And obvious. You bite back a curse. The gods-shunned selfish fool was going to kill without severing the gods-bond. You’re sure of it. After all your hard work, you were to be cast aside. After all your guidance, your reward would be withheld.
You don’t remember winding the wire around your gloves, but it bites into the leather as you pull it taut. You don’t remember stepping from the shadows, but you’re already halfway across the room. The elf’s back is turned. The human and the half-born are lifting the bed. It is a simple thing. Laughable. But without the wire wrapped around the frame and flesh, Nisha Davrosh begins to move, to right herself. The tipping of the bed must be dealt with. You know it. The elf knows it. So you are not surprised when the half-born and human are slipped from the gods-stream. Not surprised at all.
Instead, you are disappointed. You had hoped to bury the dagger in the human’s chest. You wanted to see what would happen when a soul-imbued weapon was used against the immortal Gray Walker. You had thought it might be a fun experiment. But you lack any real skill in manipulating the gods-stream. And once the elf dies, well. It will fall upon you to push the human, the half-born, and Nisha Davrosh back in.
You’ll do your best, but without a true Walker, you just know they’ll be torn to pieces. You have that feeling.
✽✽✽
IVRA JACE STEPPED into the hallway and approached the crowd gathered outside the door to Nisha Davrosh’s bedroom. She did not slip the gods-stream. She did not weave illusion. She walked where eyes weren’t watching. She made sounds, touched shoulders, arms, waists. She drew attention away, then stepped into the void left in its absence. She could be difficult to see when she wanted. She was through the door and into the room within two breaths.
She pressed her back against the door, took a third and fourth breath, and stared into the empty room. She waited.
✽✽✽
THE HUMAN ANDthe half-born are slipped, disoriented. They stare forward with blank expressions. Nisha Davrosh stares forward with a blank expression. You glance from one to the other, thinking. It will take mere seconds to kill Nisha Davrosh, but to do so you’ll need to enter the gods-stream again for a second. You’ll enter, drop the arrow above her head, slip and watch it fall, then enter again once the arrow passes through her skull. It’s a clever thing that takes deft skill and impeccable timing. It’s a thing you’ve done five times already.
But you’ve never done it with witnesses. And the disorientation which protects you outside the god-stream will leave immediately once you return. Nisha Davrosh will see you for a fraction of a second, but that doesn’t matter. The dead keep their secrets. But the human and the half-born present a problem. Problems need solving. So you stop and you think. You are patient. It is your one, true gift. A solution will present itself if you don’t panic. You take a deep breath and calm yourself. Think, think, think.
The wire flashes over your eyes and closes around your throat before you have time to react. You feel it biting into your skin; you work your hands to your throat, claw at the wire. Your fingers turn slick with blood. They slip and scrape uselessly against your skin. You flail, kick, struggle. But the hands that grip the wire are strong, and there is nothing you can do to escape. There is nothing you can do but wait for death.
✽✽✽
THE ELF STRUGGLES, tries to turn, tries to pull at the wire. You could end it quickly. The wire is strong, fine. It would cut easily if you pulled hard enough. But you enjoy the struggle, the thrashing of prey as it attempts to free itself from the jaws of the predator. And with the human, the half-born, and Nisha Davrosh still disoriented, you have time. You might be impatient, but you have never been one to pass up an indulgence when offered. So, you squeeze, the elf struggles, you indulge.
In the end, the indulgence is your mistake. You are caught up in it. So caught up in it, you don’t notice the gods-stream returning. Don’t notice the half-born’s eyes widen. Don’t notice her mouth opening. You don’t notice Nisha Davrosh screaming or the human turning.
And you sure as all hells don’t notice the hunter approaching from behind and taking the dagger at your hip.
But you notice when she thrusts it into your back, through your heart, and out again through your chest. It hurts. As though it sends fire coursing through your body. You let go of the wire. The elf staggers forward. You fall to your knees, feel the blade pulled out. Feel blood rush from the wound, hot and wet. And then you feel nothing. The pain falls away, shadows rush in from the edges of your vision.
You think of the dagger, then Eldrake, then the Seph. You think about Godscry Tower. Wonder what Eldrake will do now. You’ll die for her mistakes, her ambitions. You decide she’s a splitting whore. You feel a spark of hatred somewhere inside you, but it fades quickly. And then you feel cold and tired. And you stop thinking about Eldrake and the Seph. You stop thinking about the dagger. You stop thinking about anything but sleep. So
