Satisfied the fire would reach every malice-touched part of the town, Nightrender landed and walked along the firebreak where she could monitor the blaze without inhaling smoke. (Not that inhaling smoke harmed her, but even immortal champions preferred clean air.)
Unfortunately, now that this sad task was complete, she had nothing to occupy her mind. The fire wouldn’t burn forever, especially with the kindlewater making the flames hotter. It would soon run out of fuel, and then she would be forced to make a decision about whether to tell Prince Rune that Princess Johanne had assisted with the mal-device.
How much would that really count as her taking sides in the war? Did it make a difference that malice was being used? She fought malice. Surely this was her business.
But…did that mean that she needed to stand against any kingdom—or person—who used malice against others?
This was a line she had never anticipated needing to toe. How could she protect people like this?
You know what I think?
She ignored the voice, continuing along the firebreak. The flames had engulfed the town now, burning hot and bright against midnight, and clouds of ash obscured the moon and dimmed the stars. She tried to think about all the ways the sky had shifted in her time—the brilliant red glint of a dying star, the way old constellations slowly drifted into unrecognizable shapes—but the voice was persistent.
I think humans are the real monsters. Not you.
She clenched her jaw and continued along her path. Considering all the things humans had done to one another over thousands of years, it was hard to argue for the goodness of humanity. The invention of the mal-device was only the most recent example, and perhaps the next logical step, in their endless quest to destroy themselves.
Yes, it said. Look what they’ve done to themselves. Is that not monstrous?
It was, wasn’t it? But—
“I killed all the royal families in the Red Dawn. That was monstrous.”
The voice chuckled darkly. You aren’t an unreasonable person.
“I’m not a person,” she whispered. “I’m Nightrender.”
You’ve spent lifetimes protecting them. Serving them. Going out of your way to ensure they live another generation. You have devoted everything to humans.
That was true.
Ask yourself what happened. Ask yourself why you would take such drastic action.
“I cannot possibly know that.” She was already regretting the decision to respond to the voice. It was not her friend. Not her confidant. No, she needed to find out what it really was and remove it, same as a human might remove a gangrenous limb.
After she led her army of not-Dawnbreakers into the Malice.
They must have done something terrible, it pressed. Something to make you very angry.
Prince Rune and Grand Priest Larksong believed her actions had been divine justice.
She wanted to ask if the voice knew anything, or if its plan was just to annoy her to death, but she was very firmly not speaking to it now. Instead, she focused on the roar of the fire, punctuated by the shriek and crash of collapsing buildings. She had to decide quickly.
Tell Prince Rune.
Or don’t, and let things unfold as they may.
He was her soul shard. She couldn’t deny it anymore. He might not remember her name, and to protect his gentle heart she would never tell him what he was, but that didn’t change the existence of their bond. Keeping this development from him would be a betrayal of her own soul.
So what mattered more?
The night began to die, and so did the fire.
Decide, she thought to herself. Decide now.
Sudden darkness blossomed in the back of her mind.
It was the same buzzing feeling from earlier—yesterday now—when the mal-device had gone off. So that must mean…
Nightrender gazed northwest, where the feeling had come from, and frowned.
Another mal-device had detonated.
32.
RUNE
A crash awakened him.
A bang.
And light flared beyond his eyelids.
“He’s all right, Your Majesty. Just sleeping.”
Rune groaned and tried to sit up, struggling to figure out what was happening. After Hanne had left last night, he’d stood on his balcony, watching the Malstop glow darkly against the night sky. He’d been thinking about what happened in Hanne’s room, then the Nightrender and his guilt, then what happened in Hanne’s room, then the inevitable collapse of the Malstop unless they sent an army or two through the Soul Gate…and then again what happened in Hanne’s room.
Finally, he’d gone to bed, confused and agitated. He’d dreamed of violence and rancor, with malice flooding across the fields and towns of Caberwill. In his dreams, the Nightrender had fought until the darkness overwhelmed her, leaving him absolutely certain that she would die if she went into the Malice without him.
And now there were people standing over him, shouting, dragging him upright.
“Am I being kidnapped?” He blinked around furiously.
“Your Highness, there’s news.” John held one of Rune’s shoulders, steadying him.
“John.” Rune rubbed his eyes. “What are you—”
“Rune.” Queen Grace’s voice came from the parlor. “Get dressed. We must speak.”
So he wasn’t being kidnapped after all. Probably for the best.
“What time is it?” Rune dropped out of bed and closed the door, just enough so that he could get dressed without his mother watching.
“Not yet dawn.” John was already pulling items out of the wardrobe. “This should do.”
“Since when does my guard dress me?” Rune traded his nightshirt for a doublet.
“Since there’s no time to wait for anyone else.” John threw more clothes at him.
“Why? What’s going on?”
John shook his head. “I shouldn’t. Your mother will want to be the one to tell you.”
A knot of anxiety tightened in Rune’s chest as he finished dressing, then trudged into the parlor, where Queen Grace, Dayle Larksong, Charity Wintersoft, and Rupert Flight all waited—along with a half dozen armed guards.
For a moment, when Rune came in, everyone was quiet. There was only the splash of water from that garish fountain, which still dominated the place where he should be sitting down to eat breakfast in a few hours. All these people barely fit around the jewel-topped crown and pool of loud, burbling water.
“What’s happened?” His voice was rough, but he managed to keep it steady. What had he done wrong this time? “Mother?”