Chapter 5
MERI
S inan gazed into Meri’s eyes, his face once again not betraying any hint of emotion. She had her knees on both of his arms and her full weight on his torso. He could throw her body weight off him—she wasn’t Gallmau, after all—but she could end him with a quick press of her blades.
“I was attacked by Cliona of the White Isles.” Sinan answered in calm, neutral tones, as if they were again discussing trading opportunities in Soissons. “She was an assassin from the Order of Katil. I haven’t lied to you, Meri.”
She didn’t like hearing him say her name.
It was too personal, too intimate, as if he wanted her to see him as a fellow human being, not a terrifying Bone Lord.
Her fingers tightened, and the moisture on her blades turned pink as she drew blood from Sinan’s pale skin.
“You sure as hell didn’t tell us the truth.
Why did Cliona want to kill you, and why are you traveling to Lutecia? Are you planning an attack?”
Gallmau made a noise behind her, perhaps at the mention of danger to the court.
The royal family of Soissons had always been a fervent supporter of the Noviodunam and their campaign against necromancers, although less vociferously now that the King was dead and his Qingian wife had her hands full running a kingdom foreign to her.
Meri mistrusted the aristocracy in general and the royal family of Soissons specifically for their treatment of Gallmau.
Still, her friend would die to protect the queen and his half-sister, the princess.
That meant Meri would battle at his side, no matter what she thought of pompous witches and spoiled aristocrats.
Sinan remained stone still. “I’m here as a representative from the Councils of the Living and the Dead to represent the interests of Karakoncolos.”
Meri had to laugh, even as she became more determined to get the truth out of Sinan if she had to chop off pieces of him until she got it. “You’re a monster—a Bone Lord—from an entire city of monsters, and you’re telling me you’re visiting as a diplomatic envoy to the royal court of Soissons.”
“Yes,” Sinan replied. “I’d assumed you and the prince of Soissons were here for the same reason I am. Or has no one told you yet?”
“Told me what?” Meri snarled out the words, her frustration mounting. “If I don’t get a straight answer out of you, I’m going to tell Gallmau to snap your mother’s neck like a rotten branch.”
Gallmau let out a strangled sound. He could at least pretend he might hurt the old woman, although Meri knew he would have trouble doing it even if Naghwe was pointing a crossbow at his face.
A body thumped to the ground behind her. She twisted, fear rising in her gut as she tried to keep her hold on Sinan and see what had happened.
Gallmau lay on his side, his eyes half-open as he struggled to push himself up before collapsing. There was no sign of bleeding or injury, but something had to be very wrong.
Naghwe stood next to him, smiling, her incisors gleaming in the fading light.
“What did you do to him?” Meri couldn’t keep the fear out of her voice. “Tell me or I’ll kill your son.”
“I poisoned him, my dear.” Naghwe extended her arms, as if she wanted to draw Meri into an embrace.
“With the brandy Sinan offered all of you, but you refused. Eau de vie, they call it here. Or in this case, eau de mort. The last part doesn’t have to be true, though.
” She showed Meri a vial pinched between her bony fingers, a metal and glass cylinder smaller than Meri’s little finger.
“Poison in one half, the antidote in the other. It’s the only thing that can save him now.
I’ll offer you a trade—my son’s life for Gallmau’s. ”
Naghwe was lying, she had to be. Meri gritted her teeth. She couldn’t trust a death witch.
If she lifted her blades off Sinan’s neck she was as good as dead, and her friend would die anyway.
Gallmau let out another gasp, and his face darkened. He gave one spasmodic jerk, then another, his eyes now open and wild with fear.
“Deal.” Meri rushed out the word, unable to watch more of Gallmau’s torment. If there was even a chance to save him, she couldn’t live with herself if she didn’t try. “Give me the vial, then I’ll release Sinan.”
Meri let one of her swords drop to the ground and held out a hand, keeping the other blade pressed to Sinan’s neck.
Her position was awkward, her body half-twisted to keep an eye on Naghwe and Gallmau.
If the old woman was desperate to save her son, maybe she would come close enough for Meri to get the vial and kill Sinan before he could react.
She had to have some reserve of speed left in her, even if only for a fleeting moment.
Naghwe tossed the vial at Meri.
It was a wild throw, nowhere near Meri’s outstretched arm, and without thinking Meri fell into the last of her speed and flung herself out as the metal and glass cylinder tumbled slowly in the air down to the paving stones of the highway.
