Mara’s spine tightened at the mention of the Kildi. Lord u’Gra’s face became ugly, twisted.
“Kildi,” he spit out. He seemed to welcome something to vent his still-simmering anger on. “Vermin. We should send them all to the copper mines.”
“Come now, Sathvik,” Lady Ekisa said, accepting a bowl of sweet rice pudding from a servant. “Surely that’s a bit extreme.”
“They’re dangerous, Ekisa. They don’t behave like proper Wind caste, they don’t show respect like proper Wind caste, they don’t even revere the Ancestors properly. Who knows what they’re capable of? If the magic comes back . . .”
Revathi choked and hid her face behind her fan. Tamas slumped on his cushion, his arms folded over his chest.
“The magic is gone, Sathvik,” Lady Ekisa said, digging into her dessert with a wooden spoon. “The Jade scholars say it’s all up there in the Barrier.”
“Well,” Aari drawled. “Not all of it.”
Lady Ekisa inclined her head in Aari’s direction. “Forgive me. But surely you would agree that Sune magic is as out of our reach as the magic in the Barrier. Mere humans cannot use it, in any case.”
“How fortunate for us,” Aari said sweetly, then went back to her food.
“But what if it does come back?” Sathvik said, waving his hands. “The Kildi are all that’s left of the old rule. If the magic returns, it will likely come back through them. They should be eradicated.”
Mara thought of the way Tamas had taunted Stefan, of the fear in Emil’s eyes. Her hand curled around her cup, and she resisted the urge to throw it at Sathvik’s face.
You see? Aari yawned, showing teeth that Mara thought looked a little too sharp for a human. The humans can’t get along with one another. All it would take is a spark. One flame bright and true enough to start a fire, and there will be a war. But this time instead of killing us, the humans will kill one another. Then when they are scattered and disorganized, we will drive them from the forests of our homes and make them afraid to ever, ever come back.
Mara set down the cup and reached for the hibiscus bouquet by her plate instead, burying her nose in it. The feel of the soft petals soothed her. Aari’s mind-voice grew a little gentler.
Don’t you ever get tired of pretending to be something you’re not? Of trying to make yourself small so the people around you don’t get too frightened?
No.
You lie.
Mara didn’t realize she was crushing the flowers until she looked down and saw her hand was full of red petals. They looked like fresh blood against her skin.
I am nothing like you, she sent.
Aren’t you? Aari sat back, a glint in her eye. We’ll see about that.
EMIL WATCHED, FASCINATED, from his hiding place above the dinner party. He couldn’t hear everything that was said, but the faces and motions below him told a story all on their own. The older woman and the nobleman especially interested him. They were clearly rivals, battling each other for status. The lord was good, but the woman was better, and Emil wanted to cheer every time she manipulated the conversation and backed her opponent into a corner.
The younger noblewoman didn’t speak as much, but when she did, she was just as deft with words as her older companion. And she had a way of playing with her fan that almost looked like she was sending messages with it.
Things grew considerably less amusing when the nobleman started ranting about the Kildi. The word eradicated was clear and hard, even from up here, and it hit Emil like a physical blow. He knew people felt that way, of course, but hearing it was somehow a hundred times worse. He dug his fingers into the stone and forced himself to stay quiet. He was grateful when the conversation turned back to court matters.
The younger nobleman said something Emil didn’t catch. The girl waved her fan again.
“Revathi, dear, are you too warm?” the man at the head of the table asked, his voice oozing concern. “I can assign someone to fan you while you eat, if that would make you more comfortable.”
The girl smiled innocently. “What a gracious offer,” she said. “But I’m perfectly comfortable.” She settled the fan back in her lap and glanced at the older woman, who set her spoon down.
“I’m afraid, Sathvik, that I’m not as young as I used to be, and your generous table has made me feel quite sleepy.” She bowed from her seat, pressing her hands together. “May I make a toast to end the meal?”
