Arms crossed, I regard the locked door opposite the entrance to the northern tower, its stone face illuminated by a shard of silver light pierced through a window—a gift from the bitten moon sitting low in the sky. My pocket is heavy, the wall brisk against my back as I listen to Mersi descend the tower’s coiled stairwell.
Her steps are slow, my patience thin. I can smell the contents of the goblet she’s carrying from here.
Closing my eyes, I release a heavy sigh, balling my hands into fists. I swallow, drop my head forward, and slam it back against the wall.
Hard.
The bludgeon of pain ricochets through my skull, rattling my brain, and for a moment, I’m anywhere but here.
For justone fucking moment.
I drop my head and whip it back, repeating the process. Again.
Again.
“High Master?”
I look to the right. See Mersi emerge from the tower’s entrance, breath labored, the apron tied around her waist still blotched with a mosaic of food stains. She steps into the shaft of light, igniting her rosy hair, freckles stark against her pale skin.
Clearing her throat, she extends the crystal goblet. “I’m guessing you can take this off my hands?”
I glance at its blushed contents, wanting to snatch the thing and dash the liquid across the floor.
My gaze flicks up, catching the condescending glint in hers.
“Of course.” I relieve her of it—the stem fragile in my grip. One squeeze and it would snap. “Thank you.”
Two full words have never sounded so hollow.
Mersi gives me a curt nod.
I reach into my pocket and withdraw the necklace Aravyn gave me moments before I took her life, the crystal, once clear and scintillating, nowblack.So black, it has a cosmic pull; as though you could look into it and see your own horizonless oblivion.
I defiled Aravyn’s gift to her daughter—a shame I’ll always bear. Even so, I hold it out, chain bunched in my fist, the jewel swaying back and forth like a morbid pendulum.
Mersi’s gaze darts to the gem with wary curiosity. “Forher?”
I nod.
“What does it do?”
Too much.
Too little.
“She’ll look ... different than she does now. Very different. But she’ll be safe to live a normal life.She must never take it off. Do you understand?”
Her eyes widen. “Never?”
“Correct.”
I’m not just hiding her from others, but also from herself.
“Do you intend on telling her about the proph—”
“No,” I snap. “There will be no speak ofGodsunder this roof. Or anything that might lead her toward the truth.”
No child should be forced to bear that weight.
