Inheritors of Chaos by Barbara Ann Wright

Author:Barbara Ann Wright [Wright, Barbara Ann]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781635552959
Publisher: Bold Strokes Books
Published: 2019-02-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Fajir had been thinking a lot of Halaan. That didn’t bother her; his death was always close to her thoughts. Lately, though, instead of mourning or fighting to remember the exact color of his eyes by dim lantern light, she kept recalling things he’d loved: a favorite dessert, a skilled dance troupe, or the way he’d grow giddy with anticipation at the prospect of a night off from guard duty. Fajir couldn’t help a smile as she remembered.

If Nemesis noticed, she gave no sign. After her dream, Fajir watched her closely all the next day. Nemesis had been right: taking care of someone felt good. Halaan had always said so. Was that why happier memories wouldn’t leave her now? Because she was living as Halaan would have wished?

Or perhaps he was complaining from the afterlife, saying Fajir should remember that she’d loved him beyond any other, and that she could never find happiness with anyone else.

Nico, Fajir’s second in the palace guard, would disagree. Before he’d abandoned Fajir, he’d said that their lost loves wanted them to be happy, but only after their vengeance was done, of course. Once Halaan’s killer was dead, Fajir could move on, or so Nico had said.

But he’d only said so because he wanted Fajir for himself.

The man responsible for the death of Nemesis’s love was dead, and she seemed…happier. Once her power had been taken away, she might become even more lighthearted.

And intolerable.

“Why do you not still mourn?” Fajir asked. They still walked in the wake of the drushkan tree.

“For Freddie? What makes you think I don’t?” The words sounded harsh, but only curiosity shone from Nemesis’s dark eyes. Even with the bruises marring her face, there was something in her that was…compelling.

“I don’t doubt that you wept for her,” Fajir said. “But I’ve never seen it.”

“You’re not weeping either.”

Fajir ground her teeth. “You often know my thoughts before I speak them, Nemesis! Why don’t you know them now so I don’t have to speak them? I do not have…all the words!” She scrubbed a hand through her hair.

“My name is Lydia,” Nemesis said with a sigh. “And I’m too tired to draw you out anymore.”

“Draw me?”

“Make you come to your own conclusions about your problems. But because you’re new to introspection when it doesn’t involve murder, and I’m tired…” She sat on the grass and patted the space beside her.

Fajir was still trying to untangle her words when she ignored the invitation and hopped up on a boulder. “I think about much besides vengeance.”

Nemesis’s eyes widened. “Do tell.”

Fajir shifted, uneasy. Nemesis’s words could easily turn cutting, and she had a way of laughing… “I’ll tell you, but don’t mock me,” Fajir said, hoping her tone carried enough threat.

Nemesis nodded solemnly, not a trace of humor on her face.

Fajir still couldn’t look at her. “I’ve been thinking of…happier times with Halaan, and I wondered if that meant my mourning was done, but it should never be done!” She smacked a fist into her palm.

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