Igniting Darkness (Courting Darkness Duology #2) - Robin LaFevers Page 0,118

death for equally noble deeds. Without pausing to think, I gently lay my hand on the man’s chest, just over his heart. “Thank you,” I whisper. “Your honor saved one I love from great agony. Your spirit will live on with my enduring gratitude.”

The beating of his heart eases somewhat, as if no longer terrified. How? I pray. How may I ease this man’s plight?

Just as before, the answer comes from deep within, filling me with a presence that is not wholly my own. I do not question whose voice it is, know only that it is wiser than I and allow my hand to settle more firmly.

“Go,” I whisper. “We will see that justice is done.”

With my words, he gives one last, shuddering breath, then grows still. Gen stares at me open-mouthed, but before she can say anything, his soul clambers from his body, much like a man who has been buried alive might claw his way from the dirt. He is distraught. Angry. Outraged. The soul starts to flit down the hall, as if it means to go after Cassel, then changes its mind and heads for Beast’s cell, pausing in confusion before whirling around and hurrying back to his body, rubbing against it like a cat, as if trying to put itself back in.

“Three days,” Gen says, staring down at the man. With her face downcast, it is hard to tell, but I think there are tears shimmering in her eyes. “He must endure this for three days. All for trying to stop that rutting monster.” Her fists clench. “I will tell the king. I will tell him what I saw with my own eyes.”

I grab her arm and give it a gentle shake. “Stop and think. You will only put yourself at risk. He will likely not even listen to you. Not after your conversation yesterday.”

“We must do something.”

“We will.”

“We cannot let Beast get blamed for this.”

“We will not let that happen.”

Her gaze falls back to the dead man and the soul that is thudding uselessly against its old body. “But none of that will help him.”

It is her nature to act, I realize. She needs to act as most people need to breathe. “Here. Let us try something.” I take her hand.

She resists. “What?”

I sigh. “I would show you a way to help him. We do not have much time if we want to keep Beast from being falsely accused, but the dead are also our responsibility. Do you remember you asked how I was able to make Fremin’s soul disappear?” She nods. “I did not have time to tell you then, but I will tell you now. Blood and bone. Ours. The same stuff that gods were once made of. Let us see if it holds true for you as well.”

“Show me.”

When I have explained it to her, she takes one of her own knives, makes a tiny cut on the top of her wrist, then turns her arm over so the blood drips upon his forehead. As soon as the blood touches the body, the soul stops its desperate thumping and grows still, waiting.

As Gen smears the blood with her thumb, she murmurs, “May the Nine grant you peace.” For the briefest of seconds, the quivering tension leaves the soul and then it is simply gone. Vanished.

Gen sits back on her knees, her eyes and mouth open wide with wonder.

I give her exactly one minute, then gently cuff her on her head. “There is no time for that. We must move this body before the blood soaks through his cloak and leaves a trail on the stone.”

“What about one of the other cells?” she asks.

“It would be best if the body wasn’t found for a few days.”

She hops to her feet and disappears down the corridor while I place the dead man’s arms upon his chest, then reach for his cloak. Fortunately, it is one of the long, wide cloaks of the palace guard, and I am able to wrap it twice around him, which will prevent any leakage for a while longer.

Gen reappears just then. “There’s a large drain. Just around that second bend. There is a grate on it, but I think we can pry it loose.”

I nod, then grab the shoulders of his cloak while she reaches for his booted feet, and together we drag the guard away from Beast’s cell. It is farther than I had thought, and I am out of breath and sweating when we reach it