by Lori M. Lee
Someone shouted my name. A second later, the chimera roared and whipped its head to the side to face its new attackers. Mason and Dennyl had stolen its attention.
Drek! Fury at myself gave me the strength to regain my feet. My right arm hung uselessly at my side, but I limped forward, searching for the torch blade. A short gasp made my head snap up. Mason!
But he was fine. He stood with blade drawn, his eyes on the chimera that was . . . floating. It was suspended in the air, its arms and legs thrashing at nothing.
Cassia had reached us on her horse. She held her arm outstretched, hand up and fingers splayed, keeping the chimera trapped. A glance at Aylis confirmed he, Winnifer, and Gret had taken down the first chimera.
Cassia’s arm began to tremble. Her control was slipping. “Kill it,” she commanded.
The chimera let out a final shriek as Mason buried his torch blade through its pale underbelly. Cassia dropped her arm, and the chimera’s body crashed into the grass. My own body sagged.
Strong hands caught me. “I’ve got you,” said a rough voice.
I turned my head, surprised to see Emryn. I stared at the scar on his jaw for a few seconds—unless we were fighting, I didn’t like being in such close proximity to anyone I didn’t trust—until Mason and the others gathered around us. Mason collected me into his arms, hooking his elbow beneath my knees and lifting me against him.
“Mason, that’s not necessary,” I said as he carried me through the grass. My face grew warm in spite of the blood dripping wetly through my fingers.
He didn’t answer. He looked angry, his blue eyes narrowed into icy slits.
“We need to get out of here,” I said, pushing against his chest with my good arm. I wasn’t sure where he was headed until he reached my scout. Winnifer had realized his intent and retrieved a vial from the compartment beneath the seat.
Irra had ensured I was equipped with healing tonic, and Reev had gone so far as to insist it was stored in every scout in case mine was somehow destroyed or out of reach.
Mason set me on my feet with embarrassing gentleness. I accepted the vial from Winnifer. It tasted as awful as I remembered, but I swallowed every drop. Almost immediately, the pain began to recede. My arm tingled and then itched like crazy as the broken skin knit back together. Mason reached for my hand, his fingers carefully turning my arm for his inspection.
“How is it?” I asked, grimacing from the aftertaste.
“You’ll need another tonic in a bit,” he said. “But the bleeding has stopped.” He drew a ragged breath. “What happened to not fighting alone?”
I’d never seen him this angry. Actually, I’d never seen him angry at all.
“I wasn’t going to watch Aylis die,” I said. I searched for Aylis among the sentinels. He was on his scout, his arm curled over his side. When our eyes met, he nodded to let me know he was fine.
Emryn broke through the wall of sentinels around me. His gaze fell on my arm, which Mason was still holding.
“What is that?” he asked, meaning the vial.
“Healing tonic,” I said.
His lips thinned, and he turned away. I could imagine what he was thinking. Healing tonic would have come in handy these last few months. It might have saved a lot of lives.
Unfortunately, I doubted Irra would want such a powerful remedy in anyone’s hands but his own.
“We need to get out of here,” I repeated. “There are bound to be more chimera, and we’ve been loud enough to attract the whole nest. We can come back another time.”
“We found the nest, actually,” Gret said. “Bunch of mounds that way.” She pointed in the direction from which she and Winnifer had come when Aylis shouted for help.
I nodded, grateful we wouldn’t have to make another trip here until we were ready to flush out the chimera.
My arm still hurt when I flexed it. The vial had healed my injury into a red line down my forearm. The blood made it look raw. Too much tonic at once would make me sick, so I had to wait a few hours for the next dose.
I rinsed away as much blood as I could with a canteen of water, glaring at the wound and the proof of how much I relied on my powers. In Ninurta, it had been easy to ignore the absence of the threads. There’d been little danger in the palace. But here, the frustration grew daily. I hadn’t yet learned how to fight without the reassurance of their presence. It made me feel not only useless, but foolish and guilty—foolish because I’d allowed this part of me to fade and hadn’t had the good sense to try to keep it, and guilty for missing something that had caused so much pain.
Cassia rode beside me, looking worse than I did. Her complexion had taken on an unhealthy gray pallor, and her forehead was bright with perspiration.
“Are you okay?” I was reminded of how Emryn had looked after demonstrating his magic in his war room, and of the haggard appearance of the other Council members.
She smiled weakly but didn’t look away from the road. Her hands shook.
“It’s the magic, isn’t it?” I asked.
“It drains us. Even the slightest use leaves us weakened.”
The tremors spread into her shoulders and back. She looked ready to fall off her horse.
“You should ride with Emryn,” I said.
She gave an unsteady shake of her head. “I can manage.”
I agreed but remained close in case she pitched off her saddle. Magic wasn’t supposed to drain mahjo. That had never been a mark of its use.
If their goddess had somehow granted them magic, then their powers defied the very balance that Irra and Kalla were trying to restore. These mahjo weren’t meant to possess magic, and they were paying the price for it.
CHAPTER 18
I DREAMED OF Avan.
