Page 44 of Vilest Things
“Highness, if you can’t even fulfill the first component of believing in them, how would you ever make a sacrifice to them?”
With the way she speaks, Leida doesn’t give the impression of lying. That doesn’t have to mean it’s true, though. Perhaps Leida really does believe this—perhaps the people of San-Er are more religious than Calla thought.
It must be explainable. Maybe it is not a god that allows access to new qi, but the mortal body, unlocking something when a sigil is drawn on. Before the kingdom spoke about jumping as a matter of genetics, the provinces threw around the wordmagictoo. With further understanding, whether for jumping or for manipulating qi, there’s always an explanation beyond gods and divination.
“The Crescent Societies,” Calla says. She brings one hand out from her pocket and mimics two horizontal lines in the air. “They had this on their chests.”
“One of the most basic sigils. Many families used to share it to call on one patron god. Probably the god of the sky.”
Calla, slowly, looms closer.
“So which one have you been using?”
Subtly, she watches Leida’s left arm twitch. The cord is still holding firm. If Leida were to make a sudden effort to free herself, it would make more sense for her to yank the right arm, since it is closer to the outside. It would have a far better chance at unraveling the binding.
“You asked to understand how Otta is capable of manipulating qi,” Leida says. “I’ve told you.”
“I’m sure you took the family sigil Otta was using. You must have been curious if you could use it too.”
“No. I’ve never used it.”
A lie, given the ease at which she jumps between bodies.
“There are sigils noted in the royal books,” Leida goes on. “You can check for yourself. Before the war, families would use them as crests to represent their household when reporting to their yamen.”
“But you said yourself”—Calla takes another step closer—“families also shared sigils that called to popular gods. That indicates common ones and rare ones. I want Otta’s.”
“Check the books,” Leida says firmly. “I’ve told you what I know. The vault is going to be of more help to you than I am. She must have gotten it there. Keep your word and let me go.”
“Fine, fine.” Calla’s eyes flit to the bag she left by the door. How tragic it is, to have escape waiting so closely, within reach. “If you leave now in the night, they might have unguarded window exits. Let me cut you loose.”
Calla draws her sword. The silver flashes in the low light, the blade edge glinting.
With a muffled huff, Leida strains her wrists behind her, giving Calla maneuvering room. Calla draws closer, then crouches. Puts the point of her sword against the cord, sawing, sawing, sawing—
“I’m sorry, Leida.”
“What—”
Calla shoves the sword through. It cuts between the side of Leida’s ribs, into the heart, emerges from the other side. Before Leida can make a sound any stronger than a gasp, Calla pulls the sword out.
The long blade catches. Makes a wet, squelching noise. A mere few weeks of disuse is already affecting its function. Leida cries out; the initial trickle of blood transforms to an outright gush. Her hands remain bound. She cannot stanch the wound.
“This is what it comes to, then,” Leida rasps.
“I’ll use it well.” Calla stares at the splatter of blood that has landed on the inside of her wrist. There is a twist in her throat, appalling and enormous, but she doesn’t swallow it down. “I promise. I’ll make this sacrifice worthwhile.”
The long wheeze that Leida emits is a familiar one. “You claim to be an intruder, yet you are one of them nonetheless. You make your promises in vain.”
Leida Miliu’s eyes glaze over, turn into still-life crystals that might be harvested for portraits of death. Calla knows she will say nothing more afterward. Whichever guard she invaded has died in the process too. There will be no justice for this dual life taken.
Calla was willing to sacrifice Anton to get Kasa off the throne. She’s willing to sacrifice whoever gets in her way if they won’t yield to her now, including every other noble in this palace trying to wreak havoc on this kingdom.Princess. King-Killer.
It’s about time she stops lying to herself.
She sets the sword down. Leida’s blood has sunk into the carpet. The smell is pungent. The room sits quiet.
Calla takes Leida’s left arm and pushes up her long sleeve.
