‘Dior looked about and shivered. “And you wonder why I never left the city.”
‘“No,” I replied. “No, I really don’t.”
‘“I don’t think we should’ve come this way.”
‘“Well, don’t blame me,” I hissed.
‘“And why not?”
‘“Because … I’d rather you didn’t?”
‘A stunning riposte.
‘I glowered at the sword in my hand. “Bitch, you stabbed me. I’d be laying off the lip for a few more days if I were you.”
‘Apology I gave ye. What m-m-more wouldst thou ask?
‘“How about never fucking do that again?”
‘This … I c-c-cannot vow.
‘“Can you smell that?” Dior asked.
‘I lifted my nose to the wind, nodded once.
‘“Death.”
‘We stopped for the night, tied Fortuna to a tree that looked like a weeping woman, arms up over her face. The sky was black as sin, the snow coming down relentless, wind howling all about us through the twisted boughs, the creaking branches, the tombs of kings that had once ruled this place when all was green and good.
‘After a cheerless meal, I smoked a red pipe while we sat and shivered. All the night was alive, all my senses ablaze. I caught notes of decay entwined with a dozen breeds of fungus, thin embers of strange animal life, Dior’s blood. But beneath, faint as whispers …
‘“You should get some rest,” I said. “I’ll wake you when it’s time for your watch.”
‘“You promise?” she scowled. “Because you didn’t last night.”
‘“You needed the sleep. Being the saviour of the empire is hard work.”
‘Dior scoffed. “Saviour …”
‘The girl sucked her lip, blue eyes glazed as she watched the crackling flames.
‘“You really think it’s going to be like Chloe said? Just show up at San Michon, mumble some phrase from some dusty book, and huzzah, au revoir daysdeath?”
‘“I’ve no idea,” I sighed. “But someone less cynical than me would point out you must be some kind of threat, else the Forever King wouldn’t have his son chasing you.”
‘“Nor that bitch with the mask you fought at San Guillaume.” Dior chewed a ragged nail, spat it into the fire. “She seemed to know something.”
‘I nodded, remembering Liathe and her bloodblade, that pale mask and the paler eyes beyond. Sanguimancers. Vampires of ancien blood. Mysteries within mysteries, as ever. I looked down at the sevenstar on my palm, the veins beneath my skin.
‘“It could all be lies. Maybe everyone playing this game is a fool. We’ll learn the truth when we get to San Michon, I suppose. There’s deceit and madness aplenty in that library. But there are truths too. Astrid and I found a few. When we were young.”
‘“Esani,” Dior murmured.
‘I glowered at the sword on the frost beside me. “You talk too much, Ash.”
‘“I think she gets lonely,” Dior smiled. “Stuck in that scabbard all day.”
‘“My heart bleeds.” I flicked snow at the silvered dame. “Along with my stomach.”
‘“It can’t be coincidence, though, can it? A fifth bloodline, with almost the exact same name as Michon’s daughter? Esan. Faith. Esani. Faithless.”
‘“I don’t know, Dior. We looked for years in that library, Astrid and Chloe and me. We found mostly nonsense. There’s power in my blood, and I’ve learned a trick or two. If I ever get my hands on Danton’s throat while I’m at my best, he’s in for a reckoning. But truth is, my bloodline never made much difference to the way I lived my life. Astrid used to tell me that was what made her proudest. Raised among those Dyvoks and Chastains and Ilons, and I stood tallest of all.” I tapped the veins at my wrist. “Not because of this.”
‘I thumped a fist over my chest.
‘“Because of this.”
‘“Aim your heart at the world,” she smiled.
‘I nodded. “One day as a lion is worth ten thousand as a lamb.”
‘Dior lay down by the fireside, cloak beneath, fine coat draped over her. A mop of ashen white covering eyes that were the blue of long-lost skies. Scrawny shoulders and clever hands and the blood of a dead fucking godling in her veins.
‘“Tell me about your daughter,” she murmured.
‘“Go to sleep, Lachance.”
‘“I will.” She smiled, eyes closed. “But I like your voice. It’s smoky. Relaxing.”
‘I looked at the name tattooed across my fingers. Drawing down another draught and exhaling a plume of scarlet. “What do you want to know?”
‘“Anything. What’s her favourite colour?”
‘“Blue. The water around our house was almost blue some days.”
‘“You live on a river?”
‘I shook my head. “Lighthouse. Just off the southern coast. Tide came in with the moons, covered the bridge to land. So nothing could cross over at night.”
‘“Clever.”
‘“I have my moments.”
‘“Does she like it there?”
‘“I hope so. It’s south. Down past Alethe. Sometimes we got flowers in spring.”
‘“I’ve never seen a flower,” Dior sighed. “What’s her favourite?”
‘I could smell it stronger now – that scent Dior had caught on the wind. Truth told, it had been following us all day. Like a shadow. Like a ghost. I looked to the dark beyond the firelight and saw it – a shape I knew as well as my own name, silhouetted against the corpses of fallen trees, dead emperors mouldering in frozen tombs.
‘“Gabe?” Dior asked.
‘“What?”
‘“What’s Patience’s favourite flower?”
‘“Silverbell. Like her mother.”
‘“You must miss them.”
‘I shook my head. “I’ll be back with them soon.”
‘“I’m sorry,” she sighed. “That I took you away from them.”
‘“No more questions, girl. Go to sleep.”
‘Dior curled up in her coat, face towards the flames. And I sat there in the cold, watching the eyes that were watching me. I could see her more clearly now; no longer a dark shadow, but a pale one, porcelain skin draped with bolts of black hair, soft as silk and thick as smoke. She said nothing, just waiting until the breath of the girl beside me slowed and smoothed, breast rising and falling in the peaceful cadence of sleep.
‘The shape drifted back, deeper into the shadow.
‘And I stood, following into the dark.’
XII
EVERYTHING FALLING APART
‘SHE STRUCK ME from behind, slammed me into the skin of a crumbling oak, perhaps fifty yards from the fire. The light was still bright enough to catch in the black flint of her eyes, her strength as bleak as the storm above. And she crushed her lips to mine, and I could feel the razors in her mouth as she snarled like a wolf and pressed herself naked against me.
‘“My lion,” she whispered.