The Songbird and the Heart of Stone (Crowns of Nyaxia #3)

Chapter 28

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

I ’d seen plenty of supposed impossibilities in my lifetime. But as I sat at the ghost’s table, watching her command a small legion of little formless shadows about her kitchen, I still had to take a moment to adjust to the situation. When I first left the Citadel in the hopes of seeing the world, I couldn’t have imagined this. Apparently I’d made it further than even my fifteen-year-old self could ever have imagined.

Still, somehow the thing that seemed strangest of all was how at ease Asar looked. He was in an armchair, one foot propped up on the coffee table.

Lounging.

I never thought I’d see Asar lounge . It was like witnessing a dog sing.

He caught my gaze and narrowed his eyes.

“What?”

I looked down at my drink. “Nothing.”

I wasn’t sure why I didn’t tease him about it. It just didn’t feel right.

Esme sat across from Asar, back straight, glass of blood— ghost blood? —perched in long, slender fingers. Once one got past the gaping wound in her chest, she reeked of sophistication. Everything about her exuded the grace of vampire nobility, save, maybe, for the fact that Asar seemed to actually like her. Even the styling of the decor could have been lifted from any Shadowborn noble’s apartment—all lush velvets and rich colors. An arrangement of fine furniture circled a majestic black fireplace, blue translucent flame burning within. I sat at a mahogany table in a brocade chair. Esme’s servants—or at least, that’s what they seemed to be—floated in and out of the kitchen, their nebulous bodies rearranging to carry platters of drinks and food. When one of them set a plate of sliced steak in front of me, the strips of meat wrapped in flaky yellow pastry, I gasped.

The smell—gods help me. Food hadn’t smelled like this in decades.

“I’m sorry I can’t provide anything more…?substantial,” Esme said.

“Substantial?” I had to remind myself to use my fork instead of my hands. The pastry melted over my tongue. The meat was perfectly cooked. I couldn’t remember the last time anything had tasted this good. I had this thought and then silently apologized to Raihn for it. “This is amazing. It’s?—”

“A particular favorite? I know. Or rather, the Descent knows.” Esme gestured above us. “This is Psyche, after all. Your mind is no secret.”

“The food isn’t real,” Asar said. “The blood, either, unfortunately. It tastes good, but that’s all.”

“I don’t care,” I said—and I really didn’t. Another puff of shadow set down a plate of cake beside me, and my eyes went round.

Sweet tastes had been the first to go. I couldn’t even remember what human buttercream had tasted like. Gods above. I was in heaven.

Asar gave a low chuckle, and I glared at him.

“Don’t judge me, Lord Joyless Warden, for enjoying a few mortal pleasures. Even if they’re false ones.”

He touched his chest. “I would never deny you a mortal pleasure, Iliae.”

Something about the way he said it made another memory float through my mind: Until you were so exhausted with pleasure you begged me to stop. Asar’s smile flickered, like he was having this thought, too. I looked back to my plate.

A much simpler temptation.

I cleared my throat, gaze darting up to Esme, who watched me with a curious stare. “So…?how do you know Asar?”

It seemed like a much more polite way to word it than, Who are you and what are you and why are you dead?

Esme laughed. “I appreciate your attempt at tact, my lady.”

“Oh, I’m not a lady,” I said around a full mouth.

“No, definitely not,” Asar agreed, and I gave him a scowl.

“I am Asar’s predecessor,” Esme said. “I was the warden of Morthryn for nearly three hundred years. Until I displeased the great Shadowborn king.” Venom dripped from the title. She gestured to her chest. “I suppose even in death, I cannot escape my charge.”

Asar raised his glass. “We’re fortunate to have you.”

Esme lowered her head in a demure, flattered bow. “How sweet of you.”

“It’s the truth.” Then, to me, “Esme’s soul remained in Morthryn when I was banished. She helped me learn how to take up the post. I wouldn’t have survived it without her.”

She let out a psh . “I always have been a fool for a pretty face. Gets me into trouble time and time again. And yet, do I learn?”

“I like to think I’ve repaid you, Esme.”

She picked lint from her velvet armchair. “I suppose one cannot complain. The underworld sounds terribly dreary.”

“And then you ended up…?here?” I still wasn’t exactly sure where “here” was.

“I tried to help Esme pass,” Asar said. “But she is…?an unusually stubborn soul.”

“What a kind way of putting it,” Esme said.

“It may be because of the ties she had to Morthryn. Or perhaps even the ties Morthryn had to her. Maybe her exile bound her even in death. But this is the farthest I was able to get her.”

“Such woe.” Esme sighed dramatically.

“But what is this?” I asked. “The house?”

“I learned quickly that there are a few benefits to death,” she said. “Perhaps because of my knowledge of the Descent in life, I was able to use the illusion of Psyche to build the life I wanted for myself.” She gave Asar a knowing smile. “With some help, of course.”

Asar shook his head dismissively.

“It was a benefit for us both. Even with the pathways I’ve built over the years, it’s difficult to venture beyond this point. Esme helps keep things in order where I can’t.”

She waved her hand. “It passes the time. But…?I will say, it is a pleasure to see two beautiful faces after so long in solitude.” Her gaze slipped between us, her tongue darting out against the point of one of her teeth.

I had no doubt that Esme had been a woman of appetite in life.

“Still, I must ask, what brings you here? I sense this is not a routine visit. The path here is no simple stroll. And the only reason I didn’t think the two of you were wraiths when I saw you was because of the smell.”

“I thought we were beautiful faces,” Asar said.

