She wondered when she had begun doing the same.
“At least let me come with you.” Marko held on to his father’s arm. “If you will not let me go in your place. You are too valuable to this city to risk.”
Duke Isyanov’s face softened. He reached up to touch Marko’s chin. “There you are wrong, my son. You are the city’s future. You and Kesali Stormspeaker. It is you whom I cannot risk. Your mother would agree.”
Marko swallowed loudly, and Kesali moved to lay a hand on his shoulder. “He’s right.”
“Fine. Captain, take care of him.” Marko did not let go, not until the Duke squeezed his hand and stepped back.
Shadar moved to stand with the Duke. “I will.”
“Then it is settled.”
*
Nadya left quietly, moving as fast as she dared through the halls of the palace. She did not have long to go back to her dwelling, retrieve the cloak, and meet the Duke and her father. As the Iron Phoenix, and her stomach roiled at the thought of only a thin scrap of fabric separating herself from the leader of Storm’s Quarry.
Kesali caught up with her leaving the wing. She grabbed Nadya’s arm, yanking her into a corner. Nadya was surprised enough to let her.
“Kesali?” Nadya glanced around, but only a few palace servants dotted the darkened hall, diligently polishing the stonework for the business of tomorrow. “I have to go.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“What? Why not? You were in there. You know what’s at stake.”
“I know, but…” Kesali shook her head. “You cannot be considering such a risk.”
Warmth bloomed in her fingertips to know that despite being aware of Nadya’s nivasi nature, of what she was capable, that Kesali still feared for her safety. Such fear, however, had no place in what was to come. “Do you see other paths throwing themselves at our feet?” Nadya asked. She tried her best to keep her voice down, knowing listening ears were never far within the palace. “It is not that great a risk, Kesali.”
“And neither was confronting Gedeon.”
Nadya winced. She looked down. It had been foolishness, she knew. Her belief in her own invulnerability. Many, many innocents paid the price for that mistake. “This isn’t the same,” she whispered.
Kesali’s hand touched her arm. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, yes, you did.” Nadya pulled away. “What would you have me do, Lady Kesali? Nothing, and watch as the Duke signs over the city to Wintercress? How long will it be until Cressian soldiers knock on the doors of our people and drag them out into the streets? How many will be lucky enough to be banished from Storm’s Quarry?”
“I know.” Kesali’s eyes flashed. “Do not think for a moment that I am unaware of what will happen. Tell me, will it be better than the scouring sickness and thirst? But then, the Iron Phoenix and her family will survive. Not all of us are so lucky to have such abilities.”
“Lucky?” Nadya choked out the word. “Is that what you think this is?”
“I think it gives you an unholy confidence to charge off and confront an entire stronghold of Cressian soldiers and stars know what else in order to prove you aren’t a monster.”
“Unholy, yes, I used to think that. I used to think I was cursed by the Protectress,” Nadya said slowly, her throat thick with a swirl of anger and pain and frustration. “Maybe it’s true. Maybe nothing I do after Gedeon’s control will ever redeem me.”
“Nadya, that is not—”
“But I will keep trying,” Nadya said, cutting her off. She did not want to hear any more pleas. “Hiding away will not change what has happened. Sh—Someone taught me that, and I think it is high time I start listening.”
Kesali did not miss her stutter. “You mean that nivasi girl. You are going to go to her for this, then?”
“If I am?” Nadya said, too loudly. Her words echoed through the near-empty hall, a challenge.
Give me a reason not to. Give me a reason to believe that there is still something to what is between us. Give me a reason to throw away common sense and come into your arms.
Kesali’s eyes glittered. She drew up, breathing in. “Then nothing I say will matter.”
In that moment, the wall of Storm’s Quarry came thundering down once more, and Nadya struggled to breathe in the rushing floodwaters. She clutched her hands at her sides. “You’re right.” The words tore at her throat, leaving burn treads in their wake. “Your words always mattered. Even when you moved up out of the sea-scum tier into the palace. Even when you deceived me about your betrayal to Marko. They mattered to me, saved me when I fought against Gedeon’s darkness.” Tears made her voice thick, but she pushed through. “They mattered up until you expected everything of me, giving nothing in return. Until you made your choice to try to have everything, and now you stand there with nothing for me.”
