Page 146 of House of Dusk

Another flush of heat. She could have come sooner. But there had been business. Accounts to give, scribes to record her words, a meeting with the new king, who had fortunately forgiven her for throwing a sword at his head the last time they’d met. Royal advisors insisting that she be properly attired for various public events to reassure the people of Helisson that there was no looming cataclysm, that the danger of the skotoi and the Ember King was past. Or at least, under control. And then Stara Bron, Beroe and Timeus and Dolon and Abas. And another visit, strange and awkward and beautiful, to see an old man and an old woman and a little girl who was full of stories about her uncle. And a dog who had earned her name because she had a trick of pulling a blanket over herself during thunderstorms.

“I...I’m sorry. I’ve been busy.”

“Ah. Yes. Busy saving the world.” The corners of his eyes crinkled. He wasn’t angry.

But the words plucked at the wound, the one she’d been carrying since that day. She touched a hand to the hilt of the dark blade that hung from her waist in a plain leather scabbard. Sephre had not taken it off. Even when she slept or bathed it was in her sight, within her grasp.

“I shattered the Ember King’s spirit,” she said. “Will he come back? Like you did?”

“I don’t know,” said the Serpent. “He was a mortal. But he had been given power from the First One. Only time will tell.”

She nodded, chewing the inside of her cheek.

“He was dangerous,” said the Serpent. “He had the chance to be something better, but he became something terrible. You removed that danger from the world. But...it wasn’t a decision you should have had to make.”

It wasn’t a decision she ever wanted to make again. “I can’t keep this,” she said, starting to unbuckle the dagger. “You should—”

He jerked back from her, heels splashing into the water, setting free a lacy web of ripples. “No. I can’t.”

“Why?”

“It holds too much power.”

“You’re a god.”

A strange mix of humor and sadness crossed his face. “Mostly.”

“Mostly?” She rocked back on her heels. “What does that mean?”

“I...”

“Nilos?”

She hadn’t meant to say his name. But the seed had been planted, and had grown, for all the lack of sun.

“Sometimes, yes.”

She stepped closer, watching his face like a sailor watched the skies, hoping for the wind to send her home, but fearing the storm.

“It’s never happened before,” he said. “A god, bound for so long in mortal form.”

“You took mortal form long enough to get stabbed and scattered into bits.”

He glanced away. “That was different. And...painful. Being Nilos was...not painful.”

“Not painful,” she repeated, wryly. “Just what every girl wants to hear.”

His lips curved. His smile broke open a tight knot in her chest.

“Come with me,” he said then, reaching for her hand, pulling her toward the barge. “I want to show you something.”

She let him draw her closer. The boat creaked as she stepped into it. “What?”

He took up the pole, sliding it into the silt, shoving them out into the waters. His grin gleamed wickedly. “I’ve started to make some changes to the labyrinth. I was hoping you might approve. I know you have strong aesthetic opinions about the netherworld.”

She settled herself into the prow. “Bloody waterfalls and towers of skulls?”

“All in good time. For now, I thought I’d start with the guard dog.”

Sephre cast her mind back, scouring for the conversation. “With three heads and horns?”

“Oh, something much better than that. He’s just a pup now, but I think he shows great promise. So. Would you like to meet him?”

“Yes,” she told the god of death. “I would.”