Chapter 27
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
N aro did not improve over the next several days. Instead, his condition deteriorated. This went far beyond injuries from the battle. Pythoraseed addiction was a greedy beast. Withdrawal set in fast, and once it had you, it would keep devouring until there was nothing left but a shell. It was almost always deadly.
Soon, Naro was delirious. He was rarely awake. When he was, he was unaware of the world, spitting out slurred collections of words that didn’t qualify as sentences. I remained by his side, and no one bothered me, even though there was plenty of work to be done before the army moved north again.
I knew that Atrius had ordered that I was not to be disturbed. But I tried not to think too much about Atrius—about the kiss—when I was at Naro’s side.
I had hoped that Naro might be one of the lucky ones who would be able to get through withdrawal. I didn’t know why I bothered dreaming of this. I wasn’t one to let myself drown in silly, baseless hopes. And it was silly—even those early in their addiction usually died in withdrawal, and I had no reason to think that Naro, someone who had apparently been at the Thorn King’s side for a decade now, had any chance at all.
Before long, Naro was never conscious and struggled to breathe, constantly drenched in sweat, his skin clammy and gray-tinged. His fingertips had grown dark, mottled red. His body no longer knew how to function without Pythoraseed.
I hated myself for the decision I made then. In the middle of the day—one of our last days in Vasai—I rose from Naro’s bedside and wandered through the palace halls. The place had been gutted, Atrius’s men having spent the last weeks rummaging through all the rooms, stripping them of supplies and weapons stores.
Tarkan had controlled his entire army through Pythoraseed. I knew there had to be some here. Probably a lot. Yet as I raided room after room, my frustration grew. Threads were superior to eyesight in almost every way—but in this situation, my lack of eyesight didn’t help me. Drugs had no soul. No threads. The only way I could find them would be by searching like anyone else. And so I searched, and searched, and searched. Hours passed. I found nothing. When I reached the final door on the second floor and opened it to an empty room, I let out a frustrated sigh that ended in a sob.
Naro was going to die. He was going to die, and I couldn’t help him.
I felt Atrius’s presence behind me before I saw him. And yet, despite feeling him so acutely, he still was better at sneaking up on me than anyone.
I froze. He stared. Neither of us said anything for too long.
I had finally started to gain Atrius’s trust. Maybe more than that. And then I had pulled away. That had jeopardized everything I was here to do.
I started, “I was just?—”
Atrius held out his hand. A small velvet pouch sat in his palm.
My mouth closed. I didn’t need to open it to know exactly what this was.
“Take it,” he said. “This is what you’re looking for.”
It was pointedly not a question. He knew exactly what I was doing, and the depths of my shame swallowed me up.
But I wasn’t so ashamed that I didn’t take it.
I closed my hand around the pouch. In turn, Atrius’s closed around mine, stopping me from pulling away.
“I’m destroying most of it,” he said. “All but the smallest amounts we can keep on hand for the people who will die without it. But even they likely won’t live long.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat, tight with grief and anger.
No. That was the greatest cruelty of Pythoraseed. Warlords liked it because it made their soldiers sharper and easier to control. Soldiers liked it because it made a short, terrible life more tolerable. But in either event, it was a death knell. Withdrawal would kill you. But so would the drug itself, slowly eating you alive from the inside.
Naro would die if he did not have Pythora.
He would die if he did, too. Maybe just a little slower.
As if reading my face, Atrius said, “It is a cruel substance.”
“Yes,” I agreed.
He let go of my hand. I tucked the pouch into my pocket.
“Give him only what he needs,” he said. “Parse it out.”
I nodded, and we didn’t say another word to each other.
Later, I went into Naro’s room and emptied the pouch into my palm. The seeds were so tiny, each one donning a little fungal sprout. Most preferred to grind it up and snort it, or smoke it, but ingestion would be enough to keep Naro alive.
I took a single seed and pressed it into Naro’s mouth, until his teeth parted. I dripped some water between his lips to make sure he swallowed.
He still didn’t wake—I had given him the bare minimum to keep him alive, not enough to make him functional again. But I held his hand for the rest of the night, so grateful for the way his tremors subsided that I couldn’t even feel guilty.
{Sylina.}
I had fallen asleep by Naro’s bed. At first, I thought the Threadwhisper was a dream.
I lifted my head. It was heavy. Naro was fast asleep, peacefully for the first time in a week.
{Sylina. }
I snapped upright. It had been months since I’d Threadwhispered. The sensation was strange now.
Asha. I recognized her voice, even distant—she was far, probably beyond the bounds of the Thorn Palace. But that still meant she was here, in Vasai.
{I’m coming, Sister,} I told her, grabbed my boots and my cloak, and quickly hurried to meet her.
It was late afternoon. The sun was low in the sky, tinted dusky orange by the thick cloud cover. I found Asha waiting beyond the bounds of the city limits, where buildings gave way to the harsh, rocky plains. I hadn’t spent time out here since I’d arrived in Vasai. For a moment, the memories of the time Naro and I would spend out here as children, scavenging for discarded trash or small animals we could kill and eat, overtook me.