Nadya turned and ran, too cowardly to stay and see the expression on Kesali’s face. She ran until the night stars burned down from above, until her lungs ached and legs trembled.
If not for Wintercress and the role she must play in the oncoming struggle, she might have kept running until she passed up the horizon.
*
She smelled blood before all else.
The rooftop spun beneath her feet, taking her balance and her vision. Darkness swallowed the stars, the moon, bubbling up from the corners of the world and overtaking her. She scratched at her throat for a voice that did not come. Midnight passed by, hours turning to days as her limbs froze.
Blood spurted from every crevice. Every breath she tried to breathe bubbled with grime and marrow and entrails. She tried to move—nothing. She tried to recall the words, the ones that had worked before, but they were buried beneath eyes blacker than the darkest reaches of Storm’s Quarry’s gem mines.
Something touched her shoulder, and Nadya yelped. She spun around and grabbed it, lifting the figure in the air by its collar.
“Nadya,” her father rasped, feet dangling off the stonework.
She let go, shameful heat rushing to her face. “Papa, I…you startled me.”
“Not something I will do again.” Shadar stood, dusting off his knees. He reached down to grasp her shoulder, but she flinched away.
Will it never end? Will Gedeon haunt me until my death? Will I always have to measure every touch, harness every emotion, and tie my strength down so no one is hurt?
Shay’s words came back to her, unearthed from the darkness that had consumed her mind moments before: You get used to it, thinking about breathing, about control. Part of being nivasi. That is what separates us from monsters like Gedeon.
“Nadya,” Shadar said softly, touching the edges of her mask. “That was my fault, understand? I am fine. You have much more to worry about.”
“Yes, Papa.” She was proud that her voice did not crack once.
But he was right. She could not afford to dwell on Gedeon, as biting as those memories were, or any of her churning thoughts. Including Kesali and the bitter words that marked the end of what could have been their future. And Shay, another voice added. Storm’s Quarry needed the Iron Phoenix, vigilante of strength and stone. Not Nadya Gabori, Nomori girl just shy of full adulthood.
“Good. I am here checking the scene, ensuring the Duke’s safety. It gives us a moment.” He scanned the rooftops surrounding them, eyes roving over the fourth tier streets beneath. “Do not speak. Your voice will give you away.”
She nodded. She had not planned on talking.
“Getting into the stronghold will be more difficult than it appears. Do not underestimate them. It is a fortress, though they call it a trade post. Sovereign Wintercress territory despite standing not far from the shores of the Kyanite Sea. Constructing that stronghold was a challenge to Storm’s Quarry. The Guard is not allowed inside; neither is the Duke, not without invitation.” Shadar hesitated. “I know what you are capable of, Nadya, but I fear this will test you beyond that. There are secrets that Wintercress holds as dangero
us as any nivasi.”
“Perhaps there should be two of us then,” she said without thinking.
“I—if you think you can trust her.” Shadar looked her in the eye with the same expression he used to wear when she tried to lie about borrowing his rapier to play. “Everything is at stake. Trust like that, it cannot be given freely. You put our city’s future on the line.”
“I know.” And she did. Somewhere, she had begun trusting Shay, the enigmatic nivasi whose recklessness gave her heart strains and whose glances made her chest buzz.
Shadar nodded. “I trust your judgment. Let me signal for the Duke, and we can move forward.” He moved toward the edge of the roof. Flint struck steel, and a torch roared to life in his hands. Waved twice, then extinguished.
Nadya watched her father. As the torch went out, the night stole his familiar silhouette away. A dark figure turned from the edge of the rooftop, and she didn’t realize the strangled cry that broke the quiet came from her throat until Shadar had rushed to her side.
“Nadya!” He grabbed her hands, rubbing them as if to anchor her in what was real.
