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woman’s fingers trailed down the blade. When I had the knife again, I realized that not only was it clean of blood, but it was a different shape—curved now—and finely honed.
    “That suits you better,” said the woman, giving a solemn nod at my stare. Unthinking, I put the knife into its sheath at the small of my back, though it should no longer have fit. It did; the sheath had changed, too.
    “So, Zhakka, you like her.” Sieh leaned against me, wrapping his arms around my waist and resting his head on my breast. Immortal or not, there was such innocence in the way he did it that I did not push him away. I put my arm around him without thinking, and he uttered a deep, contented sigh.
    “Yes,” said the woman without prevarication. She leaned forward, peering into Nahadoth’s face. “Father?”
    I did not jump, not with Sieh leaning against me, but he felt me stiffen. “Shhh,” he said, rubbing my back. That touch was not quite childlike enough to be truly soothing. A moment later, Nahadoth stirred.
    “You’re back,” said Sieh, straightening with a bright smile. I took that opportunity to step away from Nahadoth. Sieh caught my hand quickly, all earnestness. “It’s all right, Yeine. He’s different now. You’re safe.”
    “She will not believe you,” said Nahadoth. He sounded like a man waking from a deep sleep. “She will not trust us now.”
    “It isn’t your fault.” Sieh sounded unhappy. “We just need to explain, and she’ll understand.”
    Nahadoth looked at me, which made me jump again, though it seemed the madness was indeed gone. Nor did I see that other look—when he’d held my hand in his heartblood and whispered soft, longing words. And that kiss… no. I had imagined it. That was clear, as the Nightlord who sat before me now was detached, regal even on his knees, and contemptuous. I was reminded painfully of Dekarta.
    “Will you understand?” he asked me.
    I could not help taking another step back in answer. Nahadoth shook his head and rose, nodding gracefully to the woman Sieh had called Zhakka. Though Zhakka towered over Nahadoth, there was no question which was the superior and which the subordinate.
    “We have no time for this,” Nahadoth said. “Viraine will be looking for her. Mark her and be done with it.” Zhakka nodded and came toward me. I stepped back a third time, unnerved by the intent in her eyes.
    Sieh let go of me and stood between us, a flea confronting a dog. He barely came up to Zhakka’s waist. “This isn’t the way we were supposed to do it. We agreed to try and win her over.”
    “That isn’t possible now,” said Nahadoth.
    “What’s to stop her from telling Viraine about this, then?” Sieh put his hands on his hips. Zhakka had stopped, waiting patiently for the dispute to be resolved. I felt forgotten and supremely unimportant—as I probably should, given that I stood in the presence of three gods. The term former gods just didn’t seem to fit.
    Nahadoth’s face showed something less than a smile. He glanced at me. “Tell Viraine and we’ll kill you.” His gaze returned to Sieh. “Satisfied?”
    I must have been tired. After so many threats that evening, I didn’t even flinch.
    Sieh frowned and shook his head, but he stepped out of Zhakka’s path. “This wasn’t what we’d planned,” he said with a hint of petulance.
    “Plans change,” said Zhakka. Then she stood before me.
    “What are you going to do?” I asked. Somehow, despite her size, she did not frighten me near as much as Nahadoth.
    “I will mark your brow with a sigil,” she said. “One that cannot be seen. It will interfere with the sigil Viraine intends to put on you. You will look like one of them, but in truth you’ll be free.”
    “Are they…” All the sigil-marked Arameri? Was that who she meant? “… not free?”
    “No more than we, for all they think otherwise,” said Nahadoth. There was, for just that moment, a hint of the softness in him that I’d