I understood entirely. Sighing, I straightened. “I didn’t intend to hurt them. Nothing that askthing thahappened makes any sense.”
“The children’s hands were bloody,” Shevir said, his tone neutral. “Both hands, cut in the same way, inflicted on each other to judge by the angles and depth. Some of my colleagues believed they may have attempted some sort of ritual. …”
I scowled. “The only ritual involved was one that children the world over have enacted to seal promises.” I lifted my hand, gazing at my own smooth, unscarred palms. “If that could cause what happened, there would be a great many dead children lying about.”
He spread his hands in that apologetic gesture again. “You must understand, we were desperate to come up with some explanation.”
I considered this and hoisted myself up onto the railing, reveling in the ability to kick my feet at last. This seemed to make Shevir very uncomfortable, probably because the drop into the atrium was far enough to kill a mortal. Then I remembered that I was becoming mortal, and with a heavy sigh, I dropped back to the floor.
“So you decided one of the children — Deka — had summoned me, annoyed me, and I blew them to the hells in retaliation.”
“I didn’t believe that.” Shevir grew sober. “But certain parties would not be put off, and ultimately Dekarta was sent to the Litaria. To learn better control of his innate talents, his mother announced.”
“Exile,” I said softly. “A punishment for getting Shahar hurt.”
“Yes.”
“What’s he like now? Deka.”
Shevir shook his head. “No one here has seen him since he left, Lord Sieh. He doesn’t come home at holidays or vacation breaks. I’m told he’s doing well at the Litaria; ironically, he turned out to have a genuine talent for the art. But … well … rumor has it that he and Lady Shahar hate each other now.” I frowned, and Shevir shrugged. “I can’t say I blame him, really. Children don’t see things the way we do.”
I glanced at Shevir; he was lost in thought and hadn’t noticed the irony of talking about childhood to me. He was right, though. The gentle Deka I’d known would not have understood that he was being sent away for reasons that had very little to do with Shahar being injured. He would have drawn his own conclusions about why the friendship oath had gone wrong and why he’d been separated from his beloved sister. Self-blame would have been only the beginning.
But why had Remath even bothered exiling him? In the old days, the family had been quick to kill any member who’d transgressed in some way or another. They should have been even quicker with Deka, who broke the Arameri mold in so many ways.
Sighing heavily, I straightened and turned away from the atrium railing. “Nothing in Sky has ever made sense. I don’t know why I keep coming here, really. You’d think being trapped in this hell for centuries would’ve been enough for me.”
Shevir shrugged. “I can’t speak for gods, but any mortal who spends enough time in a place grows … acclimated. On awlimated. e’s sense of what is normal shifts, even if that place is filled with unpleasantness, until separation feels wrong.”
I frowned at this. Shevir caught my look and smiled. “Married seventeen years. Happily, I might add.”
“Oh.” This reminded me, perversely, of the previous night’s conversation with Shahar. “Tell me more about her,” I said.
I hadn’t specified the “her,” but of course Shevir was as good at parsing language as any scrivener. “Lady Shahar is very bright, very mature for her age, and very dedicated to her duties. I’ve heard most of the other fullbloods express confidence in her ability to rule after her mother —”
“No, no,” I said, scowling. “None of that. I want to know …” Suddenly I was uncertain. Why was I asking him about this? But I had to know. “About her. Who are her friends? How did she handle Deka’s exile? What do you think of her?”
At this flood of questions, Shevir raised his eyebrows. Suddenly I realized two horrifying things: first, that I was developing a dangerous attraction to Shahar, and second, that I had just revealed it.
“Ah … well … she’s very private,” Shevir began awkwardly.
It was too late, but I waved a hand and tried to repair the damage I’d done. “Never mind,” I said, grimacing. “These are mortal affairs, irrelevant. All I should concentrate on now is finding the cure for whatever’s happened to me.”