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Verve held him close to her chest, trying to shield him from the chaos in the rest of town. She said, “It’s all right, little one. Sleep now. I’ll be here when you wake.”
The boy’s eyes fixed on her. “Why are you sad, Mama?” He struggled in her grip. “What’s going on?”
“Hush.” Verve pressed him closer. Danya’s silent prayers echoed in her mind. Gods above and beyond, keep him safe. Please. I’ll do anything…
“Where’s Papa?” the boy—Benin—murmured.
Verve’s own eyes stung as her heart swelled, aching with fresh grief. A man’s face appeared in her memory. Royden: round cheeks, a thick beard, a smile that always touched his blue eyes, even in his last breath when he’d told her not to be afraid. Tears trickled down her face as she cradled her son and the memory of her lost husband.
A scream jolted Danya back to a reality where mage-fire burned all around her shattered home. But the moon-bloods were all too busy warring with each other to care that a child lay dying of wounds they could have healed — wounds they had caused, albeit indirectly.
“You’ll see Papa soon,” she said, her voice achingly calm. “I promise. Rest now, Benin. I’ll be with you. Always.”
The memory receded, but Danya’s grief still twined with bitterness, sharp as that moment when she held her dying son. And Verve, whose kill count numbered more than everyone in that little village, understood why.
Verve blinked, and the pine trees came back into focus. The sun still climbed up through the forest, sending beams of light across everyone. Verve inhaled the scents of neem oil, of the charred earth Danya’s Chosen had prepared, of sweet spring flowers blooming nearby.
“What are you doing?”
Danya’s voice struck Verve like a slap. She met her mentor’s tear-bright eyes and realized she was still weeping, too.
“Tell me,” Danya added, balling her hands into fists. “Tell me what you’re doing to me! And why are your eyes glowing? What foul magic has corrupted you?”
Without waiting for an answer, she gestured to one of the trainers, who barked an order. The Chosen splashed across the stream and formed a circle around Verve, Alem, and Ellory, daggers, crossbows, and spears aimed at the trio. Several of them snatched Verve’s weapons away, including her wire bracelet, leaving her unarmed. Usko stood closest to Verve, and his gaze on her was iron.
But Verve ignored him, ignored all of them, and only stared at Danya. Grief was a reason, not an excuse; grief did not absolve Danya of her many sins. But it sure as hell made Verve less inclined to kill her.
Which definitely complicated the whole “kill your evil mentor” plan.
Didn’t you say something earlier about change? Space-Between-Stars mused. Something truly profound?
Verve rolled her eyes. Don’t remind me.
But the moment of light teasing offered her a reprieve from the grief of Danya’s memories, and she replied with more calm than she’d expected. “Benin. Royden. Danya, I’m sorry for what you lost. I wish I’d gotten a chance to know them.”
Danya’s eyes widened at the acknowledgement, then narrowed. The whirlwind of fury, grief, and bitterness strengthened, howling above all other thoughts and feelings, and Verve stumbled, blown back by their force. The sharp tip of Usko’s dagger dug into her lower back as the Chosen leveled his weapon at her.
Is this what family is supposed to be? The thought sounded like Celidon and Jocasta.
And Ivet.
No, of course not. The bonds Danya had woven between herself and the Chosen were no more real than the false cousin “Morwen” she’d tried to sell Verve. But it didn’t have to be this way.
“You’re ‘sorry?’” Danya hissed. She paced forward, shoving past her Chosen to stand within slapping distance of Verve. “What do you know of that word, you disgusting little maggot? I’ve sacrificed everything for you—for all of you—but you threaten the peace we’ve built with…magic of your own? What have you done to me?”
Verve fought not to flinch back. Beside her, Ellory growled. Alem, too, looked at Verve with wide eyes, but within them, she saw no fear, not anymore. Not like she felt in Danya.
Another vision came to Verve then, but not one manifested by her meridian powers. This was the thread of a thought she followed to its end. Danya was her, and she was Danya; they were bound by trauma. Whether that bond was real or imagined made little difference, because only the binding mattered: the relationship an adult had shaped with a child tied them together with knots that could never be untangled.
Only cut.
If Verve didn’t sever those bonds, she’d never grow into the person she wanted to be, the person Alem believed in. The person Ivet had loved.
Verve glanced around, trying to get a better sense of her bearings, but her movements were slow, like wading through molasses. Behind her, Usko jabbed his dagger into her back again, at the exact right spot against her armored jacket to send a spike of pain through her. “Do it,” he muttered. “Give us a reason to strike you down. Hurt her, and you’re dead.”
Verve tried to overlay calm over Usko, but her concentration was in tatters from peering into Danya’s memories and she could do no more than sense Space-Between-Stars, let alone channel the Fae’s power again.
“This doesn’t have to be your fight,” Verve began, but he pressed the dagger’s point forward again, harder, and the ensuing pain made her cry out and drop to her knees before Danya.
