Crazy as all, the highborn witch. She'd turned the knife on herself in an instant. Alyce would have been more impressed had she not known what she did of the future, of things that would pass one way or another. The princess had probably also known; courage, inspired. Recklessness came easy to those who knew they'd survive the worst of afflictions.
Peter had been properly horrified. But rather than panic as Una bled out, he'd gathered her up and hurried ahead without so much as a word. Alyce was nearly forced to a sprint. Cursing her shortness, she closely followed the speckled trail of blood in his wake.
And then finally— the undercroft. As Peter passed by its long, familiar table, Alyce employed it to leap on his back, hoping she'd be heavy enough to take him down to a knee. She was. She awkwardly hung from his neck for a moment before he addressed her.
His voice rumbled. Alyce could feel it buzz in her chest. "Get off."
"You can't go out there. They won't understand."
"She needs to be treated."
"They'll attack you, stupid." Alyce leaned forward to get a glimpse of the side of his face. It was tense, cast in shadow. "She'll be okay," she said. "She won't die."
Peter glanced, flashing angry confusion. "What?"
"It's been foretold like."
"By Ethos?"
"Who else?" Alyce discerned no level of understanding in him. He was too rattled, too torn about what he should do. She pressed, "Are your ears working?"
Reminded, Peter looked back at Una. But only briefly. Those eyes quickly returned, ocean blue and puzzled. "Who are you to him?" he asked. "Are you a prophet, too?"
Alyce joined him on the ground. "I'm a surveyor," she said. "I know where to find all the stuff that goes missing. People, too, if I've met them before." She pointed at the door ahead. "Same as I know that them guardsmen out there'll take you down if they see the princess all bloodied like she is. There's too much going on right now to crop out."
Peter's anger returned. "Una needs serious medical attention," he said, voice low. "I can't stop the bleeding without proper equipment. She's going to die." His grip must have failed; Una shifted, and fresh blood spilled between his fingers. He tried to reapply pressure. "Curse it."
The tremor in his hands was worsening. He was doing more harm than good. Alyce reached, to steady him. "Eadric will know what to do," she said. "Relax. She can't die."
Peter's mood took a nasty turn. He seized Alyce's wrist, expressioned to kill. "Does it look like she can't die?" he demanded. "Does it?"
Alyce tried to break his grip. Everything was slippery. "You're hurting me."
He returned to his feet, princess in arm, and released Alyce violently back to the floor. "Stay out of my way," he said, stepping over her. "Eadric can fuck all."
Alyce scrambled after him and clung to his elbow. She dug her heels in, forming furrows between fallen books. "Stop it," she snarled. "You'll ruin everything!"
Una coughed. Blood spattered. Peter did his best to stop and set her down, but the motion instead sent him staggering into one of the undercroft's clutter piles. Books scattered in all directions. A platter went rolling into the darkness. Something shattered.
Alyce sighed and pulled them free when Peter angrily waved her forward. Recovered, he quickly bent over Una and searched her face for signs of life. "Una," he urged, smoothing her hair back. "Una, it's me. Open your eyes, please."
Another cough. Ragged. A wince of pain yielded reddened teeth. Una felt for him like one would a lifeline. Like broken glass, she asked, "What happened?"
Peter hid himself against her, head sinking. "I'm so sorry, Una."
She calmed, eyes bright as stars. "Oh, dear. It must be bad if you're calling me Una."
Peter raised his head just enough to get another look at the damage. Alyce couldn't make sense of the mess. Una's hand was curious; he stopped it. "Don't," he said. "Don't touch it."
The hand languidly rose to his face. "Peter, please look at me."
He refused her. He'd shake his head for eternity.
"Peter, I demand that you look at me."
He reluctantly met her eyes. He was already inconsolable.
Subtly, Una smiled. As her gaze fell away, it drifted to Alyce. She said, "I know you."
Alyce was too mortified to speak. The words wouldn't come. After exchanging a worried glance with Peter, he softly answered in her stead. "Just a rat," he replied, and his voice sounded wrong. "Calls herself Alyce. Thinks she's a person."
"Oh, I see." Una tried to focus on her face. The pain had drained from her expression, but what remained was much more frightening. Numb. "Come closer," she said. "Let me see you."
Alyce swallowed. She scooted in against all instinct. "Ho, Highness."
Una chuckled. "A little thing, aren't you."
"That's what your pappy said."
