I winced and rubbed my neck, then looked around for the sword shards. When I looked up, Xaltorath had vanished, and only the other woman remained.
Tya.
I sat on the ground and folded my legs under me.
The woman turned around. “Janel—”
“‘Our arrangement is over’?” I said. “And what arrangement would that be? How do you know me?”
“Janel, please let me explain.”
“That’s what I’m asking you to do.”
“I’m your mother,” Tya said. “Your real mother.”
I fought to keep calm. The furious rage didn’t help. “All my life, I’ve been told my mother’s name was Frena. Or more recently that my mother was a dancing girl. You don’t strike me as either.”
“Who would have said your mother was—oh. Let me guess. Relos Var?”3 She sighed and walked over to me. “I suppose that description held some accuracy once. It’s been a long time, however.” She sat down across from me, ignoring how her beautiful dress trailed through the muck.
I stared at her. “Do you have any idea what Xaltorath’s done to me, over the years?”
My mother looked away, her expression pained. “I … have some idea. None of this was supposed to happen.”
“What a comfort that is.”
She winced at my bitter tone. “I chose your parents carefully. They were good people who wanted a child and would have raised you well.”
“I loved them,” I admitted, feeling my throat tighten.
“And I thought myself so clever,” she said, “because even though I followed the prophecies, the ‘recipes,’ with your father, I also made you hard to find. I didn’t try to keep you. I didn’t leave you with anyone who had any connection to me. Except somehow Xaltorath knew. A fact she made clear when she attacked Lonezh. So I had a choice: agree to her terms or watch as she killed you.”
“You’re a goddess, aren’t you?” I stopped studying my hands for long enough to glare at her. “I mean, you’re here, you drove away Xaltorath. She called you Tya. You’re one of the Eight. Yet you couldn’t dismiss a single demon?”
“She’s not a single demon. She’s Xaltorath. A million screaming souls make up her identity, and some of those souls belong to god-kings.4 I risked your annihilation in such a fight. When a demon kills, it eats its victims, absorbs their souls. It’s never certain a soul can be recovered, and when it’s Xaltorath…” Tya shook her head. “Xaltorath wouldn’t have gone down easily. So we came to terms.”
“And what was it she wanted?”
“You. Access to you. And my noninterference.”
I closed my eyes. “Do you know why?”
“No, but Taja assures me we should look at it as a good sign. I don’t expect you to forgive me—”
“Good.”
Tya sighed. “I had my reasons.”
I found myself incapable of dealing with my tumult of emotions. I have no idea why the whole field didn’t spontaneously combust. I felt so angry at her, so angry at Qoran Milligreest. And both had proven they would have sacrificed thousands for me. But why? For what?
Why was I so important? Because I fit some demonic prophecy’s requirements? Because I’d “volunteered” for this in a life I didn’t remember? I wanted to scream at them both. I wanted to call them out as fools. The prophecies were a lie. I knew because demons had created them.
If there was one lesson I’d learned on Xaltorath’s knee, it was this: demons lie.
Demons always lie.
I opened my eyes again. “So my father is the reason Duke Kaen didn’t have me killed. And you’re the reason Relos Var didn’t have me killed. Because he likes to strike at his enemies through family members.”
“Yes.”
“Is your real name Irisia?”
Tya frowned. “Where did you hear that name?”
“An old woman named Wyrga.”
“There aren’t many who would remember my real name. Whoever she is, I imagine she’s quite a bit older than she appears.”
“And she appears quite old.” I sighed. “Fine. I know you’re my mother now. You may leave.”
Tya looked both surprised and saddened. “Janel, I had thought—”
“Thought what? Thought we’d have a happy reunion? I would hold out my arms and welcome you into them as the mother I always wished I had? The mother I always wished I had died when I was eight, slaughtered by demons. You abandoned me. You may have thought your reasons sound, but it doesn’t change the result. And when you gave me up, you gave me up for good. You don’t get to pretend all is well and forgiven. It isn’t. It never will be.”
Her expression hardened.
She vanished.
I screamed into the void left by her absence.
“My count?”
My eyes widened, and I scrambled to my feet, turning to see Arasgon standing there. “What? No, what happened? You shouldn’t be here…”
I only knew one reason Arasgon would be in the Afterlife: his death. But even as the panicked thought rampaged across my mind, I realized Arasgon’s appearance had changed.
Fire burned from his eyes and hooves. Instead of tiger stripes along his legs, his mane was a mass of flame and sparks. I’d have thought him demonic if the flames were blue instead of red. And yet, I would have known Arasgon anywhere. The curve of his flanks, the arch of his neck, the gentle bend of his nose. This wasn’t Xaltorath.
He walked up to me and bent his head to nuzzle my shoulder.
I threw my arms around him and started to cry.
“Did … how?” I lacked any coherence.
“Your mother,” he answered. “She thought you might like my company and so showed me how to join you here.”5
I hadn’t even suspected such a thing might be possible or how Tya might have accomplished it. And yet I could assume the Goddess of Magic knew one or two more things than I did.
“If she thinks I’m going to forgive her just because she—” But the words choked in my throat.
Because as gestures went, this was a good start.
I sobbed into his hide, until Arasgon had enough and butted me with his head. “Come on, then. I want to run.”
“You always want to run.” Laughter and tears fought with each other, and I wiped at my eyes.
He gave me a silent laugh and shook his head in agreement. “Running is one of life’s great joys. You two-legs always want to complicate the matter with duties and obligations and punishments. Just run. Remember how you used to love to run?”
“Just run?” I echoed. “I’m not running anymore, Arasgon.”
“Of course you are. You’re just not running away.”
I felt laughter shudder through my chest as I petted his nose, always the softest velvet. No, I wasn’t running away anymore. I felt a moment’s regret, though, for my canton, Tolamer. I had abandoned it, even as I’d promised myself this was necessary to save it.
And I thought of what my mother had done with me.
So I was a hypocrite. Aren’t we all?
But then I had a different thought. “Wait, are you with Dorna? I mean, in the Living World?”