Covenant's End - Ari Marmell Page 0,96

through her own. He straightened, then, tugging the hem of a nigh invisible vest, smoothing out the unseen wrinkles. The rapier he drew was familiar, oh so familiar; Shins had carried it—or the “real” version of it—for a very long time.

Then he, too, was gone—as was the last of Lisette's power, the Prince of Orphan's Tears wrenched from her body and soul by the man who, however briefly, had replaced the parents Widdershins had lost.

Lightning flashed. Thunder roared. And Shins, after wiping her eyes clear once more, bent down to retrieve her fallen weapon. Her steps slow but steady, she followed in the path of the now departed ghosts, until she stood beside the only other soul, living or dead, who had also been left behind.

Whatever the fae had done to Lisette, however they had wound themselves through her, it had reduced her to something that couldn't last on its own. Her skin hung in folds around her bones, like newly emptied burlap sacks. Hair fell from her head in clumps; nails slid from her fingertips, leaving glistening trails behind. With every breath she gurgled and choked, struggling to breathe through the inky sludge that, only now, had begun to melt away in the rain.

Her eyes, though yellowed and sunken, had reappeared in their sockets, glaring up at Shins. And in them, still, the young woman saw absolutely nothing but hate.

When Lisette spoke, it was with such a crumpled-paper rasp as to be nigh incomprehensible. “It's not…fair…”

Shins could only shrug. “I don't think it was ever meant to be.”

The single thrust of her rapier was an act of pity as much as anger. Then, leaving the blade in the corpse, Widdershins stumbled to the nearest stoop and sat down, hard. There she stayed, curled tight around the gaping hollow in her soul, and wept until long after the rain had finally, finally stopped.

“Is that safe?” Igraine asked doubtfully as she strode across a rooftop still speckled with puddles and scattered leaves left behind by the storm.

At least most of the dried bird guano had been scoured away.

“Not really.” Shins watched her approach or rather watched her legs and hips approach. She didn't have much of a view of the rest of the priestess, given that she was currently balanced in a precarious handstand at the building's edge. “I can still do it, though. Surprisingly easy, actually. Not sure what to make of that.”

“A really big, goopy mess, if you're not careful.”

Widdershins chuckled softly (secretly pleased that she could laugh, a little) and allowed herself to slowly topple. One foot kicked out, toes striking rooftop, and she rolled herself upright.

Her head swam, just a bit. She tried to ignore it. It had never done that, before she was…alone.

“Pretty sure it's safer than where you've been, yes?” She knelt sideways, one knee tucked in tight, letting the other leg stretch. “How's it going?”

Igraine's answer began with a very unpriestly snort. “Same as yesterday: It isn't. Far as we can tell, there's not a single member of the Luchene bloodline left. The duchess hadn't returned power to the Houses before she died, so nobody's entirely sure who should be in charge.”

“It'll all go back to status quo. I mean, the Houses'll be doing better working together than scrabbling for power that nobody had a week ago.”

“Oh, sure. They just need to trudge through a bit more ambition and pride before they'll admit it.” She drew breath to say more, but Widdershins beat her to it.

Mostly because she wasn't yet ready to tackle what she suspected Igraine's next topic of choice would be.

“How's the Guild?”

The priestess blinked, then glanced around the roof. Perhaps realizing she'd find no clean place to sit, she leaned against the chimney with a faint grumble. “It's going to take some getting used to the new order. The Finders have to learn to be a little more subtle. The priesthood of the Shrouded God is going to be a separate organization now, albeit with shared leadership, so the Guild won't have that protection any longer.”

“I'm sure the new Shrouded Lord is just thrilled at the extra bureaucracy,” Shins snickered.

“Lady,” Igraine corrected.

“What?”

“The new leader of the Finders’ Guild and the priesthood. The Shrouded Lady. Our first one, actually.”

“Is that so?” Shins shifted sides, stretching the other leg. “I wonder who she might be,” she said, without any question in her voice at all.

Igraine shrugged, but Shins was quite certain she spotted a glint in the priestess's eyes. “I'm sure I couldn't