Of the Divine

by Amelia Atwater-Rhodes

  He had to do something. He couldn’t idly sit by while the Numini tore her apart.

  Chapter 44

  Dahlia

  As she crossed through the crowd back toward the dais, Dahlia wondered if it was too early to start drinking. Heavily. Or whether it was too late to pick up the habit.

  Should she have sent someone for Verte? Or gone after him herself? Invited him to join the captainship vote, or lead it?

  Her stomach clenched as she imagined handing her assembly to him, and having him take royal, unilateral control.

  That’s not your decision to make.

  She wouldn’t send for him, but if he came in, she resolved to recognize him immediately and ask him to take the stage to speak for himself. She hadn’t decided yet whether it would be better if she then took a seat in the audience, to demonstrate she was willing to return to being his subject, or to leave the hall entirely so no one could appeal to her as leader.

  She, Maddy, Gemma, and Celadon hadn’t come to any conclusions or made any resolutions. Dahlia shouldn’t have expected it; no matter how well those disparate groups had come to work together, they still had irreconcilably different opinions of the royal house. Eventually they had returned to the main room, bowing to the inevitable need to run the meeting before the crowd became a mob.

  “It will be good to see home again, even if it will take a long trip to avoid Osei territory,” Jade said, sighing as he stepped up beside her. Dahlia been considering the crowd, and had almost forgotten he was there. “I’ve enjoyed your company these last weeks, but I doubt it’ll surprise you that I hope to keep to tropical waters as soon as this voyage is done. So, I suppose this is goodbye.”

  He touched her arm and she paused, lifting her gaze to his. When he was sure he had her attention, Jade touched gentle fingertips to her chin to tilt it up a notch higher. As he leaned down, there was a moment when she could have turned her head aside, but she didn’t. Nor did she have time to consider the situation in detail before she felt his lips on hers. She felt her blood heat at the kiss, light as it was.

  She didn’t jerk away, but she put a hand on Jade’s cheek to gently ease him backward. Like their entire flirtatious friendship, the kiss was nice, but ultimately she allowed it because they both knew it could never become anything more.

  Next to Dahlia, Celadon cleared his throat, loudly. Dahlia heard assorted other reactions from the crowd around them, ranging from snickers to sighs, but ignored them to the best of her ability.

  “Relax, Cremnitz,” Jade said with a grin. “I’m just saying goodbye.”

  “A mighty forward goodbye,” Celadon muttered.

  “Celadon,” Dahlia said, putting a hand on his shoulder.

  Jade turned back to Dahlia, ignoring the other man. “Dahlia, it has been an honor to know you these last few weeks. You have become an incredible woman.” With one of his quirky smiles, he added, “But even if I meant to stay, you’re right that we would never work out.” He glanced briefly to Celadon. “I don’t have it in me to stand in the background and play second fiddle, even for a lady I admire.”

  He bowed, then mounted the dais where Mikva already waited. Looking over the crowd, he waved to someone in the back of the room—Cyan, Dahlia realized with relief. Even if it seemed unlikely that sailor would win the captainship, she had been worried about his absence.

  “Am I asking you to ‘play second fiddle?’” Dahlia asked Celadon, pondering the words as she and Celadon slipped through the crowd to the refreshment table. The would-be captains could hold their court a few minutes longer, and then she would call the assembly to an official vote.

  Celadon shrugged. “You don’t ask; you require it. That’s something I accepted before bringing up the subject of a courtship. You’re all but running Kavet these days. Any man who wants to stand beside you is going to have to stand a little behind.”

  “What about when Terre Verte comes back? Will you be happy courting a duck farmer?” She spoke in a teasing tone, but the question was serious. The scribe who had offered her an apprenticeship had understood why she couldn’t continue her work there as her assembly leadership position took more and more of her time, so there was no bad blood between them, but he had also filled the job long ago. Once Verte was back, Dahlia would once again be a penniless girl trying to make her way in the city.

  “Will you be happy being a duck farmer?” Celadon returned.

