The Shadowglass (The Bone Witch #3) - Rin Chupeco Page 0,47

she curled up with me and my books at bedtime after Fox left for war, asking questions about them, which I’d been so proud to know the answers to.

I wanted to collect every memory I had of Daisy, bundle it in a spell so I could keep her the same way I did Fox. But the elders wouldn’t let me. I was no longer trusted. Not that Daisy wanted to be forever tethered to her killer anyway.

The days blurred with me so caught up in the past that I soon lost track of the present.

Khalad was the last to visit. He sat next to my cell, saying nothing for the longest time. I concentrated on a crack on the wall above his head and thought about the time Daisy had danced at Kingscross’s Heartsrune ceremony. It was the last I’d attended before Fox died and I raised him from the dead. I remembered my jealousy, watching her twirl in the prettiest red dress, knowing I could never be as graceful.

“I want to see your heartsglass,” Khalad said.

I made no response.

I heard him leave and engage in discussion with one of the guards. Warily, they allowed him entry to my cell. He crouched beside me and took my heart in his hands. I stared ahead as if he weren’t there.

“I’ve known about the black in your heartsglass since Prince Kance exiled you from Odalia.”

I started.

“I said nothing because you were in no danger. Very few Dark asha exhibit black heartsglass, even in darkrot. It’s more often associated with the Faceless, a status symbol among themselves. Master tried to explain the misconception, but old suspicions die hard, even among asha. Black heartsglass don’t indicate insanity, he said. But it could signify a greater capacity for the Dark than most, which in turn makes it susceptible to darkrot. That’s all.”

“Then why am I going crazy?” I whispered, hoarse from my silence.

“I don’t know, but you’re not going crazy because of this.” He quieted, speaking beyond the guards’ hearing. “I suspect someone could be poisoning you.”

“What?”

He tapped my heartsglass. “There are fluctuations here that are unusual and have nothing to do with color. I’ve seen it before in people dosed over long periods of time. When I requested permission to examine you, only Kalen knew the real reason why.”

“I don’t understand.”

Khalad was angry. He’d been angry since entering my cell, but it hadn’t registered until the snarl tucked into his mouth. “Because whoever has been poisoning you must be a member of our party, Tea—either in the Valerian, or, more broadly, in the Willows. No one else could have gotten close without arousing suspicion.”

My head spun. “But…that’s impossible.”

“Like I said, we have to make sure. Kalen’s right. He’s always believed you, Tea. It’s killing him that you won’t talk to him.”

“I…I killed Daisy, Khalad.”

“You know compulsion more than anyone else here, Tea. Three months ago, we had no idea Blight runes even existed. What else will we discover in another three? Magic isn’t the only way to poison someone.”

Food and drink perhaps, the same way blighted victims were targeted. But Mykaela herself had delved me and found nothing wrong. “Is someone coming after me?”

“I can believe in one coincidence, maybe two. But a blight attack in Istera, then two more after we returned, all to shine suspicion on you, is stretching credulity a little too far. Don’t give up on yourself.”

“Has Fox?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Khalad looked down, and that was answer enough. Strangely, I felt neither anger, nor sorrow. Khalad sounded logical, but I didn’t believe him. I believed Fox. We were the only witnesses, and poor Daisy could no longer defend herself.

The Heartforger’s words lay heavy on my mind long after he’d left. Part of me didn’t want to care, but a greater part of me was unsettled. I didn’t want to wish; I didn’t want to hope. I was content to eke out the rest of my short days in prison, awaiting the blessed relief of the hangman’s noose or the executioner’s ax. There would be no surprises lurking there. No more daeva, no more politicking—just a short drop into forever and then peace.

I deserved it. I had killed Daisy.

Hadn’t I?

I could almost hate Khalad for giving me a reason to fight my sentence, no matter how small my chances were. As a Dark novice, I was indifferent to punishment, jaded in the knowledge that I would be forgiven. It was the price I exacted—my services in exchange for my