by Lori M. Lee
Despite how my stomach fluttered and my heart tripped, I suddenly remembered that I’d been trapped in a dank cell for days and I probably smelled as awful as I looked. Avan didn’t seem to mind, but now the warmth in my face was from more than his touch.
I gently disentangled myself from him. “I missed you,” I whispered.
He gave me his crooked smile, and I felt like I was floating all over again. “I may have missed you as well.”
I allowed myself a moment to savor his words, to let them imbue me with hope for us. Then I straightened my shoulders and focused on what I was here to do.
“Kalla and Irra—have they returned?” I asked. He shook his head. It was disappointing, but not unexpected. “Then I have to talk to Miraya.”
One day soon, I would tell him that he didn’t have to wait anymore. I could give him back his memories if he wanted them. Imagining what his answer would be terrified me, but I would accept whatever decision he made.
For now, he had enough to worry about.
At the sudden shift in subject, the teasing faded from Avan’s voice. “What’s wrong? What’s happened?”
“I’ll explain after,” I said. “Where’s Miraya?”
“In a meeting with the Minister of Law and her sentinel captains.”
“Perfect.” I followed Avan into the palace. “Why are they in a meeting?”
“Discussing what to do with the rebel sentinels they’ve taken prisoner.”
When I realized where Avan was leading me, I asked, “Why are they in the waiting room?”
“Miraya likes it. And it’s more convenient than Kalla’s tower.”
We approached the door. My palm skated down my side, expecting to feel the ache of my wound, but there was no pain. I poked at my skin through my tunic, surprised to find no trace of the cut. Had Kronos healed me without my knowing or was this an effect of being in the River? I stowed my questions away for later.
Avan lifted his hand to knock at the door, but I pushed it open without pause. Miraya and three others were seated around a low table, speaking heatedly. At our interruption, Miraya looked up, scowling. When she saw me, however, she rose to her feet.
“Is it done?” she asked.
“No, I escaped so I—”
“Escaped?” Miraya asked sharply.
I told them everything. Well, almost everything: how we’d been manipulated from the start; how Emryn and his Council had orchestrated the massacre; and how they were, likely at this very moment, marching across the Outlands to lay siege to Ninurta. I decided not to mention anything about their magic until I could be alone with Miraya.
She slammed her fist against the tabletop. “Lanathrill will pay for their betrayal.”
“I knew that going there to assist them was a fool’s errand,” said the Minister of Law, a short, portly man with a bald spot and a loud voice. He glared at me as if I was responsible for our current situation. “A proper adviser would have known to—”
“Oh, shut up,” I snapped.
Before he could start up again, Miraya told him, “Inform your captains to gather every Watchman available and put them on standby for battle.” She turned to her sentinel captains. “Assess the defenses at the wall. I want every sentinel armed and ready when Lanathrill arrives.”
After the minister and the sentinels had left, Miraya cursed and dragged a hand through her hair. She looked wearier than when I’d seen her last, although she now possessed a self-assured authority that hadn’t been present before.
“This couldn’t have come at a worse time,” she said. “Does Lanathrill know about what’s been happening here?”
“I never told them.”
“Good.” She slumped into her chair. “I need a moment to breathe and think.”
“How bad has it been?”
Avan took a seat across from Miraya. “There was an attack on the Tournament arena. The fire destroyed half the building and killed six cadets and two civilians.”
My shoulders tensed with renewed anger. The Tournament was the final challenge for graduating cadets of the Watchmen Academy. It was their last chance to improve their ranking and placement after graduation. Kahl Ninu had selected new sentinels from among the winners of the competition.
Before discovering what the sentinels really were, I had believed that they were simply the Kahl’s elite private guard—a coveted position for any cadet. But the “winners” had been determined long before the Tournament’s completion because only mahjo were taken as sentinels, and by the time they realized their fate, it was too late.