“Faces, perhaps. The rest of you…” She shrugged. “Eh.”

Ouch.

I couldn’t bring myself to be too offended as I started in on the cake.

“We are on our way to resurrect Alarus,” Asar said.

I stopped mid-bite. I was not expecting him to be so forthcoming.

Esme’s flirtatious joking disappeared. She sat upright. “I hope, Asar, that these dead ears of mine misheard you.”

“Nyaxia gave me the task,” he said, and her sculpted brows hitched higher.

“That is…” Her mouth opened, then closed. Then she looked to me. “And this one?”

“Mische is a former Dawndrinker. I was fortunate enough to have her placed under Morthryn’s care.”

Placed under Morthryn’s care. What a kind way to say, sentenced to execution .

He gave Esme a pointed look and added, “She killed Malach.”

He said it like he was bragging about one of my accomplishments, which set an interesting mix of emotions fluttering in my stomach.

“Did she?” Esme’s face broke into a vicious smile. “I like her, Asar. Be sure to bring her more cake.” She turned to me, eyes sparkling. “Tell me, lovely, how did you do it?”

I swallowed. “I stabbed him.”

She touched the wound in her chest with a soft chuckle. “Excellent. I hope he died slow.”

I thought of my hands around that sword’s hilt, slick with his blood, pushing and pushing and pushing until there was no more flesh to cut. I thought of the look on his face, staring right into my eyes as the life left them.

I took another mouthful of cake. “Slow enough,” I said.

She let out a low laugh. “Excellent. Excellent.” Then, to Asar, “And is she so very impressive that she is the only one you and Luce have trusted to come on this…?mission?”

Asar’s amusement faded. “There were others, but it didn’t go well. Trouble at home.”

He pulled up one sleeve, revealing his Heir Mark.

Esme’s eyes went wide. She set down her glass.

“I see.”

There was a long silence. Esme was no longer in a joking mood.

Asar said, “How are Secrets and Soul these days?”

“Even I can’t make it far. You two have quite a journey ahead.” Her gaze went far off, her fingers toying at the gold chain around her neck. Then she blinked, shaking herself from her reverie, and returned to that easy smirk.

“Good, then, that you came here to rest.”

“Only for one day,” Asar said, and she waved her hand.

“Even so. But I must insist you take a bath before we can truly enjoy each other’s company.”

I nearly dropped my fork. “A bath ?” I gasped.

There was a bath ?

“Well yes, of course. I’m not a barbarian,” Esme said. “Upstairs.”

I didn’t care if it was an imaginary bath with imaginary soap and imaginary hot water. At least it would get the imaginary Descent grime off me.

I had already started rising when Asar said, “You can go first.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me to offer him the first one, and I didn’t feel guilty about it at all.

I started to go upstairs, following Esme’s direction, but halfway up the steps I heard lowered voices below.

I should keep walking, I told myself.

But maybe I was too nosy. Because my legs didn’t move.

“You cannot be serious about this,” she said in a grim hush.

“You’ve known me for a long time, Esme. I am always serious. Some call it a flaw.”

“I am not joking.” Her whisper came in a vicious hiss. “What use does Nyaxia have for this? The gods are restless, Asar. I can feel it here, closer to death. Even the wraiths can sense it. You know as well as I that Egrette cannot be queen. Turn back while you still can make it back to the surface. Be king. Live happily ever after.”

“And deny Nyaxia? How would she take that?”

“Even she can barely see what happens down here. Tell her you failed. Offer her the consolation prize of what you have collected so far. She’ll be grateful to have that much more of her husband. And you will still be alive.”

I was holding my breath. Why did a part of myself agree with her? I needed Asar to complete his mission in order for me to complete my own. Yet…

You don’t deserve to die here, Asar had told me.

He didn’t deserve to die here, either. I was a dreamer. And right now, the dream of Asar, returning to the House of Shadow, becoming the king to lead it into a new age, seemed like such a wonderful one. The kind of dream that I, as a missionary of the light, would once have helped him fulfill.

“Somehow, I doubt Nyaxia will accept my failure so easily,” Asar said.

“You must tell me, Asar, that this is not because of Ophelia.”

Silence.

A pang twisted in my heart.

“I need to right my wrongs,” he said at last. “You know what this place has become. It will just keep getting worse.”

Esme scoffed. “We all have our regrets. Don’t follow yours to the grave.”

“It isn’t about regret. It’s…”

His voice trailed off. He couldn’t explain it. But I knew what he meant. I knew what it felt like for your past to mark your flesh, a wound that would never heal, a wrong that you could never right.

I knew what it felt like to want more than anything, anything, anything in the world that redemption. To be clean again.

“I am not going back, Esme,” he said at last. “I can’t.”

“And her?”

Me.

My cheeks heated.

“What about her?” Asar said coolly.

“I’m no fool. Try to keep her alive, at least. I like her.”

“You’re just saying that because she killed Malach.”

“Perhaps. But you must admit, it is quite a selling point.”

He let out a low laugh. “Yes. It is. Though…”

His voice lowered conspiratorially. I inched closer to the doorframe.

“She does have some flaws.”

I stopped breathing in favor of listening.

“Oh?” Esme said.

“Yes. She’s…?well.” A scraping sound—it sounded like he was dragging his chair closer. “She’s nosy, and a terrible spy. No shame about eavesdropping.”

My shocked laugh sputtered through my lips, though I quickly clapped my hand over my mouth.

“At least be good enough not to get caught, Iliae,” Asar called from the next room. “The Shadowborn are supposed to be masters of espionage.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I called back. “I’m just taking a bath.”