by Lori M. Lee
My gratitude seemed to confuse her. “I only did what was necessary,” she said.
We entered the guest dining hall. The sentinels grew quiet when they noticed my companion. Cassia paused, but I greeted them as usual and led her over to the table. When they realized this wasn’t an impromptu meeting, their attention returned to their food. Mason sat farther down with Aylis, watching us in slight puzzlement. I smiled to let him know that Cassia was here only as a friend.
Today, the table was set with savory vegetable platters, pasta, fresh fruit, and sweet desserts. The chef had learned that we didn’t eat meat—not because we had anything against it, but because we weren’t used to it—and began preparing elaborate vegetable dishes instead. The aroma of the meat had smelled alluring, so I’d tried it, but the flavor and texture, while not unpleasant, had been a little too strange.
I helped myself to a thick stew of hearty root vegetables and spices, and a couple of rolls of cheese-crusted bread. If Cassia found it unusual that we didn’t have a single meat platter, she didn’t remark on it.
“Could you tell me about Ninurta?” she asked once we were settled. She twirled her fork in her bowl of noodles. “Is it very different from Lanathrill?”
I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say in this instance as the Kahl’s adviser. So I decided to answer simply as myself.
I left out choice pieces of information about my past, but I told her about the East Quarter and the Labyrinth where I grew up. The mixture of horror and fascination on her face amused me.
“How did you come to be the Kahl’s adviser?” she asked.
I kept it vague. “I did something for the last Kahl when he died. It was kind of a big deal.” Before she could press for details, I added, “It’s complicated. And a long story.”
She got the hint, because she nodded politely for me to move on. I told her next about the White Court and how starkly different it was from the North District.
“Sounds like our farmers,” Cassia said when I mentioned how lavishly the people in the White Court dressed and how they spent their credits on indulgences like parties and the theater and flashy Grays.
“How does that work?” I asked. Mason had said something previously about their farmers being the wealthiest.
“The people who work the land benefit the most from it,” she explained. “Every citizen of Lanathrill is required to work and contribute to the city. The farmers are our most valuable workers because they provide the majority of the food. That’s another reason the chimera are such a problem. Many of our farmers are now afraid to remain on the surface during planting season, and the crops suffer for it. Without that food, Vethe will starve.” She shook her head, as if to dispel her fears. “Every citizen is given a monthly ration of flour, but the farmers get much larger rations as well as the occasional bonus, depending on the bounty of their harvest.”
It sounded like a great system, but not one I could see Ninurta implementing without mass objection from the White Court. I didn’t know what those people did for a living. They would probably revolt if they were expected to earn their places in the upper class.
“And what if you can’t find work?”
“Then the Council would step in and assign you work. Although most people are pretty good about staying employed, because the last jobs available are usually the undesirable ones,” she said with a grin.
“I bet you could think of a few people you’d want to have assigned those jobs,” I said.
Her grin twisted into something more mischievous. “Yes, but I’m glad it’s never necessary. The promise of fresh bread can be a powerful motivator for work.”
“Oh, I know.” I shoved a roll under my nose and took a deep breath before sighing happily. We both laughed.
She grabbed for her own roll and ripped it open before bringing it to her nose. “Mmm. I could live on the smell of fresh bread alone.”
“I’d rather eat it,” I said. We both took huge bites of our bread, grinning at each other and snorting with laughter when a hunk of chewed bread fell from her mouth.
Her face had flushed pink, temporarily chasing away her pallor. Her eyes sparkling with humor, she looked every bit the young, healthy girl she should have been. I’d never been the best at making friends, but conversation with Cassia came surprisingly easy. Laughing with her made me miss Hina.
I moved onto dessert, selecting a slice of sticky, sweet pie. “How do your farmers grow so much food without the sun?”
“We were fortunate in that the mountains became a barrier of sorts during the war, taking the majority of the damage that would have otherwise fallen on Lanathrill.”
Most of the mountains had been crushed into dust. Had Lanathrill not been protected by the mountain range, the country would probably be as barren and useless now as the Outlands.
“The ill effects on our soil were manageable,” she continued. “We could still grow a little food. But the farmers who served under Kahl Bael were ingenious, and they developed a new kind of grain, a sturdier one that could survive cooler temperatures and wouldn’t need direct sunlight to flourish.”
I wondered if Ninurta might somehow be able to use their sturdier grain. I made a mental note to add it to the list of possible trade crops. “Your farmers are also quite educated, I take it.”
“They receive the best of everything, including access to all the tomes recovered from the University of Vethe. It was one of the largest universities on the continent, second only to the Westlin Academy of Science in Peshtigo.” She sighed wistfully. “To have seen or even attended those schools . . .”
I felt a pang of that same wistfulness. So much had been lost to the war.
“Anyway,” she said, “the farmers plant twice a year, working on rotation. Those who work the land in the spring are allowed respite in Vethe for the winter. When they’re here resting, they tend to enjoy competing with one another for who can hold the most glamorous party of the season. Quite the spectacle.”
“I suppose they’ve earned the right.”
