Of Whispers and Daggers ✓ [TLRQ #2]

Chapter 54 - Idyne

They're all dead.

The Ladies speak of it in desperate, mourning tones. Some say they're going to start wearing maroon and stay in it until the war is over. Cloudy moonlight from the window overcasts the candlelit gathering.

Blankly, I stare at them as they discuss it. The shamans are destoryed too. I should be rejoicing, but I can't. All those soldiers are dead.

I thought Alaar was going to murder the shamans himself. I really thought he was going to kill them himself.

I get up without speaking and wander away, out of the meeting area and to my bedroom. I never meant for innocents to be harmed. I just wanted the shamans to stop.

I curl up in my bed, pulling the blankets tight around me. It's my fault the Morineause will lose the war. It's my fault if Leavi gets hurt or if we all die, and it's my fault all those poor soldiers were torn apart by ravens.

The shamans always spoke of that shaav in such reverential tones. I thought they'd never use it; they knew that to splinter their will into so many ravens at once would deprive their own bodies of their souls. Somehow, Alaar must have convinced them to empty themselves in order to murder all those men.

A sob shakes my shoulders. The price of my revenge was the destruction of an army.

How dare I play as Death?

* * *

I wake to the agonizing snap of a spell broken. It slams my chest, and I curl into a ball, nose hot with blood. Alaar must be dead. In the utter darkness of my bedroom, it's impossible to tell what time it is. I'd bet it's the set of the full moon, though—he waited until the last minute to finish his orders.

I've accomplished my goal, to the detriment of everyone here.

Foggy-headed with guilt, I push up. This doesn't have to be the end of everything. Aster might not have listened to me before, but now he can't hide behind his reinforcements, and I doubt we have enough time to last until the Retran army arrives. We can end this war.

I cast on my dress before I leave. I don't know if it's a new day, and I don't care. Mourning is warranted. The piece is now dark red and simple, with detached maroon ribbons to thread through my hair. I leave it down, only braided with the simple fabric. You don't flaunt yourself when so many people are dead.

I step into the hall and call to a page. "Can you—"

I shouldn't bring this to Aster. He hates me. He'll hate me all the more when he realizes the ravens were the product of the shamans, that I didn't kill them soon enough.

The page watches me, eyebrows up, reminding me of another girl in this castle.

My smile is forced. "Sorry. Never mind."