  “I’m hardly going to hold a coup because I’m sick of the farm,” she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. Through the crowd, she saw another familiar face: Celadon’s sister had just crept into the room with Maddy. She looked up, saw Dahlia and Celadon, and pointedly turned her attention toward the captaincy candidates.

  “She’s furious at me because I told her to shut up about that damn sorcerer,” Celadon explained. “She wouldn’t stop going on about him last night after she got home. Naples this, Naples that. My sister,” he concluded, “has lousy taste in men.”

  “At least that’s a relationship that won’t go anywhere. I don’t think she’s Naples’ type.”

  Celadon let out a sound that was almost a growl and the room became colder, enough so that Dahlia saw several people look around as if to identify the source of the sudden draft. Maddy shot a look at Celadon, warning in her gaze. She started to cross toward them, and Ginger followed reluctantly.

  The instant they were close enough to be heard without shouting, Ginger announced, “I get to start my studies here today.”

  Celadon flinched visibly, as if she had slapped him. “Ginger, what Serves said last night—”

  “Oh, Naples and I talked it out,” Ginger answered, with a defiant toss of her head. “I was a little disappointed that he’s into men, but maybe we can go down to the shipyard and look at boys together. I have a feeling we’re going to be great friends.”

  Over Ginger’s shoulder, Maddy mouthed the words I’m sorry to Celadon.

  “Now excuse me, but I’d like to focus on something important.” Ginger turned back toward the dais, giving the movement an extra flounce.

  The girlish strut turned into a stumble; Ginger’s breath hissed in, and her hand went to the back of her neck as if something had stung her.

  Celadon hastened to his sister’s side, and reached her just in time for her to clutch at Maddy as her leg collapsed under her. Celadon lunged forward and lifted her off her feet, then turned to carry her, despite her protests, toward the private rooms at the back of the Cobalt Hall. As he did, Dahlia saw the blood seeping through the back of Ginger’s dress.

  “Put me down!” Ginger snarled. “Dahlia, tell him to—”

  “You’re bleeding!” Dahlia told her. “We need to see how bad it is.”

  “I don’t—aaah-eh.” Ginger’s protest cut off with a moan as the red stain spread.

  The moment they reached one of the private sitting rooms, Celadon half threw Ginger onto a couch, and ripped open the back of her dress in one frantic motion. Ginger squealed in dismay, but Dahlia caught the girl’s hand to stop her from pushing her brother away. They needed to know where the blood was coming from.

  Ginger’s back, once pale and smooth, was crosshatched as if she had been brutally flogged. As Dahlia watched, more injuries appeared, blood-blisters rising, bursting, and then falling into black-gray burns.

  “Dear Nu—” Maddy cut herself off, clenching her teeth against the words. “Celadon, back off. You’re leaking power all over her.”

  “I don’t—”

  “Get back!” Maddy shouted, shoving Celadon. He stumbled back several steps, and then hung in the doorway, gaze lost.

  Ginger’s whimper pulled Dahlia’s attention back to her.

  “It’s okay,” Dahlia said. She looked at Maddy, pleading with her to give the same assurance, with the strength of honesty.

  “We’re going to take care of you,” Maddy murmured. “Celadon, run to the kitchen and bring back the red bag from the corner. It has all my supplies to treat these injuries. Ginger
, try to breathe. You’re going to be okay.” She lifted the back of Ginger’s shift to reveal another wound, this one livid red blisters in nearly the shape of a handprint, on the outside of her right thigh. “Celadon, go!”

  Celadon jumped, and ran from the room.

  “Can I do anything?” Dahlia asked.

  “This shouldn’t be happening.” Maddy’s voice wavered with her denial. “I never would have agreed to let her study here if I had thought this would happen. Dahlia, keep Celadon out. Ginger’s power isn’t strong enough to do this on its own.”

  “Celadon would never hurt her.”

  “Not intentionally,” Maddy answered. “But that fool Quin has too much power, and he refuses to take a brand or study to control it. Who knows what he’s doing accidentally? Convince him to keep out of here, then bring back that kit and some water. I need to dress these wounds.”