It must have been a very wrong thing to say. Una pleasantness dissolved into a mild sort of glaring dislike. "You're Eadric's," she recalled. "You're his Alyce."
Alyce pouted a bit at the designation. "For now."
"Is it?" Like a rattlesnake, Una moved with supernatural quickness. She snared Alyce's ear, forced it against her lips, and commanded, "See that he suffers."
Power. Excruciation. Alyce cried out from the fear and the pain of it.
Peter unfailingly tore them apart— her gangly, sputtering savior of sorts. To Una, he hissed, "Stop messing around," and then, to Alyce, he demanded, "What did she say to you?"
Alyce was clutching her ear, flushed. She couldn't remember.
Realizing it, Peter turned back on Una. "What was that?"
"Revenge," she said, sapped of her strength. "Alyce here is his favorite."
Outrage settled in. "Psycho," Alyce spat, and then literally spat aside on the floor to get the taste of it out of her system. "Batshit crazy highborn lot."
Peter hushed her. "Watch it."
"She started it!"
He ignored her. He returned to Una, smoothing more hair like he didn't quite know how to comfort someone. Her color was starting to go. "Hey," he said, to rouse her. "I'm getting you out of here. I need you to stay awake for me."
Una's throat worked, bulging against translucent skin. Her eyes rolled until they found him. "Oh, Peter," she grieved. "I've never deserved you."
"Ballsch, of course you have. Everyone makes mistakes."
She resisted his effort to pick her up. "Stop and listen to me for a moment."
Peter looked at her very seriously. He lightly touched her face with the back of his hand. "I don't think you realize how badly you're bleeding, princess," he murmured. "We need help."
The undercroft dripped while she steadied her breathing. "I'm not a nice person," she said. "I'm not, Peter. Trust me."
"Don't do this, Una. I'm serious."
"Shut up and come closer." She motioned for him, swallowing rapidly. It was like she desperately wanted a kiss. "Quickly," she said. "Before I go. It's important."
But doing so would be like giving up on her. "No."
"I haven't told you everything. I've lied."
Frowning, he said, "I know."
His answer seemed to surprise her. After a moment, her smile returned. She reached up to fondly pinch his chin, missing him by a hair. "Sly," she said. "When did you get so mature?"
He caught her hand before it could fall. "We can't stay here."
Una's smile faded. She was making little wounded sounds. "Please," she said. "Just let me do this one last thing."
Resistant, he allowed her to guide his forehead to hers. They remained like that for what seemed a great while, noses touching, eyes closed. A shift occurred— something in the air, in creation. Peter was the first to pull back, but only a bit, only enough to see her face, to check it for life, to find it lacking.
He took her in his hands, expression pained. "No."
Alyce whispered, "Impossible."
Peter was shaking his head again. The tremor returned. He made a soft sound and held Una tightly, face buried deep in her muddied hair. Her elegant hands were limp on the floor. Not even the gods could withstand such misery.
Alyce had never seen a man cry before. She'd known of their pain, of course, through Ethos, but seeing it for herself was an entirely different matter. She sensed from Peter no longing for comfort, no need for justification. He seemed content to mourn in the almost-silence of the undercroft, not quite sobbing, but trembling like, holding fast to what he'd lost, fingers buried in corpse.
It was a humbling sight, a moment of great perpetuity. Alyce felt like an imposition.
And yet… it seemed he nearly smiled somehow when he opened his eyes and saw her there. "Oi," he said, in a voice that cracked. "I didn't know rats could cry."
Alyce looked away. "I'm not crying."
But she couldn't stop, she soon realized. Alyce hid herself with her hands while Peter covered Una with his coat. He could have reentered the catacombs and run for the hills while he still had the chance, but he didn't. He sat with Alyce and held her next, the stench of death still on him like smoke. He was warm, she thought, in wonder.
"Stupid," she sniffled. "Don't comfort me."
He patted her back, rocking gently. "It's okay. It hits us all differently."
"But I wasn't even her friend." Beneath all the blood and the grime and the death, Peter carried a salty scent. So she told him, "You stink like a soggy old harbor."
"I can think of worse things to stink like."
Alyce could feel herself beginning to relax, albeit slowly, still sniffling some. She didn't want to admit that he'd helped. "Get out of here," she mumbled. "I don't need this."
"But I do. Think of it as your punishment."
She blinked up at him. He was a blur. "Punishment?"
"Aye, punishment. You said she couldn't die, after all. I almost believed you."
