But now, as it drained in silvery trails from my eyes and fingertips, my material self looked as it would have if my birth had been easy. If I’d never been given bloodleaf flower before ever taking a breath.
I had my mother’s eyes, my father’s smile, and my grandmother’s dark, thick hair.
There was no mirror that could give me my reflection now; she was safely resting in another kind of glass.
“By all the blessed stars,” Simon said in awe. “Look.”
A smoky shape began to coalesce before me, and with silver tears in my eyes, I held out a hand and a muzzle materialized beneath it. I smiled and then laughed, throwing my arms around her neck. Of course this would be the shape my quicksilver guide would take.
Falada.
She gave a soft nicker and gently nudged my bloodstained midsection.
“I’m not ready to greet the After just yet, girl,” I told her. “I have a few stops to make first.”
33
The stories said that King Theobald the Second had been sitting alone in the pews of the Stella Regina the night of his great Empyrean vision. He and his party had stopped on Greythorne land on their way to the Ebonwilde; they were supposed to be taking supplies to his men on the front lines of the fight with Achleva, but it was a hard summer with a poor harvest. And with winter waiting in the wings, he knew that despite their effort to scrape together this delivery, it would still not be enough. Achlev’s wall remained as impenetrable as ever. They would never run out of food; inside those walls, it was ever summer.
The war was going to bankrupt them. He’d lose his title. The Tribunal was ravenous for more power, and they were not so scrupulous with lives—Achlevan or Renaltan.
“Merciful Empyrea,” he said, casting a prayer to the skies, “tell me what I should do.”
And in response, the earth beneath him began to shake, and the air within the sanctorium began to shimmer. From nothing, a glorious woman riding a horse so luminous and bright that it must have been made of silver and stardust galloped into view.
All those times I heard that story, I never could have imagined that the woman the old king described was actually me.
“King Theobald?” I asked, and he fell to my feet and kissed my boots. “Oh, my queen. My glorious goddess. Thou hast come down from your celestial throne to answer the prayer of thy servant. Tell me what I should do, most holy Empyrea, and I will listen.”
I gave a hard sigh. “You want to stop the war? This is how you do it: You go to the king of Achleva and make a deal. The next daughter of your line will marry the next heir of his. Do you need to write it down?”
“No, most beautiful and wise Empyrea. Thy words have been seared into my memory. I will build you a monument, a tower to the heavens, greater than all—”
Apparently, Falada found my ancestor as tedious as I did and took us pounding off into the Gray without waiting to hear him finish.
* * *
When I returned to the Humility, Dominic Castillion had sunk back into his chair, head down on the desk between the hands I’d spelled into immobility, while anything not bolted down slid past him as the boat pitched slowly forward. When he caught sight of me, a fleeting look of surprise registered on his face before being replaced with a bewildering expression of worry. “You shouldn’t have come back,” he said. “You’ll never make it now.” Then his eyes grew wide at my bloodied clothes, changed hair, differently colored eyes.
“Aurelia.” He gave a start.
“Favor,” I said.
“What—?”
“The winner of the game gets to choose, secret or favor. You told me a secret, but I didn’t ask for a secret.” I put my hands on my hips. “So I’m here to collect my favor.”
He peered at me, mistrustful. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I don’t have a lot of time.”
“I know,” I said. “If you agree to my terms, I’ll save your life.”
“Why?”
“So that you can save mine.”
* * *
I left one burning ship to find another.