Page 134 of While the Dark Remains
I gnaw on the inside of my cheek, because Iwill notgive him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. “You murdered her.”
He gives a noncommittal shrug.
I’m trembling; the point of my knife shakes. “Why?”
“Your sister was remarkable. I wanted her to stay here in Daeros. I wanted her to be part of my Collection. But your parents wouldn’t hear of it—I even offered them a fortune, told them she would be treated like a queen—”
“Alie,” I spit.
“—and they had the audacity to say that their little genius was not for sale.” Kallias blinks at me, his blue eyes glassy in the dim light. His lips curl into a smile. “Do you know what they offered me instead?”
A sick dread slides into my veins. I grind my jaw shut, refusing to answer.
“They offered meyou, Brynja, their youngest daughter, who had the power to control minds. I got the feeling they were afraid of you, you know. Of what you could do. They saw an opportunity to get rid of you, and they seized it.”
Spots jump in my eyes, and I bite harder and harder into my cheek, until I taste blood.
Kallias’s smile sharpens. “I didn’t want you—why would I? I wanted Lilja. I wanted her to join her genius to mine, to create marvelous machines with me, to help me burrow into the heart of the mountain faster, easier. But your parents refused, and it made me angry. If I couldn’t have her, I didn’t see why anyone else should.”
My head wheels, my palms sweat. I adjust my grip on the outside of the cage, muscles trembling in the effort to hold me there. Lord of Fire, I’m going to be sick. “You murdered my sister because my parents told you no.”
Kallias tilts his head to one side. “I killed her because I didn’t wantyou. It was the easiest thing in the world, you know. I’d heard her brag about her wings. I sent a servant to your rooms. Had him grind iron shavings into the wood, the canvas. So her magic would fail. I didn’t count on you, of course, the little Iljaria girl grown so powerful in her rage that she nearly tumbled the mountain down around my ears. The Prism Master himself could barely subdue you, let alone contain you. You could have killed me right then on that frozen cliff. But you didn’t have it in you, then. You weren’t quite enough of a monster.”
My throat feels thick and tight. I am hollow, numb. A tear slides down my cheek without my consent. I focus on the king, the trickle of blood on his pale neck. “Is that why you kill people?” I ask him quietly. “Because you are a monster?”
His eyes bore into mine. “I kill because it makes me feel powerful. It makes me feel alive. When you kill me, Brynja, what will you feel?”
I stare at him, stareintohim, and see for a moment a soul as fragile and tremulous as my own. “I’ll feel peace. I’ll be able to sleep at night, knowing there is one less monster in the world.”
“And what of the monster chained below, poised to devour the world? What of the monster you call your brother, who dresses in the robes of the Prism Master and means to rule the world when it has been devoured?”
“Brandr isn’t a monster,” I say, but my voice shakes, because I’m not sure I believe that.
Kallias doesn’t reply, just looks at me. For an instant I see Ballast in him, a child who longs to be a man, to prove himself, to be taken seriously. Then I blink and see Lilja falling. I see Hilf dead on the floor in a widening pool of blood. I see the children of the Collection, kept in cages, beaten on his whim. I feel their fear and I feel my own, back when he had power over me.
But it’s Kallias in the cage now. And I’m the one holding the blade.
My rage surges back, stitched into every part of me. I tighten my fingers around the handle of my knife.
“What will you do when I’m dead?” says Kallias softly.
“Be free,” I whisper.
And then I drive the knife deep into his heart.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Year4200, Month of the Ghost Lord
Daeros—Tenebris
Kallias’s blood is sticky on my hand. I try to wipe it off on my skirt, but it just smears and catches in the silk.
I crouch in the vent that connects with the great hall, scrubbing at the blood, scrubbing and scrubbing. But it just continues to smear, and at last I give up, cursing. I pull my knees tight against my chin. I sob, without understanding why.
I killed him. And Kallias was right. For a moment I felt powerful. And then I scrambled down to the floor and was sick in one of the potted orange trees.
It takes a long while before I come back to myself, lift my head, wipe my eyes. I realize that the night grows short. That there is not much time left before the Yellow Lord’s trial of power.
