He clenched his fist, his voice choked up.

“Her own brother.” Rage bubbled in his voice. “He should have waited patiently by her resting place. He should have built a residence, he should’ve trained retainers for her, and when she awoke, he should have gently ushered her into this new world. Instead he sent his servants to fetch her like some freight. Because of him, she thought that precious gift had been lost. He let her think that. And then…”

Namtur’s face turned savage. If Namtur ever got his hands on Roland, my grandfather would die. His great cosmic powers wouldn’t matter.

I reached out and touched his hand with my fingers to bring him back to reality. “What he did was unforgivable. I understand it better than anyone. I’ve heard his explanations. They rang hollow because I’ve seen what he has done to my uncle.”

Of all the people besides Kate and Erra, I was closest to my uncle. He understood me in a way nobody else could. We both had stared into the burning void left behind when the binding shattered. We’d both overcome it. We’d both pledged to never be bound again.

“It wasn’t just Nimrod.” Namtur’s face turned dark. “We all used her. The entire kingdom stood by as she became the Plague Maker. She sacrificed herself for us in the worst way possible. We all allowed it. I allowed it.”

I laughed.

He glanced at me, startled.

“How brazen of you. My grandmother is the Queen of Shinar. Nobody allows her to do anything. She did what she did because she judged it necessary.”

“There were times when I could have pulled her back. Instead, I urged her on.” Namtur shook his head. “I will not make the same mistake again. I have aged, but I will not die until I am sure she will not succumb to darkness. She deserves all the happiness.”

Erra’s death must have shaken him to his core. The raw emotion in his voice and the naked regret in his eyes made me want to turn away. I was witnessing his grief. It felt intensely private, and I was intruding.

I had to bring him out of it. “So, does my grandmother know you love her?”

He blinked, taken aback. “Of course I love her. We all love her.”

“I’m not talking about the love of a friend or a loyal subject.”

Namtur stared at me for a second, grabbed a newspaper from the desk, squeezed it into a tube, and hit my head with it. “Evil child!”

Wap!

“Shameful!”

Wap!

“How do such ideas even enter your mind? Must your mouth speak every stray thought that flitters through your head?”

I laughed and leaned out of the way. “You protest too much, Great Uncle.”

“Your grandmother is my sworn sister!”

“But not blood sister.”

Namtur waved his newspaper. “Not another word!”

I held up my hands. “I’ll stop if you do me a favor.”

“You dare? After the inanity you blabbered?” He tossed the newspaper onto the table. “What is it?”

“When you go back to the new kingdom, will you take the child with you?”

Namtur pivoted in his chair and looked at Marten.

“She has no future here,” I said. “She will die in the streets.”

“You can stop pretending,” Namtur called.

Marten opened one eye.

“The princess asks me to take you with me.”

Marten opened both eyes. “Is she a real princess? Like in fairy tales?”

“Yes,” Namtur said with great gravity. “If you are willing, I will take you with me to her kingdom. It is a land of food and wonders. I will give you food.”

Good.

“I will give you clothes and teach you to read ancient books.”

Also good.

“I will make you my apprentice.”

Good… Wait, what?

“Umm… That’s not what I asked,” I said.

Namtur ignored me. “Do you understand what that means?”

Marten sat up. “There will be no thief in this world equal to me?”

“Great Uncle, let’s talk about his…”

Namtur’s eyes shone. “Yes. And so much more. It won’t be easy. You will weep, you will fail often, and you will want to quit. Your body will have to endure great hardship to grow strong, and your mind will do the same.”

“I won’t fail,” Marten said. “And I won’t cry.”

Namtur rose. “Come here, child.”

Marten hopped off the couch and approached.

“Do you have a name?” he asked.

“This is a terrible idea,” I said.

“Deira. Nobody calls me that, though.”

“It’s a good name,” Namtur said. “Kneel.”

Marten knelt. Namtur reached out and put his hand on her head.

“Deira of Atlanta, do you accept me as your master?” the Royal Assassin asked.

“Think very carefully,” I warned.

“Yes,” Deira said. “I accept.”

Magic punched them, surging from Namtur’s hand. In my mind’s eye, they glowed with brilliant intense blue, Namtur darker, closer to indigo, and Deira, a light cerulean shade. The two blues collided, mixed, and flowed back, binding the old man and the little girl.