Cruel Beauty

“I knew you weren’t dead,” she said distantly. “I saw you at Mother’s tomb today. You and the Gentle Lord.” My heart jolted, but she didn’t accuse me, just went on, “If I’d only brought my knife, I could have—could have—” Her mouth worked silently a moment; then she swallowed. “I call to him every day, but he never listens.”

“I know,” I whispered. “He told me.”

Her mouth scrunched a moment, then smoothed. “Of course.” Then she sat very still, like an abandoned doll.

I took her hands. They felt small and cold. “Listen. I never should have lied to you about the Rhyme, I know that now, but I couldn’t bear to take your hope away. And what I said that morning—I was angry and scared and I didn’t really mean it. I have never hated you, and I’m sure Mother never did either.” The words, spoken so many times to the mirror, were now stiff and awkward in my mouth. “And I—if I could only take it back—”

“Hush.” She pulled me into her arms again, then eased me down to lay my head in her lap. Just as I had sometimes imagined she would. “I know he did terrible things to you.”

I choked out a laugh that was maybe a sob. She was so right and so wrong, she had no idea.

“I wanted to go with you,” she said, with the same empty calm. “If you’d ever asked, I would have crawled to help you. But you never wanted my help. You only wanted me to be your sweet and smiling sister. So I smiled and smiled, until I thought I would break.”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered helplessly, remembering all the times in our childhood when she had babbled about learning the Hermetic arts or knife fighting and I had rolled my eyes at her. I had always assumed that she didn’t mean it, because she was sweet and happy little Astraia.

She’d had the comfort of believing the Rhyme. But her happiness had still been almost as false as mine. And I’d ignored her pain, just as Father and Aunt Telomache had ignored mine.

“You’re really sorry?” She stroked my hair. “You want me to forgive you?”

“Yes.” I had said it a hundred times to the mirror, thought it a thousand more: Forgive me. Forgive me. Forgive me.

Her hand stilled. “Then kill your husband.”

“What?” I bolted up.

“He killed Mother. He defiled you. He’s enslaved Arcadia and ravaged our people with demons for nine hundred years.” Astraia looked me steadily in the eyes. “If you have any love for me, sister, you will kill him and free us all.”

“But—but—” I nearly said, I love him, but I knew she would never understand.

She smiled, the same su

“It’s not . . .” But I couldn’t go on; I remembered his kisses, his fingers ru

Astraia’s smile vanished. “You like it.” Her voice was low and shaky. “All these years you were miserable. All these years I tried and tried to comfort you but nothing ever worked until at last I thought you were broken. I felt so useless that I couldn’t heal you. But really, all you ever needed was to kiss our mother’s murderer and become a demon’s whore—”

I slapped her face. “He is my husband.”

Then I realized what I had done and twisted my hands together, feeling sick. But Astraia didn’t seem to notice she’d been slapped.

“And a great honor that is.” She stood. “But I am still a virgin. I can kill him. If you have no stomach for saving Arcadia, get me into his house and I will do it for you.”

I surged to my feet. “You can’t.”

“You still don’t believe in the Sibyl’s Rhyme? Because I’ve done a lot of research since your wedding, and I am more convinced than ever. I’m willing to risk my life on it.”

I remembered how Ignifex had always taken the knife instantly away from me, how still he had been when I held it to his throat. How he had agreed to my bargain.

“No,” I said heavily. “I believe it now.”

“Then why not? Because it’s more important for you to have a man in your bed than for all Arcadia to be free?”

“No, because I love him.” The words ripped out of my throat and hung in the air between us. I couldn’t look Astraia in the eyes; I stared at the floor, my cheeks hot. “And because he isn’t the one who sundered Arcadia,” I went on quietly, desperately. “The Kindly Ones did that. He’s just their slave. He doesn’t even know his name. I told him— He said if he finds his name, he’ll be free. I promised I would help him.”

I dared to look up then. Astraia had tilted her head thoughtfully to one side.

“The Kindly Ones are real?” she said.

I nodded. “Yes. In the days before the Sundering, they struck bargains with men like the Gentle Lord does now. And I think the last prince must have made some bargain with them, because they sundered Arcadia, created the Gentle Lord to administer their bargains, and made the last prince his slave.”

“So you know how the Sundering happened.” Astraia’s voice was quiet, thoughtful. “You know that the last prince is alive and kept in slavery. With what you’ve learnt and the knowledge of the Resurgandi, you could probably save us all. And your concern is for a servant of the Kindly Ones?”

“No—but—” A new thought suddenly struck me, and I drew a breath. “The Rhyme doesn’t promise that it will end the Sundering or destroy the demons, it just promises that it will destroy him.”

“So?” said Astraia. “It would avenge our mother. It would stop him sending his demons against us. We can solve the Sundering at our leisure once he’s dead.”

“You don’t understand,” I said. “He doesn’t send the demons against us. He’s the only one holding them back. When they hurt people, it’s because they escaped against his will, and he hunts them down. If he were gone, they would tear us all to pieces.”

I felt a sudden surge of hope. I didn’t understand this new Astraia—no, I had never understood who my sister was all along. But surely she had to see the logic of my argument. Surely she had to accept it.

Her forehead creased thoughtfully. “The chief servant of the Kindly Ones can’t always control his demons? Why would they leave him so little power?”

I shrugged. “They thought it amusing, I suppose.”

“Or he thought it amusing to lie to you.”

“He wouldn’t—” I started, then caught myself as her face started to twist in scornful disbelief. “Do you want to risk it?” I asked instead.

“No,” said Astraia. She seemed to consider it a moment. “Then before we kill him, we must find a way to end the Sundering and banish the demons.”

She spoke so confidently and matter-of-factly that it took me a moment to find my voice. “No, we need to find his name.”

“And if it’s possible to find his name, and if it’s true that it would free him, do you have any reason to believe that it would end the Sundering and free us from the demons?”

I didn’t, I realized with a cold, sinking horror. He’d only said that I would be free and he wouldn’t have masters anymore. Everything else was just my own foolish hopes.

“But we can’t kill him,” I protested. “I told you—”

“You have told me good reasons to be careful,” she said. “You have told me that so long as he lives, demons will ravage our people. You have told me that so long as he lives, he will still lure people into twisted bargains.” She stepped closer, until our faces were only a breath away. “You have told me that you want him alive, though it means our mother will lie unavenged, and his bargains will punish both guilty and i

There was no anger in her voice now, only perfect, unbending conviction. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t look away from her relentless gaze.