Page 202 of Mother of Death and Dawn

“I don’t think that particular curse means what you think it does.”

I was willing to be the butt of the joke, if that’s what it took to earn that raspy laugh.

“Do you need anything?” I asked him.

“No, thank you. I’m fine.”

“You do not need to be.”

“There are things more important than my grief right now.”

For a moment, I had to marvel at him. All I could think was that if it was Tisaanah, I would have been crawling my way to the top of the nearest tower to hurl myself off of it. Absolutely nothing in this world or any other would be more important than my grief.

“The hurt will still stay,” I said, in choppy Thereni. “Even if you hide it.”

A wave of sadness passed over Serel’s face, and he went to the window.

“I know.” He looked down at the celebrations below. “But at least they have a future.”

“You do, too,” I said, and Serel was silent.

“It’s strange,” he murmured. “It doesn’t feel that way. I don’t know what a future without him looks like.”

I was at a loss for words. I had to switch to Aran. “It will take time, but you’ll build another version of that future, Serel.”

He looked at me over his shoulder and gave me a wry, sad smile. “Would you?”

No. Of course the answer was no. If Tisaanah was gone, my future would be too. A simple truth.

I was quiet. I had no more platitudes to offer Serel. No more comfort.

“It’s alright,” he said, quietly, turning back to the window. “The dream was worth it.”

CHAPTEREIGHTY-ONE

AEFE

The Aran queen seemed so small. In my memories, she loomed larger than that, inflated by Maxantarius’s hatred—and love—for her, and by my own fear of her when she would come for me night after night all those years ago. But I’d forgotten. She was just a human. She was so slender and weak. Tall, but not as tall as me now. Without her magic, she was just a little pale waif, sagging against her restraints.

Caduan almost had refused to let me into this room. I had to fight with him for it. I had spent too long haunted by her actions. I deserved to see her face-to-face.

Caduan conceded reluctantly, but he stressed that I needed to be there as an observer only. I agreed to that, with equal reluctance.

It was worth it.

We waited patiently for her to regain consciousness. When she did, she blinked blearily at us, then her silver eyes went round when she realized who we were.

“Good morning,” Caduan said. “Would you like some water?”

It took a moment for the steel in her stare to return, like she had to remind herself to hoist up those walls. Her chin lifted and eyes narrowed.

A smile quirked at one corner of my mouth. She could not lie to me. I knew she was terrified. Something was different about her now—a darkness closer to the surface, even if she was adept at hiding it.

“If you want water,” he said, “I recommend that you have some now. We have a long night ahead of us.”

Nura just glared at him.

“Fine. I am not much for pleasantries, either.” Caduan stepped closer, and Nura cringed, but he made no move against her. “You have twenty of our people. Tell me where they are.”

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