I stopped outside the door to the Innermost Study, letting my eyes trace over the arcane patterns etched into the bone doors, each ward stained into the carvings with life-blood that had been neatly wiped away to leave only dark lines where it had seeped into crevices. It was an intricate and power-bound scrimshaw, done with a particularly macabre hand. I recognized them as wards, but my knowledge of magic was effectively secondhand. It required a gift, a spark, that I lacked. I would never know the feeling of casting a spell, of being able to comprehend everything that the King in Black or even Naltheme knew, of being an equal.

Truth be told, however, I had never desired the spark of magic. I could reshape the world in other ways, even if it was a struggle. Besides, I found the ability to spell nonexistence with the lifting of a single finger bothered me on a level. The King in Black used it only when required, but the others were not so parsimonious with their power. Their self-indulgence with their abilities seemed to cheapen it somehow.

Shira shivered at my side. I knew she had heard enough stories of the King in Black that she likely had no expectation of surviving. Perhaps it had been cruel of me to bring her, but the immediacy of Varys’s attempt to have Riyd kill me meant seeking an audience immediately. I didn’t have time to leave her at home and even the entry level of the Tower was not a place for the living to be left unattended, even with the edicts that would have preserved her life. For one, Varys was not barred entry.

I glanced over at her. “Venture into the conversation only if you are spoken to. If the Lady of Bones is present and asks you anything, I will answer. If the King in Black asks you anything, answer him truthfully. His Majesty does not tolerate lies.”

She signed nervously, fingers twitching. Will he understand this?

“He will understand.” Even if in life He hadn’t known Rusan sign, one of the boons unlocked after ascending to godhood was a celestial’s comprehension of languages. He put it to immediate use, ever expanding His collection of magical lore now that even secret scripts no longer presented a barrier to His understanding. “Mind your manners as well. He is to be addressed as Your Majesty at all times.”

Shira bobbed her head anxiously.

“Good.” I placed my left hand against the door, ring burning with cold like a brand. The twisting lines of sigils on the door seemed to writhe at my touch as the magic responded to its own. Then they melted into the ivory, dissipating momentarily to allow us access. I pushed and the door split down the middle, opening without a sound. Needing no invitation to enter, I stepped in, drawing Shira along in my wake.

The Innermost Study was a mammoth, labyrinthian room that extended in space well beyond what even the giant size of the tower should have allowed. There were no shelves, only neat rows upon rows of books floating in the air, carefully arranged according to some byzantine sorting system that mapped perfectly onto the King in Black’s memory. He was as obsessed with His collection as a wyrm with its golden hoard: removing even a single book absent permission was a crime punishable by worse than death. The books extended out and upward seemingly into infinity, lit by flickering blue-orange flames in fixed positions absent any sconces that cast a strange light throughout the room. His desk occupied the center of the study, the main workshop for experimentation mercifully lost amongst the shelves. With both His Majesty and Naltheme ever pushing the boundaries of magic, particularly necromancy, their experiments could be grisly beyond what Shira likely had the stomach for.

I focused on the desk. It was an exotic variety of wood, Madyan irontree, that had come at no small expense. At the time we had been at war, but I had scraped together every coin in my personal belongings to have it made for Him. By the time it was complete, the northern lands had been free of Rusan control for ten years. The surface gleamed with mirror smoothness even though the grain was wild and knotted, kept religiously polished and oiled. It was the only reminder of our love He seemed to still treasure the way I prized so many of the scraps left over. The only ornamentation was in the carving itself, almost endlessly intricate geometric patterns. In life, the King in Black once adored the Madyan sense of aesthetics. Now beauty meant nothing to Him, but still He kept it.

Loyalty was something He still prized, and this was a physical reminder of my own.

The King in Black sat in His chair at the desk, hood pulled up as He read over several sheets of parchment covered in sloping hand. He preferred to keep all distractions, even the little flickering of illuminating flames, out of His vision when engrossed. Naltheme sat across from Him, her nails drumming a little staccato pattern of impatience across the desk. I knew that meant He was examining her handiwork and she was waiting for a verdict or an insight.

What did it say about me, that I no longer felt the pang of jealousy I once had? Naltheme so easily captured His attention and could share a part of the world with Him that I never understood. Perhaps the uglier emotion had just given way to resignation, as so many others had.

The click of my boots’ hard soles against the floor drew Naltheme’s attention quickly, as she was less absorbed. “Why, Lady Frostborn, you look positively on the warpath,” she said, flashing me a smile. “It must be serious for you to intrude so.”

