I think it would be.

Yes, it definitely would be.

* * *

I would rather know why youve come in the first place, I said. But I wont force you to explain.

Why not? There was something dangerous in his voice. Why was he angry? Because I had power over him and chose not to use it? Was he worried that I would?

The answer to his question came to my mind at once: because it would be wrong. I hesitated to say that, however. The answer wasnt even correcthe had entered my room unbidden, a breach of manners in any land. If he had been human, I wouldnt have hesitated to order him out.

No; not human. If he had been free.

But he was not free. Viraine had explained further the evening before, during the painting of my sigil. My commands to the Enefadeh had to be simple and precise. I was to avoid metaphors or colloquialisms, and above all think about whatever I told them to do, lest I trigger unintended consequences. If I said something like, Nahadoth, get out, he would be free to leave not only my room, but the palace entire. Skyfather knew what hed get up to then, and only Dekarta could summon him back. Or if I said, Nahadoth, be silent, he would be rendered mute until I or some other fullblooded Arameri rescinded the order.

And if I were ever so careless as to say, Nahadoth, do as you please, he would kill me. Because killing Arameri pleased him. It had happened before, many times over the centuries, according to Viraine. (A service, he called it, as stupider Arameri were usually eliminated before they could breed or embarrass the family further.)

I wont command you because Im considering the alliance proposed by your Lady Kurue, I said at last. An alliance should be based on mutual respect.

Respect is irrelevant, he said. I am your slave.

I could not help wincing at the word. Im a captive here, too.

A captive whose every command I must obey. Forgive me if I feel little sympathy.

I did not like the guilt his words triggered in me. Perhaps that was why my temper slipped, before I could think to rein it in. You are a god, I snapped. Youre a deadly beast on a leash who has already turned on me once. I may have power over you, but I would be a fool to think that makes me safe. Far wiser to offer you courtesy, ask for what I want, and hope for your cooperation in return.

Ask. And then command.

Ask, and if you say no, accept that answer. That, too, is part of respect.

He fell silent for a long while. In that silence I replayed my words in my head, praying I had left him no opening to exploit.

You cannot sleep, he said.

I blinked in confusion, then realized it was a question. No. The bed the light.

Nahadoth nodded. Abruptly the walls went dim, their light fading until shadows shrouded the room, and the only illumination came from the moon and stars and the lights of the city. The Nightlord was a darker shadow etched against the windows. He had put out the unlight of his face as well.

You have offered me courtesy, he said. I offer cooperation in return.

I could not help swallowing, remembering my dream of the black star. If it was trueit had felt true, but who could say with dreams?then Nahadoth was more than capable of destroying the world, even diminished as he was. Yet it was his simple gesture of putting out the lights that filled me with awe. Tired as I was, I suppose that mattered more to me than the whole of the world.

Thank you, I managed at last. And There was no subtle way to say it. Will you leave now? Please?

He was a silhouette. All that happens in darkness, I see, he said. Every whisper, every sigh, I hear. Even if I leave, some part of me will remain. That cannot be helped.

Only later would his words disturb me. For now, I was just grateful. It will be enough, I said. Thank you.

He inclined his head, then vanishednot all at once, as Sieh had done, but fading over the space of several breaths. Even after I could no longer see him, I felt his presence, but eventually that faded, too. I felt, properly or not, alone.

I climbed back into bed and was asleep in a span of minutes.

* * *

There is a tale of the Nightlord that the priests allow.

Once long ago, before the war between the gods, the Nightlord descended to earth, seeking entertainment. He found a lady in a towerthe wife of some ruler, shut away and lonely. It was not difficult for him to seduce her. Some while later, the woman gave birth to a child. It was not her husbands. It was not human. It was the first of the great demons, and after it and others like it were born, the gods realized they had made a terrible mistake. So they hunted their own offspring, slaying them down to the tiniest infant. The woman, who had been turned out by her husband and was now deprived of her child as well, froze to death alone in a snowy forest.

My grandmother told me a different version of the tale. After the demon-children were hunted down, the Nightlord found the woman again and begged her forgiveness for what hed done. In atonement he built her another tower and gave her riches so that she might live in comfort, and he visited her ever afterward to see that she was all right. But she never forgave him, and eventually she killed herself for grief.