Chapter 79

Nobody counted scars in the underworld.

Then Tarquin put his wrists over the lip of the bowl and surrendered himself to the Kawj.

* * * *

He was warm.

It hadn’t been like that in his dream. Then the cold had cut so deep, it burned. But now Tarquin was warm. He could feel the slow itch of the blood dripping from his arms, knew his life was ebbing with it, but it didn’t matter. He was surrounded by light, dazzling even through his eyelids. It was as red as life, and bright and beautiful and perfect

The magic surged through him like water, like blood. And this time he would pay what he owed.

Help me now, and I’ll do anything. The sense of agreement he felt in return was like the sweet laugh of a child.