Page 133 of Between Fear and Favor

“Tell me, Emmeline. What would you do if the man you loved killed himself?” he said, his voice growing softer as he moved away from the stone door.

Join him, I thought, but I didn’t say it aloud. Rain and Elora were the only ones I lived for. After so many people died because of my actions, a small piece within me yearned for the peace it would bring.

Edging closer, I listened for the Supreme’s heartbeat, trying to pinpoint exactly where he was. But the obsidian blocked my attempts. With my power rendered useless, I hated that I’d have to step inside that room with him.

“What if Rainier, the man who loves you more than he loves himself, jumped from a tower because of you?”

“He wouldn’t,” I said. “He would never.”

I moved closer to the opening in the stone. I could see the tomb, the font casting an ethereal, dancing glow across the black stone, but I couldn’t tell where the Supreme was.

When he spoke, I guessed he was standing just on the other side of the wall, waiting for me to step closer. He likely had a weapon of his own. “But what if he did? What if you did something that cut him so deeply, he ruined all chances of atonement and threw himself to his death?”

Sudden understanding came to me. When he asked me what I would do for love, he hadn’t been talking about Nereza at all.

“Larke never loved you. You didn’t even matter to her.”

“Do not speak of what you do not know,” he yelled, stepping into my line of sight. Halfway between the opening in the obsidian wall and Iemis’s tomb, the Supreme held his arm outstretched behind him, but I couldn’t make out what he held in his tightly clenched fist. His opposite shoulder twitched, the phantom of his missing limb declaring his anger as he flung spittle and venom in my direction.

“She mattered to me, and I mattered to her. She was myeverything, and I’m the reason she is dead. I have bided my time for centuries, waiting for someone as pathetic asyou, and I will not be dissuaded.”

Slowly, I eased forward, nearly crying out as the obsidian blocked my divinity. The Supreme took a step back, stumbling over something on the ground behind him. His robe blocked my view of it, but when he kicked it to the side, I swallowed my cry. In a pile large enough to be more than unsettling, I saw a skull.

Multiple skulls nestled atop a heap of bones. Ranging in color from brown to the brightest white, dozens of bones were thrown together in an irreverent mound. Shoved into eye sockets and smashed between femurs, winterfrost roses bloomed like blood within the grim sculpture.

“Join your ancestors, Emmeline Highclere,” the Supreme said, with a disinterested shake of his head.

“You sick bastard,” I said. Were my mother’s bones amongst them? My sister’s?

“It is a sickness, I agree. Those women have tempted me with the idea of the Beloved for centuries. Over and over again, the Highclere witches made me believe. Before Larke died, I wanted to use the god’s favor for power. But now all I want isher.”

He stretched out his hand, hovering over the bones behind him, and with my heart in my throat, I recognized something I didn’t expect. It hadn’t been Cethina’s vial in his hand, but a handkerchief. With a brown stain like dried blood on it, I could clearly make out the initials embroidered at its corner.

“Filenti was good for one thing, I suppose,” he said, preparing to throw the fabric atop the pile of bones. “I’d wanted it fresh, but without that vial…” He trailed off.

“Wait!” I cried, mind fumbling toward anything that would stay his hand. As I took a step forward, he moved a step back. Careful not to push him any further, I stopped, allowing my dagger to drop from my hand. “I don’t understand. You’ve...you’ve been searching for the Beloved all these years to stop the Accursed, not...not to bring a woman back to life.”

“The Myriad has done that, yes. I even allowed Declan to think he was the Accursed to lure out the Beloved,” he began, and he bunched the handkerchief in his hand once more. When I’d proven my ability to heal myself as part of my task for the Myriad, a requirement to wed Rain, I hadn’t expected wiping my blood away could come back to haunt me.

“But nothing that came from Larke could be as evil as the Accursed,” I argued, revealing what I knew to be true. Hoping to draw him into memories of the woman he loved was the first step of a plan I’d only just formed. The rest had yet to reveal itself, but I had to try to stop him.

The Supreme only narrowed his eyes, keen to my intentions. “Do you know your daughter is visiting Ravemont? Another Highclere witch for me to hunt down eventually.”

I hadn’t known, but I couldn’t allow him to see my faltering confidence. “The wards will keep her safe,” I said, praying to the gods Shivani had done her best to protect my daughter.

“Do you think me mindless? Do you think I haven’t had spies within Ravemont for centuries? There are people who know your ancestral home better than you ever will, you stupid girl.”

“Iemis will kill you,” I said, reaching for anything which might distract the Supreme from my daughter.

“I will simply make my life force a term of our agreement.”

“After everything the Myriad has done to his people, to the forestborn, you think there will be a Lamera left for you to rule? As if Larke would choose to be resurrected and burdened by you, forced to rule over the ashes.”

The Supreme held the wadded fabric to his nose, inhaling. “I’d have preferred the Death god. But I could only find Damia’s tomb, not his. So, we make do. I had hoped for your blood to be fresh, but when Nereza took the vial from me, I had to improvise.” Before I could respond, he beckoned me closer. I didn’t move. “Hold out your hand,” he commanded.

“No.”

“Hold out your hand, Emmeline. If my assassin doesn’t hear from me by midnight, he will creep into Elora’s room—your old one, funnily enough—and slit her throat. Again.”

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