Chapter 1 #4
“So?” Jesstin had lost some of his edge, and while she wasn’t molesting him this time, she’d infiltrated him in another way.
“Thumbing your nose at your subjugators by living monastically, by denying what is natural, doesn’t spite them.
It feeds them. Me, I don’t like losing, so I take what I want when I want it, so when someone takes from me, there’s too much still left for me to care.
My father is a deluded autocrat, my mother thinks I’m a nuisance, and my brother, though he loves me, views me as an instrument to see his dreams to culmination.
I live life on my terms because I cannot control how they think or what they do. ”
“Is this how you justify being a sexual predator?”
“I want you to travel to Infinita Mori because it will keep Ryquin focused on his quest for kingship of the dead, so I can lead Rivenholde when my father steps down. Ryquin wants you to travel to Infinita Mori because he wants to rule it. All of that is true. We both benefit. But you... Do you even know what you want? Does ‘want’ mean anything to someone who has denied themselves as long as you have, with the fervor of an ascetic? You won’t cry in front of the others, but I know the look of a grief so deep, you cannot even find tears.
I couldn’t say, Jesstin Skylark, if you can resurrect Aelloven or your mother or anyone, but Ryquin believes you can, just as he believes that when you get there, you’ll know how to open the door he needs.
And I’ll make sure Aelloven is safely preserved in the cabin, with your friends, when you return. With her.”
Jesstin needed air, but he was already outside. He scratched at his neck, more crusted blood flaking and gathering under his nails.
Dead.
Elloven was dead.
Not sick, not dying, not elsewhere, dead.
Jesstin took a whimpering gulp of air. His hand shot out and punched the croft siding.
“Whatever there was between you, is it not worth at least trying?” Lexsea asked. “Yes, I’ll say anything to persuade you, but it doesn’t make my words lies.”
The bitch is right. You’re punishing yourself. Feels good, doesn’t it? Feels better than the alternative.
“We’re done,” Jesstin barked. He tried to clear the gravel from his throat, but it just made it worse. “You do your part. I’ll do mine.”
Lexsea pinned her cloak tight at her neck. “Daire can guide you through what comes next. He can take you to the garden where we first met. Sooner versus later, Jesstin. If you’re not gone by the next turn of the moon, my father will send you to the netherworld himself.”
“What is the difference in how time passes down there compared to up here? Is it like the labyrinth?” Sesto could only ask the question so many ways.
It was time to accept Daire just didn’t have the answer.
No one living—or dead—had ever returned, and the dead who talked to necromancers kept their secrets close.
“No one knows for certain...” Daire sounded woefully disappointed in himself.
“We should be wary of trusting anyone who claims to have any answers,” Taven said, looking at Sesto.
His hands were bone white and clenched under his chin, his cheeks similarly colorless.
Sesto might have felt some pity if the whole catastrophe hadn’t been his fault to begin with. “They speak in half-truths.”
“Fascinating you should reason that out now,” Sesto replied and rolled his eyes back toward Daire. “What did Lexsea need to say that could not be said in front of all of us?”
Daire shook his head.
“You’re at the heart of all this, aren’t you, necromancer?” Taven demanded.
Daire looked to Sesto for help.
“Ask your friends.” Sesto wagged his head toward the door. “The ones living in your head all these years without a single tax paid.”
“I didn’t know those men were sending me messages.” Taven’s jaw clenched. “All I’ve ever wanted—”
“Is your Ellie, blah, blah, blah. I’m not your audience for that drivel,” Sesto said. “I’ve observed many men like you over the years. You cannot fathom what love looks like without holding the reins and guiding the other wherever you need them.”
Taven blanched. “You know nothing about me, about her, or about us.”
“I know enough.”
The door opened. Jesstin stepped through and slammed it behind him.
Taven surged forward. “So?”
Jesstin tore through his matted hair and raked his fingers down his neck.
The red dust was everywhere now. Sesto nearly asked him to pause whatever he was about to say so they could take a rag and some soap to him, restore a modicum of decency, but it would not have paired well with the look on his face.
“Daire,” Jesstin said. “You’re the one who can help me enter the Infinitum?”
That cheeky little strumpet. “I thoroughly and vehemently object.” Sesto pushed past Taven. “You cannot trust a word these people say. They’ve done nothing but manipulate you and Taven and... Elloven. They may have a vested interest in getting you there but absolutely none in getting you home.”
“I know.”