“No one would dispute that,” she said. “But they flaunt their wealth, which doesn’t carry very well into the middle class.”
“Anyone can learn to farm,” I said.
“Sure, but it’s a trade skill. Who would risk her own position by teaching them? And where would they work? Requests for land have to be granted by the Council, which rarely happens now. Lanathrill’s lands are limited, and farming has become an inherited occupation.”
I scooped up a chunk of fleshy red fruit dressed in a thick syrup. “So the farmers who owned those farmhouses we passed on the way to the Fields of Ishta also have a fancy home here in Vethe. And when the harvest is complete, they’ll switch places with another farmer and return here to relax and throw parties until their turn to plant comes around again?”
She nodded. “Speaking of which, Mrs. Gabrien is holding a ball tomorrow. Please say you’ll come.”
Even though I’d been living in the palace, I’d never attended a ball. Kalla had shuffled a few invitations my way, but I had ignored them. Except for the ministers, no one outside the palace grounds even knew who I was or that I was there. I had no desire to change that.
However, as the Kahl’s adviser, once Miraya had her coronation, everyone in Ninurta would know who I was. The idea of that much public recognition made me want to take my scout into the forest and never come back.
“I don’t think that’d be a good idea,” I said. “I’m kind of new to this adviser thing, and I’ve never been to a fancy party. I’d probably embarrass you.”
“But you must,” she said. She set down her fork and leaned toward me. “I have to attend a few events on behalf of the Council for the sake of appearances. Come with me. Just being there will be good practice for when you return to Ninurta.”
I couldn’t deny that I was curious. A ball could be fun. Would it be anything like the party the hollows had thrown me and Avan? Either way, Cassia had a point that I needed expe
rience before being thrust into the middle of the White Court.
I scraped the last bits of fruit and pie from my plate and said, “Okay.”
CHAPTER 19
“KAI, WAIT!”
I paused with my door opened partway. Mason was coming down the hall, footsteps silent over the glossy shadow glass. Living in the same wing as the sentinels was a bit unnerving. I hardly ever heard them walking around. I’d been startled more than once when I’d thought I was alone.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“Why was Cassia eating with you?” He slipped his hands into his back pockets and shifted on his feet, as if there was more he wanted to say.
“Because I invited her.”
When I didn’t elaborate, he said, “Okay, then. She seems nice.”
“She is.”
“Not as intense as Emryn,” he said, brow furrowing in imitation.
My lips twitched. I instantly felt ashamed for being amused. “We shouldn’t joke. He’s lost a lot.”
Mason shrugged. “So has everyone.”
I touched his arm. Mason had lost a lot to Ninu and the Infinite—his family, his team, his free will—but he still managed to find the humor in every situation.
“You’re pretty intense sometimes, too, you know. Like whenever you’re teaching me something,” I said.
Mason looked pleased with himself. “Force of habit. Ninu had me train the new sentinels. They were always a little disoriented after the branding, and they responded best to a firm hand.”
What must that have been like for him to usher in each new sentinel, knowing they would someday be reduced to mindless soldiers? Had the task bothered him or had he been too far gone himself to care?
He pulled his hands out of his pockets and looked down. “So . . . about what I said earlier—”
“I’m really not in the mood to talk about that again.” I pushed into my room, but Mason’s hand came up to stop me from shutting the door in his face.
“I know. I wanted to say I’m sorry.”
I gave him a dubious look. He laughed.
“I’m serious,” he said. “I know it’s complicated, and it’s none of my business anyway. But I’m worried about you, and I can’t just stop being worried.”
I scratched my fingernail against the corner of the wooden door, uncertain how to respond. “I don’t want you to worry, but I have to figure things out myself. Like you said. It’s . . . complicated.”
“I still think you should tell Irra about what’s happened to your powers,” he said.
“Maybe.” I stepped back and swung my door open wider. “I don’t want to do this in the hall.”
“Haven’t heard that one before,” he said.
I smiled and grabbed his arm, tugging him inside. Shutting the door, I gestured to the overstuffed armchair in the corner. He dropped onto the cushion while I settled on my bed, folding my legs beneath me.
“Cassia says there’s a party tomorrow.” I fiddled with the leaf brooch that I kept pinned to the hem of my tunic. “You should come. And the others, too. Maybe you can ask them?”
“They respect you,” he said. “Even Winnifer and Gret. If you asked, they’d be happy to go.”
“But I don’t want it to sound like an order.”
He laced his fingers in his lap. “Yeah, okay, I can bring it up to them.”
“Thanks. So you’ll come?”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Mason!”
“It’s a legitimate question!”
We both laughed. He lifted his brows at me as if to ask, Well?
I looked up at my canopy, thinking it over. “I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve never asked anyone on a date before.”
“Not even Avan?”
“We sort of just mutually agree to be in the same places together.”
He leaned over, hanging his head between his knees. His shoulders shook with silent laughter.
“What?” I asked defensively, although I was laughing again, too.
When he straightened again, the silence between us lingered for a beat too long, and his smile began to fade. I could almost feel the tension rising. I braced myself for whatever he would say next.
