Chapter Forty-Eight
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Scarlett
I wasn’t sure when the hammer would fall, but I was certain that it would. Cassius wasn’t the sort to let a chance to strike at his enemies slip through his fingers, and that was what circumstance had made us.
But I knew how methodical my brother could be, and I doubted he would act immediately.
Which gave me some time. Not much – but some.
The stench of death greeted me before I entered the infirmary, a small stone building attached to the Order of Warriors residence. Inside, it was crowded with healers and wounded alike. The sights, sounds, and smells slammed into me with the force of a battering ram.
I stepped out of the way as two Warriors carried in another stretcher. A man’s limp arm hung off one side, unnaturally pale. When I breathed in, I regretted it: the smell of blood and human filth clogged my nostrils.
Holding my sleeve to my nose, I continued down the narrow corridor between the occupied beds. Disguised as Sabine, no one paid me any attention. Even if they had, what was one more Artisan, sent to look into the futures of the wounded?
I followed the healers from bed to bed, staying out of their way as much as possible. The sleeve helped a little, but there was nothing I could do to block out the sound of the Warriors’ anguished moans.
How do the healers stand it? I wondered, careful to avoid the dark puddles on the floor.
I usually gave the infirmary a wide berth, but everything Zandri had told me – about what I could achieve if I managed to master my death magic – had drawn me here. What better opportunity to explore my abilities than an influx of dying Warriors from the Western front? I had never been around so much concentrated death before. It made me oddly hopeful.
That hope died along with the men around me. As I lingered by the bedsides of men with fatal wounds, I felt nothing. No magic or emotion rose up inside me – except frustration. I had spent weeks experimenting with dead animals in my chambers, testing the limits of my blood. But if my blood was only good for reviving rats or mice, then I had suffered beneath that ice for no reason at all.
I glanced away from a man missing his forearm – and blinked as my gaze settled on Mira. She had replaced her extravagant dress with fighting leathers and the mask she had been given during Initiation. That mask was probably the reason why no one tried to stop her as she walked amongst the beds. Searching – she was searching each of their faces.
‘He’s not here,’ I said, stalking towards her. ‘Aric, I mean. He’s not amongst the wounded.’
Or the dead, I thought but didn’t say.
Mira nodded, her lips pressed into a thin line. It occurred to me that there was a certain irony in us both being here, surrounded by death and horror, on a night that should have been a celebration. I wondered if she felt as trapped as I did. If tonight had felt like a betrayal to her – a betrayal of whatever she and Aric had shared.
‘You were right,’ Mira said softly. ‘Everything you said – about working with Cassius. You were right.’
She paused at a Warrior’s bedside, watching the healers applying bandages to his chest. Bandages that were already weeping blood.
There was something so sad about her expression – something so defeated – that my earlier anger disappeared, replaced by a strange urge to reassure her. But though I looked like Sabine, I wasn’t Mira’s friend. Not really.
‘I should have listened to you when I had the chance,’ Mira continued. ‘And now . . . now it’s too late.’
‘It’s never too late,’ I said, and I wasn’t sure if I was referring to Mira’s circumstances or my own. Again, that shared sense of symmetry struck me. ‘There’s always another way. Another choice.’
Mira looked up at me, and even through the mask, I could see the way her eyes burned. No longer defeated – but resolved.
‘Thank you, Sabine,’ she said, her fingers brushing the dagger strapped to her hip.
I watched Mira stride purposefully away. ‘Where are you going?’
‘To make a choice,’ Mira called without looking back. ‘One I should have made a long time ago.’
There was no need to rush after her. I knew exactly where she was going.
In some ways, she was utterly predictable. Just like her mother, she had a soft spot for a lost cause.
I returned my attention to the wounded and dying – only to pause as I noticed Severin. He was murmuring something to a patient with a head wound. The boy didn’t look much older than fourteen or fifteen. I couldn’t overhear their conversation, but when Severin brushed a curl from the boy’s face, the gesture was tender.
Severin stood, shaking his head at the senior healer. Just like that, they moved on to the next bed.
I took their place at the boy’s side. Unlike many of the others, he was quiet and still. Almost peaceful.
‘I’m going to die,’ he whispered. ‘Aren’t I?’
There was no point in lying. ‘I think so.’
His blue eyes – glazed with resignation – met mine. ‘Will you stay with me?’
‘Until the end,’ I promised.
The boy smiled faintly, like that was all the reassurance he needed. But it felt sorely inadequate. If Severin was still here, he would say something far more eloquent and comforting.
I reached tentatively for the boy’s sweaty hand, trying not to feel disgusted. He flinched back from my touch.
‘Your skin.’ He blinked blearily up at me, like he was struggling to focus on my face. ‘It’s like ice.’
Considering he was so close to death, his reaction seemed extremely oversensitive. But I forced my irritation aside and tried out a smile instead. It seemed to work; his fingers threaded through mine.
He’s so young, I thought, studying his burned face and blistered lips. Not a Warrior, but most likely one of their attendants. It seemed a waste that his life should end like this.
‘Does it hurt?’ I asked, taking in the bloody bandage encircling his head.
‘A little.’ He coughed. A horrible, wet sound. ‘I don’t want to die.’
‘Everyone dies.’ My fingers tightened around his clammy ones. Before I could think better of it, I whispered, ‘I died once. But I didn’t stay dead.’
When he looked at me, his face filled with hope, I knew I’d made a mistake.
‘Can you save me?’
What a good question, I thought, and wished I had an answer that could satisfy us both.
The boy’s chest rose as he inhaled one last, laboured breath – and then went still.
My fingers clenched around his, but the boy’s hand was limp in mine. Lifeless.
