Chapter 42 #2
“What’s going on, Hay?” Our mother had called him that.
After her death, I’d refused to use the name for fear of invoking her memory.
It destroyed me when that happened, and I couldn’t keep him afloat if we were both drowning.
Weak of me, that. I should have let him keep the name she’d called him.
Should have let him keep that piece of her.
“I—I don’t know who I’m supposed to be here, Saeris. Everything’s just so . . . different,” he said.
“I know. It is different. There’s a lot to get used to. But different doesn’t have to be bad, does it?”
He blinked, the rain running into his eyes.
He looked bewildered. “I don’t know. I really don’t.
I mean . . . this?” He wiped the rain from his face, shaking his head.
Droplets of water ran over his palm, dripping down into the snow.
“I had no idea a place like this could exist.” He swallowed.
Looked at me at last. “Who am I supposed to be here, Saeris?”
“Who were you in Zilvaren?” I countered.
“I don’t know. I just . . . I always thought you would tell me what I needed to do. Who I needed to be. You were always there, so strong. You always had a plan.”
Oh, gods. I wanted to laugh at that. If only he knew.
Sadly, I took his hand in mine and squeezed it.
“I never had a plan, Hay. And you were always going to have to figure out who you wanted to be on your own. That was never my decision to make. I know this is so overwhelming. I know it probably feels like I’m giving you a worse hand than the one you were dealt in Zilvaren.
With the rot and the feeders, and everything else going on here, I get it.
Yvelia might not seem like such a safe place to be.
I will understand if you want to go back. ”
Hayden’s jaw tightened, the muscles in his throat working as he thought about that.
But he shook his head. “No. No matter what, you’re the only family I have.
If you’re staying, then so am I. I’m sorry I doubted you.
And I’m sorry I never appreciated everything you did for me back in the Third.
I am going to figure this out. I’m gonna do better.
I want to be useful here, Saeris. I don’t want to be a burden. ”
“There’ll be time for all of that. Don’t worry about it now. We should get you inside. You’re going to catch your death out here in the rain, Hayden. It’s freezing.”
My brother sniffed, wiping his nose with the back of his hand as he nodded, turning back toward the house. I hadn’t been able to tell because of the rain, but he was crying.
We’d almost reached the warmth of the house when the same strangeness that had pulled me into Tal’s burning bedroom cinched tight in my stomach again.
I wanted to go in with him, but something was stopping me.
Like a hand clenched around my insides, an overwhelming force pulled me back out into the rain.
“You go on ahead. I’ll be right behind you,” I said to Hayden.
“Are you all right? You look worried.”
“I’m fine, I promise. I—I’m just going to grab something from the forge. It’s quicker to cut through the courtyard this way.”
Hayden didn’t have a clue where the forge was. Nor did he have a true understanding of Cahlish’s layout. If he did, he would have known for a fact I was lying. As it was, he only suspected . . . so he gave me a nod and went inside.
It was good that he was gone.
It was only moments later that I rounded the corner and discovered the cause of the unpleasant tugging in my gut . . . and Hayden probably would have passed out if he’d come face-to-face with the Hazrax.
“You’ll forgive the rain,” it said. “But I’m not overly fond of the cold. Rain is at least a little warmer than snow.”
“Why are you here?”
The strange creature’s head rocked to one side, its lips peeling back to reveal rows of needlelike teeth—a show of displeasure if ever I saw one. “You’re a mannerless thing, aren’t you? Quite feral. I believe the last time we spoke, we observed the ritual of small talk, did we not?”
“I don’t have time for small talk. There are fifteen thousand warriors waiting on the other side of the estate.
The rot infecting this land is almost on top of us.
There are sick people here. My friends need to be moved to safety, and you have just literally dragged me away from ten things that I urgently need to attend to, so forgive me if I’m not inclined to observe social etiquette. ”
The rain drove down harder, pelting the side of the house and drumming loud as thunder on top of the tin roof we stood under. The Hazrax hissed, its slitted nostrils flaring. “You’d be wise to reconsider.”
