Page 78 of Mistress of Bones
“Children get no choice. They get told where to go, what to do until they mature.” He walked up to her, and her soft floral scent all but overwhelmed his senses. “And once the children age, they realize that the paths taken lead to a destination, and the destination will always be the Lord Death. And in their last moment, with their last breath, they will ask for their gods’ forgiveness, because any paths they walked only existed because of the gods’ grace. What people think is a choice is nothing but a misunderstood idea about the way the world works.”
Azul straightened. “Then perhaps it’s time we break this cage and show the gods why they gave us reasoning.” She lifted a hand and pressed it against his chest, against the linen of his shirt and the flesh and muscle underneath, and he had to fight to hide his reaction to the sudden touch.
People did not ever willingly touch death.
“This god of yours. Perhaps he wants you to think this way about the world. Perhaps it is his way to remain among us because he knows we will soon choose paths he and the other gods hadn’t thought to draw for us. That we will be truly our own, our souls to do with as we wish.”
She dropped her hand, and Enjul felt as if she’d just carved away a chunk of his chest and taken it with her. Foolish—the feeling and her words. How someone so cunning, so smart, could arrive at such conclusions astounded him.
“If that were the gods’ aim, then everyone would be able to guard their souls against death, not just you and this other malady. You would be one of a thousand, not one of two.”
“That you know of.”
The insistence in her voice, her conviction, made him want to smile. Yes, he did enjoy these little talks. Why wouldn’t he? After all, the Lord Death had put her in his path for a reason, and perhaps the reason was this feeling.
“If there were many of you, the world would be overtaken by thosesnatched back from the Lord Death. Do you think yourself alone in your grief? Do you think death is not there for a reason?”
“And what reason would that be?”
“For you to appreciate the Lord Life’s gift. For you to shape your soul, make it a thing of beauty before you join the Lord Death.”
Azul’s mouth flattened into a straight line, her brown eyes glittering in a way that made him think that perhaps the beauty of Anchor might one day take another color, another shape.
“Then the Lord Life will approve of giving someone another chance to enjoy his gift.” She turned toward the window and closed her eyes, as if taking in the sounds and scents drifting from the lush patio. “Tell me, Emissary, do you ever find joy in anything but the Lord Death, or did they steal all whims and wishes at the Order?”
He joined her. Standing next to her rather than across fit him better.By his side, yes. This is how it would be, wouldn’t it? The warmth, the companionship, the strange beating of his heart. “I find joy in my work, but my work is not my only joy.”
“What do you enjoy, then?”
His drawings, his thoughts, reading through past emissaries’ accounts. Watching the sky and knowing it was through the gods that he had a land from which to observe the stars. Music, sometimes, when he was a child.
“I like daggers,” Azul continued, as if she hadn’t expected an answer from the start. “I like dipping cake in my breakfast, and music when it comes from an artist’s hand. I like plays on words, and words that make me curious. I like looking at paintings of places far away but dislike how they make me feel—small and left behind.” Her gaze moved toward the square of blue sky. “I like looking at the sky and wondering if one day we shall leave these lands and travel to the stars, and I like wondering what we might find there.”
Enjul let out a sound of amusement, rough and strange and odd to his ears. Travel to the stars? As if. “A traveler’s curiosity never ends well.”
Yet wasn’t that what his heart wanted now? To travel with her? The thought unsettled him.
“I wish the Order had never gotten their hands on you,” Azul said, sounding wistful. “Then perhaps you’d have grown to enjoy these things too.”
“There are many things I enjoy, Miss Del Arroyo, and just because you don’t know what they are it does not make them any less valuable.”
“Azul.” Her mouth kicked up at one corner. “If you insist on having all these talks about gods and duty and fate, it will save your breath if you simply use my name.” Her brow arched in a dare. “Even maladies have them.”
Azul, like the summer sky. Perhaps that was what was missing from his sketches—color. Bone white suited him, but it didn’t suit her. A painted blue mask? No, too close to Anchor, to wearing the gods’ bones on her face as if she had their sanction. He’d have to think of something else.
“Miss Del Arroyo will do for now,” he said firmly.
“I suppose we’ll have plenty of time together for you to grow tired of saying three words when one will do.”
Exultation began thrumming along his pulse. “You accept your—” He caught himself beforespot by my sideleft his mouth. “Position, then?”
She grew serious. “I promised to go with you, didn’t I? You might not believe in my word, but I do.”
“Then promise you will cease this plan of yours.” He tapped his invitation against his other hand. That the woman had plans for Noche Verde was as obvious as the sky.
Azul smiled slyly. “What plan?”
He smiled back, leaned in, and caught the flicker of surprise in her eyes, the sharp intake of her breath, the parting of her lips, almost inviting.
