He Who Breaks the Earth (The Gods-Touched Duology)

Anwei stood at the railing of the Plump Plum, wind in her face and a lump in her throat. The sails were full, the shallow boat taking them downriver fast enough to have them in Kingsol in two days. The captain, Ellis Kent, was one of the most prolific smugglers of archipelago malt in the Commonwealth. The man himself stood there next to her, half a smile on his face, which was a quarter more than she’d seen him give anyone else. Unless he was about to slit someone’s throat.

“You can be straight with me,” he rasped. “I’ve been working with Yaru long enough to recognize the signs.”

Anwei sighed. “I wouldn’t dream to aspire.”

“You have to be Yaru herself.” He raised his hands. “I’m honored you chose my boat. Really, I am.”

“I’m not.” Anwei didn’t know why she was bothering anymore. After what had happened in Chaol, Yaru was dead. She’d have to come up with another name, another front, another story. The boat rocked under her feet as she thought it, leaving her to wonder why she’d need a front once Tual was done for.

Unimpressed, Ellis leaned toward her conspiratorially. “Which name is really yours? We’ve been exchanging services for long enough that I think I deserve to know. Yaru? I think it was Moltoven a few years back. And before that it was Lily.” When she didn’t answer, he gave her another nudge. “You refuse to use my nickname, so it’s only fair I get a real name.”

“Your nickname is ridiculous.”

“It does its job.”

Anwei rolled her eyes. “I have some questions about Kingsol. Do you know anything about the tributaries that come off the Felac down there?”

“Why?” Ellis cocked his head, ready to glean anything he could. Just like any good contact would.

Anwei looked out over the water, choosing her words carefully. “That forest has always been a resource for healers—specimens of flora and fauna grow there that cannot be found anywhere else. Are the estates in the area friendly to Beildans?”

“What kind of specimens are you after?” Ellis’s smile turned to a grin. “Rare plants of pure silver and gold?” But then his face turned serious. “I wouldn’t try going out there if I were you. On this side of Kingsol, we hold our breath that whole length of the river, even inside the boat. I have heard of Beildans coming from the island to collect herbs, but only on the western side of Kingsol, down toward the Elantin port.”

Anwei frowned, her heart beating a little faster. “Why?”

“The ground isn’t stable anywhere else, I guess? There are underground waterways branching through the north and east clear to the Palashian coast. Rumors have it that some go deeper, farther. But it’s dangerous out there—only snakes and spiders live in those trees. Kids dare each other to go exploring out on the tributaries. Enough of them don’t come back that people whisper about curses.”

Anwei shaded her eyes as she looked down the river, the words shivering through her. Curses. Underground ways. Like in the records she’d stolen from Castor’s library?

Ellis gave her a companionable nudge. “I won’t charge you for that piece of information, seeing how you’re letting me talk to you direct and all, Yaru. It’s my pleasure to share.”

Anwei peeled a bit of paint off the rail and let it fall into the water. The shield she’d hidden under for so many years was so cracked that she didn’t know why she was still holding it up. Anonymity had made working for the gangs in Chaol a little easier. It had stopped high khonin from following her back to Gulya’s apothecary, using her services, then having her thrown in jail so they could take their money back. Mostly, though, hiding her identity had been to keep the snake-tooth man from knowing she was after him.

Not that it had mattered. Tual hadn’t even recognized her. Had been mildly amused when he’d put together who she was, as if catching a little girl like her following him was adorable.

“I’m right then?” Ellis grinned again, little prickles going down Anwei’s spine. “A Beildan? I never would have guessed. You know you’re my favorite to work with, don’t you? Years and years, and no one’s done such a good job procuring the things that don’t come so easy.” He reached back to give the tiller a fond pat. It had been a while since Anwei had last heard from him, bringing her gossip and occasional supplies from the south in exchange for forged shipping manifests. Those hadn’t been difficult to find, though the original vessel documents with his name on them had been her work as well. Long before she’d gotten to Chaol, she’d found them and the right harbormaster, allowing Ellis to sail from the harbor waving his hat days before the proper owner even noticed the ship was gone.

“You’re putting me in danger just saying that,” Anwei murmured. “What if one of your sailors hears and tells every lowlife in the Elantin port that he’s found the goddess? Wardens will come after me. Yaru will come after me.”

Ellis still grinned. “I have some information for the great goddess Yaru, but if you’re not her—”

“I’m not. But I’ll take a message if it’s important.”

“You’ve got greater access than the rest of us?”

“We’re old friends is all.”