“I also don’t think you should go,” Taven said, joining in quietly with a raised finger. “They’d sacrifice you without a second thought. You’d be mad to follow through with anything they’ve asked of you.”
“Even if I can save her?”
Taven hung his head. “It destroys me to say this, but I don’t think there’s anything we can do now for Ellie.”
Hollow laughter rumbled from Jesstin. “So, what, you’re worried about me?”
“Contempt isn’t strong enough to convey how I feel about you,” Taven said. “But you’re the only other person in Rivenholde who cared about her, and not just what she could do for them.”
“Don’t forget Daire and me,” Sesto said.
“Daire is Ryquin’s puppet,” Taven said with a snort.
“More like slave.” Jesstin sighed and offered Daire a tight smile. “If things go sideways, you should leave with Sesto and Taven. Get out of here, while you still have a way out. Rhiain and Asterin will make a place for you, and Sesto will take care of you.”
“Stop talking as if I would ever leave you here,” Sesto said.
Jesstin’s stubbornness had gathered like a storm over the years—he was a Skylark, after all—but it was the rashness that worried Sesto.
When Rhiain had started having children, her priorities had ostensibly shifted, and Sesto had gravitated toward Jesstin.
When Rhiain and Asterin would travel on business, it was Sesto and Jesstin rearing Caterina, Tyreste, Sianha, and Rhydian.
The fun uncles, teaching the little ones their numbers and letters.
.. showing them how to help prepare a meal and keep a home.
The long nights of games after all their chores were done.
.. the innocence and laughter. Those times were among the best of Sesto’s life, and they’d stopped after Jesstin had killed Gennady.
Every bad thing that had happened, and was happening, called back to that single, fated moment.
“We need to leave before they come for us,” Taven said.
“About that,” Jesstin said. “You pleaded with me before I went into the maze to help you get Elloven out of Rivenholde. Then that same night you’re conspiring with the same people you told me you wanted to get her away from.”
“Lexsea approached me while you were in the labyrinth. It doesn’t matter. It’s done.”
Jesstin silently gasped. “Lexsea needed Elloven at the sept. That’s why she offered her help. She needed Elloven at the sept so she’d be there for the assassins.”
“Is it true?” Sesto asked Daire.
Daire shook his head. “I couldn’t say.”
Taven threw up his hands. “Jesstin, Sesto, no one will ever know what happened to you or where to collect your remains. Me, who knows? Am I anything to them without Ellie? Half of them needed her alive, the other half dead. Talking about it only delays what we know we must do.”
“Ses.” Jesstin nodded at the door. “A minute?”
Oh, he knew why Jesstin wanted him outside. He’d made up his mind, and there’d be no changing it. Sesto could see it as clear as anything. But Jesstin grossly underestimated their friendship if he thought he could compel him to go on without him.
“I will not,” Sesto replied, assertive, his arms crossed before the door even closed behind them. “You can ask me until the color leaves your cheeks and the air your lungs, and the answer will be the same. Even the stable hand knows how foolish this is. Shouldn’t that tell you something?”
“How about a compromise?” Jesstin dropped onto one of the rockers and gestured for Sesto to join him. “Come on, old friend. I already know how you feel. Can you hear me out?”
Sesto, his mouth tight, obeyed but would not be so easily swayed.
“I know Ryquin is responsible for this.” Jesstin stared, exhausted, into the valley.
“And I know he did it because he felt it was the only way to get me to go chase his dream. I couldn’t muster a fraction of a fuck about his dreams, and he’ll die for what he did to Elloven.
So will his bitch of a sister. But he was right about me.
I am going, for her. I am going to bring her back, and when she’s safe, I’ll deal with my list in Rivenholde. ”
“Jesstin.”
“The dead came to me in the maze, Sesto. They told me things, and...” His shoulders lifted tight to his ears. “I need to know what else they know.”
“But why?” Sesto leaned over the arm of his chair.
“Why do you need to know? What concern of it is yours?” He sighed.
Jesstin was deluding himself. Information?
“My darling boy, she is gone. She is gone forever, and would that I could turn back time, but there are some pains with no remedy. If you wish to avenge her, I will disavow my own pacifism and stand at your side, but there is nothing but folly in going after her to a place that is not meant for us. Nothing but the same fate for you.”
“You haven’t seen what I’ve seen.” Jesstin’s mouth pursed. “Heard what I’ve heard.”
“Yes, because for once, you’re keeping secrets from me.”