“Of course. Allow me to fill your drink,” the man said. The others hastened to fill one another’s cups as well. Then everyone held them up.
“To your health, Sathvik,” the older woman said. “And to the health of those dining under your roof tonight. May our family alliance be profitable and pleasant for us all.”
“May it be,” everyone echoed.
Emil shifted his eyes back to Mara. The asar certainly made her look beautiful, but there was something about the way she looked that he didn’t quite like. Maybe it was how uncomfortable she seemed. He preferred Mara as he’d seen her last, with messy hair and flushed cheeks. Vivid and fighting and alive. This Mara looked tense and unhappy, and when she drank the toast, Emil saw her hands were shaking.
He turned his attention back to the party just in time to hear Lord Sathvik offer to escort the older woman home.
“We can leave the younger ones to themselves,” he said with a wink. “With Aari and Mara here, it’s perfectly proper.”
The older woman hesitated, but the man she’d called Sathvik wasn’t taking no for an answer. He handed her a bouquet of hibiscus flowers and firmly took her arm.
“Now don’t argue, Ekisa,” he said. “I would speak to you of some . . . delicate matters. Surely you do not find my company so disagreeable that you would deny me the benefit of your advice.”
“Of course not,” the other woman said, but her voice was a little too sweet and her fan fluttered near her face. “Don’t stay too long, Revathi. I don’t want you walking about late at night.”
“Yes, Grandmother,” the girl said.
As soon as the two older nobles were gone, the younger man grabbed Revathi’s arm and pulled her aside, ending up almost directly under Emil. There was a furious whispered conversation, and Emil could see their faces more clearly.
Emil frowned. That was Tamas, the noble who’d almost killed Stefan. And that was the girl who’d been with him. But what was Mara still doing with them?
He glanced at Mara, but she was on the other side of the courtyard, staring at the other person present, a woman dressed in amber. Mara’s face was distant and Emil thought a little despairing. The woman gave her a superior smile, and Emil was suddenly furious. He wanted to march down there and take Mara away from those people, find whatever was hurting her and make it stop.
Tamas’s voice rose.
“You know what you should have said. Say you’re happy to be marrying me, say you’re content, say anything. Don’t just sit there like a lump. My father will think you really did want to marry Tapan.”
“I don’t want to marry your brother, Tamas,” the girl said. Emil thought she sounded tired. She put a hand on his arm. “I want to marry you.”
“I don’t believe you.”
The girl sighed. “Tamas, please. It’s late and you’ve been drinking. Why don’t you walk me home?”
“No.” Tamas reached out and grabbed her arm hard enough to make her flinch. His voice dropped to a growl. “Not until you tell me you’re glad to be marrying me. Say it.” His hand tightened, and Emil winced in sympathy. “Say it.”
“I’m glad to be marrying you,” the girl said. She lowered her voice. “Please, don’t do this here, Tamas. You’re embarrassing yourself.”
She pulled away, and Tamas yanked her back. Then he struck her across the face with the back of his hand.
Mara whirled at the sound. The girl staggered backward, lost her footing on the stone of the courtyard, and fell. Her head struck a heavy iron statue with an audible crack . . .
&nb
sp; And she crumpled.
Choice is a most gracious and most deadly gift.
Gracious for its infinite possiblilties.
Deadly for its infinite consequences.
It is like a rock thrown into the sky.
You cannot see where it will land.
You only know that it will.
Jade caste teaching
“REVATHI!”
Mara was moving before Revathi hit the floor. Tamas was frozen, his hand still upraised, and Mara resisted the urge to strike him, to hit him as hard as he’d hit Revathi. Her vision swam with red.
Later. Check Revathi first.
Anger thrummed through Mara’s bones: anger and worry and guilt. Because she should have known. Revathi’s bruises, the way she brushed Mara off, the way she stiffened sometimes when Tamas touched her. It had been right in front of Mara the whole time, and she hadn’t seen it. She’d been so focused on finding her charge that she hadn’t even suspected anything was wrong.
