Page 108 of House of Dusk
She risked a single glance to Nilos. No blood. And she thought she heard a groan. He was still alive, thank the Fates. She did not pause to interrogate the burst of relief that flared through her. The prince must be her focus now.
The boy stood well. He had been trained, she could see that. He was probably very good.
She had been very good too. But that was ten years ago. She clenched her jaw, watching for anything that might betray an imminent attack.
“Drop the sword,” ordered the prince. “I’m not here for you, sister.”
She did not drop the sword. It would be easier to simply attack, but all she could think of was that little boy, scrubbing at his eyes as he watched his mother sent away from him. No, she didn’t want to kill Ichos.Someone’s awfully confident.Right, well, she didn’t want to get killed either.
“I know why you’re here,” she said, careful not to move, to hold this fragile moment, blades still bare of blood. That was another bolt of relief. He must have knocked Nilos over the head, or choked him to unconsciousness. “You’re very good at following orders, aren’t you? Letting other people use you to kill for them?”
“I’m the prince of Helisson,” Ichos snapped. “I have a duty to obey my father.”
“Is it duty?” she asked. “Or is it just easier this way?” This was the gap in his armor. The crimson flush spreading over his cheeks was proof enough of that. And if she could just strike true, she could end this without spilling blood. That would be nice.
He stared at her, brow furrowing. “You’re an ashdancer. Why are you defending one of the Serpent’s minions?”
Fates, the prince wasn’t that much older than Timeus. Raw and eager and probably desperate to prove himself. Just as she’d been, when she was his age. “I know Lacheron,” she said, pressing her attack. “I was his tool once. I fought in the war. I did—” her voice cracked, but this was the weapon she had to use—“I did terrible things. I let myself believe it was the only way. But it’s not. You can choose your own path, Ichos.”
Was she reaching him? It was hard to tell. He was a stranger. But he had lowered his blade a handspan. His jaw worked, as if he were chewing her words. Maybe getting ready to spit them back out. Who was she, after all? Just some nameless old woman. Sephre hadn’t even listened to her own father. She doubted she could change the prince’s mind. But maybe this seed of doubt would be enough to distract him. She risked a glance to Nilos, still crumpled on the sand. But breathing more quickly now. His eyes fluttered. Nearly there.
“I’m no one’s tool.” The prince glowered at her. “Everything I do is for the sake of Helisson. For my people.”
The crumpled heap that was Nilos moved slightly. Sephre shifted her stance, to keep Ichos focused on her. She was his target now. And he was hers. He’d shown her where to strike.
“You want to do the right thing. That’s how the Ember King works,” she said. Might as well use everything she had. Fates, she hoped this would work. “He lies. He uses other people to do his dirty work, and then dresses it up as heroism and glory.”
“My father never lied to me,” snarled Ichos.
“Not your father,” she said. “The true Ember King. The one who’s been manipulating all of you, all along. Lacheron.”
The prince stared at her. She knew that look. She’d had it on her own face, when Nilos had confronted her with similarly unwelcome truths.
“That’s not—”
Sephre hurled her sword at him. The prince yelped, ducking. And Nilos shoved himself up from the sand. He was not quite as lightning swift as in the past, but for a man who’d just been half unconscious it was a fine showing. He was still faster than Sephre, which meant that she had to take a flying leap into the barge as Nilos took up the pole and began to shove the vessel into the deeper waters.
She rolled up, pulling herself onto the wooden seat. Looking back, she found Ichos on the shore, his shoulders hunched, body coiled. For a moment, she feared he might leap into the water, to his own doom.Don’t do it. Be more than this.
He couldn’t possibly have heard her. And yet the prince suddenly shivered, as if casting off a wet cloak. Then he turned and stalked away from the shore. Sephre breathed out, her body loosening, melting.
“That was well done,” said Nilos. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” she replied tartly, to cover the unaccountable flush his words provoked. “Just stop going on about how you saved my life. We’re even now.”
Shadows enveloped them, as they drifted deeper. She couldn’t see his face, but she heard the faint huff of his laugh, and it lightened her spirits. Which was probably a good thing, given where they were now headed.
The Labyrinth of Souls.
CHAPTER 30
SEPHRE
It began to brighten slowly. Not sunlight, not moonlight, not firelight, but a pallid blue mist that hung over the Lyrikon like fog. Curls of it twisted around the pole, as if to tug it from Nilos’s grip, only to fall in shreds as he drove the barge onward.
Sephre sat in the prow, watching the smooth water slide past, her attention drawn taut as a bow. It would be far too easy to let the lull of this place consume her. It seemed to go on forever, a luminous mirror under clotted shadows dark as iron. If there was a ceiling, it was lost to her sight.
But something else loomed on the horizon. Even at a distance, she knew it was massive. Like seeing a mountain range from across a wide, flat plain. The black, bleak wall of the Labyrinth of Souls.