“Do you remember that time at school . . .” he was saying.
When he trailed off, I said, “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
He smiled. I wanted to brush my thumb against the curve of his mouth. So I did. He turned his face into my touch, lips pressing the lightest of kisses against the pad of my thumb.
“You didn’t let me finish,” he said good-naturedly.
I gestured for him to continue. Judging by the branches tangled above our heads, we were in the forest. Beneath us, a carpet of moss and yellow blossoms cushioned the ground. Broad, leafy ferns curled around us like petals. It was like being cocooned within a half-bloomed flower.
“Do you remember that time at school when you discovered Dani had dropped out?” he said, cocking his head at me with that endearing smile. “I made you skip class so we could find her and try to get her to come back.”
“Yes,” I said, nudging aside his knee so I could shift positions in our little haven and lie beside him. I rested my head against his shoulder, my fingers playing with the lines of his tattoo. “That didn’t go as planned.”
While coming up the street, we’d seen Dani leave the old mahjo temple at the center of the North District. Her father and two younger brothers had been with her. They were following a procession of mounted Watchmen and the temple caretakers. I hadn’t needed to see the closed wagon amid them to understand why Dani had quit school.
With two brothers to support, she would have to find a full-time job to help her dad now that her mom was gone. We’d turned back around before she ever noticed us.
It had been unfair of me, but on the way back to school, I’d made Avan promise that he would finish school. If I had to do it—because Reev would never hear otherwise—then he’d have to as well.
“You kept your promise,” I said, looking up at the vines hanging just beyond our hiding place. “You didn’t forget.”
His arm tightened around my shoulder. “I would never.”
The dream faded away like smoke on water. I awoke with a dull headache in my temple, but I remembered every detail of my dream and of Avan.
“Fantastic,” I muttered as I rolled out of bed. My subconscious had conjured up a new way to torture me.
I
thrust a torch blade, pointing downward, into the space between me and Mason. “Teach me how to use this.”
After waking from my dream that morning, I had intercepted Dennyl in time to ask him to leave his torch blade for me. He could pick up a new one in Ninurta.
“Why?” Mason said. “So you can get yourself killed next time?”
My fingers clenched around the handle. “Don’t you dare baby me. You of all people know what I can do.”
“Yeah,” he said, knocking my hand aside as he leaned in close. “So why didn’t you?”
“Why didn’t I what?” I asked, my vision suddenly filled with clear blue eyes flecked in gray.
He lowered his voice. “Why didn’t you use your power? You could have died.”
Emotion broke through the hard set of his mouth. He drew back, scowling at the brief crack in his control. An ache bloomed in my chest as I touched his cheek. Mason had become my dearest friend, and yet I hadn’t considered what losing me might mean to him.
“I’m sorry for worrying you,” I said.
His hand came up to cover mine. “Why didn’t you use your power?” he pressed.
All around us, the courtyard buzzed with activity: men and women training or sparring, servants carrying buckets of laundry or bushels of vegetables for the day’s meals or running from one task to another. Emryn was standing in his usual spot, arms crossed as his soldiers ran through drills. But he was looking at me and Mason.
I looked away from Emryn. He was too far away to hear.
“Because I can’t,” I said, meeting Mason’s questioning gaze.
“Why are you worried about the sentinels finding out what you can do? You killed Ninu—they’ve already figured out that you’re different. Cassia and Emryn would have questions, but they’re mahjo. They would—”
“No, I mean I can’t. I can’t . . . do it.” I stared at his chin as I dug my heel into the dirt. “Anymore.”
Mason’s mouth opened, closed, and then opened again. “But that’s impossible,” he finally said. “It doesn’t just go away, not for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
He gave an impatient shake of his head. “You know what I mean. You’re not mahjo, but you’re not quite Infinite, either. You’re different. Your powers can’t disappear.”
“How do you know? If I’m different, then there’s never been a precedent. We don’t know what’s normal for me.”
“Okay, fine, you have a point.” He tilted his head, as if he could figure out what was wrong by studying me. I elbowed him to make him stop, and he smiled. “Have you told Irra?”
“You’re the first.”
“When did it start? I mean stop?”
I took his arm and led him farther off, toward where our scouts were lined up against the wall that faced the stables. “Little over a month ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone? Maybe Irra could have helped.”
“I didn’t want help,” I said, leaning my back against the wall and crossing my ankles. In the stables, a pair of servants were grooming the horses. I watched them work as Mason mimicked my position, his shoulder purposely jostling me.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because.” I waved my fingers, imagining the way the threads had once caught against them. Even I could hear the sadness in my voice when I said, “Maybe it’s better this way. If it wasn’t for my powers and what they meant about me, Reev wouldn’t have been found and Avan—”
“That’s drek.” Mason shifted to face me, his shoulder still resting against the wall. He drummed his fingers against his thigh. Then he slapped his palm against the stone beside my head, boxing me in.
I blinked rapidly, caught off guard by how close he suddenly was. Although we weren’t touching, his broad shoulders almost completely blocked out the stables.