His words hit her like a smack to the jaw. Alyce's child crumbled to bits. "Yeah," she said, curling forward, wanting to vanish. "She wasn't supposed to be able to."
"Are you really Eadric's favorite?"
Alyce squirmed in his arms, vying for freedom. "Get out of here, stupid," she snarled. "He could come back at any moment. You really don't want to be hugging me."
He shook a little with sad, silent laughter. "True."
But he didn't budge, so she surrendered. And it wasn't difficult to do. Under better circumstances, she could have easily fallen asleep there, cradled by the illusion of safety. It didn't matter that he was a stranger. It mattered even less that he was an enemy.
Suddenly: "Ethos thinks you've been tracking him, Alyce."
Alyce stared into the darkness. She felt spent and ready for bed. "He's right to."
Peter took a heavy breath. "Can you tell me where he is right now?"
She sighed with him. "Stupid," she said, without feeling. "There's no way to fight this. Just make the best of whatever job you're given."
"I can't be king without Una."
"Yeah, well, somebody has to be. Eadric's fed up with Gladius."
"Then he's crazy," he muttered. "I'm nothing compared to Gladius. Less than nothing."
She glanced up at him. She could see his lingering panic, his stress. "It's been a long time in the making, Peter," she said. "Gladius was a big disappointment to Eadric."
Peter looked right back at her and asked, "How so?"
"He was supposed to marry your mother."
His eyes rounded. "He was?"
"But Gladius loved Ellena. He couldn't stand to lose her." Alyce nestled into him, not quite ready to lose the warmth. "And then Una was born," she concluded, shrugging. "That was the last straw, from what I hear. He'd been instructed to have a son."
Peter balked. "They can do that?"
Alyce hugged her knees, thoughts drifting. "Eadric is exactly what he says he is," she said. "He's the guardian of the country. He's like a machine."
"Then I'll have to gum up the works somehow." Peter was quiet for a lengthy moment. "You're sounding less and less like a kid, you know," he'd noticed, yet he seemed largely unsurprised. "I'll never understand how you godlings work."
He was entirely to blame for being so damn comfortable. Her child was falling asleep. "If Eadric thinks that stopping Alma is worth the price of losing Ethos, it probably is."
"That's not happening. I've already lost Una." Peter's whole body flinched unexpectedly. He'd remembered. "She's gone," he said. "She'd still be alive if not for me."
"You loved her, huh. Even though she was bad."
Peter grunted in wry amusement. "Seems so," he said. "It's been coming back since she started to pass, but I think a part of me's always known."
Alyce turned in his arms. "It's coming back to you?"
"Aye, bit by bit. She did something at the end there, when she pulled me in." Something suddenly ruptured in his expression. Something unpleasant. It blossomed into a dismal laugh. "She'd been using me," he realized. "She wanted Oldden and I was convenient. I was just…"
Alyce distanced herself. She couldn't predict how he'd react to betrayal. The feel of him lingered like sap from a tree. Cautiously, she asked, "Are you okay?"
"She really tried to get Ethos to kill her father."
Alyce gave a small nod. "Yeah," she said. "She did."
"She'd have made it known, run him down for a crook." Peter touched his head. "It was never about me," he said. "It was him. And he just stood by and let her do whatever she wanted." Then, as if it were funny —which it wasn't— he laughed, "I'll kill him."
"It's not his fault, Peter."
Peter glared outright at her. "No?"
"How do you stop a future that's already written?"
"Prophecy's bullshit." He flung a hand at Una. "Just look!"
Alyce glanced. "I know," she said. "But there's got to be an explanation."
Peter forced himself quiet and rubbed at his eyes. "Curse all," he muttered. "I'm sitting here trying not to hate someone dead that I loved only a minute ago. I can't keep up."
Her response was deterred by a sound that she'd heard countless times in the past. It was curiously silent, impacting the atmosphere itself. Peter gave a start, of course, being unaccustomed, but Alyce was already two steps ahead. They were no longer alone.
Footsteps, behind her. Eadric. Peter's eyes went high and round. Alyce knew without looking that the twisted old tyrant had worked his magic again, that he'd somehow returned to Calaster's home and salvaged his corpse from the mess he'd made. And indeed, a familiar pair of tattered boots stopped to her immediate right, caked in snow. All was quiet.
Alyce cleared her throat and said, "She's dead, Eadric."
