Queen of rot and pain

Ada

Limbs, lifeless and heavy, tossed about where I sat on the horse in front of Enosh, scolding myself for my damn weakness.

If only I’d stabbed that man’s throat…

After hours of self-imposed silence, I blew out a breath, watching it billow into a night colder than death itself. “You c-can say if you’re ups-set with me.”

Enosh wrapped what had to be our third fur tighter around me, but not even the King of Flesh and Bone could keep my teeth from chattering anymore. “How could I be upset about something that made me fall in love with you in the first place?”

His sweet words weren’t helping my goal to rack up some of that wickedness he claimed I had little of. “Had I k-killed the man, I might be alive now instead of f-fr-freezing my arse off. We could ride to the high temple, kill all the p-priests, then fa-finally go home. I only ever killed damn fish, and they don’t s-scream.”

“Not to mention that injured bird you accidentally stepped on as a child,” he mused. “The one you once told me about… and had you in tears for two days.”

“It made an awful popping sound.” I rubbed the cold tip of my nose on the cape, pulling frigid air into my lungs in an inhale of courage. “Can I ask you something?”

“The answer is many,” he said while stiffening behind me, clearly aware I’d wanted to know about the children beyond the Soltren Gate. “Caught in the outreaches of my anger and grief. A number you ca

But I was gaining an idea with every stray soldier or nightguard we met on our way to Elderfalls, for Enosh killed them all in passing. “Do you ever regret it?”

“Not for the reasons you would wish, Ada. To me, mortals are nothing but flesh and bone, sweat and scars. Being born only to die, so I may strengthen the bridges of the silent graveyard that is my empty, empty home.” A heavy sigh followed by what had to be the hundredth kiss of our journey right atop my head. “I know it is not what you wanted to hear.”

No, but it was exactly what I needed to hear to gain clarity. “Are you still spreading rot for the children?”

“Ever since we left the Pale Court.”

I twisted on the horse’s back and stared into the blackness from which we’d emerged. Hundreds of corpses trudged behind us, gathered from one town, seven villages, and a tavern we’d come across by chance—where Yarin had chosen to spend the night.

Over a hundred self-murders.

Not a single glimpse of Eilam.

Enosh spared women and children wherever we went, focusing on soldiers, priests, and the occasional idiot who came at us with a pitchfork or shovel. Perhaps it was his way of showing me he truly wanted to be the man I’d asked him to be—for as long as he could.

The problem was, I wasn’t sure if that was good or bad anymore. Bad, probably, for it chipped away that determination Enosh wanted to prove to his brother, and in turn, strengthening Eilam’s belief that Enosh would be forced to stop.

Because of me.

I settled my hand on Enosh’s where he held me by the waist. “Did you ever ask your brother to twist my thoughts?”

“On the contrary. I asked him many a time to leave them alone.”

Because Enosh longed to be truly loved, just like Eilam had said. “Would you ever do it?”

“Not to gain your love.”

He wouldn’t have to.

Somewhere between the forest, death, and drowning, I’d fallen in love with this man against principle, peccancy, and precaution. Could no longer disguise lust for loathing, pleasure for pain, or even love for lunacy.

Enosh was complicated and cruel, yes, but he was not without his merits. Regardless of his twisted morality, he’d showed me more love, attention, and care ever since I’d crawled out of that grave than others had in my entire life. Killings aside, he tried hard to behave himself.

“To strip me of compassion, then?” I asked. “I saw how you looked at each other.”

“I contemplated the necessity to have Yarin… flare your hatred for these mortals so it would not fall to me once more.” Several hoofbeats shattered the drawn-out silence, until he finally added, “Of course, that was before Eilam tested your resolve. Easing you into a content bystander would have been easy enough, for a while.”

I glanced behind me, finding his stare unusually dull. “A while?”

“Even the God of Whispers has limitations.”

“Enosh, the woman at Airensty slit her own throat.”

“She grieved her fallen husband and, from what I understand, had also recently lost a son. Has he not whispered into your mind in an attempt to rouse tender feelings for me, back when you still wore that pretty necklace—”

“It was a collar.”

“So pretty. A shame it went missing. I might fashion you a new necklace, though less tight around your beautiful neck.” His voice carried a hint of jest, letting me hear his grin even in the darkness. “Once his whispers faded, did you love me?”

“I hated you before and loathed you after.”

“Precisely, and oh-so painfully honest.” There was a hint of a laugh. “Eilam is now convinced of your wavering, counting that Yarin will reach his limitations before I reach the kind of devastation required to end this.”

“You should have done it the moment Yarin showed up. Strip me of that damn compassion. Maybe then I would have killed the man.”

