Amelia Atwater-Rhodes - Bloodwitch

To …

Might be able …

My mind took it all in very slowly, protective instincts trying to shield me as the rest of my brain attempted to make sense of what I was seeing.

Calysta was lying, very still and very pale, on the ground.

In one of her hands was one of Lady Brina’s palette knives, made sharp by many years of use on rough pigments.

In her opposite wrist was another palette knife. In her wrist . Stuck there.

And all around her was blood. Not paint. Blood.

I staggered backward as the word came to me: dead .

Calysta was dead. Probably had been since I had left her alone that morning. She stank. There were flies on her.

She had done it herself. There was no other explanation.

Why?

I staggered away and sought Lady Brina. She was a worldly woman. She had to have some kind of explanation.

“Why would she kill herself?” I asked. Lady Brina was looking at me with wide, shocked eyes. My impulse was to hold and comfort her, but at the same time I wanted to be comforted. “How could I not have known? Why—”

I reached for Brina, and she responded so fast I had no idea her hand was coming until it struck me. I fell to the ground again, my jaw throbbing as I stared up at her in confusion.

“How dare you try to claim sympathy for yourself? Do you have any idea how valuable those brushes were? Or—” She wailed, “My painting. My beautiful Tamoanchan .”

“My lady,” I said softly, “I’m sorry that I—”

She cut off my apologetic words with a sharp kick to my ribs. “You should be sorry!” she shouted. “I didn’t want you here in the first place, cluttering my greenhouse, but one doesn’t refuse a request from Mistress Jeshickah. Now you’ve brought this mess . Fix it.”

She stormed out, leaving me curled on the ground, trying to breathe past the agony in my chest. What had I done?

It took me three tries to get to my feet, and then I didn’t know what to do with myself. I was confused, hurt, and in pain, and I didn’t know what to do about any of that. I felt tears filling my eyes, and I blinked rapidly to keep them dry. Crying was unacceptable. Taro had taught me that long ago.

I stared at the painting. Brina had said to fix it, but how ? It wasn’t just the blood. Calysta had sliced all the way through the canvas itself, savagely destroying the beautiful work.

Calysta was staring at me, her wide, sapphire-blue eyes filmed over by death. I tried to shut them, but they flew back open. I couldn’t even get the knife out of her wrist. She had driven it in too deep, and pulling at it made my stomach roll. I fetched a blanket from my cabin and wrapped her in it, then turned to the painting, wondering if there was anything I could do. I dabbed at the congealed blood with a cloth.

I saw nothing, heard nothing, before strong hands picked me up and flung me backward with a force so powerful my body and head hit the wall. I saw stars as I fell. The magic made the glass shimmer and wail as it absorbed the impact—better than my body did.

I looked up to find Lord Daryl standing above me, fuming. He demanded, “What did you do to Brina?”

“I didn’t do anything,” I protested.

His knee striking my jaw bowled me over. My teeth cut the inside of my cheek, filling my mouth with the coppery taste of blood.

“I didn’t do anything,” I said again. It hurt to talk, but I needed to convince him. “I’m sorry. I would never want to make her unhappy. Calysta killed herself. I don’t know why. She tore up the painting. I didn’t do anything.”

Except upset her by asking about Malachi, and her past . If I had been left alone with the painting, what would I have done? More than throw a rock.

My tormentor turned when I mentioned the painting, seeing it in full for the first time. The instant his attention was off me, I changed into quetzal shape. Panicked, I darted past him.

I heard him curse, and he reached for me, but all he caught was one tail feather, which ripped off in his hand. I struggled for a moment, off balance, but managed to get enough air under my wings to lift me higher than he could reach.

I fled to a perch as close to the ceiling of my world as I could get, though it made me achingly aware of the wood and glass panels that limited my upward flight.

Below, I saw Lord Daryl looking up at me, furious. Eventually he dropped the feather and went back to the painting, calling slaves toward him as he went and giving them instructions.

He raised his gaze to me one more time and said clearly, “We will finish this conversation,” before he disappeared.

I had absolutely no desire ever to finish this particular conversation.

The stench of Calysta’s corpse still enveloped me, and the taste of blood lingered in my mouth. My tiny bird’s body still hurt.

I dropped to the ground and changed into human form. It hurt to walk, and I was shaking so badly I was afraid I would fall down, but I forced myself to keep moving. The two guards normally positioned by the door were lying very still, their eyes open and staring. They must have tried to stop Lord Daryl from entering in a rage.

That meant they had died protecting me.

Whispering an apology and a plea for forgiveness, I tugged a cloak away from one of the guards and wrapped it around my own shoulders. I couldn’t stand to try to pull the gloves off his dead fingers, though I knew I would probably regret my squeamishness. I did take the still-burning whale-oil lantern.

I had to talk to Taro and could only hope that the west path the guards had mentioned would take me to him, or someone who could get word to him.

Lady Brina doesn’t want me here . The knowledge brought a lump to my throat. I couldn’t imagine leaving the beautiful greenhouse in favor of the outside world, where it was cold and miserable, but I couldn’t stay if she didn’t want me to.

Maybe later I could find her and explain, and ask forgiveness. She had been upset and had lashed out.…

No. She wouldn’t have hurt me that way if she cared about me the way I cared about her. I was a nuisance. Clutter . Only there because Mistress Jeshickah wanted me there.

Once again I choked back the lump in my throat. It was too cold to cry anyway.

THE INSTANT Istepped beyond the sphere of the greenhouse’s magic, the wind sucked the breath from my lungs and replaced it with ice.

I slogged ahead, lifting my lantern to try to illuminate the fork in the path in front of me. I turned resolutely in the direction I hoped would take me to Taro, only to start second-guessing myself within moments. I had no idea how far away the market or Midnight proper, the two places the guards had mentioned, could be.

It was so dark .

I hadn’t gone far before the darkness overwhelmed the light. The trees above were ominous, reaching creatures, blocking the moonlight.

Maybe I could see more if I took to the air. I could probably also travel faster by wing. I could be there before I knew it. I set the lantern down, changed shape, and beat my wings frantically as I sought the open sky.

Icy wind whipped me around, buffeting my unpracticed wings around like leaves. I tumbled through the air, struggling to regain control, and eventually landed back on the ground with a thud. A bank of snow broke my fall, but that was the only comfort I had. I changed back into human form, miserably aware that I was no longer on the path. I didn’t even know where my lantern was.

I hugged my cloak more tightly around myself and limped onward, feeling every bruise keenly.

As soon as Taro realized I was missing, he would come looking for me. Right? In the meantime, though, I couldn’t stop moving. It was too cold.