Even as I released him, though, I felt a connection I couldn’t explain. Instinct drew me closer, and I reached out, as if I would touch the boy’s face—
Then I noticed the blood under my nails.
I turned my hand to the light. Though I couldn’t remember scratching myself, beads of blood welled to the surface of my skin, vivid against the whiteness of my wrist.
I stared down at them, mesmerised. The same instinct that had made me reach for the boy tempted me to keep my wrist where it was, to find out what would happen if my blood made contact with his skin.
Can you save me? he had asked, and I was suddenly certain that I could. Maybe it wouldn’t be saving him, not really, but I could make his heart beat, and his brain work, and his body obey him. I could give him some semblance of life. Just as I had with the raven.
But what use would this boy be, really? The thought was harsh, but it gave me pause.
If even bringing back an animal drained me, it was logical to assume that resurrecting a person would weaken me further. And if even Severin had looked into this boy’s future and decided he wasn’t worth saving . . .
I moved my hand at the last moment, letting my blood splash harmlessly against the tiles. Every precious drop.
I looked down at the dead boy in front of me. If Severin had the power I did, he wouldn’t have even considered the cost to himself. He would have looked at this boy and seen his humanity, his potential.
I had looked at him and seen a body. A pawn to be used for my own ends.
As I left the infirmary behind, I remembered that Severin had once called me selfish. But perhaps selfish was the wrong word for what I was.
Perhaps cruel fitted me better.
I raised my hood as I strode through the dim alleyways of the Lower Districts, shielding Sabine’s youthful face from view. There was nothing to fear – with my illusions and my weapons training, I was confident I could deal with any attackers – but I saw no reason to court trouble.
Shadows shifted in the alleyway nearest to me. Two hooded figures – thieves, most likely, looking for an easy mark.
Twirling a dagger in my fingers, I pinned them with a heavy stare as I passed. Perhaps they sensed the predator I truly was, because they slunk back into the darkness.
I allowed myself a smile at the minor victory – and at the sight of a brightly lit tavern up ahead. Raucous, drunk laughter echoed from within, instantly familiar. If memory served me, I had first seen Mira and Darius about a block from here.
I slowed my pace, scouring the buildings around me for the magical door they had once walked through.
I hadn’t told Zandri that Mira had spared a member of the resistance. I couldn’t be sure how my mother would react, and I preferred not to bring her into this. If I did, things could get very messy – and the resistance might yet prove useful.
Especially since Mira had left the infirmary to seek them out. I was almost certain of it – that this was the choice she had referred to.
After another few minutes of searching, I found it. A perfectly unremarkable section of wall.
Remembering Darius’s actions, I raised my fist to knock—
A wooden door materialised in front of me, blazing with the symbol of the resistance.
Opening it, I stepped through into darkness. With the blood ruby coiled around my arm, my illusions were my best protection – and I used them to cloak myself from view.
I climbed the steps slowly and without a sound. Noise drifted from above – whispered voices and the creak of floorboards.
A promising start. I hadn’t been sure if the resistance still used this place for their headquarters; it seemed logical that they would have vacated after their leader was taken into custody. But they seemed to have returned, confident in the knowledge that neither Mira nor Darius had given up their location.
When I reached the landing, I went still. A dark-haired man was in front of me, holding a blade to a young woman’s throat.
‘Was that really necessary, Jadis?’ Mira asked, rubbing her neck as the man withdrew his knife.
‘What are you doing here?’ Jadis demanded without responding. The man moved to her side, the resemblance between them so striking that I realised they must be siblings. Perhaps twins.
‘I want to help you,’ Mira replied. ‘I know the Senecas were compromised; I was there, the night a Mask shot their footman. I’m the reason you escaped with your life.’
‘Of course you were.’ Jadis sighed, but all she said was: ‘Look around, Mira. There’s no one left to help.’
Mira and I took in the large, mostly empty space. Flickering candles illuminated battered tables and threadbare curtains. Mira’s disappointment was obvious, and I couldn’t blame her. The resistance certainly didn’t seem like a thriving operation.
‘When I heard about the Senecas,’ Mira said, a trace of accusation in her voice, ‘I thought you were using that money for something meaningful.’
‘I was,’ Jadis said shortly. ‘I’ve spent the past month increasing our numbers and stockpiling weapons. But ever since Darius was captured, people are scared to act. I don’t blame them.’
I could tell this wasn’t going the way Mira had hoped, but she switched tactics readily enough. ‘You didn’t seem surprised earlier, when I told you I saved your life. If you know I’m a Mask, then you know I have connections in the palace. With my access, I could help you strike back against Emperor Kalias. All you have to do is contact your people—’
‘They’re not my people,’ Jadis interrupted. ‘We answer to Darius, and you’re the reason he was imprisoned. No one is going to risk their life based on a rousing speech from a girl of – how old are you, exactly? Eighteen?’
Reaching into a hidden sheath, Mira withdrew a knife. Before Jadis could react, she flicked her wrist—
The knife thudded into the table leg next to Jadis’s foot.
‘My abilities could prove very useful to your cause,’ Mira said, her voice firm. ‘You know where I’ll be if you change your mind.’
She turned on her heel without waiting for Jadis’s response. I raised an eyebrow, impressed by the display. But when I caught a glimpse of Mira’s unguarded face, I saw that her eyes were bright – not just with anger, but with unshed tears.
I felt a brief pang of pity. Clearly, she knew what I did: right now, the resistance was broken, and nothing she said could change that.
But as I followed Mira out onto the street, it occurred to me that perhaps Darius could. When he had first been captured, I’d wondered how much he was worth to the resistance – and now I finally had my answer.
He was worth a great deal to them. Which meant I had access to something they desperately wanted.
Perhaps tonight hadn’t been a complete waste after all.