by T. A. White
Small glow balls had been attached to strings and strung from column to column. They looked ethereal, like fireflies caught and suspended in midair.
At the middle of it all was an old, weathered wooden table with long benches on either side. Pebbled paths radiated out from it like spokes on a wheel.
The three pests stood next to the table, drinks in their hands as they watched large platters of food being carried out of the building.
Tate noticed Jacob lingering on the edge of the courtyard, barely visible and easily overlooked in the shadows, as he watched the gathering with an indecipherable expression.
Ryu noticed where her attention had gone and shook his head. "I'd hoped this would be good for him."
So far, the other dragon-ridden had gone out of his way to keep to himself, rarely engaging with the rest of their party or the crew. Tate had barely seen him say more than a couple of sentences for the entire time they were on the ship. This afternoon, in the aftermath of the explosion, was the first time he’d taken charge. It gave her a glimpse of what he must have been like once.
She suspected his quiet withdrawal was atypical. Something about his extreme reserve hinted at a man broken by what had happened to him. He'd gone through a traumatizing experience. Despite the healing of his exterior wounds and no longer looking like he was seconds from dying of starvation, he still wasn't fully recovered.
He carried scars. They weren’t visible to the naked eye. Looking at him, you’d never be able to tell his psyche was riddled with their marks. Mental and emotional trauma was always the hardest to heal, lingering long after the physical wounds had disappeared. She suspected his still festered. And there was little anyone except Jacob could do to stop that.
"What was he like before?" Tate asked.
Ryu was quiet, his gaze turning distant. "He's always preferred his own company, but not like this."
Tate had only experienced a fraction of what the other dragon-ridden had gone through. He'd been used over and over again to open the gates to pull dragons to this side, before being forced to watch as those dragons and countless children were sacrificed to raise a monster.
She could get wanting to withdraw from the world. It would even be understandable if he decided the rest of those on this planet were no longer worth the effort of his time or emotion.
A small growl escaped Ryu. He watched Ward heckle one of the serving women as she set down a platter of food, nearly dropping it as she flushed at whatever he said. James watched his companion and the woman with a neutral expression.
"Can't they behave for five minutes?" Ryu muttered.
Vale stood nearby, his head tilted and face inscrutable as he listened. While he didn’t join in, he also didn't act in the woman’s defense either. In Tate’s book, that wasn't much better. Too many horrible things happened because others stood by and watched.
"Want my help?" she offered.
His sign was harsh and resigned. "No, I've got it. You'll have enough to do once we get to the Harridan's city."
Tate remained where she was as Ryu crossed the courtyard. The thunderous frown he aimed at Ward would have forced a sensible man to stop what he was doing without a word being spoken. Unfortunately, Ward wasn't what she'd call sensible.
Obtuse, with a dogged determination to cling to his narrow-sighted beliefs, was more like it.
Tate left the problem for Ryu to handle as she drifted around the edges of the courtyard. She stopped next to Jacob, standing in companionable silence as the rest of the group filtered into the courtyard one by one.
"Speak, girl. I know you want to."
There was an edge of bitterness to his voice, and underneath that, an indescribable weariness. It was one Tate could empathize with, having beat back something similar more than once in the dead of night when loneliness and the sins of the past pressed so hard on her it was sometimes hard to breathe.
She struggled with those feelings less often since she had found Dewdrop and Night and added them to her makeshift family, but it didn't mean she didn't remember.
"Then you know more than me," Tate said.
She sensed him looking at her in the dark.
"You're not going to fill my ears with useless platitudes, telling me it wasn't my fault and I need to forget what happened and move on?" His voice was scathing.
This time she did look at him. "Would it help if I did?"
He paused and fixed her with a suspicious look.
She blinked and turned her attention back to the bustle as the Silva finished setting up. "For the first month after we came up from the catacombs, I found Dewdrop sleeping outside my door every night. Sometimes I woke up to crying. Pax and Willa wouldn't leave their father's side, even during daytime."
No one had walked out of there without scars. The memories of the experience still haunted all of them.
"And you?" Jacob asked.
Tate lifted her eyes to the small sliver of night sky she could see above the courtyard. It wasn't easy exposing her private pain. "I sometimes wake up unable to breathe, convinced I’m dying again. I feel the blade sliding into my chest. I hear the whimpers of the child as he dies, one painful inch at a time. I can't get out of my head the sound of Ryu's pain and fury when he thought I was lost."
There was an ache in her chest as she remembered what it was like to feel Ilith slipping away one small piece at a time, knowing she'd follow soon afterward.
She looked Jacob in the eye. "So no, I'm not going to tell you to forget or move on. That's impossible. It will live with you for the rest of your life. And it should. What you went through isn't something you can pack in a neat box and pretend didn't happen. We are forever changed by what they did and what we endured. We will carry it with us, a burden we can never release until we pass from this plane of existence."
She fell silent.
Her words weren't meant to console. There wasn't a pretty band-aid they could slap over this wound until it healed. For that she was sorry. She wished she could ease his pain and make it better. Such things were out of her power.
"Ashley, Kevin, William, Michael." He looked away and confessed, "I failed to get them out."
