Page 111 of Mistress of Bones
Azul breathed deep and tried not to drown. “My brother?”
“It has been strongly suggested that he not leave his house while the investigation into the bodies found at his property runs its course.”
“He’ll be gone within the week,” she said grimly. Along with any bones he had left over, for whatever he planned to do with them. Become a god, supposedly. “What are they going to accuse him of? There are no witnesses except for me and Sirese Sombra. And how are we to prove that he kept the corpses alive? No, this will come to naught. He’s the Marquess de Gracia; I’m simply the half sibling.” Her gaze meandered toward the window, then back to him. “Will you take me back to Valanje now?”
A cruel smile curved his mouth. But perhaps he simply wasn’t used to human reactions, because there was no bite to his words: “There is no need.”
Azul swallowed. “Even though I’m a necromancer?”
Death chuckled. “You might be the Mistress of Bones, but you are no necromancer.”
Stunned, she could only stare. “Then what am I?”
“Is it not obvious?”
Azul didn’t need to tell him no; her shocked expression spoke for her.
His eyes brightened with mischief. “You are a child of the Lord Life. You do not—cannot—control death. You can only create life.”
“I don’t understand,” she whispered. “Enjul said—”
“Virel Enjul was a good emissary, but he allowed his fears to twist his understanding of my wishes.”
“Is… is he really gone?”
“Yes.” The word carried as much finality as death itself.
Azul squeezed her eyes shut.
Ah, what could have been.
“Why did you not revive him as you did in Diel?”
“Death eventually touches all of us.” A crooked smile appeared on his face as he looked her up and down. “Almost. I retain all my emissary’s memories, Azul del Arroyo. You seek your sister’s bones.”
“Yes.” Warily, she scooted closer to the end of the bed until she was sitting across from him. She would eagerly bear all the sacrifices, have all the deaths on her conscience, if it meant she hadn’t failed her search.
“Seek no more. They are gone.”
Azul reeled back, his words, sharp and sure, incomprehensible to her.
He pressed on: “There is no way for you to bring your sister back to life. You may search to the ends of the continents, go through Sergado de Gracia’s collection—or any other cache of bones in existence—and this fact will not change. It is beyond your capacity, for nothing of her remains.”
The room blurred. An unendurable bleakness began to weigh down her limbs, her heart, what was left of her soul.
“But I can,” he said.
Her gaze snapped to his.
“I can pluck her essence from the Void,” Death continued. “For Iamthe Lord Death and it is within my power to do so.”
A pause. Too long a pause. Surely, Azul would die if he didn’t speak soon.
“If you do as I say.”
She gathered the folds of her nightgown in her hands and waited.
“It would seem,” Death explained, “that my gifts in this form aresomehow tied to you. I take from your essence, as I am sure you can tell by now, and I have no wish to leave this body quite yet. There are things I mean to do.”