“My Beloved may pass wherever she wishes.” The hollow chill of the King in Black’s voice froze Shira in her place behind me. He lifted his head, eyes burning with those icy blue flames, and placed the notes down on the surface of his desk. “We will revisit this discovery at a later time, Naltheme.”

For a split second, I caught the change in the Lady of Bones’s pale expression: a flash of irritation and envy. Clearly she was proud of whatever she had found and did not appreciate the immediacy of the interruption or coming second in His Majesty’s attention. It was not often that she was brushed aside for my sake, whatever our respective roles might have suggested. “Of course, Your Majesty,” she deferred. “Shall I take my leave?”

The offer was no doubt symbolic, as Naltheme would want to know what was going on, but she’d made a mistake by making it. “I am certain His Majesty would prefer you in your studies,” I said calmly. “Your time and mind are far too valuable for anything else.”

The King in Black leaned back in his seat, skull face half-hidden by the cloak’s hood. He knew that meant I wanted a private word. “You are excused, Naltheme.”

Naltheme inclined her head gracefully, hiding any frustration with a masterful mask of acceptance. “Thank you, Your Majesty. Shall I accompany your companion outside, Lady Frostborn?” I knew she was trying to place Shira when she looked past me, but even frightened, she still bore little resemblance to the bruised and battered thing Varys had dragged into his tent.

My voice cooled several degrees. “That will not be necessary, though your considerate offer is appreciated. As I said, your time is precious.”

My liege’s apprentice rose to her feet, giving the King in Black a deep curtsey. “Thank you for your time, Your Majesty. I will be in the lower laboratory if required.”

He gestured graciously with a bone hand and she stepped past Shira and I, exiting through the door. I waited until the doors were closed completely behind us, trusting in the powerful wards of silence on the door to protect our conversation. “Luka is dead, Your Majesty, as are the hands that poisoned him.”

“A significant loss.” There was no grief or feeling in His voice, only an acknowledgement that this would set back a great many endeavors. “Yet this is not news I expected from your lips.”

The corners of my lips twitched, an involuntary hint of a scowl. “I imagine not, considering it was Varys tasked with investigating the assault. The worm not only insisted that Your Majesty had commanded I investigate, but used the opportunity to try and sic Riyd on me. She was quite certain I was responsible for her father’s death, courtesy of his insinuations.”

Silence was sometimes louder than words when it came to the King in Black. The flames that burned in His eye sockets flickered a moment. While undeath removed emotions like anger and impatience, displeasure was not unheard of. “You are unharmed?”

“I sustained a minor injury to my shoulder, but Riyd responded to my honesty. If she is not kept away from Varys, they will kill each other,” I said, more out of concern for her than anything she’d do to Varys. The prohibition on dueling without the permission of the King in Black was punishable by death, and Luka wouldn’t have wanted his only child following him into the grave. “I request only clemency for her, Your Majesty. She lashed out at me only because she was misled.”

“Rhandiir’s spawn will account for this injury, my rose.” The King in Black tipped his head down, eyes vanishing beneath the dark cloth of his robe. “And Luka’s assassins?”

“The direct agents poisoned themselves before delivering him a drink mixed with vaendal, the dreaming death. They are dead. I requested that one of my agents recover their bodies from the Dark Mothers’ priests. I find it more concerning that Luka was friendly with them, or at least trusted whoever had sent them. With what we learned, I believe the alchemist who brewed both the poison used on the assassins and the poison used by them was a native of Sanctum, probably someone who worked with Luka on multiple occasions before.”

“Foolish, to presume the dead will hold their tongues in Sanctum.”

I shrugged. “I think they were more concerned about what Luka could have wrung from them if they remained alive. Even necromancy has limitations. The awoken dead still possess the power to be cryptic, even if they cannot lie, and rising undead often experience distortions of their memories.” It was a phenomenon I had observed many, many times, even if I didn’t understand the cause the way He did. The only undead I had ever met with perfect recall of their life before was seated in front of me, and even then sometimes I wondered.

“True.” He steepled his bone fingers. “With sufficient casting and the right questions, a careful interrogator could still glean enough.”

“Anstydir is clever and capable. He would need only scrolls and reagents to accomplish such a thing,” I said smoothly. “If it would please Your Majesty, I could requisition one of your scribes and the necessary components. I would prefer to keep the investigation under my control until we know the identity of the alchemist and who else they might be close to within circles of power.”