I’d killed Ninu during the most recent Tournament. When the final round had ended, Kalla revealed to the public that their Kahl had died in a tragic accident, leaving no biological heir. For the first time in Ninurta’s history, the competing mahjo—some of whom didn’t even know what they were—had been spared the collar.
I understood why the rebel sentinels had targeted the arena, but how could they claim to be acting in Ninurta’s best interests when they cared so little for the lives of its citizens?
“Avan was able to stop them,” Miraya said.
I stared at Avan. He returned my look without a hint of remorse. I hated with all my being the thought of him succumbing to the Infinite, but it would have been difficult to overpower the rebels in any other way without hurting more people. It was frustrating as hell.
“The city is on lockdown at the moment,” Miraya said. “The rebels—those we haven’t captured—have gone into hiding, and the Watchmen are enforcing a curfew. There’ve been some attempts at rioting, but we’ve been able to placate them without violence. So far.”
“Things are tenuous,” Avan said. “Order must be restored within the city if Ninurta is to survive.”
Miraya nodded grimly. “Ninurta’s walls were built to protect us from the gargoyles. They will stand against an army of men.”
“And mahjo?” I asked. “Did you read the letter I wrote to Irra?”
“No,” Miraya said, suspicion creeping into her voice. “It was not addressed to me, although shortly after it arrived, both Kalla and Irra needed to leave on ‘urgent Infinite business.’”
While I respected her honor, I was still surprised. Had I been Kahl, I would have at least demanded to know the contents, especially if they concerned the welfare of Ninurta. Avan watched our exchange without a flicker of emotion. I was fairly certain he had read the letter.
I explained that Emryn and the Council of Vethe had regained their magic, but I kept the possible reasons why to myself. I needed to discuss those with the Infinite first. She looked to Avan, but he only lifted one shoulder to indicate he was as clueless as the rest of us.
Miraya scratched the back of her neck where her collar was and said, “I don’t think they’ll be much of a threat if their powers are as damaging to themselves as you say.”
“I’m not so sure about that,” I said. “Their army might have the power of an Infinite on its side.” The memory of Jain’s blood warm between my fingers lurched through me. I pushed it firmly away.
Miraya stood. The weary stoop in her back was gone, replaced with steel. Her gaze fell on Avan. “So do we.”
CHAPTER 30
AVAN GAVE NO reaction other than a slight narrowing of his eyes.
Miraya gathered up the papers on the table. “Both of you need to prepare as well. And the city needs to know we’re in danger of attack. Maybe, for once, its citizens will put aside their own squabbles and join together to fight a common enemy.”
I wasn’t holding my breath, but who knew? Maybe they’d surprise me.
After she left, I crossed my arms and paced restlessly across the burgundy rug. “Do you think you could influence a whole army with your powers?” I asked Avan.
“I thought you didn’t want me to use my powers.”
I threw up my hands. “I don’t! But unless Irra and Kalla come back, we’re out of options. We can’t fight Lanathrill’s goddess. Her magic will knock out the sentine
ls and have everyone else killing one another.”
“So I’m your backup plan.”
“Right now, I think you’re our only plan. Everything else is just . . . blind luck.” I pressed my fingers to my temples and tried to massage away the beginnings of a headache. If Miraya and her sentinel captains could come up with a plan of defense, then we might have a chance. But only if Lanathrill’s goddess wasn’t a factor, and I doubted we’d be that lucky.
I thought about how it had felt being suspended within the River—all that power swirling around me. If I were Infinite, there would be no need to ask Avan to sacrifice more of himself. I would be able to stop her.
I swallowed and gently set aside those dangerous thoughts.
“I don’t know if I can influence a whole army,” Avan said. “Kalla was helping me access my abilities, but how our powers work is an individual experience, unique to each of us. It can’t be taught.”
I resumed pacing. My fingers dragged along the top of the table against the wall. “Is there a way to contact her or Irra?”
“If there is, I don’t know it.”
