He whirled and sank lower into the water in a vain attempt to hide his nakedness. She must have come out of a bath herself—hair in a wet braid over her shoulder, wearing nothing but a loose black shift.
“We need to talk,” she said.
They’d fallen asleep in the arms of the same man. But without Seth present, the dynamic between them felt different. Jacen would not quite call itawkward.Rather . . .uncertain. Where Seth was safe and familiar, Ysira was something sharper, more intense.
There was also the matter of her demon. Jacen hadn’t noticed it beside the far more powerful presence of Naxal or the Gate. But now that he was rested and sober, alone with her, it was clear. It explained so much. Not just her authority in this place but how she’d known Elyas—how she had survived so many things that should have killed her.
Jacen cleared his throat, feeling himself flush. “Let me get dressed first.”
She obligingly turned her back until he’d pulled on the rough, sand-colored trousers the militia had provided him. He could not remember the last time he had worn anything other than black. He didn’t much like it.
He faced Ysira. “Var Naktis,is it?” He drew a hand across his throat to indicate the scar on hers. “Your demon has some sort of healing power?”
She nodded. “I’ve had it since I was Harvested.”
What she did next came unexpected. She opened her mind to Jacen—just a crack, letting him peer through a door still held by a chain. Enough to give him a clear sense of the presence inside, an intricate embroidery across her consciousness.
Her demon was an odd and dispassionate thing, exuding immense power but low intelligence. The heart of it nestled around Ysira’s vital functions like a lazy house spider. Upon noticing Jacen, it coiled a little tighter. He discerned a clear message:MINE.
He retreated, signaling to the demon that he meant it no harm, though a lifetime of ingrained doctrine told him he’d just gravely sinned. It compelled him to ask Ysira, “Do you still feel like yourself?”
“Other things have changed me more, I think.” It wasn’t exactly an answer, but Ysira lifted her shoulders. “Are you stillyouwith a tumor? With brain damage?” She gave him a pointed look. “With memory loss? Or are we more than the sum of our parts?”
At that, Jacen could not hide his surprise. Ysira smiled—an arresting sight, and a rare one. “Just because I haven’t made a profession out of brooding over these questions doesn’t mean I’ve never considered them.”
“I take it you’re not here to request an exorcism,” Jacen said.
“No. But when fighting the demon gods, one would still be wise to enlist an exorcist. You used to be the best the Church had to offer.” Ysira glanced over her shoulder. When she seemed confident they were alone, she said, “In the physical sense, Neri is uniquely suited to Naxal’s power. I was possessed while pregnant, so my demon gave him certain advantages. Mentally, though, he’s been struggling. Extradimensional communion is difficult for a telepath of his tier, and he’s . . . reluctant. I need you to help him. Show him how to use it.”
Jacen chose his next words carefully. “You didn’t tell Seth that.” “Seth wants to believe we might win this fight with . . . half measures.” Ysira hugged her shoulders as though suddenly cold. “I’ve seen things he hasn’t. And—say we win. What next? We invoke the wrath of an enemy whose civilization spans the stars, who nearly destroyed us once, who made themselves our gods. We’re obligated to think, and plan, on a much larger scale.”
Jacen scrutinized Ysira. “I never took you for a revolutionary.” “Things change. And you don’t know me that well.”
“But it’s more than that, isn’t it?” Jacen pressed. “You’ve put yourself at the center, taken responsibility. You didn’t have to do that.”
Ysira’s tone remained neutral. “Neri is my son. Wherever he is, so will I be, and Iwillkeep him safe.”
“If it were so simple,” Jacen said quietly, “you wouldn’t have cornered me alone.”
It struck him how very different she seemed from the girl he’d known as a novitiate. In those days, she was all hard edges and sinew, never one for jewels or fine clothes like she donned here. The last twelve years had added softness to her figure, but it did not make her look gentle. Rather, she wore it much like her scars. More than the physical changes, she seemed compelled to put on a performance—not just of spirituality, or even of leadership, but of motherhood. All these roles she’d never meant to embrace.
What could make that worth it to her?
They stood at an impasse, until Ysira said, “What is it you hope to find here?” The question was a challenge. “What are youup to,Brother Kheris?”
“All I want is the truth.” Jacen took a step toward her. “But I asked you first. What do you want, Ysira?”
“Power, obviously.” She spread her hands. “I can’t protect myself or Neri without it.”
“So, why didn’t you come here sooner? You have power. You’re valak.” Jacen hesitated. “You’re uncomfortable. I’ve never seen you so on edge.”
That seemed to trigger something in Ysira. Her mouth twisted. “I will not be used. Not ever again, not by anyone. I want to fight on my own terms, and I wantthem”—she gestured at an invisible someone, perhaps many someones—“to suffer like I did. I am going to kill the deranged insects that call themselves our gods. I’m going to kill Ged Semira with my own hands. I am not afraid of power. If I seem uncomfortable to you, it’s because I know it’s not enough. Not yet.”
When Jacen failed to respond, she said, “You know it too. How much of you did the Church erase? How many choices did they take away?” She met his gaze, unyielding. “And what about your novitiate? You must want to protect her. What line wouldn’t you cross to keep what happened to you both from happening to anyone else? What would you give to stop the Harvest? Toatone?”
“Anything!” Jacen finally exclaimed. His voice cracked. “Everything.”
For a moment, Ysira was silent. They stood closer now, two overflowing fonts of emotion amplifying each other. But this was not an argument—it was a test. She had left her mind open to him, wider now, and knew that he shared it.
