The Duke’s Reborn Daughter Sometimes Chooses Violence.

My body slid down the dragon’s neck. It was not a conscious choice. The scales were slick with blood and my boots couldn’t find purchase. I tried to channel mana into my legs and nothing came. The reserves were there. My body simply refused to use them. I hit the snow and rolled, until I lay there for a moment. The sky above me was pale and wide.

Get up. That was my own voice, not the Godblade’s. Vaelin had gone still the moment the dragon’s eye dimmed. I got up. The world tilted and my hands were shaking. My nose was still bleeding.

The men were staring. Some knelt. Others stood rigid, weapons half-raised, as though they hadn’t yet decided the fight was over. A few had turned away entirely. Were they unable to look at me or the dragon? Both? I didn’t see them. I was looking for three people.

Violet was thirty paces to my left. She was on her knees, one hand pressed flat to the snow, the other clutched to her chest. The cut she’d made across her palm was wrapped in a strip of cloth torn from her own cloak. It was already soaked through. Her face was still pale.

I staggered towards her, each step heavier than the last. I dropped to my knees. Snow and blood soaked through my trousers, not that it mattered. “Violet.”

She looked up. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused -they sharpened when they found me. “We got it,” she whispered. “We got the bastard.”

I pulled her in hard. I wrapped both arms around her and held. She was shaking. I was shaking. Neither of us tried to pretend otherwise. I felt her good hand come up and grip the back of my coat so tightly it hurt. “You’re an idiot,” I whispered into her shoulder. “You absolute idiot. You’re pale. Are you trying to look like me again?”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

It had. That didn’t make me less furious. The fury could wait, everything could wait. I held her for a few seconds longer, then let go. Violet swayed when I released her. I steadied her with a hand on her shoulder and turned.

“Sere.” I had seen her, of course. Had seen her from atop the dragon. She was perhaps thirty paces farther back, right next to the Scrylens. Alira knelt beside her, gold light pulsing from her hands across Sere’s shoulder and arm. It didn’t seem to be doing much. Those black veins on her arm were still there. It looked like they had spread. That made me panic.

Dorothy Carter was still clutching her Scrylens behind Sere. Her face was grey, but she was alive and I understood then why Sere was where she was.

She must really like her. Something inside me twisted at the thought. I banished it as I rose, dragging Violet up with me. We slowly staggered towards her. It took some time, over the distance. Alira glanced up at me, so obviously exhausted. She said nothing. The gold light didn’t waver.

I dropped to my knees beside Sere, my heart seizing so hard it physically hurt. She was sitting upright, but she looked so terribly small against the bloodstained snow. Her breathing was a shallow wheeze that tore at my chest to hear. Her left arm hung entirely limp at her side.

Her eyes found me. She tried to smile. It was a shaky, unconvincing thing. Still, she was alive. For now, that was enough. Nobody spoke. Nobody save the healer. ”It’s not taking.” She said, almost apologetically. My hand trembled as I reached for her. Sere didn’t shy away.

Sever.Vaelin hummed. I paused.

Can we? I didn’t wait for an answer. Vaelin was in my hand, burning crimson. Dorothy and Alira both fell back. Sere only weakly stared at the blade. ”Stay still,” I whispered. Sere faintly nodded.

I stabbed the blade in her arm, though the steel did not run through the flesh. There was a hissing sound, and resistance. My hand trembled and seized as it met that resistance. Another hand was on mine then, Violet forcing my arm down with me. The resistance broke. Those black lines twisted, fell off of Sere and into the snow like writhing snakes. They melted even as we watched.

Some of the color returned to Sere’s face, or perhaps I was just seeing what I wanted to. I dismissed Vaelin, and finally let myself breathe.

“Ki-” Violet paused. “Sere. I thought I was supposed to be the fucking crazy one. Looks like...you’ll be fine now.” She said finally.

I reached out and pulled Sere in too, gently this time, careful of her shoulder. She pressed her face into my collarbone with a small sound that wasn’t quite a whimper. I felt her right hand bunch in the front of my shirt. Violet pressed in on my right, pressed just as hard against Sere. It was warm.

“You saved my life,” I murmured. “You brave, stupid girl.” Sere just held on.

There was a tug. A dull, insistent tug. Be patient, Vaelin. The pull stilled, though I still felt it. It seemed Vaelin had actually decided to listen. That was new. “Heal Violet after this.” I said. The words were more plea than order.

“Yes My-” The healer’s face was white and her words stuttered, as if unsure what the right address would be. “Yes.” She said finally.

Perhaps I should have warned her before I’d pulled Vaelin out in front of her. “I’m not that bad off.” Violet grumbled, her voice weak. “You bloody heal yourself- Ow!” Sere had just punched her in the side. Violet glared at her, the glare softening as she sighed.

I looked up. Past the two of them, past the ruined snow and the dead beast and the kneeling men. Damian stood there. He was covered in dust from and snow. There was a cut above his left eye that had bled down the side of his face and dried there. His hands were at his sides. He was watching us, and his body was angled away -not fully turned, but certainly away.