Eadric joined them in a crouch, wringing his hands. "This is unprecedented," he said, and his gaze deliberately slid to Peter. "Attacking me right now would be an exceedingly bad idea."
Peter bristled, but Alyce intervened before he could speak. "I thought you'd be more upset," she said, earning Eadric's attention. "What do you make of it?"
"It's unprecedented."
"You mentioned that. What are you thinking?"
"I'm thinking it means one of two things." Eadric experimentally lifted Una's exposed wrist. Her hand fell back to the floor with a thud. "The first is that she could return somehow."
Softly, Peter scoffed, "Unlikely."
Eadric regarded him seriously, aslant. "Alma is one of the old ones, Peter," he said. "I've seen her do worse than raise the dead. Much worse."
"I still don't see why she'd do us any favors."
"It could also be a sign that the future's been changed."
Alyce brightened, hopeful. "Then Ethos might not have to die."
Peter's eyes darted between them. "He's supposed to die?"
"Obviously," Eadric muttered, cheek nestled in the heel of his hand. He was staring down at Una again, gears turning. "That's why he doesn't care about his future. He knows he has a moral obligation to die with the monster who made him."
Alyce sighed, "You're putting words in his mouth again."
"And yet I don't feel bad about it. Strange." To Peter, he said, "Having you on my side will make all of this a great deal easier."
Peter went black. "I'm not on your side."
"Sure, you are." Eadric retrieved Una's hand from the ground and, this time, he used it to high-five himself. "Go team Eadric, see," he said, mocking the northern drawl. "We three ought to work together, keep his head over water or suchlike. Suchlike and muchlike and whatlike belike like."
Peter's fingers curled. He was trying to control himself. "Stop that."
Eadric dropped the hand. Thud. It echoed, horribly. "Princess Una is dead," he said, emphasizing every word. "I can't fix that. Somebody needs to be at fault, but it doesn't need to be you."
Honest surprise moved across Peter's face. "Are you threatening me?"
"Obviously. Let's not joke around here."
"But I didn't do anything."
"Again, obviously. You're beginning to depress me." Eadric beat Peter's retort by a hair. "Just say the word," he said. "Enlist with me and I'll dump all the blame on Kyrian. Or Ethos. Whomever you'd prefer." He dipped his head to the side a bit, selling it with his eyes. "The noble houses have quality daughters," he pressed. "I'll let you have your pick of them. I'll even banish Anouk if you like. Just to be safe. Just to be sure. What do you say?"
"I want to talk to Ethos."
"Ethos is busy. You don't need him to validate your decisions."
"For the sake of argument, what happens if I refuse?"
"If, if, if," Eadric echoed, put off. "If the sea was on fire, we'd all do less swimming. I'm offering you an excellent deal, Peter. It won't be on the table forever."
Peter insisted, "For the sake of argument."
Eadric sighed at him. "You'd be taking the fall for Gladius and Una, so I'd have to publicly hang you, of course," he said. "And Anouk would take your place as king. She'd run with it, knowing her reputation. At least, that's the hope. And depending on her opinion of you, you'd either be buried out in the hills somewhere or left for the crows to pick apart." He shrugged a little. "Your call."
Peter had been trying for a while to stop him. "I didn't kill Gladius."
"Oh, I know," he said. "Obviously. Ethos killed Gladius."
"He— " Peter drew an immediate blank. "He what?"
"He killed Gladius. I'm sure I just said that. Try to keep up."
Peter began to shake his head, over and over, much like he'd done with Una. "No," he said. "That can't be true. You wouldn't tell me about it if it were true."
"But it is. And I would. Because it's so very juicy, you see. And I only have a handful of people I can brag to about it." Eadric laughed, a bark of amusement. "Everybody loved him," he said. "Redbeard Returned, they called him. The Reincarnation. The Ruddy Revival. The Resurrection."
Peter watched his amusement bleed out. "How did it happen?"
The spark returned to Eadric's eyes. They moved to Peter, glinting. "Grotesquely, I'm delighted to report. It was the highlight of an otherwise bothersome day." He abruptly leaned in, one eyebrow raised as if to persuade him one way or another. "So do we have a deal?"
"That depends. What will happen to Ethos?"
"You mean ultimately?"
"No, no. Like after tonight."
Eadric shrugged again. "I'll let you in to see him, if you insist, but beyond that…" His clasped hands came apart: a shameless apology. "It's not really any of your business, Peter."
