been walking together. Elene had been surprised how well they’d been getting along, then this had happened. “Have you figured anything out?”
“It’s definitely the bond,” Sister Ariel said. That was good and bad. The only other guess they’d had was that Vi’s rapid progress with her Talent had been hiding some flaw, and all her power had rebounded on her. From her talks with Sister Ariel, Elene had learned that Vi was terrifically Talented, but completely uneven in what she learned. Her wetboy training had enabled her to use her Talent easily, but she’d missed certain basics—and the Sisters had no idea which ones, so it seemed Vi mastered some difficult things as easily as breathing, and some easy things she couldn’t get at all. When she’d collapsed, everyone had been frightened.
Of course, if it was the bond, that meant something had gone really wrong with Kylar. Elene looked at Sister Ariel.
“We’ve had pigeons from Cenaria that a treason trial was being concluded,” Sister Ariel said. “I deduce from Vi’s state that the sentence is being carried out even now. The wheel, I would imagine.” She looked up and down the corridor. “With Kylar’s special . . . gifts, it’s taking longer than it should. And Vi has been helping him heal by taking some of his suffering onto herself. It’s only making the inevitable last longer, so it’s a cruel kindness, but it is well meant.”
Kylar was dying, right now? Elene should have felt it, she should have known as Vi did. In fact, she would have, if Vi hadn’t stolen her ring. Jealousy flashed through her, and she suppressed it only with difficulty. Dammit, why couldn’t you forgive someone once and be done with it? “Why would she help him like that?” Elene asked.
“One can only guess. But then I don’t claim to know much about love.”
The word was a blow. Vi loved Kylar? This much?
Vi sat bolt upright and shrieked. Her eyes met Elene’s. She grabbed her own shins. “No, I can’t—I can’t do it. I’m not strong enough. It hurts too much.” She fell back on the bed, babbling, then shrieked again, holding her arms. “No, Kylar, no!” Then she lost consciousness, and Elene knew Kylar was dead.
Sister Ariel stepped forward immediately and grabbed Vi’s earring. She tried to pry it off, but it wouldn’t budge. “Dammit. The bond’s not broken. Not even by his . . .” she trailed off, realizing that this place was too public to admit Kylar’s immortality. “I was hoping—well, not hoping that he would . . . you know what, but that if he did, that the bond would break.” Sister Ariel grimaced and looked away. “It was my last hope for you. The bond really is forever. I’m sorry, Elene. I’m sorry.”
The walk through the golden halls of death was familiar now. Kylar glided forward, not really touching the ground. It was as if the mind constructed movement as walking, having to impose some order on a realm that existed without human analogues.
The Antechamber of the Mystery was exactly as he remembered it. The Wolf sat on his throne, yellow eyes lambent, hostility etched into his burn-scarred face. Two doors sat opposite him: the plain wood door through which Kylar would walk back to life, and the gold door leaking warm light around its edges, barred to him forever. The ghostly presence of others filled the room. They moved unseen, staring, talking about him.
“Congratulations, Nameless,” the Wolf said. “You’ve proved you can sacrifice yourself like you don’t care if you die. Like you don’t give a damn about the living. How like the young.” The wolfish smile was cruel.
Kylar was too tired to play games. The Wolf didn’t intimidate him anymore. “Why do you hate me?” he asked.
The Wolf cocked his head, taken off guard. “Because you’re a waste, Nameless. People love you more than you have any right to, and you treat them like they’re shit to be scraped off your boots.”
It was so unfair after what Kylar had gone through that he threw his hands up. “You know what, to hell with you. You can make your little cryptic comments and hate me if you want to, but at least call me by my fucking name.”
“And what name is that?” the Wolf asked.
“Kylar. Kylar Stern.”
“Kylar Stern? The stern, undying dier? That’s not a name; it’s a title. It’s a judge.”
“Azoth, then.”
“You are many leagues from that shitless, witless rat, but even were you he, do you know