A life without sunlight. Would Asha mind, in a place like Naenden, where most of us hide from the sunlight, anyway? In Naenden, where it’s the night that is the most peaceful?
She’d do it for me, I tell myself. She’d live this life for me. But then again, I’m not so sure. In all our time together, I never asked if Asha wished to be immortal. I thought it would be better to wait on that conversation until we knew there was even an option.
I should have asked.
But if I had asked, and she had said no, would I still be grasping onto this vial, thinking of burning my wife’s body to ashes so she might occupy another vessel?
Would I go against her wishes to bring her back?
But then I remember Asha walking in the sunlight back in Othian, enjoying the gentle breeze of the day. I remember Blaise describing the craving for blood, the desire to hurt others.
And I know—I know—this is not what Asha wants.
I crush the vial in my hand, but it’s not the flecks of glass in my palm that bring the tears to my eyes.
The liquid moonlight drips to the floor, slipping through my fingertips.
It’s so very cold.
“You fool,” Azrael screams, but I’m not listening. “It was the only way to bring her back.”
My head is buzzing, and I can hardly stand it.
Azrael cries out, and when I look over, blood drips from two holes in his neck, the same blood dripping from the edges of Blaise’s lips.
“If you’re trying to make me sleep with your venom, it won’t work,” Az sneers, blood slipping down his throat. “Not with the elixirs I’ve been taking.”
Blaise drops Az. While the venom won’t work to put him to sleep, it does seem to keep his legs from supporting his weight, because he crumples to the floor, his back hitting the wall.
Blaise isn’t paying attention to him.
“Not the only way,” she whispers to me.
My heart stops in my chest as Blaise and I lock eyes. As we’re transported by a common memory, back to a cave of shadows and a creature who feeds off the darkness.
“Blaise.” Her name is a warning on my tongue. Because I know what she’s about to say.
And I don’t know that if she gives me the option, I’ll have the strength to turn it down.
Blaise’s expression goes distant. “My heart. That’s what the shadow told you, wasn’t it? That the ashes of a night stalker’s heart could grant immortality? That they could bring back the dead?”
“She could have been lying,” I say, but my words come out flat. Unconvincing, even to myself.
Already I’m considering which course of action gives Asha the best chance: waiting for Blaise to offer her heart on her own, or ripping it from her chest before she has a chance to change her mind.
Blaise shakes her head. “I don’t think she was lying. When I was little, my father used to tell me scary stories. Some were about shadow sirens. He always said they kept their immortality by feasting on the souls of the dead.” She lets out a nervous laugh. “I guess the details got misconstrued by the time the story got to my father, but they were close enough.”
In a blink, Blaise is on the ground next to me, taking my hand and placing it at her chest. Tears brim in her wide brown eyes. “What are you waiting for, Kiran? Get your wife back,” she rasps.
And how I want to. How I want to pry Blaise’s ribcage open before she realizes just what she’s offering.
I want to whisper, “Thank you,” as I quench the life from Blaise’s eyes.
But I don’t. Instead I whisper, “Do you truly hate yourself that much?”
Blaise takes in a deep breath, her ribs expanding underneath my hand, which she still clutches. “No. No, not anymore.” She lets out a shaky laugh. “Please don’t mistake this for self-pity or shame. That won’t bode well for me, trust me. I just… I did this. I signed Asha’s fate when I chose my happiness over her safety, when I handed her over to Az. When I forced her to open the Rip. And Asha’s not the only one who’s paid for what I did. So please. When Nox asks, please tell him it wasn’t self-pity. I just…” She lets out a long exhale. “I just had to grow up at some point. Take responsibility, you know?”
I don’t miss the double edge of her statement, and the meaning saws at my ribcage.
I nod, and Blaise coughs out a sob. She closes her eyes, straining her cheeks as she braces herself. “Just tell Nox I love him, if it’s not too much trouble.”
My hands tremble. For a moment I wonder if I’ll have the strength to do this, so I turn and look for help from the woman who’s taught me so much.
She’s so still, and it’s so wrong. It’s not right that someone so vibrant should already be draining of color, robbed of movement.
I wonder if she knew a few moments ago what she now knows about death, if she would have been afraid.
If, over a year ago, she would have sacrificed herself, marched up to the palace like she did and demanded the vizier take her as my bride in place of the people.
Something tells me yes.
So with tears streaming down my face, I gently push Blaise away.
I don’t miss the catch in her breath, the relief when I don’t end her. “Why?”
A lump swells in my throat. “Because you’re not the one who sealed Asha’s fate. You’re not even second in line. It was me, when I made that wretched decree. And it was her, when she chose everyone else over herself.”
Blaise doesn’t say anything. She just stands, legs shaking, then treads back over to Az, keeping watch over him as he slumps against the marble floor, eyes glazed over as he stares at Asha’s body.