“Why are you here?”
“I admit, I wasn’t expecting the display that took place at Ammontraíeth yesterday. That was quite the scene.” It spoke in an accusatory tone.
“It had nothing to do with me,” I rasped.
“I am aware of that,” the Hazrax replied.
“I know of the deal with the witch now. A risky play on the Balquhidder clan’s part, employing such dark and fetid magic for an opportunity to wipe out the vampires.
Perhaps the play will work out in their favor.
Perhaps not. Time will tell. But I am forced to admit their little gambit has rather ruined things for me. ”
The Hazrax made a bizarre clicking sound—no human or Fae could ever have replicated it—and slowly shook its hairless head. “You know, you’re only the third person I have broken my silence for in over a millennium? I have to say, you’re not a very stimulating conversation partner.”
I glowered at it, refusing to rise to the bait.
The creature’s eyes shuttered again, narrowing slightly in what I assumed was annoyance. “As you wish. I have come to provide aid to you, child queen.”
“What aid?”
The Hazrax made a rattling, wheezing sound. Was it laughing? “A two-part gift,” it said. “I gave you the first part last night.”
“What are you talking about?”
Its eyes, unnervingly black and bottomless, drifted down my body and settled on my hand.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. “This?” I held up my hand, showing my runes. “This was from you?”
“Indeed. You will have to work for most of your runes, but some of them may come as gifts. And this one was gifted just in the nick of time, wouldn’t you agree?”
“What does it do? What does it mean? I can’t find a translation for it anywhere.”
“And you won’t. It is blasphemy to record such things on paper, King Killer.
The rune is my name. It does not grant you magic, the same way other runes do.
The ability my rune grants you is complicated.
It allows you to . . . undo. Or maybe . .
.” It pulled a strange face that I could not decipher. “Break?” it offered.
I had ice water for blood. I was going to throw up. “And if I don’t want this rune? If I don’t want your name inked into my skin? What then?”
The Hazrax plucked at its robes then slid its absurdly long hands into sleeves. “You would return a gift? And such a powerful one, too? You’ll be grateful for it soon enough, believe me. You should already be grateful for it. It saved your friend’s life last night.”
What did it want, a fucking thank-you card? “I don’t want to owe you anything,” I told it.
“The ability was freely given,” the Hazrax said.
“No debt has been incurred. It is a silent rune, already sealed to your soul. It will act as a grounding rod for the runes you already have, and the ones that are yet to come, too. For a while, anyway. It will buy you some time while you work on sealing that brimstone mark.”
“Why? Why would you give it?” If the rune was everything the creature claimed it to be, then it was a valuable boon indeed.
But I’d learned the hard way that nothing was free in Yvelia.
There was always a price, and usually a hefty one at that.
It made no sense that this thing, whatever it was, would just give me access to powerful magic.
It made no sense that it could gift it to me in the first place.
“Think of it as an apology,” it said. “For what is to come. I have seen through the eyes of your oracle, and your future is not an easy one. There are those who would consider me partially to blame for that.”
“What have you seen? For the love of the gods, what else is coming?” The Hazrax seemed to blur for a second, its outline smudging black and gray against the overcast world behind it. I blinked, and the creature was solid again.
“No more questions,” it said. “I must give you the second part of my gift and then depart.”
The Hazrax drifted forward, extending its hand to me. Gold glinted in its waxy palm. When it flipped its hand over, a ring dropped at my feet: the ring of office that marked it as a Lord of Midnight. A large polished ruby flashed at the ring’s center, winking in the fading light.
“Give it to the apostate with the golden smile,” the Hazrax ordered. “He will need it.”
I stared at the ring first, then up at the ungodly-looking thing that loomed over me, my mind racing too fast for a proper thought to take shape. “People call you the Hazrax. But that’s not the name inked into my skin now, is it?”
“Clever child. It is not.”
“You’re never going to tell me what you are, are you?”
The Hazrax smiled its needle smile. “Why would I when you’re so close to piecing it all together, King Killer? You’ve almost figured it out.”