Crown of Thorns

Chapter Forty-Three

The Empress, At Camp and Miserable, Day 137 A.F

Evony was dead. Gabriel wore her Icon. Apparently her death wasn't to be mourned, but it set my teeth on edge: just one more person who'd betrayed us, who'd tried to steal someone I loved. Could we trust no one outside our six-person alliance? I was starting to doubt it. Out of every three Arcana we encountered, I felt confident only one maintained even a shred of humanity, had kept from being lost to the Game. The odds were, all but the six of us were enemies, as far as Arcana went at least. Paltic and Lotan couldn't be deceitful, but they had it easy: they were human, free of voices and the Heat of Battle.

Evony was dead. But she was a traitor. And her betrayal seemed to have finally convinced Cyp of Gabriel's loyalty.

"Bird-Boy saved my life," he admitted. "The least I can do is help out his friend."

I smiled at Gabriel while resting my head on Cyp's shoulder. "Thank you. Thank you for saving him."

The angel only shrugged, glaring at the Moon Icon as if it burned his skin even such a while after. Did Icons hurt? Cyp never seemed bothered by his.

"But we needed her to storm the ship," Tybira said. "It doesn't make sense... She seemed genuine."

Cyp rolled his eyes. "We're honestly trusting our plan to someone who'd rather fight alongside a traitor than be one hand short? Stupidest thing I've ever heard. She seemed genuine? Have you ever heard of lying, puppy? Sort out your priorities before you get us all killed."

"Cyprian." I bristled, watching Tybira wince; Enki attempted to place a hand on her shoulder but she shrugged him away. I cast Cyprian a glare. That wasn't like him. But then again, how well did I really know his quirks. And I had known he had a temper. "Calm down."

"Yes," Tybira breezed, flashing a fanged smile at Cyprian. "Let Ayesha calm you down before I let Romulus tear into your ass. Sorry, your face. For a moment, I couldn't tell the difference."

Enki snorted, and I laughed quietly. Gabriel didn't seem amused, simply staring at his new Icon. Finally Cyprian raised his hands. "Whatever. Fine. Just fix the strategy, and figure out how to use this." He reached behind him, tossing Tybira a large bow and quiver filled with silver arrows.

She gazed at the weapons. "I've never used those... I'll see what I can do."

"If you need some help," Enki offered, "I could try to give you some advice. I've never--"

"Help with what?" She collected her gifts and stood. "With trickery and deceit?" Tybira left, not looking back to see Enki's face fall. Now that he was back to full strength, any tenderness she'd afforded him was gone. She didn't want him to die: that was the only concession she was willing to make for her besotted Magician.

"Oh, Flower?" Cyprian rubbed my shoulder. "I'm going to want my shirt back."

I frowned. "I don't know if I can find my dress."

"You won't have to." He produced a bundle of dark colored fabric: a hooded shirt, pants, and hunting boots, all of which clearly had belonged to a man. Before they belonged to Evony.

"You want me to wear a dead woman's clothes?"

"Really, Flower? That dress you had probably belonged to a dead woman. Any clothes we could find for you belonged to a dead woman. The only difference is that this time you know who that dead woman was."

Gabriel's head jerked up. "You undressed her? You wouldn't spare her even that honor?"

Cyprian shook his head, incredulous. "Am I the only one here who understands what we're facing? Am I the only one who realizes that we're fighting for our lives? Honor for the dead means nothing. They're dead. Ceremonies for the dead are for the living who care about them, and we don't have the liberty to care. If someone dies, you move on and forget about them, but not until you've plucked the resources off their vacant body."