Mara knelt down, her fingers searching Revathi’s scalp. There was a long, shallow gash near her hairline. It bled freely, staining Mara’s fingers. Revathi’s eyes were closed, but at least she was breathing.
“Revathi,” Mara said, trying not to shake the girl too much. “Revathi, can you hear me?” The girl’s head lolled slightly, her body limp.
Mara looked up at Tamas. “Call for a healer,” she snapped.
“It was an accident,” Tamas said. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
“I don’t care,” Mara said. “Call a healer.”
Tamas shook his head. “I can’t,” he said. “If my father finds out, he’ll be furious.”
“Revathi could be seriously hurt!” Mara said. “She needs help.” She stood, heading for the door. “If you won’t call a healer, I will.”
Tamas grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her back. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said. His voice rose. “No one is going anywhere.”
Mara had her dagger out before she even knew she was going for it.
“Step aside,” she ordered.
“You can’t threaten me,” Tamas said. “Who do you think you are? I hired you.”
Mara shifted her stance. “Then I quit. Now get out of my way or—”
There was almost no warning, only a small rustle and a prickle along the back of Mara’s neck. She barely had time to react before pain exploded through her back and shoulder.
Mara’s spine snapped back. As if in slow motion, she turned her head to see Aari holding a slender knife of her own, its blade red and glistening.
“Aari, what are you doing?” Tamas said.
“She was threatening you with a dagger,” Aari said. “What do you think I’m doing?”
Mara forced herself to take a step. Pain seared through her. Why? she sent.
You’re not the only one with a job here. Aari smiled, slow and satisfied. Besides, you said we’re nothing alike. Now’s your chance to prove it.
The ground lurched, and suddenly Mara’s dagger was gone from her numb fingers and she was falling and someone was shouting and there was so much pain. She hadn’t felt anything like this since . . .
Since the day her family died.
As if summoned by the thought, her memories surged up with a scream, all red vision and coppery blood in her mouth. Her fingers were already flexing, wanting to tear and scratch. Magic pooled hot and sour in her stomach.
Hurt. Pain. Enemies.
Kill them all.
No!
But the memories and the flashbacks were like an undertow, sucking her down into the past. Mara could taste blood in her mouth now—her blood—and didn’t know if it was from a bitten lip, or something worse.
Stop resisting, little one. Aari’s voice was as smooth and sharp as the knife she’d plunged into Mara’s flesh. Give in to it. Embrace your heritage.
Tears blinded Mara’s eyes. She curled in on herself, as if she could hold the magic and the anger in the hollow of her body. As if she could keep it from spilling out, hurting anyone ever again.
I am human, she thought desperately. I am human.
Is that what you’re telling yourself now? Aari laughed inside her head. No wonder you’re so weak.
Mara shoved Aari out of her head and tried to breathe. She needed something to focus on, something to keep her from changing.
Touch. She could remember touch, what the air felt like without the protective covering of fur. She could remember the feel of a warm bath and flower petals under her fingers. The softness of cashmere and the smoothness of carved wood. Things that were real, human. She tried to think of Revathi, but that only made her angrier. Because someone had hurt Revathi, like they’d hurt Mara’s family.
Hurt them back. Kill them.
No.
She needed something else. Something with only good memories attached.
Emil.
Her frantic mind latched onto the name. She could hold on to Emil. She could hang on to his earth-brown eyes and his slow, kind smile. The concern in his face when he ran into the clearing, the way he’d fought to get to his brother at the Clothing Fair. The first time he’d touched her hand, the unexpected shock of his fingers on hers. His gentleness when he read her palm. The way he’d brushed the hair off her forehead before saying good-bye. She’d felt his touch on her skin long afterward, like the echo of a dream.
That was good, that memory of lingering warmth. It was another human sensation. She could use it as an anchor stone, keeping her in this body. But it was hard, so hard. The pain was a monster of its own, it had claws and teeth; it was ripping her apart along with the magic and she just wanted it to stop. . . .
