Tav’s eyes hardened, hiding the hurt. Eli could feel the magic bursting around them, caught up in a tangle of strong and difficult emotions.
“I —” The words caught in her throat. Shame settled like silt in her marrow. She had thought about it. She had wanted to, for a moment. Eli lowered her hand. “I’m sorry.”
She fled.
She knew that no one would come after her.
Thirty-Four
Too many thoughts and feelings were flowing through her body, currents of electricity that sparked with hope and pain.
Eli needed answers.
She needed to know.
Not why she had been sent to kill Tav. She understood that now, and it darkened her past with lies and empty promises.
Not what the worlds would look like if they stole the Heart and changed the course of history. Not what life could be for her in the City of Ghosts. Those futures that she could map out in the constellations of Tav’s eyes excited and terrified her — but she wouldn’t have any future until she knew who she was.
What she was.
One thing she knew for sure: she could never go back to being a tool of the Coven. At least, not as an ardent believer. She no longer thought of herself as just a weapon. She could no longer take pride in her work. She no longer trusted that fate had made a home for her. Eli had been changed by visions of blood-splattered tiles and the even more disturbing memories of Cam’s honey-gold laughter and the way Tav made leaves unfurl in her rib cage, reaching upward for the sun.
She needed to know why and how she had been made, and only one person had the answer.
“You were always in such a hurry,” Kite sighed, appearing before her. Even her gentlest breath was a song. “Everything has to happen now.”
“We can’t all wait forever, Witch Lord.”
“Are you coming back?”
“I can’t.”
“You really care about them,” Kite marvelled.
Out of habit, Eli ran her fingers over the blades, checking that they were secure.
“Don’t drown them.”
Kite tilted her head forward, and her hair cascaded like a waterfall over her face, the edges twitching and tangling.
“You’re upset,” said Eli.
The hair curled more violently, writhing and twisting over her face.
“Good hunting, Eli.”
“Wish me luck.” Eli’s mouth curved into an ironic smile.
“You are an angel of death.” Kite’s skirts rustled in the breeze. “You are made for the unlucky.”
“Close enough.” She waited for Kite to disappear, slowly fading out of existence. She hoped that Kite would go back to Tav and Cam, would show them a way out of this nightmare.
And if not — Tav had magic. Cam was part of a wall. They didn’t need her anymore. They would be fine on their own. Eli forced herself to keep moving, one step after the other, moving toward the place she had left behind.
The charcoal door was studded with candles, wax dripping onto the ground, small flames flickering wildly as if trying to extinguish themselves.
Eli reached a hand to one of the flames and felt the skin of her palm burn before the light went out. A curl of smoke, like the beginning of a letter, scrawled itself across the air. Gritting her teeth at the sting of the burn, Eli knocked four times on the charcoal door. She wondered if the house would let her back in.
To her surprise, the door crumbled, candles sputtering, creating pools in the dirt. She stepped over the remains and into the house.
Circinae was waiting for her. Eli paused at the threshold.
“You’re late.”
Long polished nails tapped against the arm of her chair.
“I had things to do,” said Eli.
Fingertips clenched the upholstery, silver and black veins like tattoos marking the back of Circinae’s hand.
“And did you do them?”
“Not yet.”
“Come in then.”
Eli walked into the house.
The door formed behind her like a tomb sealing shut.
“I want you to answer my questions.”
“You are not allowed to ask questions.”
Eli drew the thorn blade, knelt, and tenderly pressed the tip to the floor of the house. Rose bushes broke through the stone floor, thorns and flowers bursting into life, creating a barrier between Circinae and the door.
Circinae sighed deeply. “I thought so. Go ahead.”
Eli rose and traded the thorn dagger for frost.
“I want to know why you made me. I want to know what I’m made from. I want to know if I have another mother — a human one. What am I, Circinae?” The questions she had been forbidden to ask spilled out of her mouth and filled the room.
The conductor who had led the orchestra of Eli’s life twisted her neck to look at her daughter. When she spoke, Circinae’s voice was slow and heavy with resignation. “I used human bone to craft you, stolen from a cemetery outside the City of Ghosts. I used spiderweb to weave your bones together. I infused your skeleton with granite and hawthorn and glass, with obsidian and pearl and roses. I used beetle shells to craft your eyes, dipped in my own blood so that you could never hide from me. I used my magic to give you a human shape, to make you bleed red, to give your lungs breath. You were never born, and you have no other mother.”
The blade sang a single clear note. Eli knew — had always known — the truth. The Hedge-Witch had lied. Of course she had. She had needed Eli’s help and knew exactly how to capture her interest.
Eli had no other mother, no place to run to.
Only Circinae.
“I’ve killed a human. Does that bother you?”
“I’ve never cared who you kill. I only care about getting power.”
Eli let the truth flutter between them like a curtain for a few moments before speaking again. “All those years I spent begging for answers. Wanting my recipe. Wanting to know what I was made of. Making notes, listening, learning, wondering each time I fell if something in my body would break. Wondering each time I touched an object if I was touching kin. The not knowing hurt me, Circinae. You know that. You know what I wanted. Why did you keep it from me?”
“The secrets of making daughters are mine, girl.” A smile like a scythe. “And your desperation for knowledge tied you to me as surely as our shared blood.”
Eli’s fingers twitched for the obsidian blade, the witch killer. “Then why are you telling me now?”
Nails clacking together. A stray thread pulled from the armchair.
“I want to show you something.” Circinae threw a sugar cube into her mouth and sucked it noisily. Eli reached out a hand and, after a second, Circinae gave her a cube, too.
“I’ll come.”
“Your last act as an obedient daughter.” Circinae laughed bitterly.
A staircase wrenched itself up out of the flooring, scattering fragments of stone and many, many crumbs. Twirling their way upward, the stairs stilled into a narrow winding staircase stabbing through the roof and stretching forever up.
“Ladies first,” said Eli, gesturing with the frost blade.
Circinae laughed again.
They climbed.
Minutes grew into hours, which collapsed into days, and then the human circadian rhythm Eli had adapted to fell away, and she became just another magic thing in a magic world of things that existed, or didn’t, and lived, or didn’t, and died, or didn’t. Clouds formed into swans and watercolour paintings and then tore themselves apart. Rain and thunderstorms danced around their bodies, and then the Earth’s sun came out and lit up the world.