“Hetoldme,” Ru insisted.
“Sounded like he was just as in the dark as you. I saw him reading all those books this summer. Wondered what he was so interested in that he wouldn’t share with you, assumed he had reasons, but… he was looking for explanations.”
“I know that,” said Ru, shivering, her toes aching with cold. “But even then, he suspected something was…betweenus. He knew we were connected. And when he told me…” she shook her head. “I knew it, too. I don’t just believe him. I know it for a fact. Because I can feel it, Lyr, right now, the tendon of magic that ties me to Taryel. And sometimes I wonder if it isn’t the artifact speaking to me at all, but…” She winced as her teeth unconsciously found the inside of her lip.
“Taryel talking back,” Lyr finished, nodding sagely.
Ru stared up at him. The smile he gave her in return was wan, almost sad.
“I’ll meet you inside,” she said quietly, turning back to the sleet-lashed view beyond the battlement. “I want to be alone.”
Lyr left her, half-frozen on the parapet, gazing out once again to the south.
She had once believed in fate, in the hands of an unknowable universe gently guiding souls toward one another in an inescapable dance.Festra’s will is your destiny.But neither Festra nor Taryel were part of her fate. She was Ruellian Delara, and what happened to her was up to her, and her alone.
She may be cursed by Taryel’s heart, and Hugon D’Luc may have her wrapped around his finger. And maybe none of it made sense to her now, and perhaps she would never understand why Taryel had come to her as Fen, why the artifact had been uncovered,whyit had called to her…
But she would not let it destroy her.
Leaning forward on frozen tip-toes, Ru braced her hands against the wall and leaned out until her chest was pressedagainst the frosted stone. She could so easily climb up, brace her feet against the stone, lift herself up to balance on the edge…
She could so easily fall.
A moment later, she was scrambling, her slippers fighting for purchase on the low wall, lifting herself by the arms. At last, she crouched atop the stone wall. The wind was stronger in her hair up here. The blanket, loosened by her climb, threatened to blow away altogether.
Ru remembered so clearly, as she often did, the words shared between herself and Fen that night at the Shattered City. Words that remained between them, cradled in blackened hands.
I am your punishment. In learning who I am, you’ve met yourself.
Ru had been used, she had been hurt, and she was now a faint vestige of the woman she had once been. She might have been able to fight harder, to rebel against Lord D’Luc more effectively, but her cruel conscience told her this was what she deserved. That she had earned this. She had murdered innocents, and no one had done a thing about it.
This is hell,Fen had said.I’ve been here all along.
And now Fen was gone. Only Taryel remained.
Far below Ru lay the flagstones of the courtyard, a long enough drop that there would be no hope of survival. She would die instantly if she fell, her organs ruptured, her skull crushed on impact. She was comforted by the thought.
Lyr had asked her not to, but surely he wouldn’t miss babysitting her. He would be fine. Gwyneth and Archie would be better off. They had each other. Ru had no one. No one who understood.
Hot, bitter tears stung her cheeks. And with them came the memory, the one she tried so hard to forget. The last demonstration, blood on the floor. That woman, that namelesswoman in a white robe… she was dead because of Ru. One of too many lives cut short because of the Destroyer.
But Lord D’Luc still lived. And tomorrow, they would leave for Mirith, for the palace, and Ru would be at the mercy of whatever horrors awaited. She wasn’t afraid for herself anymore; she could not suffer enough to fulfill her penance. Instead, she feared what she might do. Who else might die. But if she were to go, if she were to gently press her own heart until it stopped, would it make up for the people who were already gone?
Leaning forward, Ru felt gravity and the wind doing their best to dislodge her from the wall. Her foot slipped, and she lost her balance, breath fleeing from her lungs as she hovered between safety and a long drop. All she would have to do is surrender; lean just a little forward, and—
All at once, a warmth bloomed in her chest. A distant, thrumming flame. And with it came a gentle caress at the edge of her mind, from the base of her skull — the artifact.
Talkative today, she thought bitterly. But its warmth grounded her, and she leaned back, steadying herself enough to slide down from the wall until her feet landed on firm stone. She leaned back against the wall, breathing hard.
The artifact flared inside her, its heat billowing outward until her body was no longer frigid and numb. It was almost as if the artifact had known what she was contemplating, what she’d been in danger of doing. But whether the stone was acting out of some involuntary mechanism, a reaction that might only occur when she was in certain danger, or whether it — orsomeone— had known, and wanted her safe… there was no way to tell.
Whatever the method, resolve hardened in Ru. Her death solved nothing. She thought of Archie and Gwyneth, who did not deserve the grief her absence would have inflicted. And Lyr, who would have felt responsible.
Holding the blanket firm around her shoulders, Ru returned to the warmth of the Tower and Lyr’s dour gaze. As always, the artifact’s comforting touch was her only companion as she rolled into bed.
CHAPTER 7
The journey to Mirith would take days. Lord D’Luc, it seemed, had been planning this journey for quite some time. There was no way he could have pulled together such a convoy at the last minute, even though he had sprung the move on Ru only the day before. Three carriages were being prepared, a stream of silent Children moving between them and the Tower, packing trunks and food and blankets for the journey.
