The Inheritance Trilogy Omnibus(103)

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But I don’t think you should go.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

“Think, Yeine. You aren’t the only one facing death tomorrow. When you appoint Scimina heir, the first thing she’ll do is kill her baby brother, and he knows it. What if he decides that killing you—right now, before the ceremony—is the best way to earn himself a few extra days of life? It would be futile, of course; Dekarta’s seen what’s happened with Darr. He’ll just designate someone else the sacrifice, and tell that person to choose Scimina. But desperate men do not always think rationally.”

Sieh’s reasoning made sense—but something else did not. “Relad ordered you to bring me this message?”

“No, he asked. And he asks to see you. He said, ‘If you see her, remind her that I am not my sister; I have never done her harm. I know she listens to you.’ ” Sieh scowled. “Remind her—that was the only part he commanded. He knows how to speak to us. He left me the choice deliberately.”

I stopped walking. Sieh got a few paces ahead before he noticed, and turned to me with a puzzled look. “And why did you choose to tell me?” I asked.

A shadow of unease passed over his face; he lowered his eyes. “It’s true that I shouldn’t have,” he said slowly. “Kurue wouldn’t have allowed it, if she’d known. But what Kurue doesn’t know…” A faint smile crossed Sieh’s face. “Well, it can hurt her, but we’ll just have to hope that doesn’t happen.”

I folded my arms, waiting. He still hadn’t answered my question, and he knew it.

Sieh looked annoyed. “You’re no fun anymore.”

“Sieh.”

“Fine, fine.” He slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged with total nonchalance, but his voice was serious. “You agreed to help us, that’s all. That makes you our ally, not our tool. Kurue is wrong; we shouldn’t hide things from you.”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

“Thank me by not mentioning it to Kurue. Or Nahadoth or Zhakkarn, while you’re at it.” He paused, then smiled at me with sudden amusement. “Though it seems Nahadoth has his own secrets to hide with you.”

My cheeks grew hot. “It was my decision.” I blurted the words, irrationally compelled to explain. “I caught him by surprise, and—”

“Yeine, please. You’re not about to try and tell me you ‘took advantage of him’ or anything like that, are you?”

As I had been about to say exactly that, I fell silent.

Sieh shook his head and sighed. I was startled to see an odd sort of sadness in his smile. “I’m glad, Yeine—more glad than you know. He’s been so alone since the war.”

“He isn’t alone. He has you.”

“We comfort him, yes, and keep him from completely letting go of his sanity. We can even be his lovers, though for us the experience is… well, as strenuous as it was for you.” I blushed again, though some of that was at the disquieting thought of Nahadoth lying with his own children. But the Three had been siblings, after all. The gods did not live by our rules.

As if hearing that thought, Sieh nodded. “It’s equals he needs, not pity offerings from his children.”

“I’m not equal to any of the Three, Sieh, no matter whose soul is in me.”

He grew solemn. “Love can level the ground between mortals and gods, Yeine. It’s something we’ve learned to respect.”

I shook my head. This was something I had understood from the moment the mad impulse to make love to a god had come over me. “He doesn’t love me.”

Sieh rolled his eyes. “I love you, Yeine, but sometimes you can be such a mortal.”

Taken aback, I fell silent. Sieh shook his head and called one of his floating orbs out of nowhere, batting it back and forth in his hands. This one was blue-green, which teased my memories mercilessly. “So what do you plan to do about Relad?”

“What—oh.” So dizzying, this constant switch between matters mundane and divine. “I’ll meet with him.”

“Yeine—”

“He won’t kill me.” In my mind’s eye, I saw Relad’s face from two nights ago, framed by the doorway of my room. He had come to tell me of Sieh’s torture, which even T’vril had not done. Surely he’d realized that if Scimina forced me to give up my secrets, she would win the contest. So why had he done it?

I had a private theory, based on that brief meeting in the solarium. I believed that somewhere deep down, Relad was even less of an Arameri than T’vril—perhaps even less than me. Somewhere amid all that bitterness and self-loathing, hidden behind a thousand protective layers, Relad Arameri had a soft heart.