Page 134 of Deadly Maiden

It hasn’t worked. It simply failed, except for one or two seconds where he thought he was someone else.

As I lever myself onto shaky legs, get my feet under me, I brush at my wet face and find blood has leaked from my eyes. I focus on Donder…no, Tasker’s corpse, on the wide stretch of his mouth, the way his eyes are open and staring at nothing. Curls of his blond hair are glued to the ground with liquid—drool or something else.

I killed him. The other man had it easy.

I smear the blood across my mouth as I seek to stop myself gasping in horror, then I vomit all over the ground.

Scratch that notion. No more of this messing around. I have only a few hours left before tomorrow comes and I am?—

Chapter 43

Wyntre

I awaken, sprawled on the floor just inside the fortress, with the silver door open behind me spilling in light. The front door? Yes.

I scramble onto hands and knees and sway a moment then climb upright using the wall. With my back plastered to it, I pause before hauling open the door a little further. Is it sunset or sunrise?

The sun position betrays itself.

Fucking sunrise.No, no, no.

I scowl at the sunrise, trying to wish it away.

My mouth tastes like vomit, and I remember why when I see what is out there in the area behind the gate. I get the undead to clean up, leaving the main gate open while I stagger off to find water. This is that day. The day I have to greet the sister again and speak to Andacc.

I wasted half a freaking day, and a night.

Having cleaned myself up and taken some essential time to get my own thoughts in order, to heal myself, as it were, I return to the open gate. I have the rucksacks ready to go. The weaponsI want to carry are laid next to them. A few books are packed, because if this works out, I’m going to read what I can, learn some more necromancy on the journey.

It might all fall through.

Without going to the encampment, I don’t have any way to be sure if the sister is there, and I’m about to set out when she rides into view and halts before the edge of my rambling undead.

I withdraw them and go to her, with Asher and Anathema trailing me.

Sister Five looks identical in poise, clothing, smile, to how she was yesterday. Uncanny. Maybe I should take up religion to keep my skin smooth and my conscience clear of doubts.

What I recently did has aged me a hundred years. I don’t see how I can ever forgive myself.

On the other hand, when, not if, I see Rorsyd again, I will be confessing. I’m done with keeping secrets from him. I want his arms around me.

“Hello.” I greet her with a nod.

“Greetings, Wyntre.” She lowers her gown to the waist, baring herself. Across her palm is an etharum pen.

Hesitantly I take it from her, and she turns her back.

“Whatever you scribe on me will appear on the sister who stands before Andacc. We use a shorthand, normally, but you may write what you wish.”

I frown, stare at her bare skin. “Is there a limit?”

“Only the limit of my skin.”

“Huh.” I consider telling her they need larger sisters for more expansive messages. I need a stamp. I begin to write on her, find the tip of the pen leaves a mark on her back even when I use the slightest pressure. It seems pointless just to say hi, so I don’t.

I ask if he knows of Rorsyd’s fate. I tell him of my plan to march my undead to Hugent Bay to the west. That I need a ten-mile swathe of the land cleared of all Aos Sin soldiers, spies,enforcers, between Slaedorth and the bay, so as to keep the movement a secret. I need a small swift boat, manned with loyal sailors, waiting at Hugent Bay. I ask if he can do this now and if he knows of my seven-day deadline from the king.

He repliesyesto all, and that I must give him a moment while he sends off his messenger birds.

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