“Sure.” He winked. “There’s salpowder up and down this whole river. Some fancy man up in Chaol got hold of some and gave it to anyone with coin to pay.”

“Smugglers like you?” Anwei guessed. “You look happy enough. I’m wondering if any of the other boats got wind of the opportunity.”

Ellis shrugged, lounging on the rail. “I’ll admit, I’ve managed to expand my business a bit past smuggling in the last year with a little help from some redirected salpowder imports from the Trib up north. If Yaru’s got more on her to-do list than harvesting leaves and spider legs for poison, I’ve got a fair bit of sway on these waters clear down to the southern archipelago.” He leaned closer. “That boy you’ve got stashed in the cabin—I heard him asking for someone called ‘Anwei.’ Is that your real name?”

“I haven’t tried to hide my name from you.” Anwei’s throat clenched. Knox was asking for her? She waved Ellis away with a smile that went no deeper than her lips. “I’ll tell Yaru to send you a good dose of Chaol’s plague if you don’t stop it. Go bother Noa.” She said it carefully—Ellis had a winning way about him, but she knew better than to tell him what to do on his own ship. His nickname wasn’t so ridiculous based on stories she’d heard. “It might be good for everyone if you did, actually. If Noa gets bored, she might set something on fire.”

“She’s got enough eyes on her, I think.” Ellis gestured toward the two sailors swabbing dirty mops across the deck below them, their chins tipped up toward the dancer where she sat in the crow’s nest, her hair and skirts streaming behind her like a flag. “Stop looking up her skirt or I’ll throw you all to the elsparn!” he shouted toward them, laughing when the boy closest jumped to attention, and the farther one looked around, slathered so thick with confusion, not even his own mother would have believed it.

Ellis switched back to squinting at Anwei. “You know she’s the only one of you lot who’s worth anything on deck. Not many high khonin know their way around a sail. Is she valuable?”

“Not particularly. She’s a friend, and last I checked, you weren’t the type to go back on a deal.” Anwei held his gaze.

Ellis nodded in assent, but when he glanced back up at Noa, Anwei didn’t care for the calculation in his eyes. According to Noa, her father didn’t know she was gone, but based on Anwei’s own contacts, he wouldn’t be very happy once he did figure it out.

Altahn appeared in the stairwell that led to the hammocks below, his eyes finding Noa up in the sails. He looked away so violently that Anwei had to stop herself from laughing. The way Altahn had traded off between staring at Noa and trying not to stare since the first day he’d seen her was almost pitiable. Noa had jumped into the bay to stop Knox from being caught stealing salpowder. Smuggled salpowder.

Anwei tapped the railing in front of her, waiting for Ellis to give her his attention again. “How would salpowder give you more sway out here? You’d have to get onto another ship and light it on fire to burn anything. And it couldn’t stop wardens from inspecting your cargo. Wouldn’t they throw you in jail even if they found more than the diluted stuff performers use?”

“If only there were a way to shoot it like an arrow. Across the water and…” Ellis made a very unconvincing explosion noise, dramatically popping open his fists.

“If only.” Anwei frowned. She’d made tiny salpowder packets that made frightening popping noises on impact for Noa and had timed a salpowder smoke bomb to scare people at the tomb excavation with Altahn, but that had been with very small quantities, and according to Altahn, it had been lucky they hadn’t blown Gulya’s shop halfway to Calsta’s throne. The idea of shooting salpowder long distances to cause damage on impact seemed a bit far-fetched. “Can’t imagine wardens would be happy to see such a thing.”

“Oh, wardens don’t like the idea at all.” Ellis nodded. “But it’s been hard to get Devoted out here to explore the situation, so mostly they try not to think about it—wave me on by like they’re worried their imaginations will get sparked.” He raised a finger, tapping it to his temple. “Merchants, though—most of them aren’t afraid to really envision the damage such a thing could cause.” He chuckled, pointing to the green circle of paint Anwei had noticed on the prow. “I’ve got my own little fleet these days shipping things up and down the river. Had to do quite a few favors shouldering extra business until things feel safer out here.”

“That is very interesting. I’ll have to—” Anwei’s mind cracked, like a pick stabbing into a glass ball. She grabbed the rail, the world dipping sideways.

Knox was awake again.

“You all right?” Ellis cocked his head.

“Yes. Your business model does seem like something Yaru would be interested in.” Anwei rubbed a hand across her forehead, trying to banish the crackle of broken glass and storm clouds swirling up from Knox’s spot inside her. “You know she only corresponds in writing, so if there are any other details, write them down, and I’ll get them to her.”

