by Jodi Meadows
Aaru turned around, framed by sandstone and cloud-diffused sunlight. “Mira—”
“Why did you silence everything?” My heart thrummed ten thousand times. “Why did you silence me?”
His face twisted with shame. “Everyone would have seen you.”
“They would have seen the other”—I moved my hands around my shoulders, indicating wings—“me. They’d never have known. They’d have been dead before they could even wonder.”
He swallowed hard. “Then you would have killed people.”
That stopped me.
I didn’t actually want to kill anyone.
“And the high magistrate would have realized that the real Hopebearer was within his grasp, and he’d kill you this time.” Aaru’s voice went raw with feeling, and anguish tightened his expression. “He’d just murdered someone who looked like you. What do you think he’d have done if he found you, too?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered. But I did know. He’d have locked me away. He’d have exploited my ability over noorestones, using my mother as leverage. That was, if he didn’t kill me outright.
Aaru’s hand trembled as his fingertips brushed my cheek. “I’ve already lost everyone else. I can’t lose you, too.”
I knew Aaru; I knew he’d never use his gift to hurt other people, least of all me.
“Mira, I—”
The sky flashed white, and a clap of thunder was all the warning we had before rain streamed into the city, a soaking downpour loud enough to dull the noise of everything nearby.
Aaru squeezed into the alcove with me. It was a tight fit, but we didn’t need much space. He touched my cheek again, his eyebrows pushed together in worry. “Are you still angry with me?”
No.
Yes.
How could I tell?
All of my emotions were a knot in my chest, growing tighter and tighter, and soon it would strangle my heart. The speech my mother had given. Anahera’s partnership with the Algotti Empire. Tirta—in my dress and gagged so she couldn’t tell anyone the truth—dead on the floor.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to explode.
But Aaru was right. Neither of those were smart options, and I’d promised him that he still had me. I’d promised.
My anger unknotted, leaving behind a burning need. I closed the small space between us, and I kissed him.
It wasn’t like before. That evening on the ship had been bright and hesitant and glowing relief, before either of us had realized how terrible our situation could really become. Before his god had risen.
Now a spark ignited inside of me, and we were so close that I thought he might run. But he didn’t even flinch; his arms went around my waist and he pulled, drawing me near until our chests and stomachs and hips were tight together. A soft shiver worked through him, and his fingertips dug against my rain-damp clothes. His lips made the shape of my name; I slid my fingers against the line of his jaw, keeping his mouth open against mine.
My body felt electric next to his, as charged as the lightning that slashed open the sky. I kissed him harder, with a desperation he returned in every touch and shift and ragged breath.
The world narrowed to this space. Him. Me. Three walls and the rain. I could feel his heart pounding against mine, faster as one hand slid from my hip to my leg and back up again. A question.
“Yes.” I kissed his jaw, his throat, anywhere he would let me, while he explored the shape of my body with strong and careful hands. Everywhere he touched felt hot and bright, like he’d pressed stars into my skin.
I loved it, the way he made me feel, like I was seen and wanted and needed. I loved the way he nudged my hips back in suggestion, and when I took a shaking step, he guided me backward until my spine touched the cool wall. And I loved the gentle way he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me. First my lips, then my chin, and down to the hollow of my throat. His breath was hot and fast against my skin, and I could almost feel him trying to decide whether he should keep going; the way his fingertips traveled down my shoulders suggested he wanted to. I wanted him to.
With a heavy breath, I lifted toward him, and he gave in. Carefully, he kissed my collarbone, then my breastbone, and my whole self shifted as he knelt and pressed his lips to my stomach. He poured fire into me, and I couldn’t get enough.
His hands caressed my hips, drawing me forward as he kissed a map of stars across my abdomen. A wonderful ache spread through me, but it was there that Aaru paused, gasping before he looked up at me. Dark eyes. Sharp jaw. Soft lips. I could have melted into him.
“I think . . .” His voice was deep. Husky. “I think we—”
“I know.” I took his hands and pulled him up. He stood very close—he had to—and though the fire still rushed through us, I took long breaths until it became a manageable spark once more.
His eyes were closed as he, too, breathed. Beyond him, the rain drilled into the street, darkening the world beyond our small space.
My voice seemed faint under the steady clatter. “Are you . . .”
“Flying.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, and his expression warmed. “Flying too high for a moment.”
I could still feel the ghosts of his hands, like fire even through the fabric of my hunting dress. No one had ever touched me like that, reverent and wanting at the same time.
He looked uncertain. ::And you?:: The quiet code tapped against the wall next to us.
“Yes.” I stepped into his arms and rested my cheek on his shoulder. “Thank you.”
He hugged me close to him, gently now. “For what?”
“For—” For helping me avoid a mistake. For letting me forget for a moment. For giving me something good when everything else was so bad. “For understanding.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
FINALLY, THE RAIN BEGAN TO SLACKEN.
Aaru and I had been standing in the alcove for less than an hour, just holding each other as the temperature dropped and the water began to settle into our clothes. “We should go back to the hotel,” I said, mostly because someone needed to. I didn’t want to leave this small space where nothing else existed. Not betrayals or murders or the end of the world.
