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Morovara caught my hands before I could follow. “Healing or destruction, girl. You can argue later and choose to make tomorrow better today.”
Hearing her say my mother’s familiar words centered me.
Dimitri and I could never go back, only forward, following this twisted melody between us stretching far into the past and building toward a crescendo. No matter the fighting emotions inside, there were things I needed to tell him.
It wastime to face the past.
I squeezed my great-grandmother’s hands, words locked in my throat.
“What did you really come to ask me?”
It had not been secrets or even Ealhswip who drove me to run into the temple. There was more in my past I had to face. “If I see Lumi, if she talks to me, is it real?”
“Your sister was stronger than even I knew.” My great-grandmother stared into the distance. “Death is not as simple as we preach. Most living and Spirits both require peace. Few have the will to cling to more. Even fewer the power to do so. There’s a reason magical bloodlines rarely mix, especially not strong ones. Only those truly desperate for power—like the royal family—ignore the unpredictable results. You and your sister are wild cards. The normal rules don’t apply. Trust your heart.”
“I’ll be back,” I promised, and part of me wanted only to stay here. I could be safe. Have a home.
She gave me a push. “Now follow that man. The past might direct the future, but your choices are your own.”
I hurried away—knowing my own history, the decisions my mother had made that brought me under Kirill’s thumb, the choices my ancestors made that were somehow coming to a peak now—and the shadow of the plan I had when I set up the meeting between the prince and rebels returned.
Hope fluttered as I saw Dimitri ahead of me. I squashed it. Even had he not been set to marry Helia, and we could overcome the betrayals and differences in private, he could never choose me publicly.
Morovara had been right. I needed to choose me. I deserved it all.
But first, I needed to know if the lorists were right and death could truly break a curse.
Chapter twenty-four
Dimitri
With controlled breaths and steps, I escaped the woman I’d never expected to see again after I condemned her to death.
She was supposed to be safe. A dream far away. A possibility to cling to in dark moments, and a face to search for in the crowd while I did what needed to be done—what she would have wanted me to do. And instead of saying that, all my insecurities and dark thoughts had spilled out when I saw her with the high priestess.
Her face had been too pale and worn. Too painfully beautiful.
The taste of her kisses, the feel of her skin, burned bright enough that I had to dig my fingers into my palms to not turn around and beg her forgiveness just to hold her for a moment more.
Let her go,the voice inside had said while out loud, I pushed her away. Not that it was needed. I’d already hanged her, surely no more distance was needed between us.
I had only met her when the season started, but she’d felt so right in my arms on Cherny, or safe in my chambers, arguing before the fire. Somehow, she had wormed her way into all my private moments and shattered the cold solitude I wrapped around myself in the mountains.
Nothing besides their slight frames marked her and Morovara as related, but I did not doubt it. There were no such things as coincidences, only connections you did not see. I had been blind to so much and could not allow my hurt feelings to steal the clarity I sought.
In the game played for Tal, I was dangerously behind. Had my father held advantages he never shared?
I could not afford to be distracted from what Morovara had revealed. There were assassins and ancient cults in my city, people with power over death and a vendetta against my family. People who knew I had a daughter.
I had come to the temples dressed as a merchant, the bone soldiers following discreetly. The king of Tal could not walk his own streets openly without a full guard, and I could not spare the fighters, for they were moving under our feet, filling the tunnels.
Before I left the palace, I had been told they’d found nothing—no flowers, undead, or cultists. Only Koshka’s haunted eyes assured me it had been more than a nightmare. We were the survivors. She due to the sigils and bones in her lost armor that gave her inhuman strength and speed, me because of the woman I was running from.
The priestesses I passed on the way down the spiraling ziggurat’s path did not seem to recognize me, still I did not dare moving faster than a comfortable stroll. A running young man caused complaints and other coarse language; a running king caused panic.
The dark, humid stone corridors inclined down until I reached ground level without a single staircase or door blocking my way. The temples were not built to keep intruders out. They were accessible to all. I had believed respect for the Death Goddess kept the womeninside safe, not poisons and control over the Spirits. Would every day provide more evidence of my naivety?
I needed to settle this—find the food, eradicate the poison, declaw the sect, remove Eki and Dasha from their grasp, marry Helia, and provide stability. Then I could risk announcing Dasha as my own and heir, and perhaps after all was said and done, ask for something for myself as well.
