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I step to the side and lean against one of the shelves that holds heaps of books and loose records the librarians don’t consider important enough to include in the main collection upstairs. Having something solid at my back helps ground me against the impending interrogation.
“There really were three people with Wendos,” I say. “They were missing their hair, their eyes, their ears, their arms—at least one of them part of a leg. One of the women came from the brothel—that’s where Wendos threatened he’d have Torstem take her back to. Her name was Fyrinth.”
The tick of Stavros’s jaw tells me he recognizes the name too. He’s smart enough to put the pieces together like I did. “Torstem kept the children from the orphanage after they made their sacrifices and sent others to the temple in their place.”
I nod. “Prostitutes’ kids, I think.”
A shudder runs through Alek’s lean frame. “So they aren’t having dedicatesdiein sacrifice… just asking them to give up everything they canwithoutdying?”
“It seems that way.” Acid sours the back of my mouth at the memory. “But they did die. Just not to stop Wendos. After I threw my knife at him, he couldn’t concentrate quite as well through the pain. He wanted more power. So he told them to provide it, and they all threw themselves off the tower in a final sacrifice.”
“That’s why you called on your own power,” Casimir says quietly.
I brace myself. “Yes. Whatever magic he and the other sorcerers were imposing on the daimon, it was working. I couldn’t even move with the ones he had in the tower restraining me. I could hear buildings falling below. I didn’t know how far behind you might still be. It was the only chance I had left.”
Stavros adjusts his stance, his sword at his side but still in his grasp. “I think you’d better start from the beginning. Where you really came from. What you’ve done with your powers before. All of it. No feints, no lies. If you can manage that.”
I can’t stop myself from glaring at him for a second before I rein in my temper.
I have been lying to them all along, if mostly by omission. And somehow the truth might be the only thing that keeps them from murdering me right now.
It’s not only them I’ve lied to.
Julita stirs in the back of my head.I’d like to hear this too.
I drag in a breath. “You’ve wondered about my upbringing. My parents run a printing press. Nothing fancy—they mostly handle posters and pamphlets—but I wouldn’t be surprised if a few of the newer books up there came from their shop.” I motion toward the main room of the library overhead.
Alek leans against the edge of the desk. “That’s why you’re such a reader.”
I shrug. “It’s a family calling.”
Stavros’s eyes have narrowed. “And they hid you—”
I shake my head adamantly to cut him off. “Not really. Not like that. I—”
My voice catches in my throat. I look down at my hands, which have twisted together in front of me.
I’ve never told anyone this before. Never talked about it out loud.
Dredging up the words sends the pain of the memory lancing through me even sharper than usual. “It was my parents and me and my little sister Linzi. When I was seven and Linzi was five, our mother got sick. One of the wasting fevers. It ate at her for two weeks until she could barely roll over in bed, she was so weak. She wouldn’t eat, coughed up any water she tried to drink… The medics my father brought around couldn’t do much, it was too far spread through her body.”
Casimir’s mouth slants at a sympathetic angle. “Even the palace medics can’t combat certain types of illness.”
“I know.” I gird myself and hurtle onward. “One afternoon, my father was in the shop handling an order—he didn’t like to leave my mother like that, but we needed money for the medics. Linzi and I were with her. And all at once, her breath got so thin and creaky, like she could hardly draw it, and her body went limp—I knew she was dying right that moment. And just as I realized that, I also realized I could save her.”
I halt, my own lungs constricting with the images washing over me. Stavros motions with his sword for me to continue.
“I could just feel it.” I press my hand to my sternum, where my magic fizzes faintly now. “The power welled up inside me, and I could already picture her happy and well again, so I reached out and let the magic flow into her. It worked. Her breath evened out—the color came back into her face. But—”
My throat closes up completely. My hand rises to touch Linzi’s ribbon through the sleeve of my dress.
“But what?” Stavros demands.
I propel the words from my throat. They come out hoarse. “The energy I put into her had to come from somewhere. My sister… She collapsed. She was only three steps away, but by the time I reached her, she was already gone.”
My head droops. All the anguish from that moment thirteen years past sweeps through me again, pricking at the backs of my eyes.
Oh, Ivy,Julita says softly.