He nodded, and she could feel his eyes on her back as she passed the sailors minding the sails. Sidling by Altahn, she lowered her voice so only he could hear. “Keep that firekey of yours out of sight.”

Altahn froze, then leaned closer, not quite looking at her.

“He’s using salpowder to control the trade on the Felac. Wouldn’t want them to see Galerey and get ideas about producing their own.” Anwei wasn’t sure how Trib made salpowder. It was a secret the clans held close even when they weren’t getting along with one another. But she didn’t think Ellis would turn down the opportunity to find out more if a tame firekey lizard appeared on his deck. “Do you know anything about people using salpowder from far away? Like an arrow, Ellis said.”

Altahn pulled away. “He said that?”

“We still have some salpowder from the smugglers in Chaol. I’m assuming you have some hidden in the trunk you brought as well?”

A slight nod from Altahn. Anwei hadn’t assumed. She could smell its silver and charcoal bite wafting from Altahn whenever he walked by. “If you do know something about shooting off salpowder, it could come in handy once we get to Kingsol.”

She left him looking contemplative, Galerey a quivering lump inside his sleeve. Down the stairs, past the warren of hammocks, some of the sailors snoring to the rhythm of the boat’s slow roll, to the cabins at the back where Ellis had stuck Anwei and the others. Yaru’s name had been enough for him to relocate three of his crew members to sleep on the deck. Knox’s consciousness roiled inside her, his thoughts worried. At least he didn’t smell of nothing.

He hadn’t tried to find the pockmarked sword. Back in Chaol, Knox had looked for it without success, so she doubted he’d know where to look for it now, or even that they’d brought it with them. Willow didn’t learn anything Knox himself didn’t see or hear around him, based on what Anwei knew. She could feel the threads Willow had sewn through him, his soul grown to accommodate her in lumpy, diseased bits, like a tree trunk strangled with wire. She was still there, but not… here somehow. Like she’d decided to bother someone else for a while.

Anwei pushed through the door and found Knox standing with his face to the little window at the back of the cabin, the glass open to let the breeze ruffle his hair in its tie.

“You’re awake again.” Anwei’s insides grated nastily against one another when he turned, his eyes blinking blearily as if he still wasn’t used to light.

“I’ve been awake a few times. How long has it been this time?”

“Two days since you first woke up.” Each time he’d woken since had been random moments of consciousness only lasting about five minutes.

“Where’s Lia?”

“She’s taking Vivi south on foot.” She shut the door behind her, the feel of him inside her head swelling larger and larger even though he still wasn’t quite looking at her.

It was close. Too close. Not close enough. She couldn’t look at him without that moment in the tent flashing back through her, his lips pressed hard against hers, and the way she’d just…

Forgotten. Everything. And how she still wanted to.

Knox’s space in her head seemed to flex, sparked with gold. He wasn’t what Willow made him when she thirsted for blood, but he wasn’t all the way himself, either. Calsta had made a cage around him.

Calsta, whispering which direction he should look, what he should say.

Maybe it had been Calsta who told him to wake up and kiss her.

Knox sat down on the bunk, stretching his legs out in front of him and arching his back, like a cat after a nap. She’d always liked that about him, that he was comfortable. He didn’t sit up too straight, didn’t say anything other than what he thought, and was quietly confident in his place at her side, as if he’d been born there. Not like her contacts, who needed constant petting and validation.

Knox just was. And now he was being quiet, waiting for her to speak.

“I need to look at your wound,” she finally said. “It started bleeding again, and I haven’t been able to see how it changes while you’re awake.”

“Sure.” He lay back, every movement graceful and measured, his muscles constricting under his skin where the sleeveless tunic pulled against his movement.

Anwei moved to sit on the floor next to the bed, trying for a smile. The air felt so thick between them that she couldn’t breathe. It didn’t help the way he’d drawn tight inside her mind, like a bowstring waiting to release. “Can you imagine if I’d asked to look at a wound before all this?”

“You did ask. Every scratch, every time I stubbed my toe.” He stretched his hands up to cushion his head so they’d be out of the way. Anwei stared at his tunic buttons, done up to his throat, but he didn’t move.

Anwei pulled the medicine bag into her lap and undid the buckles, then fished inside for the salve she’d brewed. “A whole year of refusing so much as a cup of tea from me, and here we are.” She pointed to his buttons. “And shy now too? I don’t have enough fingers to count how many times you went parading through the apothecary half-naked.”

