After dinner, Daivad climbed up to his house in much the same mood as he had been in watching Tobei load that wagon. When the sun rose again, Tobei would be heading off on a dangerous, violent adventure while Daivad had to sit at home and imagine what was happening to Nyxabella at any given moment.
He’d seen so many of Richard’s “brides” come and go. Come and die. They would arrive starry-eyed and blushing, so shocked the Crown Prince had chosen them, but that never lasted more than a day or two. They all learned quickly that he was as bad as any beast beyond the walls.
Daivad had tried to protect them, and he’d failed every time. He’d thought when he left his title behind that he was leaving that behind as well. That helplessness, watching young girls die by the hand of his “brother,” and being able to do nothing. Was it about to happen all over again?
He was so lost in his thoughts when he walked through his front doorway that he made it all the way to his bedroom without noticing the scent of monster.
“HUGE MAN!”
Daivad nearly shit. He was so startled it took him a second of staring at Julius, hanging upside down from his window, to understand what was going on. Julius flapped his wings happily, his normally pale eye now a bright blue in the darkness, and before Daivad could actually react, Julius began to retch.
Finally. Daivad crossed the room in two strides.
From the first word that came in Nyxabella’s voice, Daivad knew something was wrong.
“Yeah,” she said, flat. Dead. “The curse is mine. And even if my magic could reach across Lushale to undo what it’s done, I’d still refuse. I will tell you, the fact that the memories keep her up, that they hurt her the way she hurt Clarix—it means she can be helped. That she can help herself. Whether she will or not is her choice.”
There was a pause, and when her voice returned, it came back softer, and a little more alive. “Thank you for all the stories, Daivad. I’ve said it a dozen times, but it would take a thousand more to weigh them with enough meaning, especially since all I gifted you in return was silence.
“I…” He could hear the gentle smile in her voice, and a knot in his chest released for the first time all Dry Moon. “Really, thank you.”
“This train robbery,” she started, and he settled against the table where his water basin lived, “is only days away now. What I’d give to witness it… I imagine you could say the same—you don’t strike me as a man with much patience for the sidelines.”
He straightened a little.
“But I reluctantly agree with Bennen, that it’s best we both stay out of sight on that night. There have … been some revelations in the last few days here. Some I’d name Good, and some others Bad.
“The first Good one is that I think you’d name one of the Bad ones Good—but the first Bad one is that one of the Good ones has a Bad edge.” She sighed, and he could almost imagine her massaging an ache out of her temples.
“Apologies for all the knots I just tied into that sentence—let me just tell you the tale straight. I assume the Colonel must have sifted through enough rubble in Luvatha to find some sort of conclusion in it, because despite Aran’s continued absence, Z’s sentence has finally come down. And it’s harsher than any of us expected.
“Toll’s numbers are dwindling. I don’t know if you ever had to walk the mines yourself, but according to Richard, their conditions are bad enough and the Elleipsium effects pervasive enough that if you don’t die of illness, exhaustion, or injury, you die from all the Nothing. The lack of life, will, magic.
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“It would be one thing to Aran if it was only the prisoners dropping dead on a daily basis, but apparently it’s the guards too. They’re deserting in waves, or refusing the position, no matter how much Aran offers them. And she thinks Z is just the person to plug Toll’s slow leak. I guess I can see the thread of her logic—Z’s head of the Entertainment, they know people and how to play them. She hopes maybe they can come up with a way to name Toll and its mines Tolerable. But Aran forgets that unlike her, Lona never collared her offspring when they got too unruly—Z has no experience with Elleipsium. I doubt they’ve even ever lost their magic, so I can’t imagine how they’ll manage to live without it.
“Z’s sentence is only as long as the life of that slow leak—as soon as they can patch up Toll, they’ll be welcomed back to Broken Earth. But I have no idea if the leak really is slow, or if it can be patched at all.”
Another sigh, and then she continued, “So that’s the Bad revelation that I thought you might name Good—I got the feeling you weren’t Z’s biggest fan, and this gets them out of the way, nearly to the Ixhalen border. But that revelation leads to another—Richard will be the one escorting Z to Toll.”
Daivad’s stomach dropped.
That dead tone from before returned. “And I’m to warm my prince’s side, of course.”
Daivad pushed off the stand hard enough to rock the basin and splash water onto the floor, and he began to pace, jamming the heel of his palm into his knuckles until they cracked.
“And Jac will play the role of my protector, so she’ll be by my side.”
Well, that was something. Still, Daivad cracked the knuckles of his other hand.
“Now, let me try to name one of the thoughts in your head—why would Aran send Richard to escort Z to Toll? Another distraction? Not according to Aran. She says there’s something she’s been hiding where no one would ever want to go—those Elleipsium mines. And she’s finally ready to show him.”
Shit.
Daivad shook his hands out, then started the cracking process over again.
“I can’t even guess what she’s got tucked within those mines. But—maybe I won’t have to. If I’m at Richard’s side, maybe I’ll see it for myself.”
“No, no, no, Nyxabella,” he mumbled. “Talk him into letting you stay behind. Do not ride that cursed fucking railcar up that cursed fucking mount—”
“I don’t know how far the Elleipsium’s fingers reach, if they’re long enough to choke out my magic and keep me hidden from Julius even when I’m in the city, so it may be a while before the Goodest Boy—,” he heard kisses being placed, presumably on Julius, “—is puking up my words again. But—at least it ensures I’m spared the Colonel’s scrutiny until after Toll. You said you’re working out a plan to deal with him, so that gives you some extra days to count out. I know you’re worried he’ll see through me, or Jac, but you might be underestimating us—my skill, and Jac’s stubbornness.
“And don’t worry while I’m in Toll, Dai.” She threw in the nickname to bring his guard down, so she could easier feed him these words, he was sure of it. “I can handle Elleipsium—and I can handle Richard too. If I can send word, I will.
“My real concern is Kitten. It’s not like I can stuff him in my luggage—it didn’t go well last time, and he wouldn’t even fit now. But I can’t name the days I’ll be gone, and I can’t guarantee Julius will be able to keep him out of the city. You should see him, Dai, he’s huge, and the new size hasn’t slowed him down a bit. If I had more time to teach him his manners, explain that I’ll be gone for a bit and beg him to stay safely among the dead, maybe he’d be alright for a few weeks here without me. But I couldn’t even sneak to the graveyard tonight, I had to sneak Julius into Muse House. Between preparing for the Full Dry Moon celebration here at Muse House, and preparing to leave for Toll the next day, I couldn’t slip away. I’m hoping that with the celebration as a distraction, I’ll be able to sneak off then, but I couldn’t name it Guaranteed.
“I … I’ll just have to see.”
Another sigh. “Tell Clarix and the Wolves that I love them, and I hope I see them soon.” She finished with a mischievous edge. “And you too, Dai.”
Julius’ teeth clacked shut and he shook his head, flapping his ears and jangling the stone on his collar.
In an attempt to head the beast off, Daivad said, “You don’t have to say—”
“Snack, please!” Julius shrieked. “Good boy, Julius!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Daivad grumbled. “Come on.”