There was no guarantee they’d come anyway. Irra had already made his position clear, and Kalla had done her part, leaving Ninurta in human hands.
And what about Mason? As long as Emryn and the Council weren’t in Vethe, I wasn’t terribly worried about his safety. I was more worried about Mason thinking I’d left him behind to die.
Avan stood. I tried to ignore him, but it was impossible. He reached for my arm so I would stop pacing. His hands fell on my shoulders, massaging the tightness there. I sagged against him, allowing him to work magic of a different kind on me.
“I have to go back for Mason.” It would be a simple thing if I could figure out how to travel by the River, but one lesson hadn’t made me an expert. The idea of asking Kronos for help, even if I knew how to reach him, wasn’t appealing.
“Mason can take care of himself,” Avan said.
His words gave me pause. Did he remember something? “Why do you say that?”
“Mason is a hollow,” he said, as if it should be obvious. It was, but that wasn’t the answer I’d been hoping to hear. “He’s equipped to handle himself far better than most people.”
I chewed on the corner of my lip, feeling foolish for hoping in the first place when I had seen the severed threads of his past myself.
“He might be okay for now. But if Ninurta falls, then what? Or if we somehow manage to fend them off—” I shook my head. “I have to go now.” On horseback, it would take days for an army of Lanathrill’s size to cross the Outlands. Maybe even a week. With luck and a scout, I could get to Vethe, rescue Mason, and return before Lanathrill even set up camp outside our walls.
Avan turned me in his arms. His fingers were gentle as he tipped my face up to look at him. “Well, I can’t let you leave.”
My Avan would have understood. It was an unfair thought, and I winced for thinking it. We’d agreed to take the time apart to think about what we wanted, but I knew that Avan had long since made his decision. Despite the leaf he’d given me or our kisses, there was little hope he would keep chasing after a past he couldn’t remember rather than embracing a future with the Infinite.
I had wanted to see Lanathrill, but I’d also been running away from having to face his decision so that I could hold on to the illusion for a little while longer that Avan would choose me.
Now I could restore his memories, but Avan didn’t know that yet. The enthusiasm in his kiss and his protectiveness—what did it mean?
“You barely know me,” I pointed out, as much as it hurt to say it.
Telling him about his threads would only make the decision harder on him, especially if he’d already made up his mind to move on. I wanted him to choose his past because he truly wanted it, not because I was dangling it in front of him like bait.
His hands closed around my wrists and pressed my palms to his chest. “I know you here,” he said fervently.
I sucked in my breath. “Does that mean you’ve figured out what you want?”
His hold grew slack and my hands slipped away, dropping back to my sides. Not the reaction I was expecting. We were still close enough that his body heat felt like a furnace, but he wasn’t looking at me anymore.
“What I want and what I think I want don’t quite match up.”
I sighed and rested my forehead against his chest. “Listen,” I said, too cowardly to look into his eyes for fear they’d undo me and I’d kiss him again. “Once this is all over, if you’re still here, we need to talk, okay? I mean really talk. And I’ll have something important to ask you.”
“Why can’t you ask me now?”
“Because it’s too important for you to make any hasty decisions. I want you to give it time. And right now, you don’t have that time.”
He was silent a moment. “Okay,” he said, sounding uncertain. “And what do you mean if I’m still here?”
I mumbled into his tunic. “I thought maybe you’d want to go where the Infinite are supposed to live.”
He took my shoulders and nudged me back so he could look at me. “You belong there just as much as I do.”
I slowly closed my fingers into a fist, feeling again the power of the threads surging through my veins. Avan and Reev had been hurt because of who I was, and so long as I was the daughter of Time, it could happen again. But the difference between then and now was that I knew I had the potential to become powerful enough to protect them.
I twisted away from Avan, silencing that inner voice. “I don’t.”
He regarded me, his expression frustratingly blank. Finally, he nodded and released me. I stepped back.