Alyce would have cut in at that point, or said something clever to ease the tension, but whatever it was that linked her with Ethos chose right then to activate. She caught a horrifying glimpse of Gladius before Kyrian filled her field of vision. A fist followed shortly thereafter— his.
The blow had a stunning effect. Alyce went sprawling into a pile of books as if she'd somehow been Ethos herself, desperate to excuse what she'd done. But her muscles were tired. Her bones were aching. And apologies wouldn't solve anything. She'd committed the gravest crime in the system, and it didn't matter how it had happened. Nobody cared. Gladius was dead.
Deep, forceful frustration. She didn't want to deal with Kyrian. She wanted to get outside, to get away, to run until running failed her. Shattering glass buzzed in her ears. Deadwinter wind brought tears to her eyes. A snowcapped wilderness was suddenly spread before her like the greatest meal she'd ever sat down to. She only hoped that the fall would kill her.
"Alyce." Such heights. "Alyce, come back."
Peter was bent over her, eyes wild with worry. He always thought he could save everyone. Had she tripped? Disorientation made her slow. She heard someone say, "And the earth turned the color of blood turned the color of dawn turned the color of fire…"
Eadric indelicately shoved Peter aside. "Focus here, Alyce," he said, indicating those awful black eyes. "Tell me what's going on. Did you get an idea of what's happening up there?"
Alyce tried to rise, expecting a mess of bruises and breaks to make the job a challenging one. But she was shocked to find that the pain had gone— save for the first blow she'd suffered. She bristled, reminded, and wiped her nose. "That stupid northo lump of snot."
Eadric helped her to stand. "Kyrian, presumably."
"Damn right, Kyrian. I couldn't get a word in." Alyce furiously rubbed at her head, thrown by the transition. "Ethos, I mean," she reiterated. "He couldn't get a word in."
"Did Kyrian attack him?"
"It's justified, him being a king killer and all." Alyce scanned the region for them, eyes gliding across the ceiling, out to where they'd sailed through the air. "They went through the window," she said, quietly. "Kyrian, he— they're on the outskirts, in the forest. Ethos is hurt. They both are." She slowly refocused. She covered her ears and knew it wouldn't help. "I don't like it."
Peter hung back, cautious. "Does this happen often?"
"No," Eadric replied. "It's the proximity, I think. They're resonating. She's never been this close to him." He felt Alyce's face for a fever. He was concerned, she could tell. "It should stabilize once they meet in person. If it doesn't…"
Alyce stared at him. "If it doesn't?"
Their gazes met. He seemed startled, as if he'd forgotten that she was listening. "Oh," he said, and he smiled a little to reassure her. "Don't worry about it."
She scowled, suppressing a shiver. "Stupid undead snot bucket."
Eadric let his hand fall. "Careful," he warned. "Your child's showing."
"Stupid," she repeated, with real venom this time. "My child is always showing."
"Yes, it is." With a final look that said to behave, Eadric subsided. His gaze moved low. Abruptly, he reached for Una and said, "Let's use this time wisely, shall we?"
Peter seized his wrist, stopping him short. "No," he said. "Don't touch her."
Eadric smirked. "She's dead, Peter. What harm can I possibly do?"
"I don't know. I'd rather not risk finding out, though."
"Oh? Even after everything she did to you?"
Peter sneered. "Aye, even still."
Alyce's vision clouded again. She resisted this time, vied to control the weight of the pull, until she was sure beyond shadow of doubt that she wouldn't lose her sense of self. It was a fragile balance. She inhaled the raw winter air of the forest and watched it fog in the undercroft. She felt herself stumble. She felt herself fall. His ache was her ache. His fear was her fear.
So Alyce removed herself from the fear. It proved easier than anticipated. She was suddenly there, haunting the space between trees, withstanding it like she'd always known how. Withstanding him.
The howling wind ceased. The elements froze. Time came to a standstill.
Ethos glanced up in gentle surprise, hands lost in the snowbroth.
"Ethos," she greeted, folding her arms. "What are you doing down there?"
Gradually, a smile spread to his face. There was an openly impish quality to it, unremorseful, as if they shared an excellent secret. "Alyce," he knew. "So this is what you look like."
Alyce mortified herself by blushing. She quickly looked away in a pointless attempt to hide it from him. "Stupid," she said, swallowing hard. "You're firing off enough signals to shepherd a ship through a storm. It's impossible to focus."
Silence. His voice lost its playfulness. "Sorry."
"I can't have you dying out here."
