Blade of Glass: Chapter 60

The queen gave them more than a day. She put them up in her keep. People had made a fuss about Armitage until Geneve stared them down. She didn’t know what to say, so settled for glaring. Rumors spread about the Adept who’d cut down a Champion, so the glare was enough.

Armitage said he thought it funny but didn’t laugh. He watched Sight of Day a lot and spent time with the Feybrind when he thought no one was looking.

Geneve needed answers. She left the castle alone, on foot. No one had seen Tristan, and she feared him dead, especially after Beck and Fidget were brought to the castle stables. Her weary feet led her through Ravenswall. Geneve wore no armor. She couldn’t stand the golden sun’s weight today.

She carried a black sash with five gold bars. It was tattered and worn, the black faded to white in places. Blood stained it, but the black hid it well.

Geneve found the Tresward chapter house empty. No Knights guarded its doors. No Novices tended the kitchens or trained in the yard. She didn’t know what to make of it as she walked the deserted halls. It felt like it should be familiar, but she was an imposter here. She’d welcomed a sinner into her life, and a city almost died for it.

He’s not a sinner. And I fought to save the city. Stop moping. She straightened, wondering where that inner voice came from. It sounded like something Meri might have said, and so she trusted it.

The inner sanctum was empty, the three torches snuffed. She walked to the altar, draping Israel’s sash across it. “Goodbye, Iz. Father. Friend. I’m sorry I let you down.”

When she left, Meri was on the steps, back to her, waiting. She smiled, although he couldn’t see it. Of course he knew where I was going. “Well met, Meri.”

“Hey, Red.” He stood, facing her. He clutched a book. “I guess we won, but it feels like we lost.”

She nodded, hair hanging like tears. “There is no joy left.”

“I don’t know about that.” He sat, patting the step beside him. “I’ve got to show you something.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Geneve sat anyway. “If the Tresward were still here—”

“You’d get me out.” He leaned against her for a moment, a small smile on his face. She leaned right back for a moment. He straightened, and she immediately missed it. He patted the book, now in his lap. “I bet you’re wondering what this is.”

“It’s a book.”

“Hah. You’re very clever.” He smoothed the cover with a hand. “This is the Ledger of Lost Souls.”

She goggled. “But … we saw the Ledger. It had a face on it!”

“That old thing?” He scoffed. “No, that was some gaudy thing I saw at a market. This,” he patted the leather cover, “is the Ledger. I showed it to their conjurer, and viola, here it is.”

“I thought the queen wanted to destroy it.”

“She did.” Meri winked, and she felt warmer despite her heavy heart. “So, I stole it.”

“You what?”

“Stole it,” he admitted. “I wanted to read it.”

“You wanted to read about dead Knights?”

“I wanted to know if it was true, Red.” He opened the book about two-thirds through. Name after name was writ on the pages in the same perfect, flowing script. There were hundreds of names with lines through them, and others after unmarked. The last name with a line through it was hard to read.

KNIGHT VALIANT ISRAEL.

She keened, looking away. He touched her arm. “I’m sorry. That’s not what I wanted to show you, but I can’t show you without … showing you.”

Geneve blinked tears. “By the Three, Meri—”

“Here.” He traced a finger over the name prior to Israel’s. 

KNIGHT ADEPT MANDER.

“What of it?” She followed the line of his finger, reading a few names.

“Well, it should say something like, ‘High Bitch Nicolette.’” He flipped back five or ten pages. “It took me a while to find it, but I did. Here.” He pointed to a name.

KNIGHT CHAMPION NICOLETTE.

Geneve took the Ledger from him. “This makes no sense.”

“It kind of makes a really bad kind of sense.” Meri stood, pacing. “She’s been dead a long time. Years and fucking years, Red. We fought her, but she hasn’t been a Knight in a long time.”

“Resurrected?”

“Risen,” he corrected. “Dark sorcery. All that.” He waved a hand, then pursed his lips. “True sin.”

“Don’t—”

“Hey, I’m not raising the dead. I get it.” Meri stretched. “But I’d be interested in knowing who else is in that book who’s walking and talking but apparently dead. You know, no one’s asked me where I saw the book.”

Geneve nodded, finger holding her place. “I figured you didn’t want to say.”

“It’s not like that. I mean—”

“But I think I know.” She sighed. “This is from your father’s library, isn’t it?”

He sagged, like all the air went out of him. He gave a miserable nod. “Yes.”

“It’s okay.” She met his eyes. “It wasn’t your library.”

“Don’t you want to know what happened between me and dear ol’ dad?” His voice was bitter, his smile crooked.

“Yes, but not until you want to tell the tale. You know I’m here.” She looked away, letting him gather himself.

It didn’t take long. Meri was used to scraping himself up with dustpan and broom. “Thank you. I want to, but … not today.”

“I understand. The world cries while we sit.”

“Not that. I … think we should remember our friends, not our enemies, today.” He sank back beside her. “But soon. I promise.”

Geneve nodded, head on his shoulder for a moment, then hunkered over the book. She went back farther than Nicolette’s name. Years beyond counting, thousands of names of fallen Tresward under her fingers. “Uh.”

“Uh?”

“More like, uh oh.” Geneve offered him the book. “There.”

He read the name. “Who’s this guy?”

“Someone with answers.” She stood, dusting off her pants. “Will you help me get them?”

He considered her question. Looked her up and down, a slow nod following. “Where are we going?”

“To hell and back.”

“More specifically?”

Geneve thought about that for a while. “North, I think. That’s where he was last.”

“What about the dragon?”

“It’ll turn up.” She offered him a smile and beamed wider as he gathered it up and returned it. “Are you with me?”

“Always.” He took her hand, open book in the other. “But really. Who is this guy?”

“A very bad man, I think.” Geneve led Meri from the Tresward, and into the city beyond. They had work to do. The name she held in her thoughts, one she’d never forget again. Someone with answers.

CLERIC JUSTICIAR AMBROSE.

Miss the other parts of Blade of Glass? You can check out the [First Chapter] or the [Previous Chapter].

Otherwise: you’ve finished Blade of Glass! If you enjoyed this, consider supporting me on Ko-Fi or hopping on my mailing list. If you want to travel further with Geneve, Meri, Sight of Day, and Armitage, grab the sequel The Storm Within.

Assassins come for the Savior of Ravenswall.

Geneve and the sorcerer Meriwether are beset while burying their dead. The assassins’ goal is simple. They will erode support for the queen and take the crown from her trembling fingers. With the power of illusion, they can be anyone, go anywhere … or wear the skin of the one Geneve loves.

She and Meriwether race to kill the head of the assassins: the lord in the north. Fires of rebellion blaze across the kingdom. Feybrind and Vhemin go to war. The gods turn their faces away as whispers spread of a dragon in a madman’s grip.

If Geneve can’t best the dragon, all she knows will be ash. Even the ancients feared them. Her skymetal blade feels insufficient for the task.

Continue the dark fantasy adventure today!