Chapter 49

49

Aiz

To Aiz's surprise, death was kind. She did not hurt. She did not suffer. It was quiet and peaceful, and her body felt like a smile; like it had in those brief weeks with the Tribes, when she'd had clothes to warm her, food to fill her, and Quil to love her.

Her memories were strange. The Ankanese High Seer summoning her. Quil ambushing her.

Sufiyan stabbing her over and over again. For Ruh—for Ruh—for Ruh—

Aiz waited for Div's aid, but it never came, and she'd watched, oddly detached, as Sufiyan's knife sank into her chest. She thought she would be terrified to leave her people, angry at Sufiyan for taking her from them.

All she felt was relief. For the first time since she'd watched Mother Div rip Ruh's heart out, the horror-struck scream echoing in the back of her mind fell silent, awaiting death.

But death didn't come for her. Not yet.

Instead, pain. Blazing, nerve-crushing pain. She awoke to a flash of foggy night sky, the smell of blood, and an emptiness she couldn't understand or name. She blinked, trying to clear her vision as she took in the person next to her.

Cero.

She jerked fully awake. Cero's hand was draped on Aiz's waist. His face was deathly pale, and blood pooled around him on the stone floor of a prison.

Aiz scrambled to her knees and shook him, but he didn't move. Bloodsmithing. She needed to bloodsmith him back to life. She was the Tel Ilessi, for Spires' sake.

But she realized as she touched his warm skin that she must have already bloodsmithed him. For though he was unconscious, his chest moved. The arrows that had impaled him now littered the ground around them both.

She looked down at her own chest. She'd felt Sufiyan stab her. Over and over until she'd wondered how there was any flesh left to pierce. But though her shirt was shredded, her body was whole.

Aiz put her hands on Cero and willed him awake, wrapping the wind she could call around him in a warm blanket. The wind responded sluggishly.

She reached for Mother Div's magic, and when she didn't feel it, when all she encountered was her own paltry will, she groaned at the thought that Mother Div would again demand to feed.

And then, slowly, understanding dawned, and a terror that rolled through her like a fever. The emptiness within—she knew what it was.

Div was gone.

Aiz looked up at the bare cells around her. At the arrows and blood, and the stars through a window.

"Ai-Aiz—"

Cero's voice penetrated her horror.

"Cero." She pulled him to her. "Thank the Spires you're alive. I—saw you fall. I must have bloodsmithed you, though I don't remember—"

"Aiz, we must leave. It was High Seer Remi who betrayed us to them. We're not safe here. Do you have a way of getting in touch with the seer who is loyal to you?"

Dolbra, he meant. She didn't answer him. For the import of what had happened struck her as if the weight of the Spires had crashed down on her chest.

"Cero," she whispered. "Div is gone."

Cero's eyes grew bright—not with shock, but hope. "How—how do you know? Are you sure—"

But Aiz shook her head. She thought of Ruh, shrieking as he died. Of Mother Div's silken promises. She thought of the hunger that had gnawed at her for months, and the void within her now that it was gone. She remembered Sister Noa's warning. You are lost.

"A better question is, how will I rule? If I don't have Div, I'm not Tel Ilessi. Without her, I cannot take our people home. Without her, Cero, I am nothing."