Marcus. Has the poison made its way to his vital organs yet? I feel sick.
“I’d even sent Tijan to buy her from an auction. Should have expected him not to win the bid, though. He’s too conservative with money for his own good. Isn’t willing to take risks. Anyway, I decided then I’d change course, try to find someone else to open the Rip for me. There were reports of a Gifted girl kept as a servant in the house of the King of Avelea, but she seemed too well-guarded to risk taking. Then there were reports of several humans who had dropped dead overnight, their neighbors suspicious that they’d been dabbling in dark magic. That trail led me to Dwellen, where I traced the parasite, as Blaise calls it, back to her. I thought I’d lost her when I realized she was in the clutches of the Queen of Mystral, but as I was searching for mercenaries who might be willing to retrieve her for me, guess who I happened upon, in an inn of all places?
“Of course, by that point, I was too late. Again. The parasite was gone, and I’ve heard enough about Queen Abra to know to stay out of her way. No use trying to reason with a crazy person. So I decided I’d change course again. Blaise had a connection to you, and I knew then that the Fates were smiling down on me. It was too much to be a coincidence. Asha, I’ve wanted so badly to fix things between us, to start over, and it was like the Fates were placing the solution in my lap. I followed Blaise back to Mystral, where I found the runes Nox had used to accidentally bind the parasite to her. I didn’t know exactly what they were, of course, but I’d been researching ways to control the Others for quite a while. I thought I already had a solid plan, adapting the bloodsharing ritual of the vampires to exercise control over the Others, but the runes I found were going to make it even easier, bind the Others to me before I even began the bloodsharing ritual, so they wouldn’t attack me. It was practically like receiving a seal of approval from the Fates themselves.”
I open my mouth. It’s going to be a delicate process, assuring Az of my shifting loyalty. I have to still be me if I’m going to convince him, which means sticking to the morals he’s so familiar with me holding.
“Az, we’ve talked about this. Finding answers to the questions you’ve been searching for doesn’t inherently confirm the Fates’ approval. You were in the right places at the right time because you placed yourself in those situations. You were able to recognize the patterns and connections because your mind was already searching for them. It…it scares me to hear you take your own ambitions and ascribe them to the Fates.”
Az takes my hand, this time ignoring my shudder at his touch. He only squeezes it tighter. “Is that really how you feel? Or is that how he wanted you to feel?”
I blink, shaking my head, as if bewildered. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can tell the difference.”
Az has the audacity to look pleased. “We just have to give it time, Asha. You’ll see.”
I won’t, but at least he doesn’t seem to know that.
“Let me show you something,” he says, shuffling awkwardly around me, scooting me to the edge of the covered wagon, close to the flap.
The whole process of him dragging me is rather humiliating, not to mention painful, but I don’t think it prudent to mention as much.
Az gives me one last look, a crazed grin overtaking his face.
He opens the flap, and my heart sinks.
Behind us, coats of silver glimmer in the moonlight. I haven’t heard them, their padded steps as silent as a prayer.
The Others follow in ranks, not only mere, but other species. Some with scales and wings and fangs dripping with silvery venom.
There are legions of them.
CHAPTER 55
ZORA
I’ve never died before. At least, not to my knowledge.
I’m sure most people could make a similar assertion, but most people don’t live multiple lives either.
At least, they don’t seem to remember living multiple lives.
Not that my knowledge is perfect. It’s a lot to keep up with. Honestly, one life is enough to keep up with. A friend told me once that he sometimes thinks about all the days he’s lived that don’t make it into his memory banks. How it was crazy that though that conversation was happening, we might not remember it at all. Entire days add up to weeks and years, all lost to our imperfect memories.
I don’t remember which life I had that conversation in, but I suppose that’s the point I’m trying to make.
It’s a lot to keep up with, living dozens of lives, only getting glimpses of them in my memories, and even then, never quite able to sort which belongs where.
So I don’t find it quite fair when others call me flighty, vapid, scatterbrained. Fleeting.
But that’s also beside the point.
Where was I? Am I?
Oh yeah.
I’m dying.
There’s a throbbing pain in my side where Farin’s knife protrudes, and the feel of blood slipping from my veins, draining my life and consciousness with it.
I wonder what will happen to me when I die.
I wonder if I’ll wake again, in another body, as I always do.
For some reason, I doubt it.
This feels final.
At least Nox gets to have his happy ending.
Mine might not be happy, but it is an ending, so there’s that, at least.
“No,” Farin shouts as Nox trips backward through the eyelet. Farin launches himself at it, dodging the scrambling tarantula. For a moment, I think he might make it, but then it slips from his fingertips, forming into nothing more than a wall slated with spiderwebs.
I allow myself a gargled laugh.
It’s probably my last, considering the tarantula has regained its footing and is currently pivoting toward me, its pincers glistening in the effervescent light of its web.
Earlier, I thought being eaten by a giant scorpion was the worst way a person could go.
