Mercurial Naomi Hughes (suggested reading txt) 📖

“With his sister,” Helenia answered, “preparing for your transportation to the Saints headquarters, where your trial will be held.”

In a single sentence, Helenia stripped away all of Elodie’s imagined control, and she did it without ever letting her smile fall. Elodie began to realize that she had underestimated this girl. Helenia’s face still radiated warmth and naivety, but Elodie began to see now how she might use that as a weapon.

Elodie’s mind raced through the information that Helenia had revealed. Tal was alive. He was with Nyx. He was well enough to travel to her trial, an event which would certainly not end well for Elodie.

Helenia lifted the bread. “Go on, take it. You must be starved.”

Elodie was indeed starving after more than a full day of eating nothing, but if she accepted this kindness it would only weaken her. She lifted her chin.

The other girl sighed. “It’s not poisoned. Though I suppose I would be the type to kill with hospitality, if I were planning to do a murder.”

“But my murder you shall leave to the jury of Saints,” Elodie said, threat weaving through her voice like a bone viper slipping through the grass. “Who will be the witnesses during this trial? Tal and Nyx and a horde of Saints, of my victims’ kin? That hardly seems fair. Will I even be permitted to make an appearance to defend myself?”

Helenia’s smile dropped like a light flicking off. “So you do know her name. How long did you torture her before she gave that up?”

The memory of it dropped back into Elodie’s head, and it felt like falling through the ice all over again.

You are a bitch.

What do you know of loss?

One day soon, you will face a reckoning.

Her scream. The smell of burnt hair. Nyx’s blustering bravado, the way it broke, the way she kept going anyway.

Elodie had tortured her because she’d feared Nyx held sway over Tal, and she wanted no one in that position except herself. She had nearly killed someone precious to Tal because she was precious to Tal.

An emotion rose thick in her throat. She could hardly breathe past it. It was alien, sour, unbearable. It demanded action but there was nothing she could do.

What was happening to her? She felt like her past was half a dream, like her memories were no longer quite part of the equation that was her. She did not know herself. It was as frightening a sensation as she had ever felt. She longed for her power, longed for the tongues of fire that would cloak and conceal her, and just as strongly wanted to be sick at the thought of wielding her magic again—as if it would swallow her up as wholly as it had all her many victims.

Helenia was watching her, gaze sharp and assessing as if she were picking thoughts out of Elodie’s head and examining them one by one. “Interesting,” she murmured.

“What?” Elodie snapped, realizing too late that she sounded nothing like the Destroyer.

“You regret torturing Nyx.”

Elodie said nothing. There was nothing she could say. If she agreed, it would be taken as false posturing in the hope that the jury might be merciful and grant her a quick execution. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to deny it, either. “What do you want?” she demanded instead, giving up on her useless attempt to gain control of the conversation. “Why did you come in here?”

“I came to bring you bread. And to see, with my own eyes, the one who tortured the girl I love.”

Elodie inhaled. The panic that had been sparking over her skin liquefied and congealed, coating her whole body like a plaster. She didn’t move, lest it crack.

Helenia tilted her head, observing, seeing too much. “Regret is not absolution.”

No. Of course it wasn’t.

After another long moment of silence, Helenia shrugged one shoulder, tore a chunk of bread from the loaf, and tossed it into the air. Elodie flinched before she realized the other girl was feeding the dog, who was still lying placidly at Elodie’s feet. He lifted his head to snatch the food from the air and swallowed it in one gulp, then settled back down as if nothing of any import was going on.

Elodie nudged him with a toe. He grunted his annoyance but didn’t move. It was foolish of the Saints, she reflected, to leave this animal in here with her. If he was supposed to be a guard dog, he was a poor one. Still, she said nothing about it, because she was afraid if she did Helenia might take him away and then she would be even more alone than she already was.

“I want to see Tal,” she said. She tried to make her voice imperious and cold again, but it wavered on his name.

Helenia snorted. “Certainly not.”

Elodie flinched. “Is he—is he well?”

Helenia’s eyes narrowed. “Exactly how much do you remember?”

“Of the accident on the ice? Enough to recall he must have been near death when you found us.” She said nothing of Tal’s silver blood, which was probably what Helenia was truly asking. She couldn’t imagine they hadn’t already figured out he was a Smith, but if they didn’t know, she wasn’t about to betray him to them.

“No,” Helenia said. “Of your past.”

She wanted to know if Elodie remembered being the Destroyer. Which meant Tal must have told them how she had forgotten, how the poison must have made her forget, how it had stripped away her powers and her very self. If they knew that, then she had nothing left to threaten them with and no vestige of control over her situation. She was at their mercy, and they were unlikely to show her any at all.

She had heard of Saints trials. Sometimes they sent the bodies back afterwards. The Cobalt Baroness had been torn apart by wolves. When Albinus had performed the autopsy, he found she’d been half-eaten before finally dying. One of