Page 74 of A Monsoon Rising

“I know.”

The Regent’s withered fingers twitched over the armrest of his throne. “If this is farewell, then it is farewell.” His expression was contemplative. “And our souls will find shelter in the willows until all lands sink beneath the Eversea and you and I meet again.”

It was shameful how these crumbs of affection went straight to Alaric’s heart, rendering him temporarily mute. Shamefulhow he longed for more. There was a time when he might have deemed it enough and been content, but he’d seen how Elagbi treated Talasyn and couldn’t shake the feeling that was what a father was supposed to be. Perhaps Gaheris could have been that, if not for the war.

Or perhaps Alaric was simply asking for too much.

“I won’t fail you,” Alaric vowed. “Or Kesath.”

His father nodded. “Remember,” he said, “when you turn your ship to home—bring your Lightweaver with you. Or don’t come back at all.”

The Shadowgate withdrew its icy claws, but the cold remained inside Alaric for a long while after.

CHAPTERTWENTY-SEVEN

The Nenavarene were determined to send their Lachis’ka to her potential grave in style. That was the only reason, Talasyn thought, for the ceremonial armor that Jie had brought out before she spent ages securing Talasyn’s hair in a tight braid.

It was certainly the most practical of the garments that the Dominion had foisted on her thus far. A high-collared leather tunic, dyed blue, the bodice closely fitted, slashes running from thigh to knee to allow movement. Pauldrons that cascaded down her shoulders like laurel leaves. Pleated blue trousers tucked into a sturdy pair of gold-embellished boots. Talasyn almost felt like a soldier again.

From Iantas she and Alaric flew to the main island of Sedek-We, on the same pleasure yacht that the warship had fired void bolts at during aethermancy training last month. It was a narrow vessel with an asymmetrical mainsail that folded and rippled like a butterfly wing emerging from its cocoon; more style than substance, and slower than a coracle, it was completely devoid of weaponry. But they weren’t defending themselves from anyone, nor were they running fromanything—except from what midnight would bring, and they couldn’t even run from that for long.

Elagbi, Jie, and the Lachis-dalo had wanted to accompany them, and Iantas’s helmsmen had offered to crew a larger ship, but Talasyn had put her foot down in this regard. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate with her people so near the eruption; at least on Iantas they would have a chance of avoiding the amethyst light, even if a slim one. While the Voidfell had historically left metal and mortar untouched, it slipped into the cracks of every building like the wind, like sound, rotting all living things within.

Stop picturing it,Talasyn chided herself.It will not come to pass.She had to be confident. She had to be centered.

As did her husband, but she was currently a little worried about him. Even though Alaric was wearing his wolf’s-snarl mask, along with the rest of his battle armor, she could tell from the narrowing of his gray eyes that he had been scowling ever since he joined her on Iantas’s landing grid. When Elagbi had shaken his hand and wished him luck, rather than dispensing some polite rejoinder, Alaric had merely grunted.

He had been in a decent enough mood during lunch. Then again, Talasyn supposed that even the fearsome Night Emperor was not above the occasional attack of nerves.

Talasyn landed the yacht on one of the empty docks that ringed the Nenavarene capital of Eskaya. She and Alaric set forth, on foot, in the general direction of the Roof of Heaven, its alabaster facade gleaming in the moonlight, as pristine as a statue of ice and snow crowning the steep limestone cliffs. They walked in silence for a while, both of them lost in their own thoughts, adrift in a deserted city. There were no patrols, no night markets, no ships streaking overhead, no strains of music and indistinct conversation, no drunks spilling out fromthe darkened taverns. Eskaya was so still that it seemed one wrong move could shatter it like glass.

Talasyn stopped walking halfway across a stately marble bridge that rainbowed above the city’s main canal. She leaned over the railing, bracing herself on folded arms. Alaric followed suit, their elbows almost touching. Were this in the time before, she might have snapped at him to not stand so close to her, but it was a rather moot point now, after all that they’d done to each other.

The waterway sparkled with reflections: the rippling moons in full and crescent and gibbous, the stars like crumpled flecks of silver, the trees and rooftops flickering in the gentle current. And their own dark silhouettes, two people alone in an abandoned city.

But they weren’t the only people left in Nenavar. And that was what weighed on Talasyn’s mind.

“I keep thinking,” she said, “about everyone who stayed. That Daya Vaikar and her Enchanters didn’t leave I understand, even if I don’t like it. We need them for the amplifying configuration. But my father and everyone else back at Iantas—they didn’t have to. Even the refugees from the village stayed.”

“They love you,” Alaric said quietly. Her heart skipped a beat to hear the wordlovefrom his lips. “That’s why. I think that’s worth something. As is loyalty. Even Sevraim and the twins—” He cleared his throat with a hint of awkwardness. “They wanted to accompany me. I had to order them not to.”

Talasyn had no opinion on the well-being of Ileis and Nisene one way or the other, but itdidamuse her to imagine the kind of arguments Sevraim must have put forward. “Hopefully the Continent’s evacuation went smoothly, despite those three’s best efforts.”

Alaric flinched. She saw it in the water. “We couldn’t geteveryone out,” he said, his tone brusque. “There weren’t enough ships.”

A pang went through her. “You should have asked Nenavar for help. We would have sent—”

“I floated such a possibility before Regent Gaheris.” His broad shoulders dropped, as though in shame. “He had no wish to be beholden to the Dominion any more than necessary.”

Brow knitting, Talasyn made to launch into her usual refrain that it wasAlaricwho was the Night Emperor—and maybe this would be the time that it got through his thick skull at last—but then he continued. “Most of High Command shared my father’s opinion.”

Now that she was all too familiar with. That maze of careful politicking to keep everyone happy—or at least content enough to not plot against you. That balancing act of considering all ulterior motives as you furthered your own goals. Urduja always had her hands full with her council of nobles, but she’d had decades of practice, whereas Alaric had only recently stepped into his role.

“I have failed them. My people.” It was a hoarse confession. He looked so young in the moonlight. “I want to make a new world, but I share power with those who won’t let the old ways go. Sometimes I think—I think it would be better to start over. Tear it all down.” His eyes met hers. “And sometimes I think you and I could do that. If we make it through tonight.”

His statement was so quietly spoken, but it seemed to ring throughout the abandoned city. It seemed to bring illumination with it—the way out of the tunnel, out of the labyrinth.

Join me, then.This was how a thought could strike like lightning, burning a path through the soul, shedding stark clarity on the next step to take.Ideth Vela is alive. We have allies. We’re ready to make our move after the Moonless Dark. Join us.

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