Nyx didn’t answer her girlfriend. She’d heard a scuffing sound behind her and turned to follow it, and saw Maluk a few dozen yards away. The land beneath him sloped downward sharply and he was pacing at the edge of it, his gaze fixed on something at the bottom. Nyx scrambled after him and followed his line of sight.
At the bottom of the slope was a dark hole in the side of the mountain. A thin, watery trail of smoke led upward from it, a gray etching against the sky. Inside the cave, something orange and red flickered in the darkness: embers, or sparks.
Nyx’s dagger was in her hand. She was crashing heedlessly down the slope, tripping, nearly falling, righting herself and lunging onward. Helenia didn’t shout after her—she’d spotted the cave too, and didn’t want to alert anyone who might be inside. Nyx barely heard her or saw the blur of gray at her side that was Maluk. All of her focus was on the red of the embers, which matched the color of the flames that had pinwheeled in the Destroyer’s palm when she had finished torturing Nyx. All her attention was on the hilt of the dagger in her hand, the way it warmed to her touch and seemed to mold itself to her grip, as if it thrummed with the same eager fury that tore through Nyx’s veins. Her oath sang within her, and her very soul joined in its chorus.
I will see your empire fall.
She reached the cave. The darkness smelled like old death. She plunged into it without waiting for her eyes to adjust.
And your reign ended.
She drew back her dagger to throw it. This time she wouldn’t miss.
And you dead.
Do you hear me, Elodie?
But there was no target for her aim. Even before her eyes had fully adjusted, she could tell the cave was empty. She held her breath anyway, tried to silence her thundering heartbeat, and took in the details of the cave in a long, sweeping glance.
Campfire in the middle. Clumsily built, burned down to bare embers, with the evidence of a full night’s burning in the ash piled beneath it. To the left, a strip of abandoned fabric and a space that had been cleared of dust and pebbles, just the right size for a single body to sleep. To the right: a piece of stained cloth, wadded up and half-hidden beneath a rock, and a shallow white line where a blade had scraped against the ground.
They were not here. But they had been.
Something was raging through Nyx. An emotion, or an emptiness—something that she had never felt before and could not harness now. She drew her arm back and hurled her dagger with all her might. It clattered loudly against the cave’s wall and fell. She would be lucky if it wasn’t chipped. She would be lucky if it wasn’t broken. Trauma like that could do things to a blade that couldn’t be repaired. It would never be like it had been before.
Nyx didn’t realize she had sunk to the ground until she felt Helenia ease down next to her. She didn’t realize she was sobbing until Maluk licked her tears from her cheek.
“She has stolen him again,” Nyx choked out.
“We will find them.”
Nyx tangled a hand in Maluk’s thick fur. The contact calmed her a bit, enough to be able to speak almost normally. “We waited two years for this chance. Mother said the opportunity was sent from God. I drank poison every day, Helenia.”
“I know.” Helenia’s voice had a hint of hardness to it now, but Nyx barely heard it.
“I promised her I was ready.” Nyx squeezed her eyes shut. “I failed.”
She could still see her mother’s steadfast eyes, watching from the darkness of her cell.
“You didn’t fail,” Helenia replied.
“She said—”
Helenia stood up in a sudden and uncharacteristically violent movement. “I don’t care what Saasha said,” she bit out, her eyes shining. “What kind of a mother sends a daughter to be tortured?”
The argument was old, frayed around the edges, ready to shred open anew with a single rough word. “It was my plan,” Nyx reminded her girlfriend. “My choice.”
“Encouraged by her. Nyx, she formulated the poison. She somehow tracked down a copper Smith willing to sell her the ingredients. She lobbied the Saints’ leadership to enact your plan.”
Nyx set her teeth. She didn’t want to argue. She wanted to find her family. She stood up, swiped an arm across her face, and strode to the edge of the cave. From there, she could see what she had been too focused to spot on her run down the slope: a mess of tracks, leading away from the cave toward the east. She knelt down to examine them. If the fire that the Destroyer and Tal had started last night was still burning, it had to mean they’d left recently. Nyx could still catch up. The oath curled around her bones, whispering its agreement.
Behind her, Helenia’s boots shuffled as she stepped across the cave. “This silk fabric matches the piece we found above,” she said. The shuffling paused. “But it’s bloody.” She sounded puzzled.
“Good,” Nyx bit out. “If she’s injured, it’ll be easier to kill her.”
“No, it’s—Nyx, it’s red blood.”
Nyx lifted her head and glanced back. “What?”
“Red. Not mercurial. And there are wood splinters all through the fabric too, like whoever had it on was working, trying to start the fire maybe. Not something the Destroyer would be likely to do.” Helenia held the silky fabric aloft.
“So…it’s not the Destroyer who’s with Tal?” Hope and disappointment twined together in Nyx’s chest. Hope because the Destroyer’s absence could mean an easier rescue for Tal; disappointment because Nyx needed very badly to kill her, and now might have lost her only lead.
“I’m not sure,” Helenia mused, tugging her foxtail scarf down so she could examine the ground better. “I’ll look around a bit more and see what clues I can find.”
Nyx