“Two hundred years of lies, deceit, and illusions. I did not want to bring this between us unless necessary. Perhaps it was, but it is of no consequence anymore. At this point, all we have left is the hope that my perseverance will bring about his surrender before it brings about your renewed hate.”

My throat narrowed.

We needed a better plan.

Because the longer I sat on this horse as a silent observer, the more people would die. At the same time, watching how Enosh turned the lands beyond yet another gate into a boneyard would only drive a new wedge between us. The worst part…?

It might not return our child.

That much, Enosh had made clear.

If I wanted my baby and to stop this killing, to finally gain some peace now that Enosh and I had grown closer, I had to convince Eilam that I would not stop my husband’s vengeance. The fastest, most reliable way of going about that…?

Becoming the vengeance.

“We will find a solution,” Enosh said, for he had probably sensed my unease, although we both knew that I’d turned this into an impossible situation when I’d threatened Eilam that I might just help, unprepared to follow through. “Until then, I shall gladly do the killing for you.”

As though no dreamier words had ever been spoken, I curled deeper into his chest. “You are awfully romantic tonight.”

But his ease around sending a bone spike through a stranger without even looking at him would make no difference—it didn’t need to. I knew now what I had to do.

I had to become the Queen of Rot and Pain.

Beautiful and terrifying.

Gentle and cruel.

Starting with those who’d killed me.

My husband steered our mount toward the row of crooked fisher huts, which slept quietly beneath the new moon. Its light reflected on the snow crystals which crunched beneath each hoofbeat, having frozen into a thin sheet of ice atop.

The cold tip of Enosh’s nose nudged my temple. “Show me where the man who did this to my wife lives.”

“Two men. One’s Rose’s b-brother, Henry. I know his house, but not where the other one lives or who he is.” To our right stood my old home, the door wide open and barely hanging on to its bottom hinge, with a dusting of snow scattered into the hut. “It’s abandoned, and Pa is nowhere in sight.”

As expected.

I’d never been a fountain of abundant positivity, but anyone with half a brain would know that Pa was likely dead. If not killed by villagers or priests, then by whatever had eaten up his lungs from the inside.

I pointed at the second house to the left of the brick well, the bit of smoke coming from the chimney proof enough that the bastard Henry was inside. “I don’t want Pa to wander.”

“We might find him yet,” Enosh said and slowed his horse when the corpses scurried into the shadows surrounding Elderfalls. “The latest death count, Ada.”

An odd wave of pride flooded my core, having counted every single one with Enosh’s help. “Six hundred and twenty-eight.”

He dismounted and helped me down, my legs stiff from the cold and hours on horseback. “Did he touch you, this… Henry?”

“Not that I remember.” I followed behind him to the oaken door, many homes of Elderfalls abandoned or quietly asleep, aside from a hound that barked somewhere. “The other was the one who d-drove in the knife. But Henry c-came after me just the same, and threatened to deliver me to the priests dead if I wouldn’t fo-follow him.”

“I hate how you’re shivering…”

Enosh kicked the door, letting its bolt break with a loud chink. The hound barked louder, adding howls to the song.

Groans and incoherent mumbling joined from the inside of the home, along with the familiar scent of salted fish. In the dim light coming from the poor excuse of a fire in the hearth, a figure struggled from a mattress of straw.

My molars pressed together. “Hello, Henry.”

“What’s this about?” Swaying from drink or sleep, or both, he gripped the rough-hewn beam that supported some sort of hay mow sitting above. “Who are—” His eyes locked on me and he sidestepped, stumbling over his feet before he slinked behind a rocking chair, bringing wooden spindles between him and us. “You! You should be dead. I saw it. Saw you bleed out from your belly. No, no, no… you’re dead!”

“I am.” The same fate would await him. At my hand. A choice I had quickly made peace with on our way here. “F-freezing my tits off because of you.”

I watched how the hollows beneath his cheekbones filled with shadows, making him look sickly and weak—not at all like the man with the felt hat who’d cornered me.

Now I cornered him, sidestepping, driving him toward his reckoning that was my deadly husband. Until Henry’s gaze flicked toward the hay mow. And again.

“Someone’s up there,” I said.

“I know, my love,” Enosh said. “Boom-boom-boom goes his heart, pumping liquid terror into his veins.”

“Let me k-kill this one.” The conviction in my tone died at another biting chatter of my teeth, extending itself into my arms as a tremble.

Enosh’s eyes wandered to my quivering hands, then met mine as he shook his head as though to say, “You will fail, further strengthening Eilam’s resolve.”

No, I would not fail.

The thought of taking a life terrified me, but I had to keep my wits together. If I couldn’t even kill those who’d brought about my death, then this would not end well. Would never give me my baby.

Now was the time.