“I’m going to find Reev,” I said. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
I left without waiting for his reply.
After some running around, I located Reev in the oasis, at our usual spot inside the gazebo. He was sitting on the stone bench, an open book in his lap. I paused on the cobblestones, next to a skinny tree with huge leaves and purple blooms that reminded me of the flowers in Vethe. I didn’t recognize half the plants in Ninu’s oasis, but even in his absence, the servants had continued to maintain the grounds meticulously. The gazebo was purely decorative since the clouds broke for only one week a year.
Reev hadn’t noticed me yet, and I took a moment to observe him. He looked tranquil sitting there. His hair, dark brown and wavy, rustled in a slight wind, and he lifted his head, turning his face into the breeze. The motion sharpened the line of his jaw and the cleft in his chin. The longer I observed him, however, the more I realized he wasn’t relaxed at all. His back was tense. He kept shifting minutely as if he wasn’t comfortable. There was a line between his brows as he turned another page in his book, and his other hand picked restlessly at the bench.
I sighed. It wasn’t a loud sigh, but Reev’s hearing was exceptional. He looked up.
His expression brightened, all the little signs of his anxiety receding as he stood to greet me. I grinned, and practically flew into his arms, which closed around me, folding me into his warmth and strength. I pressed my face into his shoulder.
He drew back to look at me. His thumbs smoothed along my cheeks as he made a quick perusal to ensure I was all in one piece. “Have the others returned as well?”
I shook my head and pulled him back down on the bench. I told him everything that had happened in Lanathrill, not leaving out any of the details this time. Fury flashed in his eyes. I watched him, knowing what I was looking for and hating myself for it. I wanted reassurance that he believed Lanathrill’s betrayal was unforgivable, that he would never do the same thing. But his carefully controlled rage was probably more about the risk to my life than the threat to Ninurta.
Part of me wanted to take Reev and Avan, and run. Let Ninurta and Lanathrill work out their drek on their own. Why should I have to risk everyone I loved for a city that had never cared about any of us?
But I couldn’t. I had given my word
to Miraya to help her. More than that, we had the chance to prevent people from dying. Not only would running away disappoint Reev, but I would never be able to live with myself. I wasn’t going to be the coldhearted Infinite that Kronos and the others wanted me to be. I was human. And that humanity meant I had to stay and fight.
“You understand, don’t you? I have to go back for Mason.”
“I do,” Reev said. He looked unhappy about it. “But it’s dangerous.”
“Then come with me.”
Reev closed his eyes with a soundless exhale. A spark of anger kindled inside me.
“Why do you look reluctant? Mason helped me rescue you when you were still trapped under Ninu’s control.”
“Kai, that’s not it. I’m not thinking about Mason—”
“Fine, then,” I said, standing. I strode back up the path. “I’ll go by myself.”
I brushed aside tall fronds and ducked under a branch. When I was halfway to the path that bisected the oasis, Reev gripped my wrist to stop me. I hadn’t even heard him following.
“Stop,” he said. “What I’m objecting to is the fact you keep insisting on putting yourself in situations where I might not be able to protect you. And it scares me.”
He looked so pained that my anger melted. I rested my hands on his arms, feeling the corded muscles beneath his tunic jump at my touch. For some reason, I blushed, but I didn’t shy away.
“Reev, I’m not a little girl anymore. We can’t keep living with the same rules we had in the Labyrinth. Keep silent, keep still, keep safe. That’s just not possible for us anymore. Sometimes, things are going to happen that you can’t control, and you’re going to have to accept that I can protect myself.”
One corner of his mouth tugged up. “I already know that. You killed Ninu. But that hurt you, too, and I don’t like thinking you might have to get hurt again.”
His concern flattened my defenses as only he could. My sturdy, invincible brother. What would I do without him? Even though we weren’t related by blood, he was more family to me than Kronos would ever be.
“You’ll always be my champion,” I said.