“Is he ever . . . the way he was?”
The sadness in his eyes surprised me. In my own grief, I had failed to notice that Mason missed the old Avan, too. They had become friends in Etu Gahl. Maybe not in the way Mason and I were friends, but they had joked and trained and planned that going-away party for us and helped Rennard bake that enormous cake.
Ever since Avan’s resurrection as Conquest, Mason treated him like an unwelcome stranger. It had never occurred to me that maybe it hurt him to see Avan like this.
“Sometimes I get glimpses of the old Avan,” I said, looking down at my hands. They lay limp in my lap. I curled them into fists. “It gives me hope that he’ll come back someday.”
I didn’t say that every time I glimpsed my Avan, it hurt like I was losing him all over again. Sometimes, I wondered if maybe it would be better if there was no hope. So that I could let go.
But those sorts of thoughts were fleeting, born of pain and weakness. As long as Avan wanted to remember, I would never stop hoping. Still, the question remained: Did he want to remember?
I looked up as Mason stood. He crossed the room and sank to his knees in front of me so that we were eye level. He touched the knuckles of my clenched hands.
“Back in Etu Gahl, I knew how you felt for him. It was obvious to everyone,” he said with a smile that made me squirm self-consciously. Had I really been so transparent? “And it was pretty clear he felt the same. We’d only just met, so I wasn’t going to get in the way of that. I doubt I would have been able to steal your attention even if I’d tried.”
His words made my heart pump faster. I didn’t think I was ready to hear them.
“But . . . things are different now. I’m your friend. And no matter what, I will always be your friend.” He looked down, the gold fan of his lashes shielding his eyes. “Can I allow myself to hope?”
It wasn’t difficult to understand what he meant. My skin tingled where his fingers touched my knuckles. I held my breath and then released it slowly. I’d suspected that, in the beginning, Mason’s feelings for me might have been more than friendship. But until now, he had never given any indication that those feelings remained.
I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about it. Mason was brave and honest and loyal, and I couldn’t help the way those blue eyes and broad shoulders sometimes left me feeling flustered. It wasn’t so easy to dismiss him. I wished it was.
He waited patiently for my response. His face was close, his cheekbones and the shape of his lips outlined by the light of the glimmer glass. I wrestled for something to say.
“Kai,” Mason whispered.
“Yes?”
“You’re staring at my mouth.” That same mouth stretched into a grin as I leaned back, blushing from my chest to my cheeks. He nudged me forward again with a hand beneath my chin. “You should tell me to get out. Because if you don’t, right now, I’m going to kiss you.”
I swallowed, my gaze drawn back to his mouth. The words rose in my throat and then stayed there, trapped. Mason’s thumb brushed against my lower lip. He leaned forward.
His lips were soft. Heat sang through me, and my heart beat a chaotic tune.
His fingers slid along my jaw, pushing into my hair. I gripped his shoulders as he deepened the kiss. A tremor raced through me. His muscles contracted beneath my hands.
His arm circled my back, gathering me closer.
A rush of panic filled me, closing my throat. I turned my head and pushed at Mason’s shoulder. Immediately, he pulled back, his hands falling away.
“Are you okay?” he asked. He looked torn between reaching out and giving me space.
“I’m . . . sorry,” I managed to say. “I can’t.”
“I understand,” he said, but sadness still lurked behind
his eyes. “You don’t have to.”
I drew a shaky breath. “Promise me something?”
He smiled. “Anything.”
“Promise you won’t wait for me.”
Pain flickered over his face before he hid it behind a rueful smile.
“Mason,” I said, taking his hand and squeezing it until his eyes met mine again. “I don’t know when I’ll be ready. You weren’t willing to get between me and Avan, and I can’t get in the way of something wonderful happening for you.”
His free hand brushed my hair behind my ear. “You’re something wonderful.” Before I could respond, he continued: “But okay. I promise. Now promise me something in return.”
“What?” I asked.
“Promise you’ll keep practicing with that torch blade before you accidentally impale yourself with it.”
His face cracked into another grin. With a shout, I grabbed the nearest pillow and whacked his shoulder with it.
“Do you remember our first kiss?”
I leaned into the narrow space between us. The scent of crushed moss and wildflowers filled our little haven.
My mouth touched Avan’s, and I whispered, “How could I forget? You told me about how you weren’t used to anyone having the power to hurt you anymore. But that it wasn’t a bad kind of hurt.”
His hand cupped the back of my head, tilting my face so that I looked up at him. Our breaths mingled in the warm air.
He grinned. “That’s not the part I was remembering.”
CHAPTER 20
THE NEXT MORNING, I endured the tailor’s poking and prodding as he took my measurements for the gown he meant to construct for me for the ball. I had no idea how he planned to finish it by that evening, but I kept my doubts to myself.
I occupied my mind by mulling over my latest dream. Obviously, the kiss with Mason must have sparked the subject matter, but I’d awoken again with the impression of threads shivering just out of reach. If Mason’s theory about my nightmares—that they were connected to my guilt—was correct, then maybe these ones about Avan were somehow related.