He looked down, hesitating. Then began to undo them one by one. Anwei looked away, breathing in to get the measure of whether anything had changed, then immediately regretting it because it was worse. Much worse. Knox’s smell was like a map of things they’d done over the last year. The things they’d stolen, the times he’d come to sit in her room and talk, the times Gulya had tried to poison his food while he was helping with chores. The time she’d pretended to kiss him in the governor’s office, and Knox had almost jumped out a window to get away. Knox carrying her out of the excavation compound, his hands on her feet, tracing the line of her scars.

And two days before, when she’d come running into the camp worried that she’d find a ghost with a sword only to have him catch her up and spin her around as if nothing between them had ever gone wrong. He was himself. It had been his arms around her. His voice. I don’t know what the rules are anymore.

But there were rules. Calsta’s rules.

Breathing out fast, Anwei concentrated on the odd red and yellow thread that seemed to lace Knox together now, the same since the day Tual had stabbed him. Every time she tried to use her nose to match it to an herb or spice, a mineral or tincture as she did with all other wounds, it swelled up inside her head like an abscess, blocking everything out until it was all there was left of Knox. It wasn’t any different now that he was awake, pulsing with a poisonous, dangerous heat.

When she looked back at him, Knox was pulling open the last button. He hunched up to look at the knot of scar tissue in his side, making his stomach flex.

Gods above, why is this so much easier when he’s asleep? Anwei closed her eyes, trying to make herself think about Knox as a patient. A collection of skin, bones, muscles, and humors, the scar an ugly, raised arc of pale skin just under his ribs and the trail of dried blood from its center dried in crackled bits down his side. But then when she opened her eyes, he was watching her.

Their bond was probably telling him exactly how much of a lie her blank expression was.

Knox lay back again, rearranging his hands under his head and looking away as she pulled out the salve, jar cold between her fingers.

“You know,” he said slowly. “This might be an awkward moment to bring it up, but back in the camp, I—”

“Yes. I was there.” Anwei pressed her lips together.

He waited. And waited, something like hope, or excitement, or nervousness twisting her tighter than a spring. “I was going to say that I don’t remember much of anything between Gulya handing me the sword and waking up in the tent two days ago. I mean, there were moments. Flashes of… things that happened when you were there and trying to help me. I know you saved me and that we…” He pulled a hand out from behind his head to circle a finger between them. “Changed because of it.”

“When you’re awake, I can see Calsta’s energy around you. Around Lia, too. And…” Anwei looked down, a trickle of purple mist worming its way past her. “Right now I can see something around me, if I look really hard. But maybe it’s only when you’re paying attention. It happened in flashes a few times back in Chaol when we were…”

“Close?” Knox provided when she trailed off.

“That’s probably accurate.” When he’d almost died at the governor’s mansion, when they’d joined together in the tomb to try to break open the burial chamber, the feel of him touching every inch of her though they hadn’t been touching at all. And then after, in her room…

Face flooding with heat, Anwei jammed her thumbs into the jar’s clamp, and it popped open so violently that it jumped from her hands and clattered to the floor. “Now it happens more often.”

Knox’s mouth quirked. “And sometimes I can smell things I couldn’t before.” He started to laugh. “Gods above, it only comes in fits, but I’ve never wanted to know less about the people around me. And I feel… crooked.” Tipping his chin down again to look at the scar, Knox licked his lips. “Like I’m still in pieces, and sometimes they shift if I move too quickly.”

“Well, you’re not in pieces. You’re healing just fine.” Anwei grabbed the salve from the floor, wiping the rim where it had spilled. Dipping a finger into the jar, she pulled back the skin that had congealed on top. The scent of it twisted around her, reaching out to smooth the edge of sharp crimson issuing from Knox’s impossible wound. It shouldn’t have worked—none of it should have. Not their bond, not their magic knitting him into one piece, or the scents that had helped her cobble together medicine that soothed his wound that wouldn’t quite heal. Anwei knew bodies and bones, humors and organs, and Knox’s had been spilled all over the tomb floor. Yet here he was, his soul twisted together with hers. With Knox’s magic inside her, Anwei could feel the impossibility of herself, the gods’ hands reaching through her to change the world.

A god’s touch left much larger scars than any sword or poison could.

“You know I’m not going to drink that, right?” Knox broke into her thoughts, laying a less than enthusiastic eye on the jar. “My faith in you only goes so far.”

Anwei snorted. “It wasn’t easy to put you back together, and I’m beginning to wonder if you’re properly grateful.”

Knox chuckled, eyes following her every move as she extracted a cloth from the bag and dipped it into the salve. Every bit of her sparking, she reached toward the wound.

