Chapter 3 Sirsha
Sirsha
Sirsha would have pulled off the theft just fine if not for a single bleeding hen who happened to cluck herself awake as Sirsha stood to leave the coop.
For a second, woman and bird stared at each other and Sirsha dared to hope that the creature would keep its beak shut. Alas, the sight of a greasy-haired, mud-spattered human creeping about at midnight was too much for the chicken.
She squawked. Sirsha cursed. The other hens rustled awake and joined their sister in her protests. And the resulting racket was so loud that Sirsha dropped the eggs. She fled as a lamp flared to life in the nearby farmhouse and a dog began to bark.
Bleeding skies. If that farm dog was let out of the house, Sirsha was done for. She was too weak to run fast, too tired to outwit the beast. And her magic—
Well, that wasn’t an option. Using her magic opened a door to the monster that was now entangled with her. And Sirsha wouldn’t let Div control her.
Sirsha stumbled out of the coop and through the sorghum field beyond it, grateful for the deep night and high stalks. Though in the end, they weren’t enough to hide her.
When she was halfway through the field, the dog leapt out of the dark, closing its jaws over her boot.
She screamed, more out of shock than pain.
Desperately, she tried to shake the animal off, even as she cursed her fate, cursed Div, cursed the damn chicken.
All she’d wanted was some food so she wouldn’t bleeding starve to death.
A moment later, the dog’s owner called him off.
Sirsha was trying to scramble up and away from the blasted creature when a hand closed over her shoulder. “Halt!” the owner of the hand, a hatchet-faced woman, said in Ankanese.
“I’m sorry!” Sirsha cringed back. “I was hungry. Please, just let me go.”
The woman dropped her hand, sighing. “You are a thief,” she said. “I cannot let you go.”
As Sirsha gaped at her, trying to think of how to talk her way out of this, she felt a sudden prickle on her neck, like a ghost preparing to bite. A chilling knowledge swept through her: she wasn’t alone.
“Why do you put yourself through this, little witch?”
Div appeared beside her in the guise of Sirsha’s mother, even down to the bejeweled purple robes that marked her as a Raani—one of six Jaduna leaders. Then the creature flickered, flowing into the skin of R’zwana, Sirsha’s older sister, before transforming into the Raani again.
“Come with me.” The woman grabbed Sirsha’s wrist and dragged her through the sorghum field.
“Shall I kill her for you?” Div said. “It would be the work of a moment.”
“No,” Sirsha muttered to Div under her breath, even as she attempted to squirm out of the farmer’s tight grip.
“Come now, child,” Div said. “Let me help you.”
“Like you helped Aiz?” Sirsha kept her voice a whisper. “By trading power for hearts? I’ve no wish to end up a magicless, monstrous husk of a person.”
Div chuckled as the farmer continued to pull Sirsha along. “She’s not magicless,” she said. “None of my creatures are wholly without me, even when I leave them. Take you, for example. You cannot get rid of me. Not forever, anyway.”
Div wasn’t in Sirsha’s head, but indeed, she was linked to Sirsha and was seemingly impossible to remove, like an especially hideous tattoo.
“Shut it,” Sirsha said, and the farmer glanced back at her, no doubt wondering what she was mumbling about.
Bleeding hells. This was why she’d been avoiding people for the last four months.
Ever since awakening on a distant Ankanese beach to find that she’d accidentally bonded herself to a demonic changeling with a taste for human hearts, Sirsha had been stuck with Div.
Though she didn’t understand why it had happened. Sirsha had killed Div. Her oath coin with Elias had disappeared, which meant the vow she’d made him was fulfilled.
And yet here Div was.
“Sit here, girl.” The farmer led Sirsha to her porch, dusty and crowded with farm implements and old, cracked furniture. She left the farm dog—a big brute of a creature—as a guard. When Sirsha attempted to stand, the dog growled.
She did not have the time to get stuck in a village jail.
The farmhouse was meant to be a quick stop on the meandering route she’d taken from Ankana to Jibaut.
For that was where the trader Kade lived.
True, he’d tried to sell Sirsha out to her vengeful sister a few months ago, nearly getting her killed.
But he might be the only person who could help Sirsha figure out how to get rid of Div.
For Kade had an extensive library. More importantly, he’d known something of Div. You think you understand what you’re dealing with, he’d warned Sirsha. But you don’t.
She needed his knowledge. Though first, she had to survive long enough to get to him.