"I'm tired, Alyce."
She looked back at him. His face was more rugged in its natural form, less receptive than when he was smiling. There were pits behind his beautiful eyes, shadows beneath them to match. He seemed so very dark against all the white of the forest.
"I'm with Peter and Eadric," Alyce said. "Una's dead."
His features clouded in subtle ways. People tended to do bad things when they wore expressions like that. He shook his head only once. "No," he said. "No, that's impossible."
"That's what I thought, too. Eadric called it unprecedented."
Extreme dislike hardened his gaze. But it passed. "He's right. It could mean one of two things."
Alyce inevitably found herself staring. Whether he'd be willing to admit it or not, he shared a great deal in common with Eadric, and it wasn't just his thought process. His very behavior evoked the old hellborn, down to the way that he touched his face when he made an effort to concentrate.
Ethos noticed that she'd gone silent. "What's wrong?"
So she scowled at him. "What's not?"
"Ah." He must have sensed her confusion. He forced a small smile. "You probably didn't mean to come here, huh," he said, sheepish. "I know what that's like. Sorry."
Alyce didn't have the strength to reciprocate the expression. She approached him instead. "What is it about the future that's made you so desperate to stop it?"
His smile faltered. "Don't you know?"
"No," she replied, above him now. "I'm not like that."
A sad sort of depth came to his eyes. He reached for her. All he said: "Here."
She went, carelessly. And instantly the world crumbled into countless irretrievable pieces.
It was like being caught in a turbulent sea. Every grasp for something solid, every flail, every plea, every frantic wisp of exertion was wasted, squandered, lost to the deep. Alyce could do very little. She couldn't put all the pieces together; they were wisps themselves, those pieces, fragile and falling apart in her hands like decaying stalks of seaweed. She destroyed everything that she touched.
She had to cease her struggle to feel the breeze. And she had to feel the breeze to realize that she'd closed her eyes. She was standing now, atop the Keep, gazing at the smoldering ruin of Oldden. There were dead in the streets. Wild dogs, barking. Wild dogs, eating. The breeze picked up and threatened her balance; Alyce turned away from it, blinded by hair, and stumbled forward into ringing silence.
Darkness. Everywhere, darkness. Oldden was gone, the wind and the dead. Alyce felt around for something to cling to. A wall, she imagined. Cold. Stone. Her boot hit something solid; it sent whatever she'd collided with rattling away over jagged ground. Bones, crunching under her feet.
And the creaking! What was that infernal noise? Alyce couldn't stand it. Small, harmless sounds, amplified by the darkness. Creaking, creaking, creaking. And screaming. Who was it?
Someone seized her arm. Alyce gasped and spun around.
A door burst open with such great force that it pitched her backward, onto the floor. The flimsy jamb splintered and scattered. Carpet burned at her elbows. Peter was there as she tried to rise, back of his hand connecting. Spots danced in her vision. Such quiet rage in his voice.
Alyce rolled and fell a short distance. She grunted from the impact. Blankets devoured her, warm, like she'd returned to bed after getting some water. Someone was howling— the wind. She could see it beyond the cozy lean-to, carrying drifts of snow.
A woman was sharing the narrow bed space, elbow cocked, cupping her cheek. A disheveled fall of flaxen hair tumbled unevenly over her shoulder. Her eyes were alight with intelligence, gray as steel and twice as sharp. Slyly, she leaned in and leered, "That's a tall order, seabird."
Alyce jumped back in surprise. Her head banged against the wall.
Faster, faster. At speeds too great, the pieces threw themselves at her. Blood on her hands. Lips on her cheek. A grip at her throat. A fist in her hair. Desiccated farmland. Dead cattle, littering fields. More screaming. More creaking, creaking, creaking.
And hate. Droves of it. Seas of it. Skies of it. Curdling under Alyce's tongue. Dripping from her fingers. Pooling around her ankles. So much hate. Too much. She couldn't contain it all. Nausea hurled itself lumbering from her churning, frightened bowels. Alyce threw back her head to cry out, but—
"You're not a stupid design."
The sorrowful voice was a strangely comforting one. Contralto. A woman. Her eyes were like open kilns to a damaged soul, liquid gold, cruel and sad and lonesome and sorry. They stared from the filtered shade of a forest beyond compare. The trees alone stood tall as the gods. Taller.
Something smelled nice. Delirious, Alyce wondered if she was on fire.
