Blessed Monsters (Something Dark and Holy #3) - Emily A. Duncan Page 0,63

and I knew what that meant. I knew what you were capable of.”

Rashid tensed.

“It was so impossible, living in that palace, listening to talk of how to handle the problem in the west.”

What a benign way to talk about what amounted to attempting to eradicate his people, she thought blandly.

“And conversations about the north … Did you ever hear how they spoke of these countries? They were barbarians, mad, and this was the problem with power. This was why Akola kept their mages locked away.”

It would have been his fate. The mages in the Travash only had a few years at court before they were imprisoned. Chained under locks made unbreakable by some long dead mage of the past. Only drawn out for death and pain before being swept back into the dark, out of sight, out of mind.

“They spoke of you constantly. The little indentured servant from Yanzin Zadar who had power. Do you remember being tested?”

He was quiet for a long time before a very soft, “Yes.”

She swallowed, overcome with tears. “Rashid, I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

He pulled out of her arms, turning to face her. “What do you mean? What did you do?”

She closed her eyes. “It’s what I didn’t do. I don’t know how the missives kept finding me. How they knew. They kept begging me to return, but begging turned into threats, and the threats became something much darker and I—I … it was you. I know what not going back to Akola means for me, but it’s more than being the prasīt, it’s—it’s far more in line with all this divine nonsense. And I’m sorry, but Rashid—” she reached out and took his wrist, pushing his sleeve back. She ran her fingers along his forearm, down the vine markings.

Suddenly flowers were blooming from his skin. He choked on a breath. She hated doing this to him, she knew how much he didn’t want to use his power.

“I knew what bringing you here would do because I’m like you. I knew the stars in our blood would burst in this land of gods and power. In Akola, it was only magic on sand, but here it’s different. The gods that walk these lands are not our gods. They are much worse. They’re greedy and they want, and our foolish friends have set them free.”

She closed her eyes. “In the forest, I chose to stay here, knowing what that would mean. We’re going to be burned up by all of this and it’s my fault. Without Nadya … we’re doomed.”

The flowers growing from his skin were white and crimson and shot through with purple. They would be beautiful if they weren’t so terrible.

He would have a thousand questions. She didn’t know how she would answer them all; she had been holding this close for too long. Malachiasz knew a piece of it. That she had magic, a kind unlike the power used in Kalyazin or Tranavia. But Malachiasz had died and taken that truth with him.

Rashid didn’t get the chance to ask any questions. Nadya’s voice, small and tired, jolted them both.

“I’m going to need to hear all of that again, but in Kalyazi,” she said.

The world dropped out from underneath Parijahan and Rashid’s hands held her up as her knees gave out.

Nadya lifted a hand very slowly, her eyes still closed, her eyebrows furrowed. “Gods, I feel … well, like I was dead. Give me a second for my limbs to work.”

Parijahan struggled out of his arms, moving to kneel at the side of the bed. She reached out, very carefully, and touched Nadya’s hand.

Her eyes opened at the touch. Her skin was like ice. A moth appeared and settled in her white-blond hair.

How was she back?

Nadya groaned, closing her eyes again and pressing her hands against them. There was a long beat of silence.

“Right, then, now I can say that dying is extremely unpleasant, in case you were wondering.”

20

MALACHIASZ CZECHOWICZ

It started with a finger. A paltry trade for magic. Took it clean, he did, right off, little pain. Didn’t blink when he took another. My hand was missed, but it was the left one anyway. Walking got tricky when he took the leg. Let him take whatever he wishes.

—Fragment of a journal entry from an anonymous worshipper of Chyrnog

Malachiasz felt better after sleeping, suspiciously so. That he had slept at all was suspicious. He hadn’t slept much in months.

“Astonishing how different things are when you comply with me,” Chyrnog said.

Malachiasz didn’t respond. There