Page 84 of A Whisper in the Walls

Theo stepped forward in her place. “You’re all witnesses. I have assumed leadership of this house. There is no need to negotiate anything. It would be far more beneficial to everyone if House Brood resumed its activities, maintained its status, and upheld the integrity of your rule. Don’t you agree?”

Seminar nodded. “That would be in our best interest, but with all due respect to the Lady Brood, she is not qualified to pass on the mantle of your house. Only Landwin Brood can do that. I noticed that your mother did not say he was dead. She didn’t say that he was captured, either. No, she used a very different word. She said, ‘My husband is gone.’ ”

“He is gone. He will not return.”

There was a small, whispered exchange in their party.

“We ask for proof. We can’t approve your ascension without it.”

It was Ren and Theo’s turn to trade glances.

“Three days,” she called back. “And we’ll bring it.”

“Bring what?”

“You said you wanted proof. Give us three days, and we’ll bring you his body.”

45 NEVELYN TIN’VORI

Nevelyn was being haunted by ghosts.

She saw them moving around her like vengeful spirits. Talking and pointing and she could not hear anything they were saying. Surely, they had to be ghosts. One of them tried to take Garth from her. She bit and scraped and cursed and fought. When she tasted copper—someone else’s blood—she realized that the ghosts weren’t there to hurt her. They were there to help. Heavy hands pulled her away. A pair of women brought her to the bath. They quietly undressed her, patiently washed away all the blood. Nevelyn said nothing as her skin turned pink and wrinkly. In the other room, she could see people scrubbing at the blood on the floor. Cutting away the dark cords she’d spent so much time measuring and installing. There was a discussion of what to do with the body. It was so short that Nevelyn did not even hear what they agreed to. There was a far more thorough debate over the dress. No one seemed to want to touch it. Could they burn it? Was it still dangerous? Eventually they left. Everyone except for the two women. Both of them had matching, half-faded bruises along their arms and collarbones. They helped her get dressed, led her over to her bed, and tucked her under the covers like a child.

And like a child, she fell straight to sleep.

* * *

When she woke, Dahvid was there. His was the only voice she ever cared to hear again. His and Ava’s. Why risk speaking to anyone else? She’d just have to watch them die eventually. She was starting to feel like their life was just a long, winding curse.

“Your plan worked,” he said.

Nevelyn nodded. “Why doesn’t it feel that way?”

She thought he might understand her bitterness. Surely he’d been told about the man they’d cleaned up from her apartment floor. She hoped for empathy. Instead, her brother’s expression broke. He began weeping. She’d only seen him cry one other time. The night they’d left the estate.

“Cath,” he whispered. “Cath is dead.”

Nevelyn wrapped her brother in a hug. She’d always been the comforter. For little Ava and all her tantrums. For Dahvid, too, when the days felt long and the way home impossible. It was a part of why she’d never had any time for herself. No pursuits of her own. Not until Garth.

“How did it happen?”

“It was me.” He shook his head, wiping away tears. “I used Ware’s tattoo.”

The reaching hands. They’d talked about it so many times over the years. Dahvid had always viewed it with a certain mysticism. She’d begged him to test out the magic, but he’d always felt destined to use the tattoo in his great moment of need. Apparently, destiny really did not care much for the Tin’Vori family. It always did its best to spite them.

“And what happened?”

“It was clever,” he said sadly. “Ware was always clever. It’s an exchange. My physical condition for his physical condition. I think he assumed that he would always be my favorite. Activating the tattoo was intended to draw on his life force, and only enough to restore my energy for a battle.”

“But it drew on Cath,” she whispered. “Because she was your favorite. And the tattoo’s power had grown over the years. It would have been impossible to control how much you drew on her. Oh, Dahvid. I’m so sorry.”

She found herself telling him about Garth. Not just the end, but the entire story. As if she needed to convince someone else that it had really happened. That it was not what it felt like—an already-fading dream. “He’s gone.”

There was silence. What else could be said? Words would not bring them back.

“What happens now?” she asked.

“House Brood will publicly admit to the fact that the raid of our houses was done on illegal pretenses,” Dahvid said. “They will condemn it and ask the governors of Kathor to reinstate our house to its previous status. We are to be paid restitution. Restored.”

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