Tate closed her eyes. He remembered their names. He'd etched them into his heart and used them as a flail to beat himself with.
No one could design a more effective torture.
"Never forget them," she told him. "They deserve to be remembered. Etch them into your bones if you have to. And then, when enough time has passed, remember what it's like to be alive. You live for them now."
At the table, the rest of the group began to take their seats. Tate touched his arm in silent empathy.
Her expression relaxed into serene lines, as she prepared to play her role in the events of the evening.
"Do you remember the names of those you've failed?" he asked, stopping her.
Momentary loss drifted over her face before it was gone as she said over her shoulder, "I wasn't afforded that luxury."
The names of her dead were as lost to her as her memories. It was a fact that haunted her in the depths of night when the rest of the world was silent. The people she'd left behind deserved to be remembered. Yet, here she was, unable to recall a single conversation or what they even looked like.
She walked away before he could ask anything else. She didn't know if she could bear exposing any more of her secret pain.
Tala had taken her place at the head of the table by the time Tate reached the others. A feeling of relief filled Tate when she saw the doyenne had also changed since their last meeting.
Material gathered at one shoulder before falling in a graceful drape over her body. The layers from mid-thigh to her feet were partially see-through, giving a glimpse of Tala’s strong legs. A gold leaf belt banded around her waist. The same design threaded through the complicated pattern of her hair.
She dipped her chin at Tate and gestured to the seat next to her. "Welcome, Lady Fisher. I hope you enjoy our hospitality."
> "I'm looking forward to it." Tate took a seat next to Tala, Ryu settling across from her.
As Dewdrop dropped down next to Ryu, Tate realized abruptly he was alone. She sent him a quizzical glance and flicked her eyes to his side in silent question.
He jerked one shoulder up and reached for a glass, raising it to his lips while meeting her eyes with his own innocent expression.
Damn. Night had decided to go exploring.
Her nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. She wished he would have waited until after dinner. Hopefully, Tala wouldn't notice his absence and quiz Tate on it.
"I'm surprised you're eating," Prefect Ward said, pulling Tate out of her thoughts.
"Why?" She occupied herself with settling her napkin in her lap.
"The last time you accepted the Fireday Doyenne's hospitality you were poisoned and nearly died." Ward’s expression was smug. He knew how insulting his words were—knew it and relished it.
Tate gave him a humorless look. Two could play that game.
"Does the Black Order give lessons on how to be a jackass?" Tate asked, ignoring the way Tala had gone still at her side.
Dewdrop's lip curled. "I wonder what that would look like. Do you think they have insensitivity training? Maybe drills in who can be the most inconsiderate in the fewest words?"
Tate struggled to keep her amusement at his sarcastic words to herself. He needed no encouragement.
Gabriella wasn't as circumspect. A loud laugh escaped her, only to be choked back when Tala cut a quelling glance in her direction.
"I only speak the truth, Lady Fisher," Ward said stiffly. He didn't like Dewdrop making fun of him or his Order. Too bad. Maybe he shouldn’t insult their hosts if he couldn’t take the same poison being aimed his way. "Lady Tala's people were responsible for your close brush with death. I would think you'd be a little uneasy risking your health and the rest of ours by dining at her table."
His insult wiped the amusement off Gabriella's face as Tala inhaled sharply.
Tate leaned forward, a deadly smile twisting her lips. "Fireday and its doyenne were cleared of all charges. Which you know, since you're the one who arrested her. You were demoted after that, weren't you?" Tate knew very well she was right. If he'd been able to make the charge stick, he would have been feted as a hero by his Order. That he hadn't, had led to a loss of respect and an assumption he was getting too big for his britches.
Tate held his gaze, not backing down from the anger she saw there. "You're getting sloppy, Ward. I expected better from you."
He was a small-minded man, blinded by his own prejudice, so sure he was right that he never looked beyond the end of his nose to the rest of the picture. It'd get him killed one day.
Hopefully, not while under her watch.
Fury and hate made him ugly as he scowled at her.
It left her tired. She had done nothing to deserve his enmity. It's not like she expected much from people, simply that they not act like entitled bullies.
"I'd be careful if I was you," she warned him before he could spew any more of the bile she could see building. "It's a long way to the Harridan's city. Plenty of places to get lost. I heard it can get very dangerous out there. We wouldn't want anything to happen to you, would we?"
His eyes bugged out as Dewdrop choked.
Ward's gaze swung to Ryu. "You're going to let her threaten us?"
Ryu calmly sipped his wine. "I didn't hear a threat. She was simply warning you of the dangers inherent in a trip like this."
Ward's mouth dropped open in disbelief, even James looked slightly startled at Ryu’s response.
Tate's smile was nasty. "Surely you're not surprised? I simply took a page out of your own rule book."
Vale's eyes were wide at her boldness as he looked between the two of them with concern.
James’s expression smoothed out, leaving behind a blank mask.
The Silva at the table watched him with hard gazes, their eyes unfriendly. Tate didn’t envy Ward at that moment, with the Silva acting like a pack of predators assessing how long it would take to drain him dry so they could feast.