But those thoughts quickly disappeared when I found Asha.
Because she was not alone.
The Sightmother was beside her.
I almost stopped short. The Sightmother never came to check up on missions personally. A part of me was grateful to see her, like a child relieved to be reunited with the safety of their mother. Another part of me balked, my palms starting to sweat. Suddenly all I could taste was Atrius’s kiss on my mouth. Suddenly all I could feel was the Pythoraseed in my palm.
But when I drew closer, and the Sightmother’s comforting presence, strong and stable, surrounded me, those insecurities withered away.
“It is so good to see you, Sylina,” the Sightmother said, giving me a warm smile and reaching out to grasp my hands.
Weaver, I missed them. My Sightmother, my Sisters. It was like I’d drifted away over the last few months and now had been reminded of home. I’d worked long missions before, but never this long, and never alone. I had forgotten how effortless communication could be with those who understood me so implicitly.
Asha greeted me too, then excused herself to act as lookout, leaving me alone with the Sightmother.
“I’m happy to see you,” I said. “I didn’t expect you to come yourself.”
“This is important.” I felt her threads reaching for mine, like hands cradling a face to examine it. “How are you, Sylina? It has been a long time.”
How I wanted to lean into that comfort. I had forgotten how good it felt to be near something certain.
“I’m well, Sightmother.”
“I was surprised to find you back in Vasai.”
She didn’t say more. Didn’t reference Vasai’s significance to my past. Neither of us had to.
“I go where the Weaver sends me,” I said.
A beat of silence. Her presence curled around mine like an embrace. And yet, I couldn’t help but stiffen a little, knowing that the Sightmother saw so much more than even the most talented Sisters did—knowing that my presence might betray things I would rather she not see. Like the burn on my lips and my hands.
“We don’t have much time,” the Sightmother said. “I’ve come because you must have an update for me by now. I see that the conqueror has made considerable progress in his task.”
“He… yes.”
Work. My task. Once, that was blissfully straightforward. Now I found myself choosing each word gingerly, like steps across a fragile bridge.
With her prompting, I went on to tell her about my time with Atrius—carefully, using only facts. What he asked me to seer about. How we took Alka. How we took Vasai. Then I told her of his future plans—that he intended to move on Karisine next, to open a pathway to kill the Pythora King.
And here, I hesitated.
It was relevant for me to tell the Sightmother about his plans for his cousin to support his attack, and in doing so, tell her about the civilians living on the island of Veratas.
Yet, I remembered the careful, tentative tone of voice Atrius had used when he told me about them—like I was being entrusted with something precious and delicate.
I had split seconds to make the decision.
Civilians, I decided, were not relevant. It didn’t matter .
It didn’t matter, I told myself, as I ended my brief without mentioning Veratas, and as I listened to the Sightmother’s long, thoughtful silence.
“Hm,” she said, finally. Her fingers played at her chin.
“It’s been months,” I said. “I’ve remained very close to him. You asked me to understand his ultimate goals, and I have. After all I’ve learned, I have a recommendation.”
The Sightmother’s brows rose, shifting above the teal blue of her blindfold. “By all means, tell me.”
“With every battle I’ve seen and plan I’ve witnessed, he has attempted to minimize the risk to human citizens. It doesn’t always work, but that doesn’t change the fact that he tries. And that’s because he intends to rule this kingdom. He sees the humans as his people, as much as the vampires are.”
The Sightmother did not hide her skepticism on her face nor in her presence.
“I didn’t believe it either at first, but I’ve seen it proven time and time again,” I said. “He has more respect for the lives of the humans here than the Pythora King does. And perhaps?—”
No—no perhaps , no maybes . I was stronger than this. I had a recommendation. I would make it.
“The Pythora King has killed tens of thousands of innocent people. More. And we have been fighting against him for decades. For what? What have we achieved?”
The Sightmother said nothing, her presence unreadable.
“The Bloodborn conqueror may not be our enemy,” I said. “Perhaps Atrius would make a much better ally.”
The silence of the Sightmother’s presence now seemed ominous. Still, she said nothing, and so, neither did I. I let the statement stand, even though some desperate part of me was frantic to walk it back.
“Atrius,” the Sightmother said at last, voice flat. “How familiar you’ve gotten.”
My stomach twisted. The Sightmother’s disapproval was always a cold blade.
Atrius’s kiss burned unbearably on my lips.
“You told me to grow familiar,” I said. “Just as you asked me for my recommendation.”
“And that recommendation is what, exactly? You haven’t fully said it.”
Too late to back away now.
“Abandon our mission to kill him,” I said. “Ally with him instead. Help him overthrow the Pythora King.”
“And crown a vampire king instead?”
