Read Online The Riven Shield: The Sun Sword #5 by Michelle West - Free Book Online Page B

flinch. Or run.
    She would really have to learn how to school her expression.
    “Yes, I understand, Finch. But a man like Duvari is very, very hard to kill. Of all the men in the Empire, if I could choose one who would survive the world’s end, the coming of the second Hells, the return of the Firstborn—it would be Duvari.”
    “Only the good die young,” Finch muttered.
    “Perhaps. It doesn’t matter; he picks his cause and he never wavers. It was important to me that my compatriots not die. Important that their deaths in no way be laid at my feet.” Her arms bent; her hands supported her weight. “It’s been so long, I had forgotten how visceral that desire could be.”
    Finch knew, then. “Until Alea,” she whispered.
    “Until Alea.” The Terafin bowed her head. “Alea was the closest thing to a child the lord of a House is generally permitted. I was fond of her—and I am fond of few. But I was proud of her as well; she was worthy of respect.
    “Morretz will never forgive me,” she added quietly. “In my youth, I would have sought vengeance; I would have offered death for her death; I would have destroyed even the House I valued in order to achieve that end, and have peace.
    “But I am not young, not as I was then. The things that burn me merely scar; they light no spark; they fan no useful flame. And peace is not to be gained by a simple death. Or a complicated one.”
    “Why will Morretz—”
    Teller shook his head, sharply, and Finch shut up. It was as close to command as Teller got.
    “I have asked you here for a reason,” The Terafin said. She drew breath, gained height; the line of her shoulders straightened.
    “You want our oaths.”
    “Yes.”
    “You want more than our oaths.”
    “Yes.”
    “We don’t have a lot more to give you.”
    “Teller ATerafin,” The Terafin said, bowing slightly, “I would never ask you to join the Chosen; you are a foot too short, and several inches too slender. But you have the temperament, if not the build. Finch, likewise.” She looked away again. And then back. “Arann,” she said, speaking to the only member of the den who had chosen to pledge allegiance to her House, and therefore indirectly, to her.
    “Terafin.”
    For the first time that evening—and Finch would remember this for the rest of her life, no matter how short or how long that might be—The Terafin pulled aside the great cloak she wore. The cloak itself was fine, but weathered, and it sat too low on her shoulders, too close to the ground. Finch might have paid more attention to it, but it was a simple curtain over an unexpected window, and what lay beyond the window held all of her attention the moment she glimpsed it.
    The scabbard.
    The sword.
    Justice.
    She raised her hands to her mouth.
    “Who do you serve, Arann ATerafin?”
    He was, Finch thought, white as the altar at his lord’s back. But he must have had some color left, because he got even paler when the sword left its sheath.
    He knelt. Raised his face to meet her unyielding gaze.
    “You,” he said, so softly that Finch wasn’t certain she’d heard it.
    “Good. And do you trust me, Arann?”
    “Yes.” Louder.
    “Will you trust my words above the words of all others?”
    “Yes.”
    “Will you know which words are mine when all words come to you clothed in deceit and lies?”
    He was silent. Finch wasn’t surprised; she would have been. He lowered his face a moment, to look at the ground between her feet.
    “To be one of the Chosen is not to be a mindless servant, not to be a fine swordsman; it is not a simple act of loyalty, although perhaps to the eyes of outsiders, loyalty defines the Chosen. You must know
me
, must understand
me
, must decide for yourself when an order you are told is from me is nonetheless not mine. Do you understand? You must, with loyalty and knowledge as a guide, be true in ways that I cannot foresee when I ask you to make this oath and accept the weight of this