She Who Rides the Storm (The Gods-Touched Duology)
She Who Rides the Storm: Chapter 8

By the time Anwei got to the apothecary, she was unraveling inside. Knox’s voice in her head had died down, but her mind still felt crowded, as if she weren’t the only one inside it.

She barely waved to Gulya as she gusted through the apothecary’s front room and up the stairs. She didn’t know how she knew. Her nose had never been able to detect anything beyond what was in her general proximity, but Knox’s voice had left an odd residue of certainty that he’d made it back to his room upstairs.

Anwei burst through Knox’s door, then froze at what she saw inside. Knox was sitting on his bed, his sword across his knees. The blade was still in its wrappings, but an inch of the pockmarked metal peeked out from its sheath, dull in the sunlight.

Knox raised his head to look at her, sweat dripping down his temples. “What have you been doing to me?” he rasped.

Even with the blade inside its wrappings, even trying not to breathe, Anwei could smell it—a void in the air where the sword should have been. The cotton blanket’s ochre dryness wafted toward her, the air swirled with the murky smell of dirt Knox had tracked in from outside. She could even sense the tie holding back Knox’s hair, damp with sweat. But of Knox himself she could smell nothing, because when he held his sword, the void swallowed him, too.

He became nothing, just like the snake-tooth man.

Anwei carefully stepped inside Knox’s room and closed the door behind her. She moved slow, the sword seeming to watch her from Knox’s lap. “I haven’t been doing anything to you, Knox.”

Knox’s neck corded on both sides as he looked up at her, his eyes leaden and black. Anwei’s stomach twisted with fear. It wasn’t just Knox’s smell that disappeared when he held the sword—Knox faded too, and something else took over. She forced herself to take a step closer, keeping her eyes on the blade. “You promised me you wouldn’t touch that thing while you were here.”

His fingers tightened on the sword’s wraps. “My energy… my aura… it all came out. I couldn’t stop it.”

Anwei edged closer. “I’m not sure what that has to do with swords.”

“Anwei, they’re coming for me.” He stood up in one movement that went too quick. Anwei’s hand snaked down to her medicine bag to touch the corta petals hidden inside. Corta wouldn’t be enough. Its strong smell wouldn’t work on someone disciplined, someone trained to withstand surprises. Knox had spent years fighting for the Warlord before he’d ever met Anwei.

At least, she was fairly certain he had. Their no-questions policy had left much up for interpretation.

“I called for help, and then something happened. Your aura—it was all over me.” He peeled a hand up from the sword to point at her.

Her aura? Licking her lips didn’t work because Anwei’s mouth was too dry. “The sword, Knox.”

“Whatever you did to hide me stopped working. They found me on the wall.” Knox tried to swallow, his voice croaking when he continued, “They were after me before everything broke. They knew. There were men following me through the Sand Cay—”

“Who is after you? Devoted?”

He shivered, his hands picking at the knots holding the sword’s covering in place. His eyes looked dead, unblinking and focused on every move Anwei made. “But then it snapped back into place. A shield or a net or… I can feel it now. What you’re doing.” He raked a hand through his hair, pulling at it. “It’s in my head.”

She pushed the corta aside and slid her fingers around the packet of calistet she always kept in her bag for emergencies. “I’m not doing any…”

Knox tensed, and her fingers tightened around the deadly packet. I don’t want to hurt you, Knox. Please don’t make me hurt you. There was little chance he’d live if she had to use it. Calistet undiluted would kill.

Instead of coming at her, Knox turned toward the door. “They’re here. They’re outside.”

“I’m going to help, Knox, but I need you to put the sword down first.”

Knox looked down at the blade loosely held in his hands, his eyes opening a fraction wider as if he hadn’t noticed it was there.

“Put it down.” Anwei stepped toward him, poison tight in her fist.

Stiffening at the command, Knox held out the sword. Arms shaking, he peeled his fingers open as if he wanted to drop it but couldn’t make his hands obey. Anwei leapt forward and batted it out of his hands, and it hit the floor with a leaden thunk at her feet.

Tears stung her eyes as Knox’s real smells came back. He had a sticky red cast, sweat and fear all over him as if he’d poured a bottle of sugar syrup over his own head.

Fear? Anwei’s whole body felt as if it were contracting, trying to make itself small. I can’t smell fear.

Knox was staring at the sword on the floor, both hands tearing into his hair. “Anwei, I… I am so sorry… I didn’t mean to… I promised I wouldn’t take it out. I’m sorry.”

Anwei sagged back, her spine hitting the closed door, her head lolling to the side as she let the packet of calistet drop back into the bag where it belonged. She slid down to sit on the floor. Enemies. Calistet is supposed to be for enemies, not my own partner.

Anwei’s heart beat against her sternum, shaking her from head to toe. She’d seen Knox go dead like that only two other times: when she’d first found him, and then again when he’d woken up three days later. It stank the way her brother’s room had, the panic-tinged memories from that day forcing themselves before her eyes in a flood.

Her brother’s murderer hadn’t needed a pockmarked sword to turn into nothing. The man was that smell. But he hadn’t forced his way into her head the way Knox had either. The way Knox was still doing, his voice slicked inside her thoughts even now. There was an aftertone of brick and blood to him now that she could smell from scratches and scrapes. But his bones fit together as they should, and his humors were balanced.

He was fine.

Anwei forged her voice into something calm. “You’re in my head. Is that something all Devoted can do?”

Knox’s face blanched. “No. You’re in my head. I didn’t do it. Everyone knows the stories about dirt witches being able to mess with people’s minds!”

He stopped when Anwei stood, every muscle in her body taut. Dirt witch. “What did you say?”

“I’m saying that whatever is wrong with your aura is—”

“There is nothing wrong with my—what in Calsta’s name is an aura, Knox?” It came out a little too forcefully, Anwei’s hands grazing her high collar and the scars underneath. “I didn’t do this. I heard you call. I stopped… what I was doing. I shouldn’t have, curse Calsta and every god on the Temple Cay, but I did.”

“I called to you instead of… It doesn’t matter.” He twisted toward the door. “They’re downstairs right now. Devoted… or people working for them. They were all dressed up like Trib horsemen, but they must be Roosters. I need…” He dropped to the floor, reaching for the sword.

Anwei darted forward, landing on her hip between him and the weapon. Knox’s brows came down, his hand halfway to the hilt where it stuck out from the blanket. She curled her legs forward and planted a foot at the center of his chest. “We will talk about this later. Now get out of here before they come up the stairs.”

His eyes tripped down to the hem of her skirts, where her heel dug into him, exposing the scars curling down her ankle. Gritting her teeth, she pushed him away with her foot, knocking him toward the window’s bubbled glass. “Go!”

Knox caught himself on the windowsill, eyes wide.

“I’ll take care of this. Wait outside the trade gate.” Anwei turned, gathering the sword into her arms. She shuddered, the odd touch that belonged to Knox still lurking at the back of her mind. He hadn’t moved to open the window.

“You trust me, right?” she rasped. “Do what I’m saying.”

“I don’t want them to hurt you instead of me.”

“Don’t worry about me. I’ll meet you before sundown. Even if it’s just to bring your money box and… this.” Anwei clutched the sword to her chest as she stood and walked to the door. It made every inch of her scrunch, skin and muscles rebelling at being so close. “Go!”

She didn’t bother to check whether Knox had obeyed. She knew he would. She could feel it in her head.