And then it was over. Unexpectedly. Blissfully.
Ethos hadn't moved from his place in the snow; he was still reaching out like he had at the start, fingertips lightly touching hers. Alyce recoiled as soon as she realized it.
He smiled. To calm her, she thought. "Was it scary?"
A simple question. A nice one, even, a sweet one, as if he were asking about a bad dream. Alyce's knees buckled, but she hardly felt the snow catch her. Nausea returned. She kept it down.
Ethos was mindful of her need for space. He dared not come closer. "Most of it still doesn't make much sense," he said. "But I'm afraid that what I do to prevent it will more or less be the cause of it all."
Alyce seized a clod of snow and pressed it against her face. She stared at Ethos, pulse hammering, and swallowed past her lingering horror. Raspy, she asked, "Was that everything?"
"No," he said, holding her eyes. "The rest is private."
"Why did you share it with me?"
"Because it's you, of course."
"You mean because we're monsters."
Ethos patiently studied her. "You're the voice in my head, Alyce," he replied. "That's all I know about you. Us being monsters has nothing to do with it."
"But we are monsters," she pressed. "Right?"
"I'd think you were a turnip if I believed it strongly enough."
Alyce ground her teeth together. "You're supposed to have all the answers."
His startled laughter raced up the trees. It had a pleasant throatiness to it. "I'm flattered, I guess, but you've got it all wrong." Still smiling to some measure, he spun a weary finger to indicate their surroundings. "I don't even know how we're doing this."
His dejection was mysteriously inviting. She glowered, filled at once with an odd sort of craving to somehow lighten his mood. She stuck out her chin and said, "Then we'll figure it out."
As she'd hoped, his smile spread. "My hero," he praised, and, just for a moment, it looked like he might say more. But then he tilted his head and glanced away. "You hear that?"
She did. It was a distant buzzing, a swarming of flies. "What is it?"
"Reality." Alyce caught a glimpse of despair before he reassembled his smile. "Say hi to Peter for me," he said. "I'm sure he's made some sort of a deal with Eadric by now, so tell him he needs to put Una on ice. Tell him I said it's important." Ethos couldn't keep up the charade. With a sigh, he pressed a thumb to his brow and muttered, "He's a terrible negotiator."
"He can't be. Eadric says he's going to be king."
His eyes moved to her. So green. "That doesn't mean he'll be good at it."
The image of this strange, unhappy man would be the one that stuck with her, for the snow beneath her abruptly gave out, sucking her in like a horse to a quagmire. It was very sudden. One minute he was there within reach, and then, abruptly, he wasn't. But Alyce only struggled briefly; time was up, unfair as it was. Reality had come knocking.
Her feet entered open air and she fell, painless, into a musty old void belowground. Familiar voices floated in from the darkness. She knew what they'd say. She'd heard it all before.
"Oh?" scoffed the first. "Even after everything she did to you?"
And the second, boyish, defiant: "Aye, even still."
Alyce opened her eyes. Twice now she'd closed them unwittingly. The undercroft was exactly as she'd left it, no time unaccounted for. Eadric was there, still kneeling before her, half-turned away and reaching for Una. Peter was still there to stop him. The scene incited a mildly giddy feeling.
"Ice," she said, inviting their glares. "Ethos wants her on ice. It's important."
A bewildered reaction passed through Peter, but Eadric took the news in stride. "We'll put her on ice, then," he said. "Anything else?"
Alyce weighed what she'd seen. She supposed it was either telling or shallow that the weight fell in one noteworthy direction. Blushing again, she sulked, "You didn't tell me he was cute."
Eadric blinked, but then he let out a bark of genuine laughter.
Alyce jabbed at his chest. "Don't laugh at me, Eadric."
"I've always known that you were a girl."
"Of course I'm a girl. Shut up. I hate you." She turned her glower on Peter next, intending to pass along the rest, but unexpectedly found him close. She flinched involuntarily. "Don't," she snarled, and then flushed. "Don't sneak up on me like that."
His bewilderment returned. "I wasn't going to hit you, Alyce."
Her hand had unknowingly flown to her face, as if to ease the sting from the vision. "Stupid," she muttered, caught. "I know that."
But his eyes were hurt. "Do you?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. Go eat a cactus." Alyce was instantly diverted, surveying the ceiling, deaf to Peter's befuddled response. Ethos was clearly shutting her out now, but she could still sense what was on the rise. "It won't be long now," she said. "Let's hurry."