She chuckled. “You may have a point. I wasn’t much older than you when I first met Relos Var. Except unlike you, I was a sex slave owned by the High Lord of House D’Jorax. Believe me when I say that compared to royalty, Relos Var looks very good indeed.”
I felt a shudder pass through me. “I’m sorry.”
“I’d say it was worse than you can imagine, but you’ve known Xaltorath, so I doubt that’s true. In any event, you see why I’m biased in Relos Var’s favor.”
Looking at her, I understood too. After all, what could ever compete? Var had rescued her from horrors. Why would she ever turn against the man who freed her from that?
But he’d done more than rescue Senera: he’d educated her, trained her, given her a cause. Senera didn’t believe she was an evil person. She might do terrible things, yes, but she clearly felt the wrongs she committed were for the greater good, justified by a greater and better future. She wasn’t a demon but an angel, fighting a holy war against the monsters who had put her through more pain than any man, woman, or child should ever endure.3
I couldn’t look at her and tell myself I’d never fall into the same trap. How easy is it to convince ourselves we’re infallible, that our way and point of view are the only ones that matter. Oh, it is the easiest trap, and it always comes loaded with the most effective bait, our own desperate need for self-worth.
“Look, would you mind … leaving me be? I need time.”
Senera started to say something, paused, and nodded. “Of course.”
She walked out the door.
As soon as she left, I drew a deep breath and then let myself succumb to what I’d been holding back for as long as I remembered. Holding back because I had been raised to believe my duty required me to be a symbol of strength for others.
But I no longer existed as a symbol of strength for anyone. No one was counting on me to be the one in control.
I was anything but in control.
I wanted my grandfather. I wanted my parents. I wanted my mother.
Except they weren’t my real family. She wasn’t my real mother. She never had been.
I collapsed into tears and didn’t stop crying until at some point my sobs rolled over into my own parody of sleep.
* * *
I woke to find myself back in the Afterlife.
And about to be attacked by demons. Of course.
I didn’t hesitate. I waded into the battle, screaming.
In the middle of fighting demons, ankle deep in blood, I realized I wasn’t alone. I hadn’t heard the elephants this time. I’d seen no arrows from Thaena’s troops.
And yet, Teraeth was fighting alongside me, destroying demons too, slicing knives across throats and slipping blades under armor with the most elegant precision. He gave me no sign but a nod, and then we both fell back to killing.
I wasn’t done crying. I sobbed even as I discarded the sword as inadequate to my rage and began using my bare hands to rip and maim and slaughter.
Even though I had always acted as though my strength was a curse, this time I reveled in the power denied me in the Living World. I let my savage delight show in every skull crushed in my bare hands or throat ripped out by curled fingers.
And finally, we were the only ones left.
“Janel…” He sheathed his knives, his eyes on me filled with concern as he rushed over to me. “What happened? I heard—”
I almost sat on a demon’s corpse, but chose a rock instead, knowing the body would fade in minutes. I took a deep, shuddering breath and wrestled my emotions under control.
“Teraeth, I’ve made a terrible mistake.”
He knelt next to me, touched my cheek as delicately as I had once touched his. “I’ll organize a rescue party. Mother told me what happened. It’s not worth staying there.”
“They gaeshed Qown.” I winced. “Relos Var gaeshed Qown.”
He bit his lip. As he did, I realized he had no idea who Qown was. I’d never mentioned the priest to him before. But even without knowing Qown’s identity, Teraeth must have understood my guilt.
“Okay,” he said. “My mother can help. We can pull you out.”
“No, No. I—” I took a deep breath. “I still have to find the spear. Who knows how many more people across Jorat are going to die until I do?”
His expression tightened. “Thaena said the spear may be able to kill a dragon. May. She doesn’t know for sure. It’s never been done. It’s not worth putting you in jeopardy.”
I almost felt flattered at the concern in his voice. Almost. Except for the healthy dose of “I know better than you do” condescension that also lurked there.
I wasn’t in the mood.
“No,” I repeated. “I refuse to retreat when I’ve come this far. I need to find a way to recover Qown’s gaesh and the spear, and in the meantime, I’m learning invaluable information. For example, they have in their possession a Cornerstone called the Name of All Things, which can be used to answer any question. If it has seemed like your enemies know too much, it’s not your imagination.”4
Teraeth’s eyes widened. “What?”
“You see? Now you know something new. You’re welcome.”
“So you mean the only thing keeping them from finding out you’re a spy is they haven’t asked?” His voice rose. “No. Absolutely not. I’m coming after you right now. I’ll go to Mithros. He’s been worried sick about you—”
“Mithros knows where I am, Teraeth.”
He stopped, flustered. “No, he doesn’t. I spoke to him yesterday. He said he hadn’t spoken to you since the morning of the tournament.”
I stared at him. “No, that’s not—” I stood up from the rock and paced several times, casting my gaze toward the Chasm. “When I saw him here in the Afterlife, he wouldn’t go to the Chasm. In fact, he led me away from the Chasm.”
“So?”
“You’re never more likely to encounter a god than at the Chasm.” I looked at Teraeth. “I thought I was speaking with Khored—to Mithros. You do know who Mithros really is—?”
He waved a hand. “I know. But go on.”
“What if I’ve been speaking with someone else? Xaltorath? But why would she—” I resisted the urge to wring my hands. “Teraeth, if it was her … she did something to me that stopped Relos Var from gaeshing me. Why would Xaltorath do that?”
“Stopped you from being gaeshed?” Teraeth blinked. “I don’t understand.”
“Khored—or Xaltorath, or whoever it was—did something that would protect me from being gaeshed. Which, since I’m not gaeshed right now, must have worked.”
Teraeth shook his head. “That’s impossible.”
“Clearly not.”
He frowned. “What if Xaltorath gaeshed you? As far as I know, you can’t be gaeshed twice.”
“I think I’d know if I’d been gaeshed.”
“Would you?” Teraeth raised an eyebrow. “Do you sleep without dreams? Do you feel weakened?”
He already knew the answer to one of those questions: I possessed no dreams except for my journeys through the Afterlife. And I did indeed feel weakened—because of Senera.