A Court of Wings and Ruin

  “What did she do, drowning in the ageless dark? What did she take?”

  It was the bite in the last word that snapped my tether of restraint. “If you wish to find out, perhaps you should stop talking long enough for us to explain.”

  My voice seemed to shake Cassian free of whatever trance he’d been in. His breathing surged, tight and fast, and he scanned my face—apology in his eyes.

  The Carver chuckled. “I so rarely get company. Forgive me for wanting to make idle talk.” He crossed an ankle over a foot. “And why have you sought my services?”

  “We attained the Book of Breathings,” I said casually. “There are … interesting spells inside. Codes within codes within codes. Someone we know cracked most of them. She is still looking for others. Spells that could … send someone like her home. Others like her, too.”

  The Carver’s violet eyes flared bright as flame. “I’m listening.”

  CHAPTER

  23

  “War is upon us,” I said to the Carver. “Rumor suggests you have … gifts that may be useful upon the battlefield.”

  A smile at Cassian, as if understanding why he’d joined me. “In exchange for a price,” the Carver mused.

  “Within reason,” Cassian countered.

  The Carver surveyed his cell. “And you think that I wish to go … back.”

  “Don’t you?”

  The Carver folded his legs beneath his small frame. “Where we came from … I do not believe it is now anything more than dust drifting across a plain. There is no home to return to. Not one that I desire.”

  For if he’d been here before even Amren had arrived … Tens of thousands of years—longer, perhaps. I shoved against the sinking sensation in my gut. “Then perhaps improving your … living conditions might entice you, if this world is where you wish to be.”

  “This cell, Cursebreaker, is where I wish to be.” The Carver patted the dirt beside him. “Do you think I let them trap me without good reason?”

  Cassian’s entire body seemed to shift—seemed to go aware and focused. Ready to haul us out of there.

  The Carver traced three overlapping, interlocked circles in the dirt. “You have met my sister—my twin. The Weaver, as you now call her. I knew her as Stryga. She, and our older brother, Koschei. How they delighted in this world when we fell into it. How those ancient Fae feared and worshipped them. Had I been braver, I might have bided my time—waited for their power to fade, for that long-ago Fae warrior to trick Stryga into diminishing her power and becoming confined to the Middle. Koschei, too—confined and bound by his little lake on the continent. All before Prythian, before the land was carved up and any High Lord was crowned.”

  Cassian and I waited, not daring to interrupt.

  “Clever, that Fae warrior. Her bloodline is long gone now—though a trace still runs through some human line.” He smiled, perhaps a bit sadly. “No one remembers her name. But I do. She would have been my salvation, had I not made my choice long before she walked this earth.”

  I waited and waited and waited, picking apart the story he laid out like crumbs of bread.

  “She could not kill them in the end—they were too strong. They could only be contained.” The Carver wiped a hand through the circles he’d drawn, erasing them wholly. “I knew that long before she ever trapped them—took it upon myself to find my way here.”

  “To spare the world from yourself?” Cassian asked, brows narrowing.

  The Carver’s eyes burned like the hottest flame. “To hide from my siblings.”

  I blinked. “Why?”

  “They are death-gods, girl,” the Carver hissed. “You are immortal—or long-lived enough to seem that way. But my siblings and I … We are different. And the two of them … Stronger. So much stronger than I ever was. My sister … she found a way to eat life itself. To stay young and beautiful forever thanks to the lives she steals.”

  The weaving—the threads inside that house, the roof made of hair … I made a note to throw Rhys in the Sidra for sending me into that cottage.

  But the Carver himself … “If they are death-gods,” I said, “then what are you?”

  Death. He had asked me, over and over, about death. About what waited beyond it, what it felt like. Where I had gone. I’d thought it mere curiosity, but …

  That boy’s face crinkled with amusement. My son’s face. The vision of the future that had once been shown to me all those months ago, as some sort of taunt or embodiment of what I hadn’t dared yet admit to myself. What I was most uncertain of. And now … now that young boy … A different sort of taunt, for the future I now stood to lose.

