A Burning in the Bones (Waxways #3)

Chapter 60 Ren Monroe

60 REN MONROE

Meredream was a fitting name.

The roads were carved from polished white stone. The survivors followed the main thoroughfare, passing idyllic cottages and more utilitarian public buildings. At the heart of the city, there was a small crystal-blue lake from which a myriad of streams ran. The Shiverian ethos—which emphasized precision and usefulness above all else—could not have been more evident. Even the courtyards had been set in strategic positions, drinking in maximum sunlight, and always doubling as gardens for specific crops. Ren saw great tomato vines with their fruits on the verge of bursting. She noticed there was a stasis enchantment layered over the entire section. They’d grown them to the point where they were nearly ready to be picked, and then magically frozen them in time. Similar wonders were everywhere, waiting to be discovered, but now was not the time for exploration. Their first task was finding a proper graveyard.

Thankfully, the Shiverians had thought of that too. A small field had been set aside near the western gates. After taking a moment to tend to their own wounds—which included the relatively deep sword puncture in Ren’s side—the surviving wizards spent the next few hours after the battle ferrying the dead up the abandoned hillside, through the main gate, and to that sunlit hollow. Trails of blood began to mark their passage over the once-white stones. At one point, Ren found herself staring at a bloody handprint someone had left on one of the doors and she knew this place would always be half-haunted for them.

Nevelyn’s sacrifice had been the turning point. After seeing that the rest of the wizards had reached Meredream, the opposing army had crumbled and fled. Some of them, like her mother, had remained behind to help with the dead. Their senses returned after having their manipulation threads cut in that distant burial chamber. Others were too confused or afraid to do anything more than disappear into the surrounding forests. Ren knew there would be a reckoning at some point. Not everyone would abandon the cause they’d fought for on this hillside. A few would go back to the city and whisper that they should finish what they’d started. The wizards, they would say, were too dangerous to be left alone. Fear would spread until there was a clear divide between the people who had magic and the people who didn’t. But for now, none of that mattered.

Ren and Theo trudged side by side, completing tasks together. She felt tension across their bond. Something unspoken. She could only assume it had to do with the connection between her and Arakyl. Maybe he thought he’d seen the worst of her in his father’s research. He’d forgiven her for that, only to be rewarded with something worse: the truth that the woman he loved was responsible for the fall of Kathor. When they stopped by one of the city’s fountains to wash their hands of blood and grime, Ren could not stand the silence any longer.

“The bronze thread,” she said. “You’re wondering why I asked you to sever it.”

Theo looked over in surprise. “Am I?”

“You’re not?”

“Well, no. Not really. I figured that part out. Dragons are attracted to deep emotions. After seeing the thread, I just assumed that your anger was a latch-point for Arakyl. Which means he used your anger to power his manipulation efforts and then when he’d built enough other connections, he started drawing on them as well. Seemed pretty straightforward.”

Ren stared at him. “You already knew all of that?”

He snorted softly. “Why are you always surprised when I know things? You realize that I was ninth in our class, right? It’s not like I got bad grades or something. I’m pretty smart too.”

His tone was light and calm and didn’t match the tension in their bond at all.

“So, that’s why you’re upset?”

Now he frowned. “Why would that upset me?”

Ren gestured around them. “Because I’m the reason all of this happened.”

“Do you really believe that?” The question made Ren feel childish and small. Theo didn’t give her the chance to answer it either. “If it wasn’t you, it would have been some other kid from the Lower Quarter. Someone else who lost a loved one to my father’s cruelty. Or someone who was wronged by the Graylantians or the Proctors or the Winterses. Ren, look at the army we just faced. Arakyl didn’t make them feel small and powerless. He didn’t plant hatred in their hearts. We did that . For centuries. My father was always so fond of talking about you reap what you sow—and this is a generational reaping.” He shook his head sadly. “Arakyl lied to you, Ren. This isn’t your fault. Trust me, that’s not why I’m upset.”

She couldn’t help focusing on those words. “But you are upset?”

“Well, yeah, but not with you. I’m upset because I died, Ren.”

It was such a shocking claim that she snorted out loud. “Died? What are you talking about? You’re here right now, Theo. Walking around. You’re not dead.”