But Aaru followed my gaze and nodded. “I think the rain is finished.”
Reluctantly, I stepped into the last mists of storm. Aaru grabbed Nine’s bag and together we walked toward the hotel.
Other people were out now, putting lids on rain barrels and sweeping muck away from their stoops. As the clouds parted and the sun shone full on the city, the rain-glazed sandstone gleamed like true flame, so bright Aaru had to shield his eyes.
It didn’t bother me.
Like the sun. Like water steaming off my skin. Like the way I could feel the sister dragons inside the hotel, both of them careening around the ceiling, their spark glands still tingling from the storm. So many things about me were different now.
When we reached the hotel, Nine was standing outside, still wearing the guard uniform—or the magic-made version of it, anyway. She was mostly dry, but frowning. “The owner let me wait inside during the storm, but he kicked me out as soon as it was over. Even when I said I knew you.”
“He’s very protective.”
“So I’ve discovered.”
I nodded for Aaru to give the sack of clothes to her. “How did you know where we’re staying?”
Her mouth twitched. “I’m a spy, remember? Also, last night you left in the hotel’s horsecarre.”
Well, Tanhe would be pleased to know that someone had noticed the Fire Rose crest. “What about my mother? Is she inside?”
Nine hesitated, then shook her head. “She wouldn’t come.”
My heart crept up into my throat. “What do you mean?”
“I mean she refused.” Nine adjusted the bag over her shoulder. “I told her that you’d asked me to get her, and she said no. Even when I said I knew the dead girl wasn’t you, and that you were heading to safety, she refused.”
“Why?” The word came out pale. R
aspy.
“She said if she didn’t stay to speak for the people of Damina, then they would have no one.” Nine gave me a pitying look. “If she doesn’t choose Daminan people to take the assigned ship, then the ship will go to another island or more fighters.”
A chill worked through me. “But the guards,” I whispered. “They were slaughtering people in there.”
Nine shook her head and kept her voice low. “No. A few were killed, but only the ones who attacked first. No one else. The other officials tried to escape, so the guards were only scaring them into submission.”
That wasn’t much comfort. We’d been so close to helping Mother. So close to getting her out of that room. And she’d refused. Zara would be furious. I was furious enough. “I should have gone to get her.”
Aaru touched my shoulder, gentle. “It was her decision. She chose to help her people. Isn’t that what you’d have done? Ensured a few survived, even if you couldn’t save them all?”
The words shamed me. Maybe I should have announced myself. Maybe I could have stopped all of that before it started. If I’d only acted instead of observed. But I didn’t have that kind of bravery in me. Not when I needed it.
Nine glanced over the busy street; people were walking past slowly, clearly curious about one of the high magistrate’s personal guards speaking to two people in foreign clothes. “I need to go,” Nine said. “If I don’t get back to my post, I’ll lose my credibility there.”
She didn’t move, though.
“You didn’t know about the deal between Paorah and your empress?” I’d seen her face earlier; her reaction had appeared genuine, but some people were convincing actors, and she was a spy.
“I didn’t know.” She frowned deeply. “This is . . . concerning.”
Aaru touched my arm, tapping where she couldn’t see. ::She’s telling the truth.::
“Perhaps he was lying,” I suggested. “About the agreement.”
“Perhaps.” Her eyes went flat with anger. “But he wasn’t lying about his intention to attack.”
No. I didn’t think he was lying about that, either.
“I’ll try to get some answers,” she said after a moment. “About the true nature of the relationship between Anahera and the empire. I’ll find you when I have something.”
If she and I had been friends, I’d have taken her hands, hugged her, or done something to show empathy. But instead, I just said, “Every single one of my friends and I understand how you feel. You’re one of us now.”
A frown worked around the corners of her mouth. “I’d rather not be.”
Rude.
“Before I write my report.” She looked at Aaru. “That strange silence. You?”
“Why do you think I did it?”
She rolled her eyes. “You come from the Isle of Silence, don’t you? I haven’t met anyone else from Idris, but there are rumors about what people from the Fallen Isles can do. Our empress is very interested in those abilities.”
“I’m sure she is.” An unusual note of hostility entered his tone. “Our abilities are gifts from our gods—”
“Even with”—she motioned westward, toward Idris on the horizon—“him no longer an island?”
“Apparently.” Aaru frowned. “He’s still there. He’s just not— When they go, I think, the gifts will, too. But as I was saying, our gifts are not to be used to harm others.”
“What about Khulan’s?” she asked. “God of warriors. That sounds dangerous.”
“Dangerous, yes. But strength can be used to help, too. Gifts like ours have many aspects.”
Nine turned to me. “What about yours? I thought you were from Damina.”
“I am.”
“The Daminan gift is what I felt when I listened to your mother speak. Charm. Persuasion. I should be falling in love with you, not wondering what else you can do with noorestones.”
She and I stared at each other for a moment, and finally I said, “I can make you fall in love with noorestones.”
