Page 107 of A ?Sky Beyond the Storm

You have been away too long, Banu al-Mauth, Mauth says, and I feel the pull I have not felt in months, to return to the Waiting Place.

I turn to Afya and Shan. “I’ll come back,” I swear to them. “Tell her.”

The words are barely out of my mouth when I feel myself dragged, inexorably, back to the Forest of Dusk. Mauth speaks again, and this time his words resound in my very core.

It is time to come home.

XLIV:The Blood Shrike

Perhaps the shrieking wind from the north is a portent. Spring is not far, six weeks away at most. And yet the storm out of the Nevennes puts a foot of snow on the ground and howls down the palace chimneys until it sounds as if the place is possessed by ghosts.

“It’s not a bleeding portent,” I tell myself as I lurk near the kitchens. “It was one night. It never has to happen again.”

“Pardon me, Blood Shrike?” A passing Martial servant glances at me, alarmed, but I wave him off. I’ve been here for nearly a half hour, contemplating how to ask for the herbs I need without engendering gossip. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that I do not want children. Ever. Watching Livia give birth taught me that much.

“I was looking for you.” Harper’s voice makes me jump and my cheeks burn.

“It’s going to be difficult to act like nothing’s happened if you blush every time you see me, Shrike.” He holds a cup in his hand, and the smell is familiar. Mamie Rila taught me to brew it when I needed to slow my moon cycle at Blackcliff. Training while suffering cramps was a special sort of hell. The brew also prevents pregnancy.

“This might be what you’re looking for.”

“How did you—”

“You’ve mentioned you don’t want children,” he says. “Once. Or ten times. And I’ve brewed this concoction before.”

I nod and keep my expression bland. He’s had lovers—of course he has. Many, I imagine. Though imagining isn’t the wisest idea.

“The last Blood Shrike didn’t want unexpected heirs,” Avitas says, and the fact that he offers this information with a straight face despite my obvious jealousy makes me want to kiss him.

Instead, I nod emphatically. “Right. Thank you.” I take the cup from him and make a face, remembering how awful it tastes.

Harper’s eyes drift over my shoulder. “If you’ll excuse me, Shrike.” He disappears quickly, and a moment later I understand why.

“Good morning, sister.” Livia comes down the hallway, her guards behind her. And there’s nowhere to throw the damned tea. The only thing to do is drink it as fast as possible, but of course, it’s bleeding hot, and I nearly scald my face trying to get it down.

“Careful there,” she says. “You’ll burn—”

She takes a deep sniff. Her eyes follow Harper leaving.

“You—” she says, a slow smile spreading on her face.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Two servers emerge from the kitchen holding trays, a Scholar and a Martial. They giggle together, going silent when they see us, curtsying to Livia before hurrying away. I drag Livia away from her guards. “Shut it—”

“Your eyes are glowing,” She hooks my arm in hers and starts marching breakneck toward her apartments. “Yourskinis glowing. Tell meeverything.”

“There’s nothing to tell!”

“Lies!” my sister hisses. “You dare deceive the Empress Regent? Tell me,tell me, I need some joy in my life, sister—”

“We just won back the capital. For your son!”

“Not joy then, romance.” She digs her fingers into my arm, and I yelp as we step out into the storm. I scald my throat as I drink down the rest of thetea, lest someone else smell it. Not that it’s anyone’s bleeding business. But Paters are more judgmental than a luncheon full of Illustrian grandmothers.

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll tell you a little, but get your claws out of my arm, this is untoward behavior for a—”

“Blood Shrike,” Pater Mettias calls out from across the snowy courtyard. “Empress Regent.” His gaze lingers on my sister. “Captain Dex bid me find you. Another food shipment just arrived from Pater Lenidas’s northern estate, along with a messenger. And there are emissaries from Gens Candela and Gens Visselia. They await you in the throne room.”

“Thank you, Pater Mettias.” Livia glances at me, one eyebrow arched.We’ll talk later.

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