He weighed that thought carefully. “I would prefer not to make you more of a target, my rose. A response directly from you might accelerate whatever plans they have already in motion.”

“Perhaps Varys should have considered that, Your Majesty,” I said dryly. “If they have half a brain, they already know that I entered Luka’s estate, even if they didn’t see me leave it. News of my continued good health will travel quickly to anyone paying attention, so they’ll be inclined to correct Varys’s failure. Likely in a more competent fashion.”

“Very well. Whatever you require is yours, as always.”

I bowed my head in gratitude. “Your generosity is always appreciated, Your Majesty. With that in mind, may I make a second request?”

“Name what you desire and it will be so, my rose.”

I briefly toyed with the idea of requesting Varys’s head on a plate, but other things were more important. “I need the services of a diviner for an extended length of time. They don’t have to be a master of the art, as long as they can competently teach.”

“Why?” The question came sharp and piercing. We both knew lessons would be wasted on a student without potential, and I certainly had no shred of arcane talent in my soul.

“I have a prospective student for them,” I said smoothly, hearing a sharp intake of breath from Shira behind me. I made a mental note to have Melody come sit with her and explain that hiding her feelings was going to be an integral part of surviving in Sanctum. If we didn’t arrange for some lessons on deception, Teth would eat her alive, probably literally.

He raised His head, burning eyes fixed on Shira. “A prospective student of the Art is rare. You have no marks of trial by fire, nor the bearing of a local. Who are you?”

I turned to watch her hands, hoping she would have the sense to answer without trying to lie.

Shira’s fingers quivered so badly as she signed that her gestures were almost incomprehensible. My name is Shira, Your Majesty. Lord Varys took me as a prisoner in the last war.

“His appetites and self indulgences are growing more and more egregious.” I couldn’t help the sharpness in my tone. Whatever I thought of Shira’s divine background and patron, Varys’s predations were far below what I would stoop to. “I took her from him.”

“Rusan. How interesting. What is the source of your magic, Shira?”

She shook her head slightly, making the sign for uncertainty. It was a more honest answer than either of the ones she’d given me, most likely. I…I never…

The King in Black cocked his head slightly to one side. “You fear your own power,” He observed. “For many who study magic, that is the beginning of wisdom…and the collar that chains them.” My liege looked in my direction. “It would be better if she was trained where her education could be properly overseen.”

“I will keep her from straying, Your Majesty. A tutor and books will be everything required.”

He considered that for a long moment, burning eyes searching my face for hints of motive. “I will not deny you, my rose, upon one condition: you will not insert yourself into the judgment against Varys or act in retaliation.”

It meant sacrificing my ability to act as the sword carrying out His justice against the vampire, potentially denying me even the ability to kill Varys if that was what the King in Black decided should become of the worm. However, if that was the price to pay for sheltering Shira from Naltheme and the other viciousness among apprentices, it was likely worth it. “As you wish, Your Majesty.”

He gave me an acknowledging nod and gestured in dismissal with one hand. “I can tell that you grow weary, my rose. Go seek rest. I will provide you with what you have requested and issue my judgment in the morning, after I have summoned Riyd and had a full accounting of Varys’s misdeed.”

Fatigue and pain both gnawed at my mind, though I hadn’t realized the full extent until that moment. It had been a long day, my shoulder still throbbed from Riyd’s glancing blow, and Shira looked like she was going to faint. At least I had achieved what I intended to from the audience, which meant it was time to return to the Winter Palace. “My gratitude for the gracious gift of your attention, Your Majesty.”

Shira followed me out of the Innermost Study so quickly she almost stepped on my heels, reaching for my sleeve as we passed through the door. I wasn’t certain if it was for security or my attention, so I turned once the door had closed again. Thankfully, Naltheme was nowhere in sight.

The priestess gave me a searching look. Why? she finally signed.

I was honestly too tired to try and parse which part of the interaction she was asking about. “Elaborate,” I snapped.

Why protect me when you could have had revenge on Varys?

That was a knot I was too tired to untangle even for myself, let alone her. It was much easier to just default to my usual explanation for why I did things. “I have my reasons.” When the questioning look didn’t vanish from her face on its own, I chased it away by frowning. Shira flinched away from me, releasing my sleeve with the hand she hadn’t used to sign. “That is all I wish to say on the matter.”