He caught her hand. “Wait.”

A thread of desperation wormed through her, wanting to be done with this. Knox flinched, looking down at her hand hovering over his torso. A bit of salve had dripped on him. “That stuff is really cold.”

“Sorry about that.” Anwei carefully extracted her hand and began to apply it to the twisted scar, only touching him with the cloth and trying to ignore the way his ribs moved at her touch.

He breathed in and looked up at the bunk above. “I’m really sorry about earlier.”

Anwei paused, then smoothed the last of the salve across the wound. “About attacking me in the tomb? I don’t think Willow was asking for permission.”

“No, you and me in the tent.” He shifted uncomfortably when she pulled away. “Are we going to talk about this? I’d be okay with not talking and just… moving on to whatever it is you want, Anwei. But I don’t like… this.” He circled a finger between them again. “Whatever it is. You’re worried about something, and you ran away from me before, and I probably shouldn’t have just kissed you, especially not after what Calsta said—”

“What Calsta said?” Anwei closed the jar with a snap, swearing when her fingertip got pinched in the clasp’s wires. Wrenching it free, she tried to ignore the prickle of rage that had shadowed each of her steps since Tual had stabbed Knox. Now that he was awake, it had dulled into a sort of calm concentration. She knew what needed to change to make her world right, and she was going to do it. But that awful rage flared at the mention of the Sky Painter too, dribbling her messes all over unsuspecting humans as she always did. “Please share. What did your goddess have to say about me now?”

Knox’s brow furrowed as if he knew mentioning Calsta had been a mistake. “She said you’re afraid of me. If it’s because of Willow… the sword is gone, isn’t it? Willow’s… trapped.” Scrubbing a hand through his hair, Knox clenched his eyes shut for a second, hand pausing on his forehead. “It’s like she’s locked out because of you and Calsta. Lia told me a little about bonds the second time I woke up and you were… helping one of Altahn’s riders with a toothache so you couldn’t come see me. Anyway, I have a theory—”

“I’m not scared of you.” Anwei shoved the salve into her bag and stood.

“You were.” Knox sat up, shirt ballooning open, and a new bead of blood welled up through the salve. “When I kissed you. I could feel it. Like… at first you were there for it.” He smiled, eyes crinkling at the corners. “And then you weren’t.”

Anwei’s jaw clenched. “Please, tell me. Explain to me how I feel.”

Eyes wide, Knox didn’t speak, smart enough not to answer.

Pulling the bag’s clasp tight, Anwei shook her head. “Sorry. I…. you said you have a theory about Willow? I’m worried about the way you keep blanking out. Lia said it’s like what…” The rage, the awful loss of control after so many years of concentrated planning burned up her throat. “Like what happens to Mateo Montanne.”

“Yes,” Knox said slowly. “Calsta says Willow didn’t know he was there before, so she just took from him by accident whenever I used Calsta’s powers because I wasn’t leaving enough energy for her to drain. Then, when we started getting closer, your bond with me began walling her off, so she started taking more and more from him—Lia said he started having terrible episodes after he got to Chaol. That was right when I….”

“When you fell off the roof and our minds… joined.” Anwei remembered that day, the first hint she’d had of the snake-tooth man in two years, and suddenly Knox was calling for help in her head. She’d turned away and ran to help him, leaving the clue behind.

Unease chilled her bones. That wasn’t the only time Knox had drawn her away from her purpose.

Knox paused, looking up at her as if he’d felt it too. “What is it?”

She shook her head. “So Willow was taking power from Mateo by accident?”

Blinking, Knox stood, his shirt still hanging open and his feet bare. “Right. Willow started out begging for me to kill anyone. Basists especially. Every year she got more desperate, more unhinged, not like my sister, but like… something else. A ghost. Then I met you, and as we got closer, she fixated on you. She didn’t want me to kill anyone; she wanted me to kill you.”

Anwei’s breath came out in a rush. She’d seen evidence enough of it not to be surprised. “And?”

“Calsta says Willow found Mateo and likes him better. I think Willow was always asking me to kill because she needed souls, energy. When she realized I couldn’t take people’s energy, she concentrated on Basists. Then when you and I formed an actual bond—”

“She wanted me,” Anwei breathed. “Because if you killed me…”

“I’d turn into a shapeshifter.” He pressed his lips together. “I’d be what she needed: someone who could drain other people’s souls at will. And now she’s found Mateo—”

“Who can drain souls. So she’s with him.” Anwei pinched a finger between her eyes, trying to think. “Like, the three of you only have enough soul for two.” She didn’t like that idea, the memory of Tual’s voice ringing in her ears. Knox was dead the moment he picked up the sword. “So now she’s stealing from you when he needs extra?”