She shook her head. “Sorry, Papa. I’m all right, I swear. I just…”
“I know. This is the place where Gedeon…” He could not seem to find the words.
Where I was made into a puppet and slaughtered dozens of innocents? She swallowed. “It is in the past. Besides, I thought we had other things to worry about.”
“You are my daughter. I will never not worry about you.”
Footsteps sent them jumping apart, though the traces of concern did not leave Shadar’s face. Nadya brushed her fingers over the mask, checking that its fasteners were secure. She swept the cloak around her, positioning herself at the farthest edge from the terrace door that the Duke emerged from. With her hood pulled low, she surely looked as dangerous as Gedeon.
Not a great place to be thinking such things. The words came in Shay’s voice.
Duke Isyanov came alone, with only Shadar at his right shoulder. He wore plain clothing. A simple pistol was belted at his waist, and Nadya caught herself wondering if the man could use it, if he would. The Duke stopped halfway to her. Shadar took several more steps, positioning himself between his liege and the vigilante menace.
How ridiculous this charade must look, she thought, to an outsider. Two sides squaring off on a rooftop, their expressions carrying a weight belying the surroundings. Shay would laugh, no doubt, if she were here.
“Iron Phoenix.” Nothing but cordiality filled the Duke’s tone, but his eyes were another matter. His gaze shone with a strength that would have frightened her had they not been on the same side. Peacemaker he might be, but Duke Isyanov knew an enemy, and to them, no quarter would be given.
She nodded deeply.
“I am surprised you heeded our request to meet. My captain assures me that you are willing to listen. Is that so?”
Another nod. Nadya wished for some way she could speak, but a single word would mark her as female, and the Duke was no fool. She could not fake an accent that would deceive him.
“Then I will not waste time. Wintercress has given us an ultimatum. If I do not cede authority of Storm’s Quarry to them at tomorrow’s dawn, they will withhold the compound that purifies our water.”
She thought about feigning surprise and outrage, but with a cloak and mask, nothing came to mind. So she opted for mysterious aloofness and remained still.
Her silence did not faze the Duke. “I have no recourse. Either my people die of sickness and thirst, or Wintercress brings its armies in. I do not need to tell you what will happen to the Nomori should that occur.”
He didn’t. In the wake of the Blood Sun Solstice, the Erevans and Nomori finally seemed to be leaving decades of distrust and hate behind them. She did not fight against Levka and the zealot to see Cressian soldiers replace the Erevans as their new oppressors.
“I have to sign the treaty unless I have proof that we can survive without Wintercress. I need the compound that purifies our waters. Enough that our sages can run tests, discover its secrets, and replicate it. To do that, I need someone to take the risk of breaking into the Cressian stronghold off the shores of the Kyanite Sea. This is not something I can ask of my Guard. Their capture would mean war.”
And if your sages take too long? If there is not enough for them to run their alchemical tests? If…her breath froze, and she knew what would be done if that were the case. What she would need to do, and whom she would need to hurt.
He took a step forward, passing by Shadar, who let him. The Duke stopped just paces from Nadya. He stared into her eyes, and she resisted the urge to fidget or turn away, to hide her face from him.
“They tell me that the Phoenix was under the control of the Chaos-maker when his hands slaughtered my people as I gathered them to give a message of hope. They tell me that the Phoenix saved Storm’s Quarry from his madness, rescued my son’s betrothed, and revealed the treachery of one of my advisors.” He spoke without looking away from her. “I do not know if I believe them. But I do know that you are here. You answered our call, and you alone can save us.”
He did not ask anything of her. Perhaps it was too far beneath the ruler of the city to beg for aid from a vigilante. But his voice cracked at the final words and the tips of his fingers trembled, and Nadya knew then that he did not ask because such a request was beyond words.
She met his gaze, nodded, and, after a moment of thought, bowed slightly.
The Duke stepped back, sucking in a breath, but she was already gone, leaping off the rooftop’s edge and heading down to the third tier and the one she needed at her side for this fight. The one she might need to betray in order to save the city.