Nine gave a soft snort. “If I find myself composing romantic poems to them, I’ll know who to blame.” She glanced over her shoulder. Passersby were still eyeing us. “Well. Get some rest. Talk with your friends. Decide if there’s anything you want to do about”—she gestured toward the Red Hall—“all that. I may help. I may not. I do as our empress commands.”
“Even if it means deals with Paorah?”
She held my gaze, sighed, and then left.
MY FRIENDS REACTED to the news about as well as I predicted:
Zara hated everyone and everything, because we hadn’t been able to rescue Mother. Had we even tried?
Gerel and Hristo glowered and muttered about the unnecessary danger Aaru and I had put ourselves in.
Chenda looked deeply distraught at the political upheaval and murders of her fellow elected—or appointed—officials.
The dragons hunched on my shoulders, trying to steal bites of the lunch the others had saved for me. In spite of Ilina’s annoyed glances, I gave in and shared.
“Did you hear anything about my father?” Ilina asked.
“He might be in the empire.” Aaru looked up from the bread he’d been shredding into small chunks. “I heard someone talk about sending people to the Algotti Empire. After Paorah said he sent dragons.”
Ilina’s expression darkened. “So you think Paorah sent my father to the empire along with those dragons?”
“After, probably.” Aaru shrugged helplessly. “It sounded like the dragons were sent months ago, and the people recently. But if the empire needed help with the dragons, wouldn’t your father be the best person to send?”
Ilina was already nodding. “That’s where he is, then. The empire. I . . . I don’t know whether to be scared or relieved.”
I reached for her hand and squeezed. If he was in the empire, then he was in danger from the empress and everything there. But if he was in the empire, he wouldn’t be here when the islands rose up and cast us all into the sea.
“What are we going to do?” Chenda stood and began pacing the room, her steps clipped. “How can we use what you learned from the summit? All our remaining governments believe the Great Abandonment is inevitable. They all believe there is no putting the world back right. If they saw any other way, they wouldn’t have agreed to Paorah’s plan.”
“They didn’t have a choice but to agree,” I said. “Paorah had his guards kill the first person to protest.”
A frown pinched her mouth. “All right. So we don’t know what they truly believe, but they are going along with his plan anyway.”
On my shoulder, LaLa gave a small whine and stretched her head for a bite of shrimp. When Ilina wasn’t looking, I broke one in half and gave a bite to each dragon; they flew off in a flurry of muffled squawks and satisfied grunts.
“Surely there’s a way to set this right,” Chenda said. “Surely there’s a way to appease the gods and make them stay.”
Hristo gave a hollow, mirthless laugh. “They don’t care about us anymore. We broke the covenant with the dragons.”
Those were not words I’d ever thought I’d hear from Hristo. He was usually so positive, but now he was losing hope. . . .
While the others were distracted, Aaru touched my hand. ::Are you going to tell them about your dreams?::
::Do you think I should?::
He gave a small shrug. ::Do you think they’re real?::
Did I?
They felt real.
“I just don’t know what we’re trying to do,” Hristo said. “The most powerful people in the Fallen Isles are planning their escape. Maybe when the Chance Encounter comes back to Flamecrest, we should consider—”
“Consider what?” Ilina asked. “Boarding the ship and just sailing away? To go where? The empire? Should we focus on saving ourselves?”
“Our governments have.”
“We won’t leave behind the less fortunate.” I looked up. “That isn’t who we are.”
“But there�
�s no way to save everyone.” Zara rose from her seat. “I don’t want anyone else to die. I don’t. But we’re all here. Mother will get on one of Paorah’s ships. And Ilina’s father is already in the empire. Everyone we care about—everyone left alive—can reach safety. Maybe that has to be enough.”
Hristo nodded. “It’s not the best outcome, but maybe it’s the best realistic outcome.”
I wanted to be horrified by this discussion, but I understood the fears—the feeling that if there were something to do, they’d do it, but there was nothing. No way to stop this.
Unless.
“I—I have a strange question,” I said. “It may seem unrelated, but . . .”
“Ask.” Chenda sat back in her chair. “It would be a nice distraction from the conversation about whether or not to abandon hundreds of thousands of people with no access to ships.”
“Stop. This is no time to debate between morality and practicality. You can both be right. And wrong.” I let my gaze drift toward Crystal and LaLa, who’d hopped onto the noorestone sconces. “My question is . . .” This was silly. But still, I had to ask. “Do any of you know when the next eclipse is?”
Most shook their heads, but then Ilina said, “I do. The second of Lesya.”
That was just over two decans from now.
Gerel shot a raised eyebrow Ilina’s way. “And how do you know that?”
Ilina gestured toward the dragons, who were hunched over the sconces like they were part of the room’s decor. “They all get a little wild during eclipses, and some dragons need more space, or they need to go inside one of the buildings for the duration.”
A shiver crept through me. “One moon or both?”
Single-moon eclipses were fairly common. Both moons passing before the sun—that was far more unusual.
She frowned. “Both, I think.”
“You think?” I leaned forward, my heart pounding. “Are you sure?”
“My parents told me months ago, but the talk was focused on making sure we were prepared to accommodate the dragons’ needs. Not about anything else. But I think it was both moons. I think I remember them saying we’d have to wait for both eclipses to pass.”