“I guess?” Knox shrugged. “There are so many different things in my head, Anwei. Calsta, Willow. You. It’s been that way for so long, maybe I’m just as latched on as Willow is, so when she leaves… the part of me that’s awake does too. Now there’s nothing left to hold me in my body except you.” He shrugged again. “I know how my oaths work. I know how the Sky Painter does things—it’s an exchange, almost. Or like qualifying for a job. Then she gives you the tools to do the job. Shapeshifters are the opposite, which is why they’re so dangerous. They don’t have to qualify; they don’t have to give anything up. All they have to do is take.”

“Which, right now, includes Willow and Mateo taking you?”

He shifted. “I guess? She can’t do it all the way because of—”

“Me.” Anwei said it too quickly, looking down. “And Calsta. Got it.”

“I guess to find out more, we’d have to get hold of your brother.”

Something inside Anwei twisted, sparking hot. “Mateo Montanne isn’t my brother.”

Knox cocked his head. “No?”

The anger bottled up inside Anwei pressed hard against her chest until the pressure began to crack, like steam tearing through any weakness it could find. “Knox, I have spent the last eight years of my life trying to find the man who killed my twin.”

“But Tual didn’t kill him. He—”

“Eight years of my life, Knox.” She looked down at her hands because they’d started shaking, her heart beating like a drum call to battle. “Eight years of trying to avenge my brother’s blood. Eight years of trying to set the world right. And do you know what Mateo Montanne was doing for those eight years?”

“I—”

“Mateo Montanne was sleeping in a comfortable bed. He was buying expensive clothes and eating his weight in cream and dried fruit. He learned calligraphy, sat in front of an easel and painted—”

“Anwei…” Knox took a step toward her; his voice was quiet.

“Eight years. We were best friends, two halves of the same soul, and he’s never once even thought my name.” There were tears in her eyes, and her throat was raw.

Knox’s hands were on her shoulders, and Anwei couldn’t help but look up at him, wanting the world to somehow change.

But the world didn’t change. Not unless you made it.

“I understand why Lia wants to go after them.” Knox’s head dipped toward hers, his brown eyes wide. “Tual took her sister. And Altahn is obsessed with Patenga’s sword.” His brow creased. “But why are you following the shapeshifter? It’s not for me, is it? Because I don’t need vengeance. All I need is to get the last of Willow out of my head.”

“No!” Anwei’s voice rose, she couldn’t help it, the things she’d kept in a stranglehold deep inside breaking free. “I do want to help you, Knox. I want to help Willow because it would help you. But I can’t just… pretend the last eight years didn’t happen. It’s gone. I was so alone, just… wanting my family. Wanting someone to care about me—Tual was the one person who I thought would.”

“You think Tual—”

“He took everything away from me.” Her family. Her home. She’d had to learn how to find when she was supposed to be healing people in an apothecary with Arun. All of it was Tual’s fault—Anwei wouldn’t have broken the day Arun disappeared and destroyed her father’s shop if not for Tual. She wouldn’t have sailed into a storm in a leaky rowboat drenched in blood if not for Tual. She wouldn’t have spent the last eight years looking sideways at every person she passed on the street, searching for a shapeshifter’s scent if not for Tual. Then he’d tried to take Knox, and it was only gods—gods who seemed to prey on the desperate—that kept him alive. She could feel it now, Calsta reaching out through Knox to sink those long, monster claws into her mind to make their bond.

“I am going to take everything away from Tual Montanne that he took from me,” Anwei said quietly. “He didn’t just murder my brother. He murdered me.” Knox’s hands pressed into her arms, holding her up from the weight of everything that had been pressing on her since the moment she’d seen her brother in the tomb. “Arun was right there the whole time,” she gasped. “He could have found me. He could have looked. He was half of who I was, and he didn’t want me either, Knox. My whole life wasted on someone who didn’t even think to say goodbye. He chose a shapeshifter instead.”

It was too much. Anwei couldn’t breathe because it was too big, too heavy: Arun had been her life. And the last eight years had been her last grasping moments to keep him there with her, in her heart, to prove that she had not forgotten.

But he had forgotten her. Just the way her family had forgotten so quickly that she was their daughter. Even the narmaidens infesting Patenga’s tomb had known it, singing out her worst fears: Please save me. I’ve done nothing wrong. They were supposed to love me…

… but I wasn’t enough. The last part was too hard even for a narmaiden to sing.