  Ginger mumbled something too soft to understand. Dahlia could hear the squeak of pain in her voice. She dashed off in the direction Celadon had gone, which caused her to collide full-body with Naples, who had been coming the other way. “What’s happening?” he demanded.

  “Ginger,” Dahlia gasped out. “Help me find—” He had already shoved past her. Dahlia heard another yelp from Ginger as he pushed through the doorway, but this one sounded more like a complaint of modesty rather than pain.

  Celadon had already found the medical kit, a basin of water, and towels by the time Dahlia located him.

  “I’ll take it,” she said. He handed her the kit and the towels, but it was clear that she wouldn’t be able to hold all three things without spilling the water everywhere. “Help me carry this, but then you have to go. Maddy thinks your power is making this happen. Not intentionally,” she added hastily, “but because you can’t control it.”

  They returned to find Naples sitting in front of Ginger’s sprawled form. He hadn’t reached for her, but was talking to her softly. The instant Celadon entered the room, Naples’ head whipped around and he growled, “Get out of here.”

  “You.” Dahlia thought Celadon was going to follow the guttural word with something more foul, but instead he fell next to Naples. “Can you heal her? She said you healed Henna.”

  Naples shook his head. “I can’t do anything with cold power.”

  “Celadon, you have to leave,” Maddy and Dahlia said almost simultaneously.

  Naples shook his head. “It doesn’t matter at this point. Your power has already done its damage by opening a gateway.” He started to reach out as if to take Ginger’s hand, then stopped, balling his hand into a fist in his lap. “You’re going to be okay, Ginger. You’ll get through this.”

  Maddy snatched the supplies from Dahlia and Celadon and began gently cleaning the wounds. “Naples?” she asked.

  She didn’t need to clarify her request. Without looking away from Ginger, Naples touched the metal edge of the basin of water. Moments later, Dahlia saw steam waft across its surface.

  Ginger coughed, but managed a half smile. “This is embarrassing,” she groaned, with what Dahlia couldn’t help but think of as the composure of a Quin lady in the face of personal fear. It was the same inner steel Dahlia had summoned to help her cope with being thrown from Celadon’s aunt’s house at the beginning of all these misadventures.

  Naples shook his head, the light expression on his face more obviously forced than Ginger’s. “This is nothing,” he said. “When my power did this, I ended up stark naked in front of Henna. That was embarrassing. You’ve still got most of your shift.”

  Ginger laughed a little, then winced.

  “Also,” Naples said, continuing soft banter to keep Ginger distracted as Maddy cleaned and dressed the wounds, “it really upset this guy I had just met. Nice fellow. Not my normal type—he’s kind of Quin, actually—but a sweetheart.”

  Ginger smiled as he continued to speak. Celadon scowled, and Dahlia readied herself to step between the men if he tried to pull Naples away from Ginger. Thankfully, no matter how Celadon felt about Naples, he seemed to recognize that the sorcerer was helping her keep calm.

  “Almost done,” Maddy said. “You should stay as still as possible until the blisters go down, but you’ll be okay. I don’t think the wounds are deep.”

  Speaking to Naples, Ginger asked, “Would you hate me if I said I think maybe I’ve decided to take the brand after all?”

  Naples swallowed heavily. “I think you and your brother should both take it.” He looked up with a black glare, as if responding to a voice Dahlia hadn’t heard. “No,” he said angrily. Then he added, “Fine, then fix it!”

  “Naples?” Ginger asked, her brow wrinkled in confusion.

  Naples stood, and continued his argument with thin air. “No. No, don’t give me that rubbish. I don’t care.”

  “Who are you talking to?” Dahlia asked, uneasily staring at the spot where Naples’ words seemed to be directed.

  “What are you talking to?” Celadon amended, edging closer to Naples and Ginger while visually sweeping the area around them.

  Naples turned back to Ginger. “Come on, hon,” he crooned. “We should go. The brand—”

  He reached for the girl, and the concussion in the air made Dahlia’s vision cross with spots and her ears ring. When she looked up from where she had fallen, the only person still standing was Celadon.

