For a price.
The priests don’t mention that, either.
There had in fact been very little business to discuss. In light of the looming ceremony, the Enefadeh needed my cooperation more than ever, and so—with palpable annoyance—Kurue agreed to my condition. We all knew there was little chance I could become Dekarta’s heir. We all knew the Enefadeh were merely humoring me. I was content with that, so long as I did not think about it too deeply.
Then one by one they vanished, leaving me with Nahadoth. He was the only one, Kurue had said, who had the power to carry me to and from Darr in the night’s few remaining hours. So in the silence that fell, I turned to face the Nightlord.
“How?” he asked. The vision, he meant, of his defeat.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But it’s happened before. I had a dream once, of the old Sky. I saw you destroy it.” I swallowed, chilled. “I thought it was just a dream, but if what I just saw is what really happened…” Memories. I was experiencing Enefa’s memories. Dearest Skyfather, I did not want to think about what that meant.
His eyes narrowed. He wore that face again—the one I feared because I could not help wanting it. I fixed my eyes on a point just above his shoulder.
“It is what happened,” he said slowly. “But Enefa was dead by then. She never saw what he did to me.”
And I wish I hadn’t. But before I could speak, Nahadoth took a step toward me. I very quickly took a step back, and he stopped.
“You fear me now?”
“You did try to rip out my soul.”
“And yet you still desire me.”
I froze. Of course he would have sensed that. I said nothing, unwilling to admit weakness.
Nahadoth moved past me to the window. I shivered as he passed; a tendril of his cloak had curled ’round my calf for just an instant in a cool caress. I wondered if he was even aware of this.
“What exactly do you hope to accomplish in Darr?” he asked.
I swallowed, glad to be on another subject. “I need to speak with my grandmother. I thought of using a sigil sphere, but I don’t understand such things. There could be a way for others to eavesdrop on our conversation.”
“There is.”
It gave me no pleasure to be right. “Then the questions must be asked in person.”
“What questions?”
“Whether it’s true what Ras Onchi and Scimina said, about Darr’s neighbors arming for war. I want to hear my grandmother’s assessment of the situation. And… I hope to learn…” I felt inexplicably ashamed. “More about my mother. Whether she was like the rest of the Arameri.”
“I have told you already: she was.”
“You will forgive me, Lord Nahadoth, if I do not trust you.”
He turned slightly, so that I could see the side of his smile. “She was,” he repeated, “and so are you.”
The words, in his cold voice, hit me like a slap.
“She did this, too,” he continued. “She was your age, perhaps younger, when she began asking questions, questions, so many questions. When she could not get answers from us with politeness, she commanded them—as you have done. Such hate there was in her young heart. Like yours.”
I fought the urge to swallow, certain he would hear it.
“What sort of questions?”
“Arameri history. The war between my siblings and me. Many things.”
“Why?”
“I have no idea.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“I didn’t care.”
I took a deep breath and forced my sweaty fists to unclench. This was his way, I reminded myself. There had been no need for him to say anything about my mother; he just knew it was the way to unsettle me. I had been warned. Nahadoth didn’t like to kill outright. He teased and tickled until you lost control, forgot the danger, and opened yourself to him. He made you ask for it.
After I had been silent for a few breaths, Nahadoth turned to me. “The night is half over. If you mean to go to Darr, it should be now.”
“Oh. Ah, yes.” Swallowing, I looked around the room, anywhere but at him. “How will we travel?”
In answer, Nahadoth extended his hand.
I wiped my hand unnecessarily on my skirt, and took it.
The blackness that surrounded him flared like lifting wings, filling the room to its arched ceiling. I gasped and would have stepped back, but his hand became a vise on my own. When I looked at his face I felt ill: his eyes had changed. They were all black now, iris and whites alike. Worse, the shadows nearest his body had deepened, so much that he was invisible beyond his extended hand.
I stared into the abyss of him and could not bring myself to go closer.