Authors: Leah Cypess
Death Marked (31 page)
Evin tensed, as if he knew where Karyn was heading. It took Ileni a few moments longer, and then a slow cold dread settled in her stomach.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
But she did. She just didn’t want to.
Karyn looked at her through hooded eyes, as if she knew Ileni understood, but would condescend to explain anyhow. “I am sure they would much rather give their power in exchange for their lives.”
“No,” Ileni said.
“You don’t see how it would work?” Karyn wasn’t bothering to hide her smirk. “It doesn’t have to be
their
power that heals them, does it? It can be a simple exchange. Power into a lodestone, at the moment of death, in exchange for last-minute healing from a sorcerer. You told me once you could heal dozens of people with one lodestone. We would still gain far more power than we lost.”
“That seems risky,” Evin observed, his voice cool but nonchalant. “Waiting for the moment of death.”
Karyn shrugged. “It’s a chance to live. People will take it.”
“No,” Ileni said again. Her voice caught. “It’s not—that’s not what I wanted.”
Karyn sighed. Her voice turned gentle—as if she was talking to a child. “It doesn’t matter what
you
want, Ileni.”
Ileni wasn’t aware that she was moving until she heard the chair thud to the floor behind her. The passageways blurred around her as she ran, feet pounding and stumbling on the stone. She didn’t stop until she was on the ledge outside the
mountain, staring at the brilliant blue sky, at the spire where Sorin had stood, at the distant plateau where Evin had lain dying beneath her hands.
She should have known better than to think the Empire could be brought down by an act of healing. She should have taken the only chance she’d ever had to change things.
Sorin had been right. She never should have come here in the first place.
“It will be all right,” Evin said behind her.
She faced him, putting her back to the drop, heedless of her lack of magic. She knew Evin would catch her if she fell.
“Don’t be stupid,” she said, with a savageness he didn’t deserve. “Nothing will be all right. They’re just going to keep taking magic from people, in exchange for healing them.”
“It’s still better, isn’t it?” Evin said. “Better than killing them.”
It was. Of course it was. But she had thought . . . she was suddenly ashamed to tell him what she had thought. That she would single-handedly change
everything
, make it not just better but actually good.
“Besides,” Evin added offhandedly, “they need you to teach them to heal, don’t they? It’s not as if you have no power here.”
Said by someone who didn’t understand power. Even so, a glimmer sparked in Ileni—just for a moment—before it was buried under the knowledge of what she would be up against.
“Nothing is going to change,” she said wearily. “It doesn’t matter what I try to do. They’re going to win.”
“They’re going to win some of the time.” Evin grinned. “I bet we can win some of the time, too.”
He said
we
so naturally, without even a pause. Ileni did hesitate, though, before she met his brown eyes.
“Actually,” she said, “I’d bet most of the time.”
“Well. You are the ambitious one.”
Ileni swallowed hard.
“Yes,” she said. “I am. But it’s all going to be the same, for a very long time. The sorcerers will have all the power, and the assassins will eventually regather and start attacking again . . . and I haven’t made any difference at all.”
“Well,” Evin said, “I think you’ve made quite a bit of difference to the people whose lives you saved. Speaking as one of them.”
She stepped away from the edge, closer to him.
“Do you regret it?” he asked evenly.
His face was half-shadowed, but his eyes were bright and
piercing. Not wide with pain and devoid of hope. She felt again his hand, limp and helpless in hers. Felt it tighten as Sorin plummeted past the gray rock.
“No,” she said. And for at least that moment, it was entirely true.
Because this, as it turned out, was her destiny. Not to be the powerful sorceress her people had been waiting for, not to be the ruthless killer the assassins needed. Her destiny was to save one person at a time, change things one tiny step after another.
It still hurt, a tinge of loss. Her life wouldn’t be grand, or dramatic, or momentous. There would be no great choices to make, no moments when everything would change. It would make a dull story if she was ever called upon to tell it.
It hurt, yes. But it was also something of a relief.
“I think Cyn will help us,” Evin said.
“So do I,” Ileni said, though she wasn’t entirely sure. And then, with more certainty: “Lis will, too.”
Evin frowned doubtfully . . . but he didn’t know Lis as well as he thought he did. And more crucially, he didn’t know that Ileni had something to hold over Lis’s head.
Ileni took a deep breath. “All right,” she said. “Let’s take it one person at a time. For now.”
Evin smiled at her brilliantly, a smile so laden with hope that she looked away. Something inside her stirred, but it was something she wasn’t quite ready for. Not yet.
Evin extended his hand to her, and her heart leaped unexpectedly. A smile spread across her face, and she bit her lip. Maybe she would be ready sooner than she thought.
She walked across the ledge toward him. His eyes brightened, and he took her hand in his.
She knew Evin thought she had chosen because of him. Because somewhere, deep down, she loved him. And maybe someday—if she did end up loving him—she would tell him the truth.
That it hadn’t been about love.
It had, in the end, been about death. About who needed it, and who was ashamed of it, and who celebrated it. About who might, someday, move past it.
She leaned against Evin and closed her eyes, shutting out the precipitous drop below them and the vast sky above. And for a while, she concentrated on the sunlight on her face and his solidness at her back, and she didn’t think about the Empire or the assassins or anything at all having to do with death.
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LEAH CYPESS
wrote her first short story—in which the narrator was an ice cream cone—at the age of six. She has degrees in biology, journalism, and law, and has traveled to Iceland, Israel, Jordan, and Costa Rica, among other places. She now lives with her family in Maryland. She is also the author of the acclaimed fantasy novels
Death Sworn
,
Mistwood
, and
Nightspell
.
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