I held out my hand. I just extended my hand toward him across the bloody snow. His jaw worked. I saw him look at my hand, then at Violet on my right, then at Sere pressed against my chest. He looked at the dead dragon. He crossed the distance in ten steps. He went to one knee and took my hand.

His grip was rough and his voice was rougher. “I’m with you,” he said. It was nothing grand or formal. This too, for now, was enough.

I pulled him in. The four of us stayed like that in the blood and the snow. After a few seconds, I stood alone. I stood, because there was work to be done.

Count Vance found me before I found him. He’d been moving through the wounded. When he came to stand before me, his face was pale beneath the grime. He looked older than he had this morning.

“Report,” I said. Something shifted in his expression. It was small.

“Twenty dead on the mountain. Then the eight from the Shallows. Twenty eight in total.” He paused. “There are nine more wounded badly enough they can’t walk without help. There are another six wounded, but they can still move. Some of the hurt ones are....” He paused again. ”The black is on them, can’t fix it with a healer. Don’t know what’s wrong with them.”

”I’ll see to them,” I said. ”When I have the energy.” Count Vance stared at me for a moment, and then he shrugged, as if he’d finally decided to stop trying to use common sense.

Twenty eight men and women were dead. That was half the expedition. I did not allow what was inside me to show on my face. “Estovan?”

“Alira got to him. Broken ribs, she said, one of them punctured something. She says he’ll live, but he won’t be moving on his own for some time.”

I nodded. The relief was sharp and I buried it deep. “Can we get everyone down before nightfall?”

“If we start within the hour. The path the lads reinforced should hold. Most of it. The wounded will slow us. It’ll be close.”

“Then we start within the hour.”

Count Vance nodded. A beat of silence stretched between us. He looked at me, and I knew he was deciding whether to say it. He wasn’t the kind of man who avoided difficult things, so I waited. “Half my men are terrified of you,” he said. His voice was quiet, meant only for me. “The other half would follow you into damnation.”

“I don’t need them to follow me into damnation, Count.” I met his gaze. “I need them to follow me back here.”

His brows furrowed. “Back here.”

“The dragon is dead, but that doesn’t mean it’s over.” I said. “The walls are still cracking. The sanctuaries are still dying. Who the hell knows what’s happening in other places in the Wastes.” I paused and let out a breath that fogged between us. “I want more expeditions and better supplied ones. I want a sustained presence, not a visit every now and then when something goes wrong. That’s what I mean to do. I don’t think I’ll be able to come here myself for some time but....” I shrugged.

Count Vance was quiet for a long time. The wind pressed down on us. “Your father felt the same way, once.” He said finally.

“I know.”

“Do you? From where I’m standing, you don’t look much different. Thinner, perhaps.”

“I can’t and won’t do this alone.” I said. “I am just one girl. That’s why I’m asking you. Not ordering. Asking, because you know these Wastes in ways I never will, and I am not fool enough to pretend otherwise.” I tilted my head. “I do have some ideas, but they are only that.”

Count Vance didn’t agree. He didn’t refuse either. “We’ll talk more when we’re off this damn mountain,” he said. I could take that. Count Vance began to turn. “One more thing.” He paused. “Bring me the prisoner. He didn’t die. I saw him, near the back.”

It didn’t take long. Two men brought the scout forward. The scout, Morone, was a lean, weathered man. Forgettable. That was the point of him, I suppose. He looked at me with complete blankness, one that didn’t quite work given that he was bound.

“You know who I am,” I said. “And I know what you are. Let’s not waste each other’s time.” He said nothing.“You were sent to watch. To confirm whether an assassination succeeded. You have a way to report back to your employer, but you haven’t been able to use it. Correct?”

There was a flicker behind his expression. He hadn’t expected me to know that much. “I’m going to give you a chance,” I said. “You will report back through whatever means you have. You will tell whoever holds your leash that the assassination succeeded. That Esra Veyne is dead. In exchange, I am willing to...overlook certain things.”

The man stared at me. Count Vance stared at me. “My Lady-” Vance started.

“I will not hear otherwise.” I said. I ignored the Count, looked only at the man in front of me.

“And if I refuse?” He said finally.

I smiled at him. Held my hand to the right. Vaelin materialized in my grip a moment later. The blade was inert. It still made the man pale. “I-I’ll send the message,” He said.

He didn’t ask why he should trust me. It wasn’t like he was in a position to. As it happened, I meant what I’d said. “Good.” I turned to Vance. His expression was difficult to read. “Give him access to whatever he needs,” I said. “Watch him, but let him do it.”

Vance nodded slowly. “Aye.” He didn’t say anything else. I chose to take that as a good sign.

Alira’s hands were warm. That was the only pleasant thing about the healing. She worked on me for five minutes, maybe less, but by the end of it, the healer looked worse than I did. Sweat poured down Alira’s face, her breath coming in harsh gasps.

Her healing was enough to stop my bleeding, almost enough to ease the agony in my skull enough to let me think. It was not enough to make me whole. That would take time. Days? I didn’t have days.