“I know it’s none of my business,” Mason said, “and I know you don’t want to talk about it.”
I frowned. I didn’t like where this was going.
“But I’m your friend,” he continued, “and I’ve held my tongue long enough. What happened wasn’t your fault. Avan made his own choices. Nothing you could have said or done would have stopped him from helping you, and not because of his deal with Kronos.” His eyes shifted to my left. “It was because he loved you.”
I turned my head away, glaring stonily at his shoulder. I didn’t know what to say, but it was just as well. I couldn’t speak past the lump in my throat.
“When I mentioned guilt yesterday, I meant . . . taking a life, anyone’s life, is a difficult burden.”
“Mason—”
“It’s not something you can just get over because he happened to be a terrible person.”
“What would you know?” I snapped.
“More than you,” he said. Anger punctuated his words although his expression changed little. “And you’re going to listen this time instead of running aw—”
“Or what? You’ll sic the chimera on me?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
“You two require a room? Because there are plenty.” It was Emryn.
Mason scowled in exasperation. My face burned at how we must have looked. He pulled away to look at Emryn, while I turned my back to collect myself.
“We were having a private conversation,” Mason said.
“I could see that.”
When I could face them again, I forced my mouth into a smile. My fingers gripped the torch blade I’d somehow forgotten I was holding and raised it again at Mason. “Before you began talking about feelings, I was asking you to teach me how to use this.”
Mason drew his own torch blade from its leather sheath at his waist. He flicked his weapon, striking our blades together. “Fine.”
We found an unoccupied area in the courtyard for him to teach me some basic moves: different stances, footwork, how to block a strike aimed at my various body parts, and a few simple offensive strikes. Emryn volunteered to help Mason demonstrate each move. Afterward, he stuck around and watched me go through the motions, offering insight and criticism where he saw fit.
I didn’t know why Emryn had suddenly warmed up to me, but after a couple of hours, having two remorseless perfectionists as instructors made me want to run screaming from the citadel, if only to see how they’d react to such a spectacle. Fortunately, Emryn seemed to sense this and returned to his own soldiers. Mason sparred with me for another hour, and although I tried my hardest to take off his head—only because I knew I wouldn’t succeed—I could tell he was holding back. But he still tripped me half a dozen times for giving him the opening. The sentinels eventually came around to spar with me as well, taking turns as my partner.
By dinnertime, I was hot and sweaty and covered in bruises. But the thrill of being able to swing a sword without fear of injuring myself overshadowed the fatigue. I rushed back to my room to clean up and change, then I headed for the Temple of the Council of Vethe.
Cassia and the other Council members lived in chambers built on either side of the gallery. I had no idea which room was hers, but luckily, she was coming down the front steps just as I reached the Temple.
Her face brightened when she saw me. She looked better than she had yesterday, but the effects of her magic remained visible.
“I know you don’t usually eat with guests, but I was wondering if you might want to join me and the sentinels today,” I said. She had helped us at the risk of her own health, and I had yet to thank her. Plus, it would be a good opportunity to get to know her better and learn more about Lanathrill.
She looked surprised by my invitation. “Oh. Thank you. I’d like that.”
Either invitations to dinner weren’t common here or Cassia had as limited a social circle as I did. I figured everyone would be clamoring to gain her favor. That’s how it had seemed in Ninurta with the mail carrier delivering a dozen invitations daily for Kalla. She rarely attended anything unless Miraya specifically asked. Having the support of the Kahl’s former adviser—and
executioner—gave Miraya considerably more influence.
Cassia and I made our way briskly through the palace. Her blue robes, worn today over a plain cream-colored gown, billowed behind her as we walked.
“Where do the other Council members eat?” I asked.
She wound the hem of her robes around her fingers before catching herself and dropping the wrinkled fabric. As we passed clusters of glimmer glass, light shifted over her wan face before the stretches of shadow glass doused it in darkness again.
“With their families. They’re all married.”
“Oh.” I tried to estimate her age. I would have said no older than twenty-five except her frail appearance made it difficult to be sure. I might as well ask. “How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
My footsteps slowed. She noticed the hesitation and cocked her head at me.
“What?” she asked, looking self-conscious.
“Nothing,” I said quickly. “You said the others eat with their families. What about you?”
She kept smoothing her palms nervously over her waist and the skirt of her gown. “My parents died some time ago from sickness. And my brother was killed two months ago on a patrol. I have no other family.”
Now I wished I hadn’t brought it up. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I lost my parents when I was young, too.” Kronos was my father, but whatever affection I might have once held for him had vanished along with my memories.
She gave me a small smile, and for a moment, the understanding of loss connected us.
“I like to think that my parents would be happy with what I’m doing,” she said. “My brother always spoke of leaving a legacy that might make them proud.”
“He sounds like a good brother.”
“He was. He and Emryn were best friends. Caylum’s loss devastated both of us.”
“We’ll stop the chimera,” I said, because it was better than offering another useless apology. “Thank you, by the way. You know, for what you did yesterday.”
