Page 112 of Mistress of Bones
Unease churned Azul’s stomach.
“You do not like this. You do not trust me,” he continued. “Who would? Worry not, I am not lacking in feeling. Did I not, along with the others, sacrifice my body for the sake of life on these lands? Thus, you shall be rewarded for your help. Is it not worth your sister’s life?”
Azul studied his face. His expression told her nothing, just as Virel Enjul’s hadn’t. Death retained his emissary’s mannerisms as well as his memories. She recognized the small tics, the slight tilting of his head while he waited for a response, the stillness of his hands, the way he would not play coy but prey on everything he set his mind to. The strange pull she had once felt in his presence was still there, mingled with deep wariness and amplified a hundredfold.
“What are your plans?” she finally asked.
“I mean to find my brethren.”
“The other gods?” Azul exclaimed. “They are around?”
“They will follow.” He gifted her with a dazzling smile, which was as shocking as the knowledge he had shared with her.
“Why?”
The smile turned devious. “There is something we want back.” Before she could ask anything else, he stood up and told her pleasantly, “Now, I have ordered for clothes to be brought to you. Another dagger, as well, since you are keen on them. I will not begrudge you your gift, as my emissary did.
“As long as you don’t use it on my land without my permission, I will not step in the way. I have some affairs I must deal with in this city, so you may take a few days to organize your own before we leave.”
Her acceptance was taken for granted, and Azul resented this deeply. Like Enjul, the god wasted no time waiting for answers when he already knew the outcome. The illusion of choice, though, would’ve been welcome. He might be a god—Death embodied, thanks to her—but she did not trust him.
“And my brother?” she asked. “Will you make sure he pays for his crimes?”
“What harm can he do? I can claim any bones he takes from death. Or do you wish me to kill him?”
That gave her pause. “Is there no way to simply restrain him?”
“Ah, Life, always seeking a way. How refreshing. It was his idea, you know, to raise the continents.”
“Well?” she insisted, refusing to delve into theology. “Sergado will be free soon, and he’ll seek to carry on his work elsewhere. He must be stopped or he’ll continue killing.”
“He is of no concern for now.”
Of course the god would show no concern, Azul thought bitterly. What were a few human lives compared with his godly one? If he didn’t need her, he would not have cared about hers either.
“Why not simply force me along?” she asked. “Why tempt me with Isadora when it was your fault her body crumbled on your shores? You are a god—you can do as you please.”
“I am the Lord Death, not the Lord Control of Your Thoughts. Your willingness will save effort and time.” His smile was a dazzling invitation, a dare. Mischief, promise, eagerness. Temptation.
“I shall go with you,” Azul said, because it felt important that she make the choice even though none had been offered to her.
His smile changed, morphed into something that could either send a person down into the Void, or reform them into greatness. This was where Enjul’s body ended and the god showed himself. For the first time, Azul saw the power behind this being—that this was a walking god, that the Temples weren’t built in vain, the way Isadora and so many others believed. That once upon a time, he had cared enough for life to elevate the lands, but life itself held no sway over his whims.
It held no sway over any of the gods who, by his own words, would follow.
What did they want? Why take human form now?
Her blood chilled, Azul had one more thought:
That perhaps, for once, she shouldn’t have fought for life.
XXXVIITHE WITCH WITH NO FACE
DAYS EARLIER
“I wonder what happens now,” Nereida de Guzmán said. “Will you die along with your host, Witch?”
The Faceless Witch had no wish to find out.
