she should feel ashamed, maybe even frightened. But she hadn’t been made for shame.
Perhaps Djel extinguished one light and lit another. Nina didn’t care if it was Djel or the Saints or a brigade of fire-breathing kittens; as she hurried east, she realized that, for the first time in ages, she felt strong. Her breath came easy, the ache in her muscles had dimmed. She was ravenous. The craving for parem felt distant, like a memory of real hunger.
Nina had grieved for her loss of power, for the connection she’d felt to the living world. She’d resented this shadow gift. It had seemed like a sham, a punishment. But just as surely as life connected everything, so did death. It was that endless, fast-running river. She’d dipped her fingers into its current, held the eddy of its power in her hand. She was the Queen of Mourning, and in its depths, she would never drown.
I nej saw the snap of Dunyasha’s hand and heard a sound like a wingbeat, then felt something bounce off her shoulder. She caught the silver star before it could fall to the roof. Inej had come prepared this time. Jesper had helped her sew some of the padding from one of the hotel suite’s mattresses into her tunic and vest. Years on the farm darning shirts and socks had made him surprisingly handy with a needle, and she was not going to play pincushion for the White Blade again.
Inej leapt forward, speeding toward her opponent, sure-footed on this roof she’d spent so very many hours on. She hurled the star back at Dunyasha. The girl dodged it easily.
“My own blades would not betray me so,” she chided, as if scolding a small child.
But Inej hadn’t needed to hit her, merely distract her. She flicked her hand as if she was throwing another blade, and as Dunyasha followed the movement, Inej rebounded off the metal spine to her right, letting the ricochet carry her past her opponent. She crouched low, knives in hand, and slashed open the mercenary’s calf.
Inej was up again in moments, bouncing backward over one of the scrollwork spines of the church, keeping her eyes on Dunyasha. But the girl just laughed.
“Your spirit brings me pleasure, Wraith. I can’t remember the last time anyone drew first blood on me.”
Dunyasha leapt onto the scrollwork spine, and now they faced each other, both with blades at the ready. The mercenary lunged deeply, slashing out, but this time, Inej did not let herself follow the instincts she had fought so hard to learn on the streets of Ketterdam. Instead, she responded as an acrobat would. When the swing was coming at you, you didn’t try to avoid it; you went to meet it.
Inej ducked close into Dunyasha’s reach, as if they were partners in a dance, using the motion of her opponent’s attack to knock her off balance. Again Inej struck out with her blade, slicing open the girl’s other calf.
This time Dunyasha hissed.
Better than a laugh , thought Inej.
The mercenary whirled, a compact movement, spinning on her toes like a dagger on its point. If she felt any pain, she did not show it. Her hands held two curved blades now, moving in sinuous rhythm as she stalked Inej along the metal spine.
Inej knew she could not move into these blades. So break the rhythm , she told herself. She let Dunyasha pursue her, giving up ground, skittering backward along the spine until she saw the shadow of a tall finial behind her. She feinted right, encouraging her opponent to lunge forward. Instead of checking the feint and keeping her balance, Inej continued to let herself fall to the right. In the same movement, she sheathed her blades and seized hold of the finial with one hand, swinging her body around to the other side. Now the finial was between them. Dunyasha grunted in frustration as her blades clanged against metal.
Inej leapt from scroll to scroll, racing over the roof to the thickest of the metal spines, following it up the humped back of the cathedral. It was like walking on the fin of some great sea creature.
Dunyasha followed and Inej had to respect that her movements were just as smooth and graceful with two bleeding calves. “Are you going to run all the way back to the caravan, Wraith? You know it’s only a matter of time before this ends and justice is done.”
“Justice?”
“You are a murderer and a thief. I was chosen to