“Anwei, you’re alive!” Knox was shaking too. “You are still breathing. You still have choices. What happened was wrong. Arun—Calsta’s breath, Anwei, we don’t even know what happened to him or why he didn’t come looking for you. Lia says he doesn’t remember being anything but Mateo.”

“Tual made my whole town forget him, but he couldn’t pry Arun out of my head. I remembered him when no one else could. Arun knew.”

“Then stop looking for him. Stay with people who do love you. Noa would do anything for you.” It was almost like shouting, Knox’s arms tight around her. “I would do anything for you.”

Everything inside her stopped, an eerie quiet that burned.

“This is why you’re afraid.” Knox’s anguish for her came across their bond like a smear of salve on a wound that was far too deep to ever heal. “It’s not Willow; it’s this.” He pulled back, looking her in the eyes, and gestured between them. “We’re not going to leave you, Anwei. I am not going to leave you.”

Anwei stiffened, bracing herself against the weight of such a blatant lie.

This was what had happened before. She’d allowed something new into her life. A partner. Then it had turned into something more: a friendship. Something that scared her a little because friendship meant trusting people. Relying on them. Leaning on someone who, one day, might decide not to be there anymore. Most of her relationships were like tools. Like Ellis—she needed information, and he had it. She needed a way to Kingsol, and he had one. When she needed a contact, she could pick it up just like any hammer or wheelbarrow, then put it down again until the next time. When tools broke or went missing, you got a new one.

Friendship was different. It was a comfortable chair that could hold you up when you were tired, catching you when you thought you were going to fall. Or sometimes you were the chair, taking turns as needed.

The problem was, if you went to sit and the chair wasn’t there, or it broke, that left you on the ground, bruised and wondering how you got there. With Knox, she’d reasoned a few bruises might be worth the moments she’d been able to sit, held up by something other than her own two feet. If it broke, she’d stand up, brush herself off, and keep walking.

Until it hadn’t been only that. It was just Knox in front of her. A person Anwei didn’t want to disappear, to break, to go away. For the first time in eight years, Anwei had let herself take a step forward toward something she wanted—not a plan or a tool or a contact who could take her closer to the snake-tooth man’s death. Knox and her together were something outside her bitter hunt, something sweet on her tongue when Anwei had forgotten she could taste.

But then Knox had said no, thank you.

Because of Calsta.

His goddess didn’t—couldn’t—approve of Knox being part of anything other than her godly designs. Which was when Anwei had realized that with Knox, their relationship wasn’t a chair. It wasn’t even a rope she could cling to. It was a cliff.

She’d stepped over the edge, and she was still falling.

Anwei drew in a thorny breath, willing herself not to be angry, but it was impossible. There was nothing but anger left inside her, everything burned away. “You know I love you, Knox.”

He was very quiet for a moment, the air full of static, noise, of things unsaid. But then, when he finally spoke, she knew he understood. “Why do I get the feeling that means exactly the opposite of what I’m hoping for?”

“It means you can’t promise me you won’t leave.” She pushed away from him, suddenly so, so tired. “And my soul’s in too many pieces already to let you tear off more when you go.”

“I’m not going to tear your soul like some shapeshifter.”

Anwei backed away, then jolted in surprise when her back hit the door. “I can’t share you with a goddess, Knox.” If she were going to step off a cliff, she wanted to be falling with someone. But Calsta wouldn’t allow Knox to fall.

Anwei had already jumped. But she couldn’t let herself hit the ground. Not again.

“It’s not sharing.” Knox started laughing, a shocked sort of sound that left electricity blistering in the air between them. “The two of us are fated. A Basist and a Devoted forming the first bond in five hundred years. Right when a new shapeshifter rises?” He stepped forward, pausing when she put her hands up to stop him. “This is what Calsta wants. It just had to happen in the right order. Two gods-touched together is—”

“I am not interested in gods and their messes. I am not some hero people will write stories about. All I want is…”

“What?” He breathed when she didn’t finish. “What do you want, Anwei?”

Anwei clenched her eyes shut. To avenge myself, she thought. For Tual to suffer for destroying my life, then forgetting I existed. I want him to know who I am.

And I want you, Knox.

Impossible things on an impossible list. But of all of them, Knox was the most impossible, standing there as if he didn’t know it.

She fiddled with her medicine bag. “I don’t want the nameless god’s touch—I’ve spent my whole life trying to forget he’s even there waiting for me to do something terrible again. I’m just a healer. A thief. I can’t be what your goddess wants. And you will always choose her instead of me.”

