Page 83 of House of Dusk
A tread of boots in the corridor crushed her frail hope. When the door swung open, she counted six soldiers, all of them hard and grim-faced. “Come,” one of them ordered crisply. “Your agia awaits.”
• • •
With every step up the mountain, the possibilities for escape dwindled, and Sephre’s desperation grew. Even in her prime and fully armed, she could never have stood for long against six armed opponents. Her only hope now was to convince Beroe to release her. Which was about as likely as convincing a fish to breathe air.
Still, she held that hope as an ember against despair. Until she reached the summit, and saw Lacheron. He was as nondescript as ever, fading into the stones beside Beroe, resplendent in her new robes of office. And yet the triumph blazing in his eyes was as bright as the blue flames in Beroe’s.
He’d won. She understood that, with the last crumbling of her hopes, when she saw the slim, sheathed blade Beroe held before her. The new agia lifted her chin as the soldiers escorted Sephre to stand before her. “You see, Lord Lacheron. All will be well. The Phoenix has gifted us the tools we need to address this matter without further pain.”
Lacheron stared at Sephre for a long moment, his expression strangely tense. Then he gave a short shake of his head. “Yes. Perhaps that is for the best. So long as she is Embraced, the Ember King will be satisfied that she is no longer a threat.”
“Then I will entrust you with this, to deliver to him.” Beroe held out the dagger.
As Lacheron took the blade, a ripple of something—pain? hunger?—passed over his face. He tucked the weapon away, into the folds of his tunic, then nodded to Beroe, all calm civility again. “King Hierax will be pleased to know he has an ally here in Stara Bron. And I know he will be eager to show his thanks, should you accept his offer.”
“What offer?” Sephre demanded, alarm shrilling through her.
“That is not your concern.” Lacheron frowned at her, and she had that same sense that he was searching for something, that she was a mirror granting him only a dark and blurred reflection. “I pray that the flames of the Embrace grant you peace. Goodbye, daughter of flame.”
He couldn’t possibly mean it. He wanted this, damn him. If there was any trace of regret in his voice, it was because he’d lost his chance to be the one to murder her.
Beroe, meanwhile, had extended her hands, cupping blue flames in each. She looked radiant, resplendent, terrible. “Come, sister. Be free.”
Sephre lurched back, panic beginning to dig claws into her, tearing at her muscles to run. The soldier farthest to the left wasn’t properly braced. Could she knock him down? Run for the stairs? She forced calm into her voice. “No. Please, agia.”
The tiniest flash of impatience wrinkled Beroe’s brow. “You want this, sister. You told me yourself.”
“Yes,” Sephre admitted, sliding a single step to the left. “I did, once. But I can’t. I need my memories. I need to go out there and rescue Timeus!”
“You should accept your mercy and be glad of it,” Lacheron chided her. “The boy is dead. As you would be, if you were so foolish as to enter the labyrinth. No living thing can endure that foul place.”
“The balewalkers did,” Sephre countered, and saw the man flinch. Beroe remained unmoved, still a beatific vision of unrelenting redemption.
But Sephre didn’t want redemption. She wanted to find Timeus. Not to make amends, not for absolution, but because it was the right thing. Let her own spirit be devoured, but she would not abandon that boy.
She bolted. Shoved her shoulder hard into the leftmost soldier, who gave a gratifying yelp as he toppled. Two more bounds, and she was halfway to the steps.
More hands grappled her. A fist slammed into her belly, leaving her gasping. They wrenched her back, spinning her to face Beroe.
“It will all be over soon, sister.” The new agia’s eyes burned full blue now. Her hands were wreathed in Phoenix-fire as she reached out to gently touch Sephre’s cheek. “You are still an ashdancer. You swore to honor your agia. Trust me to do what is best for you. To save you from this corruption.”
“I. Don’t. Want. It.” Sephre ground the words out. “And you can’t Embrace me if I don’t accept it. Please, Beroe. You’re not stupid. You saw that codex. You trusted Halimede. Lacheron islying.”
For a moment, she thought the words had reached Beroe. The blue veil parted, and she glimpsed the woman’s true, mortal eyes, brown and clever. Then the celestial flames roared back. And Sephre knew there was no hope. Whatever was in Beroe now was something more than mortal. And it wanted only to consume. To purify. To burn.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” said Beroe, inexorably. “I have to save you from yourself.”
And then the blue flames were in Sephre’s eyes. Dancing over her skin. Hungry, searching, yearning. A brilliance that stole away all shadow. There was no place to hide. No place for those old shames and pains to shelter. All of it burst into sharp relief. She screamed as heat flared through her.
No. Not now. She could not lose herself. She shoved the flames back, casting them away.My name is Sephre. I murdered a city and betrayed a friend, but I will carry all that if it means I can save a boy’s life. My name is Sephre, and I will not forget. Sephre. Sephre. Sephre.
The grip of the flames loosened. She took the opening, lashing out. Kicking. Wrenching. Biting. Beroe screamed.
Blood. She tasted blood and ash. But she was still Sephre, and Sephre she would remain, until death took her. Which might be very soon, if she didn’t get out of here. Beroe was no longer a figure of gentle release. She was wrath and fury. Sharp white teeth that bit off each word as if it were fresh meat.
“Keep your memories, then! Keep the taint!” the new agia spat. “But you will not despoil the flame!”
The fire flared higher, brighter. A whirling inferno that held no kindness, no gentleness. It clawed at her relentlessly. Sephre clung to the only thing she could. Herself.