Chapter Thirteen
If Jeta thought Shay was avoiding going outside the smithy, she said nothing through the long hours of their work. She usually needed to persuade her apprentice to focus on the duller parts of their craft: working leathers, taking stock, sorting through orders. Today, Shay had not objected. Indeed, she threw herself into the work, kept her back to the smithy’s doors, and put on the most pleasant expression she was capable of.
Only after Jeta had turned in the hour before midnight, after being assured that, yes, Shay would finish the order, did Shay allow herself to sag against the workbench and mutter, “This damn city.”
Memories and bitterness were not enemies she could fight, immune to fire as they were.
“If Jeta did not have this cursed contract with the Duke, I’d be at the very tip of the South Marches.” She picked up the shaping hammer. “No marble walls, no rain. Paradise, if there ever was one.”
No Nadya, but no damn Stormspeaker either.
If Shay were honest with herself, and such an instance was as rare as clear skies over Storm’s Quarry, there was more than Jeta’s contract keeping her in this city.
She grunted and began boring holes in the smelly leather. Tanned hastily, bits of meat clung to its edges, and she wrinkled her nose.
Before long, a shadow fell across the floor, reaching up to where Shay sweated and wrestled with dead animal parts. Her muscles relaxed as the silhouette turned familiar, and the scent of rain-tinged wind mingled with the leathers.
As if my thoughts had called her.
She turned to see Nadya standing in the doorway, wearing the cloak of the Phoenix. Shay smiled, something she was getting used to doing quite often around Nadya. “I do not see any bloodstains. So since you have not just come from a fight, does that mean we are heading off to one?” Jeta would have her head for leaving before she finished the new shipment of leather, but spending a night with Nadya would be worth it.
“Yes, you could say that.” Nadya reached up and undid the face mask. It fell down, revealing the worry lines creasing her face, the paleness of her cheeks.
Shay set down her hammer. “Not the usual stroll in the moonlight, then.”
“Shay, they are going to win. Take the city. Without ever needing an army.” N
adya practically spat in frustration. Normally, Shay would suggest taking that out on a training dummy, or even a wall, but Nadya was likely to tear the place apart before cooling off.
“Wintercress.” It was not a question.
“Yes. That Aster woman has given the Duke an ultimatum: sign the city over or go without compound.”
Shay considered it briefly. “Brilliant.” Nadya shot her a dark look, and she stammered, “Evil, of course. This is your home.” Not mine, not anyone. Don’t care what happens. Let Wintercress win, let them burn it to the ground, burn my memories along with it…
It was the utter helplessness in Nadya’s eyes, the way they pleaded without words, that shut down the nasty voice in Shay’s mind. This is your home. And somewhere along the way, Shay had started to care because of that. Jeta had seen her feelings long before she did. Nadya had been given a chance by the Protectress herself. To be nivasi and Nomori, to call Storm’s Quarry home. She deserved as much. She was kind, pure. No Chaos-maker could change that.
“I need your help.” Nadya reached out, then hesitated, her hand hovering in the air.
A hand that could snap a neck as easily as a handful of dried straw. No wonder Nadya kept herself at a distance in moments like these, like last night. Shay met her the rest of the way, entwining their fingers, feeling the warmth that flowed between them. The dying embers of the forge cast a glow upon Nadya’s face, giving her an ethereal quality. Her eyes turned into wells of softness, her lips parted slightly.
She still loves Kesali, a small voice reminded her. Shay shoved it back.
“Shay,” Nadya murmured as she stroked her cheek.
A moment later, they were kissing. Slow, unsure, tasting one another. Nadya tasted like wind, like sea salt and stone. Her movements were hesitant, a hesitation Shay did not share. Her hands found the small of Nadya’s back and traced up her spine. Her tongue teased at Nadya’s lips. Nadya’s hand slowly settled on her hips, firm and strong.
“I could hurt you, you know,” Nadya said breathlessly, between kisses.
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