But I sensed nothing. Whatever powers bone witches could wield, they cannot bring back silver heartsglass.
“Tea.” Kalen knew the futility of my attempts but allowed me my self-flagellation. I wondered if he thought it would exorcise the demons inside me. I wondered if he would ask me to stop if he knew it did not. “We have to go.”
I looked down at my own heartsglass, inspecting it closely for any signs of the black that had manifested on the cruel day of Polaire’s death. In the last few weeks, the dark flecks had lessened. The more time that passed since the horrific night I killed Aenah, one of the Faceless, and drove the traitorous King Telemaine of Odalia insane, the less the darkness showed itself there. Small spells masked its discoloration—Kalen was my sole accomplice in and confidant to this fact. Fox had far too much on his plate nowadays, and this was not a guilt I could advertise to friends—bone witches have been killed for lesser transgressions.
A black heartsglass was made from rage and murder. Only the Faceless bore such darkness, and the Willows would have my head should it manifest in mine. Even now, I hold no regrets for killing Aenah, though I wished I had turned King Telemaine over to his son, instead of destroying his mind. Prince Kance didn’t deserve to lose his father that way, and his anger at me, his decision to exile me from Odalia, was the direct result of my recklessness.
There was no black in my heartsglass today. But it is like droplets of blood, dripping into a bowl of fresh spring water, I thought. Mix it well enough, and you can’t see the blood. But would you drink it? Let the taste run down your throat? How can one know liquid so clear could also bear such a taint?
I bent my head and, briefly, allowed myself to wash her grave with a few more tears.
Kalen helped me to my feet. His warm brown eyes studied me before he placed a gentle kiss on my forehead. Faint wisps of rune surrounded us—Heartshare was a near-permanent runic spell that allowed two people to share strength. Kalen had saved my life with it. It was not as strong a bond as I shared with my brother, but I was connected to Kalen through it nonetheless. He knew my heart’s pain and understood, and I could not have loved him more for it.
• • •
We rode outside the city of Ankyo for a mile, to where the others waited. By asha standards, this was an unusual rendezvous point. We also had an unusual means of transport.
Those of us who formed the delegation wore woolen cloaks despite the hot day. Councilor Ludvig, the previous adviser to Istera’s King Rendorvik, was garbed in Isteran colors—blue and silver, in a deftly embroidered long coat he called a gákti. Likh, lovely as ever, was in an eye-catching cerulean hua, tasteful crewels skimming up his sleeves. Althy’s garb was plainer, with white doves sewn over a sky-blue fabric. Rahim, as always, was dressed to kill. His sherwani was a magnificent display of beadwork waves stitched along the edges of his shirt, with a collar of pewter threads surrounding his thick neck, which was half-hidden by his long, angularly trimmed beard. He wore no cloak himself—the man claimed to have shrugged off Tresean winters and was as invulnerable to the Isteran cold. In contrast, Khalad looked like a merchant in his rough, brown čūqā.
At Rahim’s insistence, I had worn his latest creation—a beautiful mahogany hua, stitched with a jewel-eyed, three-headed dragon, which was partly concealed by my waist wrap. My mastery of the azi was no secret, he pointed out, and it was important for me to command such narratives in subtle ways. I slipped a small knife into my sleeve, a growing habit of mine.
My brother wore a huge grin on his face when we approached. “Have a good rest?” His voice was mild enough, but I knew Fox. We had perfected our Veiling rune and rarely stumbled into each other’s minds whenever one of us wanted privacy—but we knew anyway.
“As if you spent the night alone,” I grumbled at him with a sideways glance at Inessa. As usual, the princess looked stunning. The way they snuck adoring glances at each other was almost oversweet. Three months ago, Inessa had been engaged to both Prince Kance of Odalia and Emperor Shifang of Daanoris. My brother had fought her and both engagements nearly every step of the way.
How much things change in a short time, I thought with another pang of sadness.
“You’re late.” Zoya’s presence was suspicious. Mykaela, Inessa, and Fox were there to see us off, but Zoya wasn’t the type for such sentiments.
“What are you doing here?” I demanded.
She shrugged. “Mistress Parmina sold tickets for an azi viewing. They are to be summoned by none other than Lady Tea of the Embers herself.”
I groaned. That particular moniker had spread quickly, a not-so-subtle reference to my connection with the daeva.
“She’s dispatched me here,” Zoya continued, “to ensure your pet dragon actually arrives and her guests receive their money’s worth.”
“An azi viewing?”
“Rather like a cherry blossom viewing, but with daeva. They’re at the fourth floor of the Falling Snow cha-khana, which has a very good view of this particular terrain. Why did you think she suggested this meeting place? Because she was concerned about her safety or yours? You don’t know your mistress very well.”
“Did she promise you access to my room for your part in this? My room, which happens to be right next to Shadi’s?”
Zoya’s smile was so bright it was blinding.
“I wish Fox and I could come with you,” the princess murmured to me with a sigh.
“But there are no emperors in Istera to be accidentally engaged to, Your Highness,” said Zoya.
“You have a very lovely mouth, Zoya. It would look even lovelier if it remained shut for the rest of the day.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.”
“How is the old Heartforger?” I asked Khalad.
He smiled sadly. “Feeling his age. His own heartsglass is weakening. The exertions at Daanoris finally caught up to him, and I’m not sure he can shake it off. We brought him to Holsrath for treatment. They have better facilities to help him there. We both knew that day was coming, but…”
“I’m so sorry, Khalad.”
“Kalen was a lot of help.”
Kalen was the new Duke of Holsrath, a title he hated for how he came to it. His father’s death at the hands of King Telemaine and Aenah was a painful subject, and not one he liked to talk about. “It was nothing,” my love murmured, looking a bit abashed. “Just glad I could be of service to Khalad.”
It felt odd to not be traveling with my brother. As the Kion princess’s official consort, Fox grew more involved in the politics and day-to-day administration of the kingdom Inessa would one day rule. They were frequent visitors to the city, overseeing new constructions to the marketplace and tending to those in the poorer slums, often with Khalad and me in tow.