He kept his voice low. “I know. That’s because Mercy brought me back. She’s a very powerful necromancer. None of us ever asked what the variation was in her magic. Remember that night at Beacon House? She went around asking everyone what their variation was, but no one remembered to ask her.”

Ren realized that was true. She’d made a mental note to inquire, but had never followed through. That realization hardly mattered compared to the larger truth of what he was saying.

“That’s why I couldn’t feel you across the bond… you were actually dead.”

And he would still be dead if not for Mercy. Before Theo could reply, she wrapped him in a bone-rattling hug. The two of them were sweaty and dirty and it didn’t matter. Theo held her tight and for a moment there was no other world outside of his arms. He kissed her forehead and Ren pressed as far into him as she could. He let out a wince that turned into a laugh.

“Hey now. Take it easy on me. Dying hurts. My body is still mending. My mind, too. Sorry for being distant. I guess I was just trying to… take it all in. All these bodies. My own death. I guess I was just trying to figure out what it all means. What we do now. All of that.”

“Of course. Don’t apologize. I’m sorry, Theo. I didn’t realize. Gods, you know I hate being in people’s debt, but I guess I owe Mercy Whitaker drinks for the rest of time.”

A shadow crossed Theo’s face. He shook his head. “I’m not sure she survived, Ren. The magic she used… it had a cost. Every time she raised one of us from the dead, I think some part of her died in exchange. Before you pulled me, I saw her collapse to the ground.” He shook his head a second time. “I don’t know. I hope she’s alive. I hope all of them are.”

It took longer than expected to learn of their fates. According to Theo, two of the wyverns had been killed during their battle with Arakyl, which left just one of the winged creatures available to retrieve the other group of survivors. They sent the rider winging south and all they could do was hope for a swift return. There were plenty of tasks to help them pass the time.

First, graves were dug, marked, and filled. Word was sent back to Kathor that any living relative of the deceased could come to Meredream and reclaim their loved ones. All they had to do was bring a wagon to the front gates and the wizards would help them load the bodies without argument. Only one casualty from the battle remained unburied: Nevelyn Tin’Vori.

The rumor was that Ava Tin’Vori had nearly knifed the person who tried to bury her sister before Dahvid could return to say goodbye to her. There was also some interest amongst the other survivors of paying tribute to the woman who’d sacrificed herself to let the rest of them escape. A polite suggestion was made that they could store her temporarily in the morgue.

Ren found herself walking through the small building that the Shiverians had designed to serve as the town’s hospital. She passed through empty rooms full of shining, untouched instruments. Stairs led to a sublevel. She took them and the air grew cooler with every step. Nevelyn had been set on a stone table against the far wall. Ren saw that they’d commandeered one of the enchanted shrouds that were often used by undertakers to keep the dead from rapidly decomposing. A gossamer material that stretched from head to toe. Both Ava and Josey were slumped in one corner under a pair of thick blankets, their snores tangling in the air.

Ren crossed the room as quietly as she could. The other survivors had been visiting, paying their respects. She’d delayed because she couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye to another person she thought of as a friend. Time hadn’t helped. She had no clever words or heartfelt sentiments. Besides, she had a feeling Nevelyn would only smirk at anything serious she tried to say. Ren began crying and settled for placing one hand on the dead girl’s shoulder. The fabric felt like a silk barrier separating their world and the next one.

“She liked you.”

The voice was close enough to make her jump. Ava Tin’Vori had maneuvered quietly across the room. When Ren glanced back, she was grateful to see the girl wasn’t armed. Her stare was weapon enough at this distance. “Even though you threw me off a mountain… she liked you.”

Ren started to apologize, but Ava dismissed the idea of apologies with a backhand.

“Save your breath. You’re not sorry. You’d do it the same way a hundred times over if it meant saving him—and gods know that I’d gut you to save any of mine. You really want to bury your guilt?” Her eyes swung to Josey, who was still fast asleep. “Train him. Teach him everything you know. Give him the same tools you’ve got—and I’ll consider that blood debt settled. Forgiven and forgotten.”

Ren wiped her tears away. “Done.”

“Oh. And maybe you could bring us some food? Josey won’t leave. I’m worried about him not eating enough. He’s all skin and bones.”

Ren offered the girl a nod, whispered one final word to Nevelyn, and left.