  “Naples!” Maddy’s cry turned all of their attentions to where the young sorcerer was kneeling, gasping. He had been thrown into the wall with so much force he had left a crack in it. “Naples, are you all right? What—”

  “I’m fine,” Naples said. As he struggled to his feet, he was clearly leaning on something Dahlia saw only as open air. “Ginger, go with my mother. To the palace. She knows how to give you the brand, against pure cold power. Even if it’s done in haste, it can’t do more damage than not doing it now can. Dahlia, help them.”

  Ginger drew herself painfully to her feet, pulling her shift into place as well as she could. When she tried to put weight on her injured leg it buckled beneath her, so Dahlia took her arm to support her.

  “Later,” she snapped, at the first person who tried to get in her way. Then at the second. As a half-dozen “concerned” citizens—nosy would be more accurate—blocked their way, she shouted, “Gobe! I need to get through.”

  The Order of A’hknet boy didn’t bother with niceties. He started stomping feet and whacking at the crowd with a fireplace poker. After a few shins were bruised, people started backing up and pushing others out of the way.

  They raced across the market plaza. Maddy’s ministrations had partly closed Ginger’s wounds, but her swift bandaging couldn’t keep them from opening again in response to their frantic movement; Ginger’s blood trickled over Dahlia’s arm as they followed Maddy through the palace doors, and then along increasingly narrow side halls until they found an ominous, steel-gray door carved with symbols that made Dahlia’s vision swim and her head pound when she tried to make them out.

  Maddy yanked it open and gestured for them to go ahead, down narrow stairs.

  They left Kavet’s humid, sea-salt air behind, and entered a place where every breath seemed flat and not quite sufficient.

  Maddy’s face was gray and she held her lower lip tightly between her lips as she peered into the rooms they passed, looking for something.

  “Here,” she said, her voice colorless as she pulled them into a nondescript room. “Lie down, Ginger.” She gestured toward a couch whose utilitarian lines made it appear angular and cold instead of simplistic and elegant, then held up a leather strap. “Dahlia, help her hold this between her teeth.”

  Chapter 45

  Naples

  As his mother, Dahlia, and Ginger hurried to obey his frantic commands, Naples accepted the Abyssi’s help to stand. He had a feeling he had separated a rib from his spine when he hit the wall; he could feel it shifting inside him, cutting him. A few months ago, the pain would have been debilitating, and the injury possibly fatal.
/>   Learning how to harness the Abyssi’s power had made him no stranger to pain; he could move past it, and use both the pain and the internally pooling blood as fuel not just to heal the injury but to prepare for the upcoming confrontation.

  Celadon turned slowly, as if his body were unfamiliar to him. He flexed his hand, staring at the way those digits moved under the fine layer of frost blooming across them.

  “Celadon?” Naples asked.

  “We should not be here,” Modigliani warned.

  “I don’t fully understand what’s going on,” Naples said, “but this is my home. I’m not going to let him . . .”

  The preacher looked up finally, and the eyes he lifted to the room looked blind. The pupils had constricted to tiny dots, and the normally blue irises were silver-white.

  “We. Cannot. Fight. Numini.” The Abyssi said the words as if he had said them a thousand times before—and maybe he had. Naples knew he was sick of being thrown across the room. “He belongs to Numini. You belong to Abyssi. So long as he has the Numen’s grace he’s no good to eat and no good to fuck and—”

  “Since when?” Naples interrupted. Celadon had been powerful before, but Naples had been able to do more than touch him. Whatever had given Celadon all this extra strength, it had happened recently.

  Of course, so had the Numini trying to crawl into the world through Ginger.

  “When he opened the rift to bring the dead one back, the one you call Verte, he broke the veil between the mortal realm and the divine one. One of the princes of that realm rode him through the open door. Naughty Numini—but it’s not our business.”

  “Celadon, listen to me,” Naples said, ignoring the Abyssi’s warnings. “Can you hear me? I know I’m the last person you want to listen to, but whatever you’re doing right now, you need to stop. You need to call that power back. Ground and bury it.”

  Celadon looked at him. Stepped forward. Modigliani swept between them, crouching protectively between its Abyssumancer and the Quinacridone preacher.