  “I am forgotten, that’s what I am. And that’s how I prefer to be.” The Carver rested his head against the wall of rock behind him. “So you will find that I do not wish to leave. That I have no desire to remind my sister and brother that I am alive and in the world. Contained and diminished as they are, their influence remains … considerable.”

  “If Hybern wins this war,” Cassian said roughly, “you might find the gates of this place blown wide open. And your sister and brother unleashed from their own territories—and interested in paying a visit.”

  “Even Hybern is not that foolish.” A satisfied huff of air. “I’m sure there are other inmates here who will find your offer … tempting.”

  My blood roared. “You will not even consider assisting us.” I waved a hand to the cell. “This is what you would prefer—for eternity?”

  “If you knew my brother and sister, Cursebreaker, you would find this a much wiser and more comfortable alternative.”

  I opened my mouth, but Cassian squeezed my hand in warning. Enough. We’d said enough, revealed enough. Looking so desperate … It would help nothing.

  “We should go,” Cassian said to me, the very picture of unruffled calm. “The delights of the Hewn City await.”

  We’d indeed be late if we didn’t leave now. I threw a glare at the Carver by way of farewell, letting Cassian lead me toward the open cell door.

  “You are going to the Hewn City,” the Carver said—not entirely a question.

  “I don’t see how that is any business of yours,” I said over my shoulder.

  The Carver’s beat of silence echoed around us. Made us pause on the threshold.

  “One last attempt,” the Carver mused, eyes skating over us, “to rally the entirety of the Night Court, I suppose.”

  “Again, it is none of your concern,” I said coolly.

  The Carver smiled. “You will be bargaining with him.” A glance at the tattoo on my right hand. “I wonder what Keir’s asking price will be.” A low laugh. “Interesting.”

  Cassian let out a long-suffering sigh. “Out with it.”

  The Bone Carver again fell silent, toying with the shard of the Attor’s bone in the dirt beside him. “The eddies of the Cauldron swirl in strange ways,” he murmured, more to himself than us.

  “We’re going,” I said, making to turn again, hauling Cassian with me.

  “My sister had a collection of mirrors in her black castle,” the Carver said.

  We halted once more.

  “She admired herself day and night in those mirrors, gloating over her youth and beauty. There was one mirror—the Ouroboros, she called it. It was old even when we were young. A window to the world. All could be seen, all could be told through its dark surface. Keir possesses it—an heirloom of his household. Bring it to me. That is my price. The Ouroboros, and I am yours to wield. If you can find a way to free me.” A hateful smile.

  I exchanged a glance with Cassian, and we both shrugged at the Carver. “We’ll see,” was all I said before we walked out.

  Cassian and I sat on a boulder overlooking a silver stream, breathing in the chill mists. The Prison loomed at our backs, a dreadful weight blocking out the horizon.

  “You said that you knew the Carver was an old god,” I mused softly. “Did you know he was a death-god?”

  Cassian’s face was taut. “I
guessed.” When I lifted a brow, he clarified, “He carves deaths into bones. Sees them. Enjoys them. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

  I considered. “Was it you or Rhys who suggested you come here with me?”

  “I wanted to come. But Rhys … he guessed it, too.”

  Because what we’d seen in Nesta’s eyes that day …

  “Like calls to like,” I murmured.

  Cassian nodded tightly. “I don’t think even the Carver knows what Nesta is. But I wanted to see—just in case.”

  “Why?”

  “I want to help.”

  It was answer enough.

  We fell into silence, the stream gurgling as it rushed by.

  “Would you be frightened of her, if Nesta was—Death? Or if her power came from it?”

  Cassian was quiet for a long moment.

  He said at last, “I’m a warrior. I’ve walked beside Death my entire life. I would be more afraid for her, to have that power. But not afraid of her.” He considered, and added after a heartbeat, “Nothing about Nesta could frighten me.”

  I swallowed, and squeezed his hand. “Thank you.”

