I pulled out each paper, examining and arranging them in order by date. They were all love letters, from him to her and a few from her to him, spanning a year or so in my parents lives. Swallowing hard and steeling myself, I began to read.

An hour later I stopped, and lay down on the bed, and wept myself to sleep.

When I awakened, the room was dark.

* * *

And I was not afraid. A bad sign.

* * *

You should not wander the palace alone, said the Nightlord.

I sat up. He sat beside me on the bed, gazing at the window. The moon was high and bright through a smear of cloud; I must have slept for hours. I rubbed my face and said, greatly daring, I would like to think we have an understanding, Lord Nahadoth.

My reward was his smile, though he still did not turn to me. Respect. Yes. But there are more dangers in Sky than me.

Some things are worth the risk. I looked at the bed. The pile of letters lay there, along with other small items Id taken from the chest: a sachet of dried flowers; a lock of straight black hair that must have been my fathers; a curl of paper that held several crossed-out lines of poetry in my mothers hand; and a tiny silver pendant on a thin leather cord. The treasures of a woman in love. I picked up the pendant and tried again, unsuccessfully, to determine what it was. It looked like a rough, flattened lump, oblong with pointed ends. Familiar, somehow.

A fruitstone, said Nahadoth. He watched me now, sidelong.

Yes, it did look like thatapricot, perhaps, or gingko. I remembered then where Id seen something similar: in gold, around Ras Onchis neck. Why?

The fruit dies, but within lies the spark of new life. Enefa had power over life and death.

I frowned in confusion. Perhaps the silver fruitstone was Enefas symbol, like Itempass white-jade ring. But why would my mother possess a symbol of Enefa? Or ratherwhy would my father have given it to her?

She was the strongest of us, Nahadoth murmured. He was gazing out at the night sky again, though it was clear his thoughts were somewhere else entirely. If Itempas hadnt used poison, He could never have slain her outright. But she trusted Him. Loved Him.

He lowered his eyes, smiling gently, ruefully, to himself. Then again, so did I.

I nearly dropped the pendant.

* * *

Here is what the priests taught me:

Once upon a time there were three great gods. Bright Itempas, Lord of Day, was the one destined by fate or the Maelstrom or some unfathomable design to rule. All was well until Enefa, His upstart sister, decided that she wanted to rule in Bright Itempass place. She convinced their brother Nahadoth to assist her, and together with some of their godling children they attempted a coup. Itempas, mightier than both His siblings combined, defeated them soundly. He slew Enefa, punished Nahadoth and the rebels, and established an even greater peacefor without His dark brother and wild sister to appease, He was free to bring true light and order to all creation.

But

* * *

P-poison?

Nahadoth sighed. Behind him his hair shifted restlessly, like curtains wafting in a night breeze. We created the weapon ourselves in our dalliances with humans, though we did not realize this for some time.

The Nightlord descended to earth, seeking entertainment The demons, I whispered.

Humans made that word an epithet. The demons were as beautiful and perfect as our godborn childrenbut mortal. Put into our bodies, their blood taught our flesh how to die. It was the only poison that could harm us.

But the Nightlords lover never forgave him You hunted them down.

We feared they would mingle with mortals, passing on the taint to their descendants, until the entire human race became lethal to us. But Itempas kept one alive, in hiding.

To murder ones own children I shuddered. So the priests story was true. And yet I could sense the shame in Nahadoth, the lingering pain. That meant my grandmothers version of the story was true, too.

So Lord Itempas used this poison to subdue Enefa when she attacked Him.

She did not attack Him.

Queasiness. The world was tilting in my head. Then why?

He lowered his gaze. His hair fell forward to obscure his face, and I was thrown back in time three nights to our first meeting. The smile that curved his lips now was not mad, but held such bitterness that it might as well have been.

They quarreled, he said, over me.

* * *

For half an instant, something changed in me. I looked at Nahadoth and did not see him as the powerful, unpredictable, deadly entity that he was.

I wanted him. To entice him. To control him. I saw myself naked on green grass, my arms and legs wrapped around Nahadoth as he shuddered upon me, trapped and helpless in the pleasure of my flesh. Mine. I saw myself caress his midnight hair, and look up to meet my own eyes, and smile in smug, possessive satisfaction.