Chapter 55
Nyx is the one who taught Theren the finer points of the sword.
He’d been trained before that—-by his mother, and then by Orda, and then by the Crucible itself.
But even after all that, the sword was still a blunt instrument in his hand, no more than a hammer or an axe.
Effective enough to beat roughened Crucible fighters in the Tournament, but not any kind of art form.
It was Nyx’s idea to train him, nonsensical to him at first—-they were keeping him captive, so why would they bother making him a good fighter?
But he had been so deeply mired in misery since Maeve’s death that he wandered the halls of House Vidar like the walking dead, doing only what was required, and Nyx had suggested that he needed purpose.
Rava, who was determined to learn to beat opponents both larger and stronger than she was, agreed, telling her to “make him worth my time,” which he now realized meant “make him worth falling in love with,” per the requirements of her fate.
As much as Rava could fall in love, anyway.
In contrast to Satka, who seemed to delight in hurting him as much as possible, Nyx was forbearing, though she didn’t tolerate laziness or complaining. She taught him to be lighter on his feet and to hold his weapons gently and to be patient in pursuit of victory.
So when he opens the door and sees her standing in the room where he was supposed to find an augur, he doesn’t think of beating her—-only of surviving.
He raises his weapon as she raises hers; their swords collide and they both turn, in the same moment, to lay their blades against each other’s throats, their arms crossed.
Both left--handed.
He stares at her, and she stares back at him.
The room is fit for an augur, even an augur being held prisoner.
The windows are wide and framed by heavy blue curtains.
A canopy bed with a carved wooden frame stands between them.
The mantel of the fireplace—-unlit now, because of the season—-is all tiles the size of his fingernails, a mosaic in the shape of a sunburst. Its yellow rays frame Nyx’s shoulders.
“Where’s the augur?” he demands.
“We haven’t had the augur for months, you fool,” Nyx snaps. “She was returned to the Cenobium right after she met with you and the epocha.”
Nyx’s feelings are always strong, as rigid as bone. Not complicated, the way some people’s are, or difficult to interpret. She’s being sincere. As far as she knows, the augur was returned to the Cenobium.
Theren feels the beginnings of a suspicion too dark to name.
“I was just at the Cenobium,” Theren says. “The augurs are the ones who sent us here. She’s still missing.”
Nyx’s blade pulls away from his throat just slightly. She glances over his shoulder at Elegy.
“I don’t believe you,” she says.
“Why the hell else would we be here?” Elegy says, her spear held defensively across her chest. He has no doubt that if he pulled away from Nyx, Elegy would strike, but for now she seems to be honoring their stalemate.
He knows a lot about Nyx. That she won’t kill him unless she has to, for one thing—-she doesn’t relish cruelty the way some of Rava’s officers do.
That she’s perhaps the one person in Rava’s employ who sincerely worships the Fever and honors the augurs.
Finding out that Rava did something to one of them . . . it would devastate her.
“The commander leaked intelligence to Cedre that the augur was here,” Nyx says. “You fell for it.”
“Cedre is a bit distracted at the moment by Talusar biological warfare,” Elegy snaps. “They have no time to send the sister of the Sword on a mission to Talusar territory because of a rumor.”
He feels Nyx’s confidence wavering.
“You’re thinking Rava wouldn’t do anything to harm an augur, if not out of her own reverence for them, then out of respect for her family’s—-or yours,” Theren says. “But we both know what kind of woman she is. We both know that’s exactly something she would do.”
He pushed too hard. Nyx grits her teeth and moves the sword right up against his throat again, so he can feel the sharpness of the blade.
“What I know is that the family Vidar is both devout and reverent. Don’t play with my mind, truthsayer,” she says. “We have you pinned down on all sides and you’re just trying to get out of it.”
He glances at Elegy.
“What do you mean, ‘all sides’?” she asks.
“I was told to lie in wait for Cedre soldiers,” Nyx says. “But Rava is across the monastery with your friend Fenn. She thought you would go directly to him.” A fleeting smile passes over Nyx’s mouth. “Guess she overestimated your affection for him.”
By now, after Lisia, and Furik, and Maeve; after he thought Fenn died the first time; after finding out about Kesia’s betrayal—-after all that, he thinks he should be used to this feeling, this yawning hole inside him that opens up when he loses people.
But it’s new every time, somehow. Big and heavy and yet also empty, an impossible feeling.
Rava is here. Rava has Fenn.
“I can knock her out,” Elegy offers.
Theren shakes his head, not trusting himself to speak. If they knock Nyx out, they still don’t know where Fenn and Rava are—-or the others, who have no doubt run into her by now, and may all be dead. They’ll waste time wandering the monastery and they may never come out of it.
He has to think. Think about what he knows about Nyx, about Rava, about all of this.
“No,” Theren says.
Nyx’s eyes dart back and forth between him and Elegy, wary.
Before Theren arrived in House Vidar, each of Rava’s lessers served as interrogators, depending on what information Rava needed—-and depending on how far back in a person’s memory that information was. Satka could see hours back. Ranos could see days. And Nyx could see months.
“I’ll make you an offer,” Theren says.
“Absolutely not,” Elegy says, in English, her voice sharper than he’s ever heard it.
“If you let Elegy go—-”
“I said no—-”
“Then I’ll come quietly to wherever Rava and Fenn are, and we can both find out the truth about what happened to the augur.”
Elegy raises her voice: “You are not going back to her. Not after everything—-!”
She cuts herself off. He doesn’t need her to finish the sentence, he can already do it for her: after everything they’ve been through. After everything she’s done for him. After all of it.
She touches his arm. Her green eyes are bright. He feels the weight of the vambraces around his wrists, suddenly, each of them a reminder of her concern for him.
“Trust me,” he says to her. “Please, Elegy.”
Elegy’s hand tightens for a moment, and then releases him.
“How do you intend to verify ‘the truth’ of what happened to the augur?” Nyx asks, her jaw tight.
“If I’m remembering right, you don’t need to touch her to see her memories, right?” he says. “So I’ll prompt the memory so it’s easier to read. And you’ll read it.”
Memory reading isn’t exactly like mind reading, as far as he understands it—-a memory can be retrieved even if the person isn’t thinking of it.
But just as Fenn reading Theren’s past prompted the right vision from the augur, the right information can bring a particular memory forward, whether the subject likes it or not.
“And if the truth is exactly what I expect?”
“That will be very bad news for me,” he says.
He lifts his sword, and holds it by the blade to offer it to her by the handle. She grabs it, and looks expectantly at Elegy.
“And her?” Nyx asks.
“She’ll go,” Theren says, “and Rava will never know she was here.”
Elegy, pale and frowning, slides her spear into its holster on her back.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she says to him, in English.
So does he.