  I wasn’t sure why I even said it, but he nodded all the same.

  I felt him before he appeared, a spark of star-kissed joy flaring through me right as Rhys stepped out of the air itself. “Well?”

  Cassian hopped off the boulder, extending a hand to help me down. “You’re not going to like his asking price.”

  Rhys held out both hands to winnow us back to Velaris. “If he wants the fancy dinner plates, he can have them.”

  Neither Cassian nor I could muster a laugh as we both reached for Rhys’s outstretched hands. “You better bring your bargaining skills tonight,” was all Cassian muttered to my mate before we vanished into shadow.

  CHAPTER

  24

  When we returned to the town house in the height of summer afternoon heat, Cassian and Azriel drew sticks for who would remain in Velaris that night.

  Both wanted to join us at the Hewn City, but someone had to guard the city—part of their long-held protocol. And someone had to guard Elain, though I certainly wasn’t about to tell Lucien that. Cassian, swearing and pissy, got the short stick, and Azriel only clapped him on the shoulder before heading up to the House to prepare.

  I followed after him a few minutes later, leaving Cassian to tell Rhys the rest of what the Carver had said. What he wanted.

  There were two people I needed to see up at the House before we left. I should have checked in on Elain earlier, should have remembered that her would-have-been wedding was in a few days, but … I cursed myself for forgetting it. And as for Lucien … It wouldn’t hurt, I told myself, to keep tabs on where he was. How that conversation with Azriel had gone yesterday. Make sure he remembered the rules we’d set.

  But fifteen minutes later, I was trying not to wince as I walked down the halls of the House of Wind, grateful Azriel had gone ahead. I’d winnowed into the sky above the highest balcony—and since I figured now was as good a time as any to practice flying, I’d summoned wings.

  And fallen twenty feet onto hard stone.

  A rallied wind kept the fall from cracking any bones, but both my knees and my pride were significantly bruised by my graceless tumble through the air.

  At least no one had witnessed it.

  My stiff, limping steps, at least, had eased into a smoother gait by the time I found Elain in the family library.

  Still staring at the window, but she was out of her room.

  Nesta was reading in her usual chair, one eye on Elain, the other on the book spread in her lap. Only Nesta glanced my way as I slipped through the carved wooden doors.

  I murmured, “Hello,” and shut the doors behind me.

  Elain didn’t turn. She was wearing a pale pink gown that did little to complement her sallow skin, her brown-gold hair hanging in loose, heavy ringlets down her thin back.

  “It’s a fine day,” I said to them.

  Nesta arched an elegant eyebrow. “Where’s your menagerie of friends?”

  I leveled a steely look back at her. “Those friends have offered you shelter and comfort.” And training—or whatever Amren was doing. “Are you ready for tonight?”

  “Yes.” Nesta merely resumed reading the book in her lap. Pure dismissal.

  I let out a little snort that I knew would make her see red, and strode for Elain. Nesta monitored my every step, a panther readying to strike at the merest hint of danger.

  “What are you looking at?” I asked Elain, keeping my voice soft. Casual.

  Her face was wan, her lips bloodless. But they moved—barely—as she said, “I can see so very far now. All the way to the sea.”

  Indeed, the sea beyond the Sidra was a distant sparkle. “It takes some getting used to.”

  “I can hear your heartbeat—if I listen carefully. I can hear her heartbeat, too.”

  “You can learn to drown out the sounds that bother you.” I had—entirely on my own. I wondered if Nesta had as well, or if they both suffered, hearing each other’s heartbeats day and night. I didn’t look to my other sister to confirm it.

  Elain’s eyes at last slid to mine. The first time she’d done so.

  Even wasted away by grief and despair, Elain’s beauty was remarkable. Hers was a face that could bring kings to their knees. And yet there was no joy in it. No light. No life.

  She said, “I can hear the sea. Even at night. Even in my dreams. The crashing sea—and the screams of a bird made of fire.”

