“I know you can hear me,” Ayathir whispered again. “To think otherwise would be an insult to your hearing, so listen carefully: I have one question.”
I could hear his heart pounding, but his voice was steady; in fact, it was steadier than I had ever heard it. “Kettir” usually spoke timidly, as shy as a mouse.
This voice beyond the curtain was nothing like the Kettir I thought I had known. Soft as a whisper. Sharp as chipped glass.
“Is it your will to be wielded by the Prince? “
I reeled. My will? Since when has anyone cared about my will? Why did this random, deceitful huntguard care about what I wanted? Who was he? The question had been something of an idle curiosity before, but now it seemed of primary importance. He was an unknown player in this game I played with Yethyr. An unknown agent who concealed his identity, never missed with a bow, and knew too much about me.
And I knew nothing about him! I still couldn’t even slip into his dreams the way I could with everyone else I touched. Whose side was he on? Was he trying to trick me into revealing the depth of my sentience by pretending to be on my side?
It seemed ridiculous that he would think I would fall for that.
“I had come on this hunt assuming you would resent a necromantic touch, but you have quietly saved the Prince’s life enough times that now I must assume you wish to be in his grasp. Say it isn’t so, and I will take you away from him.”
Take me away? Was that even an option? I had never considered enacting my vengeance without the Prince. Could I enact my vengeance without the Prince? He was the only one crazy enough to get me to the treacherous council, and he potentially was the only one skilled enough in songcraft to have a plan to defeat them once I got there. I could hardly leave now, with the council close enough to taste.
But closer still was Yethyr’s impending domination of my will. With Wes, I believed he could do it. This was an opportunity to escape before he could overcome me.
“One word from you and I shall take you far away,” Ayathir said, breathless and eager.
Oh. He had been waiting for this moment the entire hunt. Yethyr was distracted and, for the first time, away from me. There were no other huntguards at the door. Wes and Mandorias were not near to hear my deathsong response. He hadn’t been able to make this offer until these very conditions were reached. Every night in the camp, he had waited, and his time had come.
This was too long a game to be a trick. He really meant it. He really intended to steal me if I told him to. It shocked me. Ayathir was the last person I would expect to steal me. I remembered how he shied away from my hilt in his fight with Hegrir. The thought of touching me had revolted him.
But he was putting aside that disgust to offer me a way out of Yethyr’s domination. Could I take it? Could I trust this unknown man enough to take it? Presuming that I could, did I even want to take it?
I wanted to make Yethyr suffer, and I could hardly do that away from him. Yethyr and I were locked into a battle of wills that would decide the fate of the Brinn. I couldn’t just run from that. I couldn’t admit defeat before we had even properly fought.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“You should know that I will hear your answer,” Ayathir was saying. “I heard you speak to the selkies. I heard you sing with the Datrean smith. I hear your whispers all the time. I didn’t betray you to the Prince then, and I won’t now.”
So he was a deathsinger. He didn’t sound like Yethyr or Deathsinger Zasha, but I was forced to concede that it made sense. Of course, he could hear deathsong. He was the only Brinn hunter who woke up and rescued Yethyr during Hegrir’s assassination attempt. He had heard my warning when I pretended to be Hegrir’s thoughts. He had always been listening.
And if that was so, he had been hearing Wes this whole time. He had been hearing my manipulations of Yethyr the whole time, and he had said nothing.
Whatever loyalties he had, it clearly wasn’t to the Prince.
“Is it your will to be wielded by him?” he asked again. “I will respect your silence, but he will not hear you if you whisper.”
Wouldn’t he? Yethyr’s hearing for deathsong was far sharper than Ayathir knew. No, that was just an excuse not to answer. I had already made my choice; I made it long ago. My answer could not be buried beneath fear. Carefully, I waited till Yethyr laughed to cover my whisper.
“Ayathir.”
I heard the huntguard suck in a sharp breath. So he hadn’t known I knew his true name. The ability to surprise him was gratifying. I tensed, waiting for Yethyr to tense as well, but he kept on talking.
Ayathir said nothing, but I could feel his undivided focus on me, waiting for me to speak. But what could I say? That I wanted to eradicate his whole society and consume his prince? That I wanted to wield Yethyr against everything he loved and everything I abhorred?
Words came to me, and it had been so long since I spoke as myself that I barely recognized my own voice.
“I want him to wield me.”
Ayathir’s silence was deafening. It was somehow louder than the stonesong of the mountain or the watersong of the hot spring. It was so loud that I almost thought Yethyr had heard me or that Ayathir had not.
But the Prince had not heard my truth, and his treacherous huntguard had
“As you wish.”
Ayathir said nothing more, and before I used the opportunity to interrogate him as I really ought to have done from the beginning, there was a splashing from the hot spring. Yethyr and Jaetheiri were getting out.
I pushed all my desperate questions away and kept quiet. Already, I could feel Yethyr’s focus return to me, as it always did.
I tried to keep myself calm. I did not want him to sense my distress, and by the time he had picked me up, I had buried myself beneath false tranquility.
I slipped back into his thoughts at his touch. Through his eyes, I watched him push aside the fur curtain and leave the private hot spring.
“Kettir” saluted at the sight of the Prince. That careful veneer of subservience was back in place. Ayathir and his firm voice might as well have been gone.
“How did you find the water, my Prince?”
“It was…nice,” he admitted. “Go on, and try it yourself, Kettir. You have waited enough.”
Kettir fidgeted. “Are you sure?”
“Of course. We’ll wait here.” Yethyr meant that, he really did. He and Jaetheiri loitered outside the hot spring, relaxed and almost unconcerned for the first time in a long time. It was almost peaceful.
Naturally, that peace lasted ten minutes before they started hearing shouts.
“Prince Yethyr!” Leaf came around the bend, panting.
Yethyr almost unsheathed me, assuming an attack. “What is it?”
“Honestly, I'm not sure,” she said. “The watchers say that skeleton of yours started working on this glittering red puzzle and—”
“It’s a red obsidian mirror,” Yethyr corrected. “I told him to put it back together for me.”
“Well, I guess he did what you said.” Leaf scratched her chin. “The mirror attacked him.”
I imagined it and then grew very confused. Yethyr voiced what we were both thinking. “The mirror is doing what?”
It was satisfying to write. I've been sitting on Kettir/Ayathir schemes since before they left Datrea, so it is nice to finally touch on it a little bit. Thank you so much for reading! What did you think? I love comments and often respond to them. If you want to support me and read ahead, you know where to go.
**schedule** is 6 am PDT on Fridays. See you guys then!
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