TODAY IS TOO LATE Read Online Free PDF Page B

from the Second War of Creation told many stories of demons using good men to commit terrible crimes in the name of the Seven Heavens, and the Age of Chaos, which followed the Second War, was worse. No one wanted attention from angels or demons, and people who craved favor usually had other problems: madmen proclaiming themselves prophets. Einin had never heard of a madwoman. Ishma might be unique.
    “The child is in grave danger.”
    “Yes, empress. But what can we do?”
    “We must get the child away from the court. My husband will keep me close, in my condition, but we must find a way to take the child away.”
    “Empress, that’s—”
    “Treason. Death would be a kindness compared to our punishment.”
    “All of this, for a dream?”
    “I won’t watch them kill my daughter.” Ishma’s face hardened. “I’ll die before I let them have her.”
    Einin breathed faster, heart racing. Betraying Emperor Azmon, one of the most powerful sorcerers of the age, tempted horrors beyond death. He used the dead to make horrible monsters. They would never get away with it.
    “A daughter?”
    “Hmm, what?”
    “You know it will be a daughter?”
    “I do.”
    Ishma winked at Einin, and they became conspirators. She could do that, pull a person into her world with a friendly gesture. She had this power over people, had dazzled Azmon with her beauty to save their homeland, and her charisma took up space in the room. Einin felt its tug, a gentle push, the empress’s charms making it easier to break rules.
    Einin doubted Ishma’s sanity until she saw the heir, a daughter, and with a birth rune as well. Perhaps the seraphim had visited the empress. The worst part fell to her. Ishma was watched daily; every physician in Rosh wanted to please Azmon by providing a safe birth. They had no means to escape before the birth, and Ishma was in no condition to run afterward. Einin would flee with the child. She had hoped and prayed the child would be born like any other, and this nonsense of trying to run with a newborn would go away.
    “Isn’t she beautiful?” Ishma asked.
    “Yes, empress.”
    “You’ll have a small start on them. They’ll check on me. I can’t stall long.”
    “I know.”
    “Expect them to start the hunt before supper.”
    “I know, empress.”
    Ishma kissed the child. She handed the tiny bundle to Einin, who had not expected such a small baby. The slightest stumble could kill the little thing. Einin played with the blanket, wrapping it around the child’s face, and she noticed the eyes, milk-white cataracts. The skin was pale as well, and the hair was white as straw.
    “Empress, her coloring is not right.”
    “I know. It is her curse. She will not have an easy life.”
    “Her eyes—”
    “You will have to help her… when she gets older.”
    “Of course, empress.”
    Einin had to start running. She must start. Planning to run was easy, but now, the moment upon her, all she could imagine was tripping down the stairs with the child in her arms. So many things could go wrong before she made it to a horse. After she found one, riding with the child would be worse. She couldn’t help but imagine a dozen morbid tragedies. A thrown horseshoe would be disastrous.
    Einin asked, “What is her name?”
    “Marah.”
    “A sad name.”
    Ishma watched the bundled baby. Her ghostly face didn’t register the comment. “Trust no one, Einin. I mean no one.”
    “What about Tyrus?”
    “Once, he might have helped. Years ago, we were close and he was a real guardian to me, but that was before the civil war.” Her voice trailed off. “He is the emperor’s creature now.”
    Einin cradled the child. She had to start running. Everything felt wrong, and she wanted to hide in a corner, but she must start. She had never been so aware of wasted daylight before. She already felt hunted.
    “I will say you stole the child. You can never return.”
    “I know.”
    Einin headed for the door. She arranged a riding cloak