She landed hard on the ground, pulled out of her speed by utter exhaustion, the promised antidote gripped tightly in her hand.
Blood dripped between her clenched fingers before the pain in them registered.
In her reddened palm rested a vial with a row of tiny spikes on the metal cap on one side accompanied by a skull in bas relief.
The cap on the other end featured a branching tree.
Death versus Life. Chaos versus Order.
There was a divider between the two sides, and a yellow liquid filled the end near the tree. Only a drop of a brown substance remained under the skull emblem.
“The poison is on the spikes.” Mother Naghwe’s voice took on the tone of a teacher lecturing her students. “It works much faster in the blood than in drink, of course. Anyway, you’re such a little thing, compared to your big strong man here. It will take you fast, child.”
A cold ache crept up Meri’s arm, and her tongue felt heavy and strange in her mouth.
With her other hand, she flailed for her blades, only to see Sinan on his feet, holding both of her swords as he scrutinized the lapis lazuli set into the hilts.
Her heart pounded inside her chest, panic and terror driving out any coherent thoughts.
“Now we come to the interesting part.” Naghwe came closer, and Meri struggled to turn her attention back to Sinan’s mother. The witch’s dark eyes were bright with anticipation. “The other half does hold the antidote. I’m afraid there’s only enough for one of you, though.”
Fury burned inside, giving her strength to move. No, she refused to die this way, tricked and poisoned by a mad old witch and her Bone Lord son, as gorgeous as he was dangerous. She crawled forward toward Naghwe on her hands and knees, holding the vial in her bloodied grip.
“Still a fighter, I see.” Naghwe retreated behind Gallmau as Meri continued her slow advance.
Sinan strolled over toward his mother, his shroud-like cloak glowing with purple markings.
“You have a choice, my dear,” Naghwe continued, crouching behind Gallmau.
So close, that awful poisoner was so close. Meri only had to go a little farther to get to her.
“On the one hand, there is the mind, which will tell you to use your remaining strength to drink the antidote. You’ll be too weak after that to bother us, and I promise we’ll let you live. It’s the sensible, practical thing to do. Look out for yourself first.”
The cold in Meri’s arm spread throughout her body, and her mouth tasted like hot metal.
It didn’t matter. She had to do this, had to use whatever remained of her strength to save him.
The distance between her and Naghwe stretched out, with Gallmau’s spasming body a mountain in her path.
At least the curse in her spine had stopped.
For the first time in ages she felt no pain there at all.
“On the other, there’s the heart.” Naghwe sounded downright cheerful.
Beside her, Sinan stood with his sword at his waist and his hands out facing her.
Shadows wove around him, like lithe dancers dressed in black, vying for his attention.
“It tells you not to let this virile young man, so full of vibrant life, grow cold and still in the clutches of death. What is he to you, dear? A lover, passionate and demanding? Or maybe he’s more like a younger brother, sweet yet frustrating.
Which will it be, Meritamun of Abdju? You must choose—your heart or your mind. ”
Meri had made it to Gallmau, and Naghwe was behind him, her face lit up with anticipation. If only Meri could get close enough to smash her fist into the old witch’s face—but she was too far away.
Meri reached her arm behind her, her fingers scratching at her left boot until the throwing knife hidden there slipped into her hand.
She flung the blade toward Naghwe, her aim true despite the poison wracking her limbs.
She watched as the knife struck the woman’s throat—and then passed through her as if the death witch had been made of smoke.
Naghwe laughed and reformed, and the truth hit Meri.
Sinan’s mother was a dead necromancer, like the one who currently lurked in Meri’s spine. She couldn’t be killed—she was already dead. Shocked, Meri froze, uncertain if she could even keep going. Then she turned back to her friend and knew what her choice would be.
Tears coated Gallmau’s lashes as he opened his mouth to try and talk.
“Take it for yourself.” He coughed the words out. “Please, Meri.”
Meri glared at Naghwe and spat out the worst obscenities in Kushian her mind could come up with.
She fumbled with her stiff fingers to open the vial, unsealing the portion with the yellow liquid under the sign of the tree.
She raised the tiny container up and grabbed at Gallmau’s face to open his mouth.
His body was wracked by another violent spasm, and the antidote spilled uselessly down the side of his face, running off like a stream of tears.
Meri collapsed on top of Gallmau.
As Meri’s vision blurred, Naghwe gave a deep sigh. “The world is a hard and cruel place. Even more so for those who listen to their hearts.”