The Spirit Rebellion(25)

Nivel shook her head. “There are no mentors in this life of ours, child. Even now, the demon inside me is trying to find a way to use you to free itself. In a few minutes, I won’t have the strength to keep it back. I have fought this battle of inches for ten years, but it will be over soon. The demon is now as strong as I am. We are perfectly balanced. Yet it can get stronger, and I can’t. All it would take is a bite of a spirit. A wind, a few drops of rain”—Nivel’s glowing eyes ran over Nico’s body—“a little girl, and the demon could shed me like snakeskin and fly free. That’s why I told Slorn to put me in this valley, where all the spirits have withdrawn, leaving nothing to eat. Here, I can keep it in check. But,” Nivel’s rasping voice cracked, “it’s been five years since I sat down on this stone, and I’m tired. So tired.”

“But you’re still alive!” Nico said. “So long as you have that, you can fight.”

Nivel laughed, a sad, empty sound. “No one’s will is strong enough to hold out alone forever. Just staying alive isn’t enough. You need something to live for. A purpose. Mine is Slorn. I left him and Pele alone, and yet he still kills himself trying to find a way to bring me back. I thought that if he was willing to fight for me, to attempt the impossible, then I owed it to stand strong for him. That belief has kept me going far beyond my time. Even so, everything ends.”

As she spoke, the manacles on Nivel’s wrists began to rattle more incessantly, and Nico winced as the cold, dark feeling began to creep over her again. Nivel took a breath and closed her eyes tight. “You should go now,” she said quietly.

Nico clenched her jaw. “I won’t say farewell,” she said, standing up. Her hand shot out, and she grabbed Nivel’s fingers. “We’ll meet again, so don’t give up.”

With that, Nico released her grip and turned around, marching toward the stone wall. When she reached the sheer cliff she began to climb, her impossibly strong fingers finding grips on the most minute cracks and wrinkles in the stone.

Nivel watched her go, cradling the hand Nico had seized, savoring the surprised feeling of the unexpected contact.

I hope you’re happy, a deep, smooth voice said in her head. You just let the death of your world go on her merry way. We should have eaten her when we had the chance. It sighed deeply. You’ll regret this. Mark my words.

Nivel just smiled and ignored the voice, as she always had, watching as Nico pulled herself over the edge of the cliff and vanished into the sunlit world above.

High overhead, Nico spilled herself out onto the dry leaves, panting and letting her eyes adjust to the light. Slorn was waiting where she’d left him, sitting solemnly on the dirt.

“So,” he said slowly, “you have met the truth of demonseeds face to face. Do you still want me to make your coat?”

Nico stood up, brushing the leaves off her clothes. “Yes,” she said. “Nothing has changed.”

Slorn grinned, showing a great wall of sharp yellow teeth. “You have passed the final measure, then. Come,” he said and stood up. “Pele and the rest should have things ready by now.”

Nico nodded and followed him back down the slope and through the strange, black trees, stopping every few steps to look back over her shoulder, even after the valley had long since vanished from view.





CHAPTER 5





Miranda delivered her decision to Master Banage over breakfast. They argued, but it was the same ground they’d covered the night before, and nothing new was resolved. In the end Banage relented, for what could he do? It was her career and her neck Miranda was risking, and he could not force her to take the easy road. Their parting was short and bitter as Miranda excused herself to prepare for the trial.

Back in her room, she took more care with her preparations than usual. Using Karon’s heat to warm the water in the basin, she washed her face and teeth, taking special care with her eyes, which were red ringed and raw from crying and lack of sleep. Next, she dug out the tin of powder her sister had given her ages ago and brushed the white base over her ruddy cheeks, hiding her dark circles as best she could. When she was as pale and serious as she could make herself, Miranda opened the trunk at the end of her bed and began to dress. She’d picked out her clothes the night before, choosing her favorite pair of worn trousers and a soft, light shirt to go under the heavy silk robes that were mandatory for formal Court functions. She had set out her official set this time, blood-red silk with white and gold designs in long, geometric patterns. It was hideous. The fabric was stiff and musty from being in her trunk for so long, but it marked her status as a vested and sworn Spiritualist of the Court even more than her rings did, and that was exactly the impression she was trying to make.