“You look angry. I hope you aren’t thinking of binding me.” Div wagged a finger at Sirsha. “You’ll faint like last time.”
“I didn’t faint,” Sirsha muttered. In fact, she had fainted. Magic required emotion exerted upon an element. For Sirsha, the amount of willpower necessary had been negligible. But now using her tracking magic felt exhausting, as if all her willpower were being drained away. Div had tainted it.
When Sirsha battled Div in Ankana, she’d caught a glimpse inside the creature.
She’d seen a place called the Owa Khel—the Empty.
Some called it the Sea of Suffering. It held all the misery discarded by human spirits when they moved to a peaceful after.
She felt its pain: hungry, desperate, a void that could not be satisfied.
She’d been sure Div was a piece of the Owa Khel.
But since that day, she’d seen no sign of the Owa Khel, nor felt its hunger. When she mentioned it, Div played the fool. What is this place you speak of, little witch? It sounds lovely.
“She has gone to get the magistrate,” Div said. “But look.”
Sirsha turned to see a small face peering out of the window. Two small faces. The farmer’s children. Her stomach churned; she knew what Div wanted before she spoke.
“You have power, little witch,” Div said. “Let me lend you even more. I want so little in return. Just a single human heart.”
Sirsha might not have her magic, but she did have her brain, and a stubborn sense of self-preservation. She already knew Div had an insatiable hunger for human hearts. After waking up with Div glommed on to her like a poisonous mold, she’d determined a few additional inconvenient facts:
First, Div had limits. She could make her body as solid as Sirsha’s own, but it did not appear to function normally. Div emitted no heat, and she could appear and disappear at will to whomever she wished. But she couldn’t do much else without Sirsha’s approval.
Second, Div’s existence was a drain on Sirsha’s will—the bond between them ensured that. As long as Sirsha’s will held, Div could not run amok—even if Sirsha was sleeping. But if Sirsha faltered or her will flagged, Div could push and manipulate just enough to wreak true havoc.
Last, Div had somehow gotten a glimpse into Sirsha’s mind when they joined, which explained why she so often took the form of Sirsha’s mother or sister. But she couldn’t read Sirsha’s mind. For now, anyway, Sirsha’s thoughts were her own.
Which did not mean Div was harmless. Currently, she was circling the dog, which could clearly sense her. It growled and then began to bark, lunging at Div, who giggled and danced out of the way of its jaws.
“Stop it, damn you,” Sirsha said.
“Is that a request, little witch?” Div’s eyes drifted to the window where the children were still watching. Her face grew feral. “What will you give me?”
“I’m not giving you hearts,” Sirsha said. “We’ve established that. What else do you want?”
Sirsha had tried to get a sense of what the hells this creature was truly after. But as usual, Div obfuscated.
“To want is the source of all pain, little witch.” Div drifted away from the dog, bored of it now. “I want everything.”
“You and your damned riddles.”
At that moment, the farmer came back around the corner of the house. She had a plate of food in her hands but looked warily at Sirsha—she’d clearly heard Sirsha’s end of the conversation. The farmer held out the plate like Sirsha might be rabid.
Sirsha’s eyes burned in gratitude. As she reached out a hand to take the plate, she made herself speak. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I—”
At that moment, Div shoved her from behind, sending Sirsha crashing into the farmer. The food went flying, the dog barked, the farmer cursed.
And Sirsha turned tail and ran.
By the time she stopped, the eastern sky paled with the approach of dawn. Sirsha fell to the base of a mossy tree beside a stream. She hadn’t eaten properly in weeks. Her last meal was three days ago. Maybe four.
She closed her eyes and tried to hold on to an old dream as the moon shone down, casting its cold light on her face. She imagined herself on the warm, pink sands of the Southern Isles, clear water lapping at her feet.
Sirsha had gone to the Isles years ago, after her people, the Jaduna, had cast her out.
Other than dealing with the traders who sailed through on their merchant ships, the islanders didn’t involve themselves in the affairs of the world.
Ideal, really. Sirsha wanted to open an inn there.
A bakery. Make a home and a living and never use her tracking magic again.
She tried to see it in her mind the way she used to. But now there was another person in her dream. Tall and dark-haired, with larch leaf eyes that saw straight through her and a smile he saved for those he loved the most.
Quil.
No, she thought. Zacharias Marcus Livius Aquillus Farrar. Crown prince of the Empire. Her great love. Whom she couldn’t ever be with. Because he had to save his people from the Kegari. And Sirsha had to kill Div for good.