Page 126 of Children of Fallen Gods

Too much, a voice in the back of my mind whispered.Far too much.

“I have no stake in Zeryth’s crown,” I said. “It does not matter to me who sits on Ara’s throne.”

There was a reason I was still alive. What was it?

“There is something you need,” I said. “I can help you get it.”

“How quickly, she offers herself up to turncoat. But I think that’s an empty promise, isn’t it? I know Zeryth and Nura, and I know they would have eliminated the possibility of your disloyalty. If I were to move your bindings, would I find your Blood Pact scar? But no… it’s notyouthat we need.”

Uncertainty rose to dread.

Reshaye slithered through my thoughts. It was slow, sluggish. Gods, whatwasthat? I pressed my back against the stone wall. Stone — I could Wield stone, with Reshaye’s help, but only with its help.

I did not want to break Irene’s stare. But I chanced a turn of my head, at my arms splayed out over the stone wall. Just a glance, and nearly gasped.

Stratagrams had been marked onto my skin. Three on each arm.

Were those…tattooed?

I had seen that before, on a Valtain slave girl. I remembered telling Max about that once, long ago, before we were even friends.They were probably meant to cripple her magic,he had said, a wrinkle of disdain over his nose. Imagine tying a cow’s head to its tail.

Can you break that?I whispered to Reshaye, and it hissed frustration, pressing up against the shackles that bound our magic. Even reaching towards them was difficult. It was weak.

{Not yet. Not yet.}

Irene chuckled. My shock must have shown on my face.

“You’ve earned yourself a reputation worthy of extreme precautions, Tisaanah.”

“Then why am I still alive?” I said. “What is it that you want?”

“It would be a waste to let you die.”

She turned away and began to walk to the door.

“I destroyed one of the most powerful houses in Threll,” I called after her. “Ahzeen Mikov thought he could control me, too. That was a mistake. I’m a much more valuable friend than enemy.”

She paused and looked over her shoulder. “Like I said, it’s not you that we need.”

She stepped through the door, but Aviness remained, staring at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read.

“My niece was fourteen years old,” he said. “You’re serving a man who murdered a child.”

I said nothing.

He was right, of course — he was right and I knew it. But I had also spent these last months covered in the blood spilled by his soldiers, protecting cities from his armies, cradling corpses left by his weapons.

“I’m glad it will be over soon,” he muttered, as if to himself, and turned away. The door slammed, and I was left there alone.

Chapter Forty-One

Max

The man was already bleeding. The guards that had dragged him back had been rough doing it, so his gangly arms were torn and his shirt wet with blood. He did not wear a uniform, but there was not a doubt in my mind that he was affiliated with one of our enemy houses. It was just a matter of which one.

He sat there, face to the ground, at the center of the small, dimly-lit room. It was the middle of the day, but you’d never know it, down here. These were the dungeons below Korvius, crafted of windowless grey stone. I paced along the outskirts of the room, so angry that magic was already sparking at my fingertips. Still, my steps were long and slow. Tare was here, too, sitting silently across the table from our prisoner, and Sammerin. And in the corner, lingering in the shadows, Nura watched in silence.

“He asked you a question,” I said.

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