Jacob dropped into the open seat beside Tate, ignoring the rest of them as he helped himself to the delicious smelling meat, spearing several slices with a fork before dumping them onto his plate.
Tate's mouth immediately watered as her stomach rumbled again. She forgot about the battle with Ward, too focused on the prospect of food to spend any more time making sure he knew his proper place.
"I will be informing my superiors of this,” Ward informed her.
"If you make it back," Dewdrop muttered into his glass.
Tate lifted an eyebrow and smirked as Ward’s expression darkened.
Hard footsteps thudded from the arcade seconds before Jost stepped into view. "I apologize for my tardiness. I hope I didn't miss anything."
Jost’s presence shouldn’t have been unexpected. It was normal for a ship’s captain to be invited to a meal like this—especially in light of Jost’s real position as an agent of the empire. Somehow, Tate was still surprised to see him.
"Just Tate explaining the dangers of travel in Silvain," Ryu said, with the barest twitch of his lips.
"Aha." Jost’s expression was wary as he glanced between Ward and Tate. "I'm sorry to have missed that then."
"Don't be. I'm sure those dangers won’t bother you in port," Tate said, already turning her attention to the meal.
Jost's nod was slow as he took the last open seat. "How fortuitous, then."
*
Tate's stomach was mercifully full as she climbed the stairs to her floor.
Dewdrop covered a wide yawn with his hand. "When they sent you here, I don't think it was to threaten the Order with death every time they did something to irritate you."
Tate looked over her shoulder at Ryu. "Was I wrong?"
"It was a rather unique diplomatic technique."
Tate grimaced. She'd been afraid of that.
"It was effective, however," Ryu added with the slightest hint of admiration.
"That's one way of putting it," Dewdrop muttered.
Tate shot him a disgruntled look. "You're supposed to be on my side."
Dewdrop pressed his hand to his chest, his expression innocent. "Who says I'm not?"
"You weren't wrong to interfere," Ryu said thoughtfully. "The Black Order is on dangerous ground. The Silva aren’t known for their forgiving natures, and they have long memories. This entire endeavor rests on each party being willing to work through their differences."
"And right now, the Order is making it very clear they have no intention of compromising or apologizing," Tate finished for him.
He dipped his head in a sharp nod.
Tate shrugged. There wasn't much she'd be able to do if everyone—Ward and James especially—continued to be so stubborn.
She rubbed her face. "Will the Silva execute them if the mediation fails?"
She'd insinuated as much to Keel when he sent Vale with her, but it had been a mostly empty threat. For one thing, the only people who should be held responsible for their organization's actions were their leaders.
Ryu was silent for a long moment, causing Tate's stomach to sink as she assumed the worst, the task she'd been given weighing on her as heavily as an anchor in the ocean. She didn't want her failure to lead to anyone’s death, even if she didn't respect or like that person.
"Before today, I would have said it was unlikely," Ryu finally said. "Recent events are troubling. The Silva are ruled by a strict hierarchy, each clan controls its own. They regard the Harridan with just as much reverence as they do the Saviors. If her grip has slipped, it would point to a troubling chain of events that could have severe consequences for the rest of us."
And end any possibility of future cooperation or peace between humans and the Silva.
"No pressure or anything," Tate muttered.
Tate glanced up as they turned down their hallway, noticing Roslyn fidgeting
in front of Tate’s door. It was an uncommon display of uncertainty in the normally confident woman—enough for Tate to pause where she was.
"I'm wrecked. I think I'll retire. See you tomorrow, Tate. She looks like she's here for you," Dewdrop said, slapping Tate on the back before he darted toward his room a few doors down.
"Wait. Don't you want to know what she has to say?" Tate whisper-shouted after him.
Dewdrop held up a hand and waved it. "Nope. You're the mediator. That's your job. I’m not missing a single moment of sleep."
"Traitor," Tate muttered.
Dewdrop flashed an unrepentant grin right before he slammed his door shut. She stuck out her tongue at the closed door.
“You won’t abandon me, will you?” Tate asked Ryu.
He gave her a slight smile. “I fear what trouble you would find, if I did.”
Tate narrowed her eyes at him but didn’t comment as they continued toward her room.
"I'm sorry to intrude at this hour. I know you're tired," Roslyn said in apology once they’d reached her. She fiddled with a bracelet at her wrist as her gaze moved between Tate and Ryu. "I had a few matters to discuss that I felt couldn’t wait until tomorrow."
Tate pushed open her door and gestured inside. "Shall we go in?"
She had a feeling this conversation would best be held away from the possibility of prying ears.
Roslyn nodded eagerly, following as Tate headed to the drink cart next to the balcony. She grabbed a decanter of amber liquid and three glasses from the shelf below it before measuring three fingers of liquid into each.
Someone had been in since she’d left for dinner. The bed was turned down and a stick of incense left burning.
"Do we need to gather any of the others?" she asked as Roslyn moved around the room with a restless energy, peering into closets, even checking the balcony and under the bed.
Ryu shook his head, distracted by Roslyn's antics. "I'd prefer to keep our uneasy friends in the dark for now."
"And Jacob?" she asked.
He considered. "Let's leave him out of this until we know more."