I wasn’t ready to promise the Sightmother that Atrius would be a perfect king to this country. But I had seen the way Atrius cared for those who served under him. That was worth something. It was a rare quality in a ruler.
“He trusts me,” I said. Was that the truth? I didn’t know if I could make that promise, either—though the memory of his face in the firelight, just him and me, floated through my mind. “He could be guided. He respects the Arachessen’s power. We could help him. He could become?—”
“I told you that Acaeja disapproves of him and his mission.”
I struggled to fathom this. My entire life, I witnessed the worst of what the Pythora King was capable of. I knew it better than anyone—better than the Sisters who had been too young when they became Arachessen to remember life outside the Salt Keep. “Atrius is a vampire,” I said, “but the Pythora King is a monster. How can the Weaver possibly?—”
“Are you questioning her will, Sylina?”
The Sightmother did not raise her voice. She did not need to.
I closed my mouth. No matter how many years passed, her rebuke stung just as it had when I was a child.
“No,” I said. “No. I am not.”
The Sightmother’s stare and her grip on my presence didn’t let up.
“There is something else you want to tell me,” she said.
I resisted the urge to flinch. I had gotten spoiled having my thoughts to myself lately, and grown lax about guarding them. With the Sightmother’s disappointment still simmering in my chest, I wasn’t especially eager to humiliate myself even further. I was only going to prove to her that I was what the other Sisters whispered about me.
And yet. I had to ask. Not just because the Sightmother already saw the shape of my secret, but because my brother’s life was worth my humiliation.
“When we marched on Vasai,” I said. “I met someone from my former life. Naro.”
The Sightmother had no reaction.
“He’s… he’s very ill. He was taken advantage of by Tarkan for decades. He has been addicted to Pythoraseed for years, and it has ravaged him. If the withdrawal doesn’t kill him, the drug will. But?—”
Until now, I had been successful at keeping my voice calm and measured. Here, a little crack slipped through before I could stop it.
“But Arachessen healers might be able to help him. They might?—”
“You’re asking to allow an outsider into the Salt Keep?”
The Sightmother’s voice was kind, as if comforting a child. But the harsh phrasing of the question hurt to hear, because I knew how it sounded.
The Sightmother stepped closer. Her aura wrapped around mine. What had been overbearing before now turned into an embrace.
I no longer cried after the damage to my eyes. But sometimes, I felt the symptoms of it—the prickling behind my eyes, the choked sensation in my throat.
“I could take him somewhere else,” I said. “And they could come to him?—”
The Sightmother took my hand. Her thumb rubbed it, back and forth, back and forth, the steady cadence of a heartbeat. She had done this since I was a child. At the time, I was so grateful to have such affection. I thought I would never feel a loving touch again. And in the Sightmother’s, I thought, This is it. I’m finally safe.
Now, for one horrible moment, I resented it. I resented it so fiercely I almost yanked my hand away.
“Sylina does not have a brother,” she murmured. “You know this. I know I do not need to tell you this.”
She was right. I’d taken vows. I’d given up my former life. I’d cut out every influence. And back then I was so grateful for it. There was nothing about my old life that I wanted to keep. Nothing but death and loss and fear and hurt that I never wanted to experience again.
I’d been so quick to throw away Vivi.
But I hadn’t known then that I was throwing away Naro, too. I thought Naro was already gone.
Never once had I questioned my vows to the Arachessen.
Not until now.
And immediately, I hated myself for it. I thrust that shameful thought away, far into the back of my mind, and slammed the door.
“I know, Sightmother. I only…”
Her thumb moved back and forth, back and forth, across my hand.
“You have had a more difficult thread to walk than your Sisters,” she murmured, voice soft. “You have a burden to bear for the rest of your life. I understand that. The Weaver understands that.”
And yet, her words made me feel so deeply ashamed.
She placed her hands on my cheeks and tilted my head toward her, kissing my forehead.
“We will always help you walk the path back home.”
This should have been comforting. After all, what was a family but those who helped you find your way back to what was Right?
But today, it did not feel comforting.
The Sightmother withdrew, her attention slipping away. Her head cocked, and I suspected that she was being whispered to by Asha.
“I need to go,” she said. “The night is coming soon, anyway. You should be going.”
I nodded. I kept careful hold on my presence, pulling myself back to the image of stoic professionalism.
The Sightmother reached into the bag at her side and withdrew a sheathed dagger. She handed it to me without ceremony, like she was passing off a piece of bread at dinner. But when my hands closed around it, they went a little numb.
“It’s blessed,” she said. “One strike with that, close to the heart as you can get, and he’ll be dead.”
Dead.
I fought so, so hard to keep both my face and my presence calm.
“We’ve learned enough,” she said. “Let him get through Karisine and kill him whenever you can do so safely. Then return to the Salt Keep.”
She didn’t give me time to respond. She simply turned around and disappeared, stepping into the threads and leaving me there holding my blessed, cursed dagger, the order so much heavier than the blade.