Page 131 of Daughter of No Worlds

“Max.”

His demeanor shifted, falling into seriousness, as if something about my face or posture alone told him that something was very wrong. And, of course, as always, he was right.

I gave him a smile that probably looked more like a grimace and a weak wave. “Hi.”

* * *

Sammerin listened,ever-patient, as I told him the whole sorry thing.

It all sounded so ridiculous. Borderline insulting, actually. After all, he had spent roughly eight years holding me together after the war and the Orders and Reshaye had all ripped me apart — holding me together as if I was just a collection of limp limbs, like any of his grotesque battlefield corpses.

And here I was. About to step back into it again. A slap in the face.

When I was done, he sat there silently, digesting everything he had heard.

“I knew something was wrong,” he said, at last, “when you voluntarily appeared in public.”

I mustered a weak scoff. “In my defense, I’ve been downright social lately.”

Sammerin crossed his arms and watched me, a slight furrow in his brow. One would think that after all this time, I would be better at reading him, instead of just sitting here squirming under his assessing gaze like a child waiting to be scolded by a parent.

“So.” I cleared my throat. “That’s it. And you know. I mean. You know what I have to do.”

He lowered his chin in the ghost of a nod. “Yes.”

“Yes? I was expecting something more along the lines of, ‘This is a terrible decision, Max, what the hell is wrong with you?’”

A tiny, humorless smile. “I know exactly what’s wrong with you.” Then it faded as he asked, “It’s done, then?”

My answer physically hurt. “Blood pact and all.”

He winced. “This is ugly, Max.”

Ugly was the kindest possible term for what this was.

When I spoke again, my voice was rougher than I had intended. “Those bastards shouldknowbetter. They saw what that thing can do. I can’t just let it go. And I can’t just leave her there.”

The wrinkle between his brows deepened. “You would be giving them exactly what they want.”

“I know it.” I shifted uncomfortably in my chair. “And…there is one other thing.”

“You’re asking me to go, too.”

He said it as a smooth, matter-of-fact statement, not a question. Ascended, how did healwaysknow?

I cleared my throat.“The thing is… If you don’t do it, who will? I don’t trust those people. But you know her. You know she’s not— a tool or a monster.”

Sammerin gave me a small nod, still unreadable.

“I know that this is a big thing to ask of you. And I would understand if you wanted to tell me to where to go.”

There was a long, agonizing silence.

“There have been a lot of bad days,” he said, slowly. “During the war. After. But the one I think about the most is the day after it happened.”

He didn’t need to say what “it” was. There was always only one “it”, one event that loomed over them all. Even though we had never broached this subject. At least not so directly. To have it thrown out there in the open now left me momentarily off-kilter, especially in the wake of these last few days.

“I don’t remember,” I said. The days after my family’s death were a smear of nightmares, dark and runny like bleeding ink. Hours, days, weeks. Gone.

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