Page 9 of A Song of Ash and Moonlight

In answer, Gemma took my hand in both of hers, her smile lovely and beaming, the gleaming, scarred skin of her left hand—the one that had pulled the Three-Eyed Crown from Talan’s brow—just as warm and smooth as the skin of her right. If she did feel pain, she didn’t show it, and it broke my heart to see how eager she was for my touch.

“Please,” she said, “and thank you.”

We sat for a moment in silence, and then, because I couldn’t help it, because from my vantage point I could see very clearly how deeply each of them was hurting, I said, “Father is sorry, you know. I know that sounds pathetic and inadequate, but he is.”

“For conspiring with our mother to hire an artificer to alter my body from the inside out?” she said, chillingly matter-of-fact. “For mutilating me before I was old enough to understand what was happening, dooming me to unending pain, and then lying to me about it for years? For that, you mean?”

“You know he thought it was for the best.”

“I know very well what he thought and how my power frightened him, a grown man—a sentinel, for gods’ sake. He can continue to be sorry for the rest of his days.” Then Gemma paused, looking down at our hands, and said, harder now, “He hurt you.”

I snatched my reddened wrist from her, and then, as if I hadn’t already confirmed it, muttered, “He didn’t.”

“Hedid.”

“He didn’t mean to.”

“He’s a fiend,” Gemma said, her voice trembling. “I could kill him.” Then she laughed, a horribly sad sound. “How can you want to kill someone, and also love them, and also hate them, and also feel sorry for them, all at the same time?” A pause, and then she nudged my leg with her own. “You were born an old lady. Surely you havethe answer.”

“Alas,” I sighed, grateful for the familiar joke, “I have none of the wisdom that comes with old age, but I do have the exhaustion.”

“And the fondness for porridge. And the unending grumpiness.”

Before I could grumble a retort, Gemma rose and pulled gently on my coat sleeve. “Come, sister, let’s forget about everything terrible for a while and find you a beautiful dress—oh! Here, you dropped something…Oh.”

Gemma bent to retrieve the letter that had fallen from my pocket, and when she straightened, her pink rose of a mouth formed a perfect pouting frown.“Farrin.”She held up the envelope. “It’s from Ryder.”

“Is it?” I said blandly. “That’s helpful to know, since I’d forgotten how to read.”

“You haven’t opened it.”

“You are bursting with astute observations today.”

Gemma put her hands on her hips. “Whyhaven’t you opened it? It could say something important, something about the Mist, some bit of news that their ravens have reported.”

“I was going to open it. I just hadn’t found the will to do it yet.”

“Would you have ever told me about it?”

“Of course,” I lied.

My sister was not fooled. Her eyes narrowed. “How many letters have you received from Ryder that you just tossed without opening?Andwithout telling me?”

“You know,” I said, ignoring the question, “ever since the Vilia abducted you, and you escaped their captivity and broke an ancient curse and all that, you’ve become much harder to fool, and I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that development.”

Gemma grinned, looking quite pleased with herself. “The sex helps with that too.”

I blinked at her, stunned. “The what?”

“Thesex. Gods’ honor, every time I lie with Talan, I feel more…myself. Clearheaded, and vivid, vital. It’s like he thrusts strength right into me. It’s like I ride him to some higher state of being.” A slight shadow of sadness crossed her face. “It’s more than that, of course. More than just his body and mine coming together. But they’re instruments, you see. Gifts to one another. A form of worship, really. I’m stronger with him. Not only because of him, but because through him, I’m learning more about myself.” She looked at me, thoughtful. “And he’s extraordinarily good with his tongue. That doesn’t hurt.”

“Oh, gods help me.” I plugged my ears, trying to ignore the flush of heat racing up my body. “I don’t want to hear about your and Talan’s…activities.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Sex, Farrin.” With a little skip and a jump, she was right by my ear. “Reallysupremelygood sex,” she added, and then stepped away to open the envelope, smiling to herself all the while. Girlish, playful, but with a serenity that seemed foreign to me, unreachable.

Rattled, I put my hands on my knees and stared at my fingers, all the parts of me that had loosened during our conversation suddenly clenched up tight. I felt a headache beginning at my temples, a tight knot gathering in my chest. I should have been glad that Gemma was able to mention Talan without despairing; maybe this meant that him being in hiding wouldn’t be a constant torment for her.

But all I could feel in that moment was this sudden mire of confusion. Gods, I couldn’t even rightly name what I was feeling. Anger? Fear? Mortification? Longing?

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