The pull had not stopped. It was a thread of pressure at the base of my skull, drawing me backward. Toward the cave. I stood from where Alira had been working on me. My legs held. The cave mouth was visible from here. It was a dark opening in the mountainside, just beyond the dragon’s body. The mana radiating from inside was dense.

There was just one more thing I had to do. I started walking toward it.

“Esra.” Violet’s voice. She’d been watching me. That shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it did. I turned. She was on her feet now, swaying slightly. Her wrapped hand was pressed against her side. The color hadn’t fully returned to her face. “You’re not going in there alone.”

“I am.” I had not told her about what I had planned. With her eyes, perhaps I didn’t need to.

“Like hell you are.” She stepped forward, swayed again and caught herself. “I didn’t bleed just to let you walk into some stupid cave.”

Sere was beside her. She’d stood too, despite Alira’s protests. Her and Violet were standing together, I realized. Sere’s left arm was bound against her chest in a makeshift sling. With her right hand, she held up her notepad.

Together. The word was underlined. Twice.

Damian stood a step behind them. He didn’t need to speak -the set of his jaw was enough. I looked at all three of them.

“This isn’t a fight,” I said. “I don’t think this is something any of you can help me with. It’s Vaelin.” I touched my temple. “The blade is pulling me there. Has been for a while.” I paused a breath. “And I don’t think anyone can come with me anyway, even if they wanted to.” That was a faint impression, from somewhere both myself and not. I still believed it to be true.

“All the more reason not to go alone,” Damian said. His voice was careful. “We don’t know what’s in that cave. I don’t know what this is about, but the earth around it feels….” He shook his head. “You can barely stand.”

“I can stand well enough.”

“You’re swaying.”

I stopped swaying. It took more effort than I would have liked. I looked at the three of them, took them all in with one glance. “I will come back, I promise.”

Sere’s cheeks puffed up as she looked away. Damian’s jaw set so hard I feared it might break. Violet’s eyes were fierce, but she slowly nodded. “You’d better,” she whispered. “Or I swear I’ll break this whole damn mountain to drag you out myself.”

“I love you too.” I grinned, turned towards the cave and walked. Behind me, I heard Violet spluttering. That was odd.

I didn’t think the joke had been that funny.

The darkness swallowed me whole. The cave was narrow and the ceiling pressed low enough that I had to duck in places. The walls were smooth. Ice covered everything in formations that caught what little light entered from behind me and scattered it into fading blue sparks.

My footsteps echoed. Each one came back to me doubled and tripled. The pull grew stronger with every step. Something inside of me was weeping. The mana here was unlike anything I had ever felt. It was dense, and almost willfully pushing out towards the mouth of the cave. My steps slowed, until I could take no more.

“It’s time.” I whispered, moved my hand to the right, and drew. Vaelin materialized in my hand in glowing white. Just white. It was a relief, I almost didn’t think I’d still had the strength. I held him out in front of me and took another step. It was easier to walk after that -barely, but still.

The passage opened ahead. She lay on the stone, exactly as the vision had shown me. Eira -the Frozen Breath. One of the Ten who had fought the demons and broken the western provinces. A Goddess. She was lying there, naked and beautiful.

The corruption covered most of her body. Black threads wound across her skin in branching patterns, thicker and denser than what had struck Sere. Far thicker. They crawled up her arms, across her chest, over her throat, through the bridge of her nose. Her white hair was spread across the stone, some of it darkened where the corruption had reached.

Her eyes were open. There was no life in them. She was breathing. I could see it -the faintest rise and fall of her chest, so slow it seemed to take minutes between each breath. She was beautiful and she was ruined.

Vaelin’s grief broke over me. I felt tears slide down my cheeks. I did not wipe them away. I let them come. I approached. The mana was thicker here. My own full reserves might as well have been the moon in front of the light of the sun, and I did not have them now. Without Vaelin in my hand, I might have been ground to dust.

My boots crunched on the frost as I approached the strange stone altar. I knelt beside her. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. There were no stories about this. There were no tomes in the Veyne library that told you what to do when you found a dying God in a cave.

An impression came. I reached out and took her hand. Her fingers were cold. The world vanished.

There was snow. An endless expanse of white, stretching in every direction until it met a sky so pale it was barely distinguishable from the ground. It was clean snow. soft underfoot. I stood in it alone.

There was no Godblade in my hand and no weight in my mind. There was no pain in my body, and no blood on my lip. My hands were steady. My breathing was even. Even the horror of what had just happened to me felt like a distant, far away thing. The silence was absolute. I turned.

In the center of the white, there was a cabin. It was small. Its walls were dark with age and smoke rose from a stone chimney, thin and climbing straight upward in the windless air. A single window glowed with warm, golden light.

I didn’t know where I was. That was fine. Something told me this was where I was supposed to be. I walked through the snow. It barely crunched beneath my feet. The cabin grew larger as I approached, or perhaps I simply noticed more of it. A small porch. A wooden door. The light from the window was warm and steady.

I reached for the door. My hand found the handle and it was warm too. I opened it.