little bird.
She snapped the connection closed. It was imperfect. He would be back. Maybe he wasn’t even gone, but the ominous presence in the air slowly faded, and with it came her ability to breathe again.
And the crack in her heart deepened further.
Fleeing the chapel was like admitting defeat. But who was she kidding? She couldn’t help anyone. She rubbed at the scar on her palm as she walked. She wanted it all to end.
interlude ii
MALACHIASZ CZECHOWICZ
“Fool boy, I won’t speak to you like this. Wake up.”
Malachiasz gasped, the world jolting into clarity as if he’d been doused in ice water.
“Ah, there you are. That wasn’t so difficult.”
His mouth tasted of blood as he swallowed, disoriented, his head pounding. He didn’t know where he was—wait. The witch’s tower. How was he here?
He blinked tears away as Pelageya stood before him, a wry grin on her face.
“You, Chelvyanik Sterevyani, were expected first. You lost me a bet and I don’t appreciate that.”
He tried not to panic as his heart sped too fast in his chest, grasping for something to ground him, but there was nothing.
“I asked you before if this would be worth it,” she said contemplatively. “I’ll ask you again. Then you can tell me why you’re here.”
Why am I here?
A flickering fire cast the room in an eerie green light. This place was different than before. It dripped with the skulls of creatures both natural and monstrous. A skull sprouting more antlers than any deer would have hung from the ceiling. He blinked. It had more eye sockets than a deer as well.
“Did you ask me that?” His voice was weaker than he would have liked. Everything was fuzzy, like he was pressing through a fog. He rubbed his temples. Why couldn’t he remember?
There were flickers, pieces; he remembered fragments. It was unclear and muddied. He seized onto a whole memory and held tight; Pelageya asking him that very question and Nadya’s brow furrowing as she tried to fit the Vatczinki words into her understanding of Tranavian and came up blank.
Nadya.
Hells.
The witch’s white curls were tied back, throwing the well-worn lines of her face into sharp focus. She wore a necklace of teeth that clacked as she moved through the room. Was this her tower? Or was this somewhere else?
“I did, dear boy, and I must say, you were very confident in your response, but I sensed a faltering. Was it worth it?”
“Yes,” he replied steadily.
She stared at him, unblinking. He forced himself to keep still under the weight of her scrutiny.
“You look different,” she said shortly.
He didn’t want to know what that meant. The iron claws that tipped his fingers were enough. He lifted a hand. There was fresh blood underneath his fingernails.
“And what name do you go by now, sterevyani bolen?”
He shook his head, frowning. “My name is—”
“It won’t help,” she said softly. “You will have it for only a second, fleeting and trivial.”
“Malachiasz,” he said firmly. “My name is Malachiasz Czechowicz.”
Her smile was mournful and that sparked an anger in Malachiasz he didn’t quite understand. How dare she pretend like his choices mattered to her?
“Fool boy,” she murmured. “Why come to me?”
He closed his eyes, a shiver of horror rippling through him. He should leave. Take what she had given him and run.
“It’s not enough,” he said. “I thought … It doesn’t matter. Something is missing. It almost worked but it’s not enough.”
She snorted. “It won’t ever be enough, will it? They let you taste power too young. That family of yours is a cursed line; you know, you know. Somewhere deep in those parts of yourself you’ve locked away. What will happen when you have nothing left? You’re near the edge, but soon you’ll fall and there will be no more pieces to give away for scraps of power. What will you do with this magic you hoard?”
He opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.
“Oh, no, no, I know, I know, you see. I wait to see if you will succeed where all have failed. Visionary or madman? Such ideals, and such darkness, such cruelty, combined are never good. A clever mind—so very clever—but a hollow heart that pumps blackened blood. But it beats yet, and while it beats it can be broken.”
He tensed.
“Unless you break it first…” She tilted her head, spinning and staring into the fire. “Who will stop you? Who indeed?”
He wouldn’t be stopped. That was the horror; that was the brilliance.
“The girl, the monster, the prince, and the queen,” she murmured. She passed her hand over the flames. They licked at her skin without burning her flesh. “Except he’s the king and she’s not a queen. Not how I foresaw it—you all broke that quite thoroughly—but it does make for a more interesting song. More wily, more clever, more strong-willed than I expected, but they still fit the notes they were given.
“And the darkness, the monsters, the shadows in the deep are waking up and they are hungry.” She glanced sidelong at him. “The very thing you claim to lord over will tear you apart, because, yes, you are powerful, but you are also blind to what will destroy you in the end. You should take the power you swallowed and accept its limitations.”
“A prophecy of doom. How quaint, truly, witch,” he said dryly.
“No, you wouldn’t listen to that, would you? Arrogant boy, clever, foolish boy. You’ll taste regret one day. You’ll be claimed by the very thing you hate the most. Wait and see. But you’re right. You did not come to me to hear of doom, you came to me for something else. Something I can give that no one else can.”
“Or take,” he allowed.
She clapped her hands. “Or take! Oh, the boy steps further and further away from human and molds into the guise of a monster.”