  It was an effort not to glance to Nesta. Even the town house was too far to hear anything from the nearby coast. And as for some fire-bird …

  “There is a garden—at my other house,” I said. “I’d like for you to come tend it, if you’re willing.”

  Elain only turned toward the sunny windows again, the light dancing in her hair. “Will I hear the earthworms writhing through the soil? Or the stretching of roots? Will the bird of fire come to sit in the trees and watch me?”

  I wasn’t sure if I should answer. It was an effort to keep from shaking.

  But I caught Nesta’s eye, noting the glimmer of pain on my eldest sister’s face before it was hidden beneath that cool mask. “There’s a book I need you to help me find, Nesta,” I said, giving a pointed stare to the stacks to my left.

  Far enough away for privacy, but close enough to remain nearby should Elain need anything. Do anything.

  Something in my chest cracked as Nesta’s eyes also went to the windows before Elain.

  To check, as I did, for whether they could be easily opened.

  Mercifully, they were permanently sealed, likely to protect against some careless fool forgetting to close them and ruining the books. Likely Cassian.

  Nesta wordlessly set down her book and followed me into the small labyrinth of stacks, both of us keeping an ear on the main sitting area.

  When we were far enough away, I threw up a shield of hard wind around us. Keeping any sound inside. “How did you get her to leave her room?”

  “I didn’t,” Nesta said, leaning against a shelf and crossing her slim arms. “I found her in here. She wasn’t in bed when I awoke.”

  Nesta must have panicked upon finding her room empty—“Did she eat anything?”

  “No. I managed to get her to drink some broth last night. She refused anything else. She’s been talking in those half riddles all day.”

  I dragged a hand through my hair, freeing strands from my braid. “Did anything happen to trigger—”

  “I don’t know. I check on her every few hours.” Nesta clenched her jaw. “I was gone for longer yesterday, though.” While she trained with Amren. Rhys had informed me that by the end of it, Nesta’s rudimentary shields were solid enough that Amren deemed my sister ready for tonight.

  But there, beneath that cool demeanor—guilt. Panic.

  “I doubt anything happened,” I said quickly. “Maybe it’s just … part of the recovery process. Her adjustment to
being Fae.”

  Nesta didn’t look convinced. “Does she have powers? Like mine.”

  And what, exactly, are those powers, Nesta? “I—don’t know. I don’t think so. Unless this is the first sign of something manifesting.” It was an effort not to add, If you’d talk about what went on in the Cauldron, perhaps we’d have a better understanding of it. “Let’s give her a day or two—see what happens. If she improves.”

  “Why not see now?”

  “Because we’re going to the Hewn City in a few hours. And you don’t seem inclined to want us shoving into your business,” I told her as evenly as I could. “I doubt Elain does, too.”

  Nesta stared me down, not a flicker of emotion on her face, and gave a curt nod. “Well, at least she left the room.”

  “And the chair.”

  We exchanged a rare, calm glance.

  But then I said, “Why won’t you train with Cassian?”

  Nesta’s spine locked up. “Why is it only Cassian that I may train with? Why not the other one?”

  “Azriel?”

  “Him, or the blond one who won’t shut up.”

  “If you’re referring to Mor—”

  “And why must I train at all? I am no warrior, nor do I desire to be.”

  “It could make you strong—”

  “There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday.”

  “You said you wanted our enemies dead. Why not kill them yourself?”

  She inspected her nails. “Why bother when someone else can do it for me?”

  I avoided the urge to rub my temples. “We’re—”

  But the doors to the library opened, and I snapped my barrier of hard air down entirely at the thud of stalking footsteps, then their sudden halting.

  I gripped Nesta’s arm to keep her still just as Lucien’s voice blurted, “You—you left your room.”

  Nesta bristled, teeth flashing. I gripped her harder, and threw a new wall of air around us—holding her there.

  Weeks of cloistering Elain had done nothing to improve her state. Perhaps the half riddles were proof of that. And even if Lucien was currently breaking the rules we had set—