Cruel Beauty
Page 42

Arms around me in the dark. Lips against mine in the sunlight. Do you know why I love you?
He knew me. And loved me. And he had never asked me for anything. Even Shade wanted me to die for him. Maybe I shouldn’t forgive a monster just because he loved me that way—but—
But loving me that way made him a monster. My doom was the price of saving Arcadia, and only a monster would care more about me than saving thousands upon thousands of innocents. Shade was the last prince; of course if he could save only one, he would choose Arcadia. I would do the same.
“Well, the Kindly Ones would seem to merit blame as well,” I said. “Can you tell me anything about them?”
“They never come unless they are called,” said Shade. “They never depart without being paid.”
“Are they the ones who made you like this?” I asked. “He doesn’t seem to remember. I thought he just captured you when he sundered Arcadia, but it has to be more complicated than that.”
Shade’s lips pressed together.
“I think he’s been made to forget something about you. He seems to really believe you’re just his shadow. But then sometimes he acts as if you’re a separate person that he once knew. He says you’re a fool.”
The fire crackled louder. It sounded almost like laughter.
“He is the fool,” said Shade. “Mourning and raging and he doesn’t even know how his wives died.” There was an edge to his voice I had never heard before.
Firelight danced in his eyes. Had the flames grown closer? I felt a sudden wave of heat against my face.
“He said they opened the wrong doors. Or guessed the wrong name.”
“Three of them guessed wrong. The other five? They weren’t strong enough. When I took them to this room and showed them the truth, they died. But you.” His voice was full of gentle wonder. “You looked on the Children of Typhon and survived.”
He spoke the words so calmly and I had trusted him so much that it was a moment before fear shivered in my stomach.
“I don’t know about that,” I said, wondering how fast Shade could run. The flames were definitely closer now; sweat prickled on my face.
“You are our only hope,” he said. I pulled my hands out of his and bolted.
But he didn’t need to run. He simply melted out of the air in front of me and grabbed my wrists, his grip as strong as Ignifex’s.
“Let me go,” I gasped, wrenching my arms in vain.
“You asked how I was made,” he said serenely. “I’m going to show you. I’m going to show you everything.”
The circle of fire tightened around us, and the heat drummed on my skin. I remembered the time Father donated a pig for roasting in the village square, but the spit collapsed and when they hauled the pig out it was a blackened mess.
“You’re going to kill me!” My voice came out so high and panicked it was almost a squeal.
“This room is the only way to show you,” said Shade. “It might kill you. But you said you would die for me, and you cannot save anyone unless you know the truth.”
Then the flames were all around us, filling the whole room, lapping over my body. Pain seared through me, white-hot or ice-cold, I couldn’t tell. I screamed and my legs gave out, but I didn’t fall because Shade still gripped my wrists like iron. He lowered me slowly to the ground and rested my head in his lap.
There was no smell of burning flesh. My clothes did not char. But the flames licking across my body felt real, felt like they were burning my body to ash. My heart pounded in a jagged rhythm. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even scream. All I could do was shudder in pain and stare up at Shade’s face, at those blue eyes I had once thought so human. He looked sad, but he made no move to help me.
“Please,” I gasped.
Shade laid a hand on my cheek. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wish we could have met somewhere else.”
He leaned down and pressed his lips to my forehead. Fire blazed across my vision and I had one moment to think, Was it like this for Ignifex? before I saw nothing more.
I stood in a round garden with high white walls. I felt that I had seen it before, but I couldn’t remember where. Trees ringed the edge of the garden; all around me were great hedges of rosebushes, blossoming in cascades of crimson, white, and red-tipped gold flowers. Overflowing petals lay spattered on the ground beneath them. The light was a liquid, living thing that swirled and eddied through the leaves, rustling them like wind. In the corner of my eye, I thought it had shaped itself into figures that stood watching with still, perilous attention—but when I looked, they were gone.
Before me stood a dried bush, barely more than a skeleton, just a few brown leaves clinging to its twigs. On the topmost branch perched a brown-and-gray sparrow, its black eyes bright.
Thank you for the crumbs, it said.
My throat itched and stuck to itself as I swallowed. “You,” I whispered. “You’re the Lar of this house.”
You could say that. Others might not.
“Are you one of the Kindly Ones?” I asked.
Nothing so young or foolish.
“Then what are you?”
It launched into the air and landed on my hand, tiny claws pricking my skin. I am grateful for your kindness.
Dry leaves crackled behind me; dry, hot air stirred against the back of my neck. I whirled, sure that someone had passed behind me, but saw nothing.
“And where is this?” I asked.
That depends, said the sparrow, on why you are here.
I was here because Shade had betrayed me. But now that didn’t seem so important. And it wasn’t the real reason anyway.
“I’m looking for the truth about this house,” I said. “About Arcadia. I have to save us all.”
Then look in the pool, said the sparrow.
I realized that at the center of the garden was a great round pool lined with marble. At first I thought it was empty. Then as I stepped closer, I thought it was full of perfectly clear water; but when I stood at the rim, I realized that it was filled with liquid light.
All times are gathered here, said the sparrow. You might see something useful.
I knelt; the marble rim was cool and smooth beneath my fingers. My eyes did not want to focus on the liquid glimmer. It was worse than the library had ever been; just a moment’s attention made my eyes ache and water, while my body shuddered with the need to look away. But I forced myself to look down into the coruscating ripples, hanging on to the rim with cramping fingers, my breath coming in choked gasps, until I thought I saw a shadow—a face—