“Mara!”
Arms slid around her. Arms that smelled like earth and wool, arms that held her up, held her in in a way she couldn’t explain. And someone was calling her name, a voice straight out of her red-washed imagination.
Mara’s eyes flew open.
“Emil?”
“NO!” THE STRANGLED sound of his own voice echoed in Emil’s ears. The image of the woman in the amber-colored tunic coldly stabbing Mara while her back was turned was burned into his mind, as he ran for the stairs. Mara was in danger, and he had to get to her.
Tamas and the woman were arguing.
“Your father specifically told me to take care of you. You were about to get yourself killed.”
“I don’t need a babysitter, Aari! And how is this going to look to everyone else? She accepted our hospitality and you attacked her!”
“She attacked you first!”
Emil stumbled down the last few steps, falling to his knees next to Mara’s body.
Not a body. Not dead. No.
She was still breathing, little whimpers coming from the back of her throat. Her fists were clenched as if she were battling against an invisible foe. Emil gathered her into his arms, paying no attention to the blood that streaked his hands.
At his touch, her eyes flew open.
“Emil?” The hope in her voice when she said his name hit Emil harder than his fall on the roof had.
“Yeah,” he said, trying to smile, though he felt like crying. “It’s me. Shhh. Lie still.”
Her hand came up, gripping his shoulder with painful strength.
“Don’t let me . . . ,” she whispered. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. “Talk to me. Please. Don’t let me slide away. I can’t do it again, I can’t. Don’t let me do it.”
“Of course not.” Emil smoothed her hair with his fingers. “I won’t let anything bad happen to you. I swear. I’m here. It’s going to be all right.”
He lowered his head to hers, so their foreheads touched. “Just hang on,” he whispered. There was a deep stab wound along the inside edge of Mara’s shoulder blade. Carefully, Emil put a hand on her back, gathering as much of the asar material as he could and pushing it against the injury. Mara cried out at the pressure. “It’s all right,” Emil soothed. “I’m just trying to slow the bleeding. You’re
going to be fine.”
“Who the hell are you?”
Emil looked up to see Tamas and the woman who had stabbed Mara staring down at him, with very different expressions on their faces. The woman looked disappointed, as if Emil had taken something away from her, and she wasn’t sure what to make of him. Tamas just looked angry.
“Who are you and what are you doing in my house?”
“Trying to save the girl who was stabbed under your roof!” Emil snapped back. He scooped up the nearby knife and waved it at the nobleman, keeping him away. The handle was sticky with blood.
Tamas flinched. “See, Aari! Even a low-caste thief knows how this looks. If this gets out, both Father and I will lose a lot of face, and I don’t think he’ll be very happy with you if that happens.”
There was a murmur and a groan from nearby. A slow smile spread across Aari’s face. “I think I can get us out of this,” she said. “But you’d best go see to Revathi first.”
A guilty flush crept up Tamas’s neck, but he went to Revathi, who was starting to stir.
Mara started whimpering again, and Emil whispered soft, comforting words to her as he watched Tamas help Revathi sit up.
The noble girl held a hand to her head. “I don’t need your help, Tamas,” she said, her words cold. “I think you’ve done quite enough.” She got unsteadily to her feet. “I think it’s best if I take Mara and go home. . . .” Revathi trailed off, her eyes finding Emil and the bleeding girl in his arms.
“Mara!” Revathi ran to them and knelt down. Her fingers found the the knife wound, and her expression went from concerned to furious.
“What happened?” she asked, looking up. Her face was bright and fierce. “Who did this?”
Emil opened his mouth, but Aari spoke first.
“He did,” she said, pointing two fingers at Emil. “He came running downstairs right after you passed out. Mara tried to stop him, and he stabbed her.”
“No!” Emil said, his arm tightening around Mara. “That’s a lie!”
Empire of Shadows Page 19
