-Amity

“This has to be talking about the tapestry I left behind, doesn’t it? What else could she be talking about?” Blaise asks.

“I thought you said you didn’t finish the tapestry,” I say.

Blaise gazes up at the previously blank tapestry. At the image of Farin kneeling before the three hooded figures.

“I didn’t.”

CHAPTER 122

ASHA

I find him just where I expected, follow his pull into an abandoned alleyway in Meranthi that no one else seems to notice.

Tucked away, as if trying to be forgotten.

As if waiting for someone to remember.

Dramatic as ever.

“I’m not climbing up there, you know,” I call from down below, my voice echoing up over the wall.

No one passing by on the street seems to notice.

When I don’t receive an answer, I start picking up pebbles and slinging them overhead.

“Listen, you’re the one who instilled within me a fear of heights. Stop sulking and come down here yourself.”

Again, silence.

I shrug, then back away, leaning against the warm clay wall of the building behind me.

I once had nightmares about this place, about the flash of pain that had seared up my back and side, taking my eye with it. This is the first time I’ve come back here, and as I look around, examining the alleyway that technically doesn’t exist, I find myself surprised. Surprised at the lack of shadows, the lack of terror swelling in my heart.

By all accounts, it’s just a normal, non-existent alleyway.

I wonder if perhaps I should have come back sooner. If facing it on my own terms would have stopped the nightmares.

Or perhaps it would have been equally as terrifying, if I’d come any earlier.

I suppose I’ll never know.

Still, I wait, yawning.

Eventually, an orb of bluish light peeks over the rooftop.

I wink at it, and it flits backwards, out of sight, but when it peeks again, I wave.

The light forming it whooshes, giving the striking impression of an exasperated sigh.

Then the strange orb of light drifts downward, floating to a halt in front of my face.

“You’re much cuter than I imagined you’d be,” I say, at which the blue orb flares orange for a second, or perhaps it’s just my imagination.

I do not appreciate being disturbed, says the orb, the familiarness of the deep, cranky voice causing my heart to swell.

I cross my arms, then point to my missing eye. “Yes, I’m aware of that.”

Is there something you wished to say to me that was important enough to wake me from my slumber?

“Oh, don’t act like you didn’t want to be found. Otherwise you wouldn’t have hidden exactly where you knew I would find you.”

I didn’t know you would find me, drawls the familiar voice. I didn’t even know whether you would think to look.

I level my most annoyed stare. The orb flickers. “So this was a test? To see if I’d come looking for you?”

It was no such thing.

“If you wanted me back so badly, you know you could have come to me and just asked.”

I am perfectly content with my solitude. I was content with it before a meddling child came and disturbed my peace all those years ago, and I’m perfectly content with it now.

“Right,” I say. “And that’s why you hid where you knew I’d be able to find you.”

I don’t see why I should abandon a perfectly good dwelling place on your account, my magic says. Though now that you seem intent on coming here and torturing me, I believe I might be forced to emigrate elsewhere.

The orb flicks upward, in a way that somehow I know he’s turned his back to me, but not so quickly that he can’t hear me saying, “I miss you, you know. I’d like for you to come back.”

The orb halts. Wherever I go, I only bring trouble. Death always comes to those whom I attach myself to.

“That’s because you attach yourself to humans who are going to die with or without you. It’s a little self-absorbed of you to assume you’re the reason, don’t you think?”

The orb bristles. It matters not whether I am the cause. Humans always die, and there is nothing I can do to change that. So what is the use of me trying?

I step forward, off the wall, craning my head to the sky. “Maybe that’s just it. Maybe you stop trying, and just accept it.”

I’ve done that plenty, thank you, said the orb.

“Then you’re experienced enough for the job. That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

The orb stills, then whispers, I cannot watch you die again, Asha. And you will die.

“I know,” I say, testing my words. “But you’ll hear about it, regardless. I’m the Queen of Naenden. You won’t be able to escape knowing when the time finally comes.”

No one but you knows to disturb me up here, says the Old Magic.

“Well, then I’ll come and visit once a year. You’ll know the year I don’t come that I’ve died.”