“It’s not like that. I mean, not really.” Knox swallowed, looking down. “I can’t help who I am, Anwei. I can’t help the commitments I made or where I came from before I met you. Calsta promised to help me find a way to help my sister go free, but she can only do that if I keep my oaths. You are a part of that promise.”

“I am not the fulfillment of any god’s promise,” Anwei hissed.

“That’s not what I mean. There’s room in the oaths I’ve made for you. She led me to you, not because you’re a gift for a faithful Devoted like me—that’s disgusting. That’s how Ewan treated Lia.” Knox tipped forward, ducking his head to get her to look up at him, but Anwei could only stare down at his bare feet on the floor. “She led me to you because she thought we might fit. And we did. We’re bonded because of us, Anwei. Not because of Calsta.”

“For how long? The moment I don’t suit Calsta’s purposes, she’ll send you off in another direction to fit with someone else, and I’ll be—” Alone again. Abandoned again. Forgotten. Again.

“I’m not going anywhere.” His voice went quieter. “What do you want from me? For me to say I’d break my oaths if you asked?”

“I don’t want you to break your oaths. Your sister is still trapped, and the only way to fix it is for you to keep them—I would never ask you to… Gods above and below!” Anwei pulled her braids back from her face, twisting them up into a knot, feeling as if every inch of her was crawling. “You and me, we’re… we’re friends. We’re business partners. We’re two people who should have kept our lives separate—no history, no future, and no questions. No attachments. That was our agreement.”

He shook his head. “The agreement evolved. I love you, Anwei.”

Knox didn’t even flinch as he said it, as if he’d been granted permission to use those words at long last. They burned in the air toward Anwei, glowing across the bond like a horrible invitation that she wanted to accept more than anything else in the world.

That was the problem.

Anwei’s heart shivered in her chest, but there were too many other memories fluttering like torn paper inside her. Her parents, dead-eyed as they came for her, the magic inside her too strong for their love. Her twin, the other half of her soul, curled on the tomb floor looking like a man who’d grown up not needing her. And Knox in her room the night he’d almost kissed her, then turned away instead. I have to keep my oath to love only Calsta, he’d said. And every day I’m with you, I break it.

Knox stepped into Anwei, his hands pulling her close, sharing the warmth of him. His breath was on her neck, his hands soft on her back, and Anwei breathed him in, every inch of her wanting to lean into him and kiss him the way he’d kissed her, as if the world ended when they stopped. But Anwei’s life was pinned so carefully that even one more torn edge would mean the end.

No god had ever hidden Anwei the way Calsta hid her Devoted. No god had ever fixed the world into a place that included her, only marked her as something inherently wrong.

She touched the scar above her collarbone, hidden for so many years. Gods asked for too much, then took even more. They were just like people—love went both ways. Unless it didn’t. Until it didn’t.

Knox had already shown her the path he meant to walk. And as much as Anwei wanted to walk a span with him, the idea of him walking on alone when his goddess asked was too much.

He belonged to Calsta, and goddesses didn’t share.

Anwei forced herself to look at Knox, their faces so close she could only see parts: an eye, the curve of his cheek. His lips only inches from hers. Everything was wrong. But the words that came out were true, sharp as stars. “I am here. As myself. Not part of a divine plot, not a vigilante trying to rid the world of magic that could tear it apart, not a gods-touched. I’m just me, trying to turn my life into something that makes sense. Maybe someday… when we’ve sorted out Willow and you aren’t…” She shook her head. “When we’re enough, you and me, you let me know.”

“You are all I want,” he whispered.

“That’s not true. It’s not even what I want—no one should have to want only one thing. It’s just that sometimes the things you want don’t go together, and you have to choose.”

She gently pulled away, opened the door, and walked out. She paused as soon as she crossed the threshold, stuck because she wanted him to come up with something that would allow them to fit—allow her to fit as she was.

But there was nothing. Not unless something changed.

Things will change. You’re on a path forward that will make the world change. The thought pricked inside her like hope. But Knox just stared at her, tears like ash on his cheeks. Can’t there be room for both of you?

But that sounded too much like a compromise that would break her at the hinges. Like the old Anwei she’d left bloody on Beilda’s beaches. The one who waited too long when she saw the knife in her mother’s hands because she didn’t want to understand it.

So, Anwei turned toward the sun, leaving Knox there in the dark. But as she took her first step, the acid bubbling black of salpowder hit her nose.

“Anwei!” Knox grabbed hold of her, bracing against the wall, just in time for the boat to lurch sideways, the timbers shuddering with a bone-chilling boom.