“And you’re the only one whose pain matters, of course. Tell me, Kreya: did you come after all this time because you missed me, or did you come because you need me?”
She waited for an answer. Kreya opened her mouth, then shut it.
“What a pity.”
“Zera—”
“No,” Zera said, her face hard, her smile chipped out of granite. “Whatever it is you’ve come to ask me for, whyever you decided that now was the time to crawl out of whatever hole you’ve been living in, however much you think I care about our past friendship . . . The answer is no.”
“I haven’t asked anything yet,” Kreya protested. She’d known there was a high probability that Zera would be dramatic about their reunion, but this was extreme. “You can’t say no before I even ask. That’s absurd.”
“I prefer ‘eccentric,’ not ‘absurd,’ thank you.” Zera spread her arms wide and beckoned to her . . . friends? Followers? Sycophants? Lovers? Kreya didn’t know who they were and didn’t much care, except they were all watching Zera. Even the ones who acted absorbed in their own selves, such as the shirtless man with the harp, had their bodies twisted toward Zera, as if they were flowers and she was their sun. It made Kreya’s skin crawl. “Aren’t I delightfully eccentric, my darlings?”
The harp stopped. “You’re the pinnacle,” the musician said, and then beamed at her.
“The pinnacle of what, my love?”
That flummoxed him.
“Come now, I can’t be the pinnacle of nothing. A pinnacle is the highest point, by definition, so who am I crushing beneath the glory of me?”
His face brightened. “Everyone!”
Zera laughed, as if delighted. “And do you know how I became so glorious?”
She hasn’t changed, Kreya realized. Underneath the ridiculous face paint and the gold silk, Zera was still the girl who chose to fight her battles with dramatic flair. She’d provided the distraction, as well as the firepower, when they’d gone after Eklor. Quietly, Kreya said, “You don’t need to perform for me. I’m not your enemy.”
“Of course you’re not! You’re my dearest friend!”
It was worse than Kreya had thought. Zera not only wanted an argument, she wanted a spectacle. Exactly what Kreya didn’t need. She checked the distance to the exit. She wasn’t convinced she could make it there faster than Zera’s sycophants could, especially if they had any of their leader’s talismans tucked into their virtually nonexistent outfits. Plus it was likely that Zera had locked it behind her anyway. She wondered precisely how angry Zera was beneath the drama and what sort of control she had over her temper.
Zera settled onto a couch that was plump with cushions. Sinking in, she positioned herself as if posing for a portrait, artfully arranging her many silk scarves. Her followers flocked closer, sitting at her feet. She patted a cushion next to her, inviting Kreya to sit with her, but Kreya crossed her arms and leaned against a column that was carved to resemble a croco-raptor skeleton. Undeterred, Zera beamed at her audience. “You’ve all heard the legends. There were five of us, tasked by the guild master to eliminate the threat posed by the rogue bone maker Eklor.” She held up one finger. “Kreya, our bone maker, a rising star in the guild, chosen for possessing a power that could rival Eklor’s—if she lived long enough to hone it.” A second finger. “Zera . . . that’s me, my loves.” Her audience cooed appreciatively, and Kreya rolled her eyes. “Bone wizard. Unknown until then, but soon to be unrivaled.” Third. “Marso, a bone reader, with a unique gift of seeing the truth of the past, present, and future that far exceeded the skills of other bone readers.” Four. “Stran, a warrior with experience in using bone talismans to enhance his already prodigious strength.” And five. “Jentt, a reformed thief, who specialized in using talismans of speed and stealth to win his battles.”
Kreya felt a pang at his name. She didn’t know what Zera was playing at, acting like a storyteller. “Everyone knows this.”
“Ahh, but what not everyone knows is this: the legend says that the guild master tasked five, but he did not. He tasked only one. Kreya. She chose the rest of us. All that befell us is her fault. All the glory, and all the pain.”
Ouch.
Of course it wasn’t anything that Kreya hadn’t thought a million times before. She’d insisted Jentt was perfect for the job. She’d pushed Marso to read the bones again and again, until his eyes were sunken and he murmured in his sleep. I pushed all of them. Zera, too.
“Plucked from obscurity, we were chosen to become the best of the best,” Zera continued. “Kreya insisted upon it. She pushed us to train and train and train until I thought my fingers would erode to only bone themselves.” She twisted her hands in the air, and jeweled rings flashed. Each ring was linked by gold chains that braided themselves into bracelets that wound up her arms to her elbows.
Kreya remembered how they’d trained: holed up in an abandoned farmhouse. Jentt and Stran had hunted together, practicing with speed and strength talismans, bringing home ferrets, rabbits, even a bear once. They’d skin them, process the carcasses, and harvest the bones. The wood floors in the kitchen had been soaked with blood by the time they were done, and the house stank of death, but she remembered how much they’d laughed, how long they’d talked, and most of all, how alive they’d felt.
It had been among the happiest times in Kreya’s life. Even though they were preparing for war. She’d never been much good at making friends, and these people . . . they’d been more than friends. We were family, she thought.
Zera was studying her, her eyes glittering like a cat’s. “I hated her sometimes, for her unswerving faith in my abilities. And loved her for it. I didn’t know she was right, that I was destined for greatness. She believed in me more than I believed in myself. Until she didn’t. Until she betrayed me.”
“I didn’t mean to steal your moment. I only wanted to avenge Jentt.” She’d told Zera this twenty-five years ago, and she’d thought she understood. But apparently she’d just had twenty-five years to brood.
“She’d laid all the plans,” Zera told her sycophants. “We’d all agreed to them.”
Kreya cut in. “But reality had other ideas. It was never in the plan for Jentt to die. And that changed everything.”
“She went in alone, to face Eklor,” Zera continued for her audience. “Despite our plans. Left us behind to face an army, while she went after Eklor without us. Oh, it was very dramatic. Death all around. Hopelessness. Despair. He’d even condemned children to serve in his army of horrors, both before and after death, and our heroine Kreya marched through it all, buoyed by self-righteous grief and rage.”
Kreya peeled herself off the pillar. “Enough. There’s no need to relive it. I stopped him. You stopped his army. World saved. Everyone went their separate ways. The end.”
“You went your separate way first,” Zera said. “Or did you miss the part when I said you went in alone, leaving us to face an army of nightmares?”
One of the girls at Zera’s feet, starry-eyed, sighed and said, “You were so brave, Master Zera. A few against an army. Saving us all.”