by Kaylin Lee
Tavar put a comforting hand on her shoulder but didn’t speak.
She shut her eyes for a breath, then opened them and flicked a glance at me.
I shifted uneasily. There was so much clarity and emotion in her shimmering, blue eyes, I couldn’t shake the feeling that if anyone could see through me to the truth of the curse, it would be her.
She said something in the Western language, her voice raw.
Tavar nodded and replied quietly, then released her shoulder. “Let’s go, Bri. It’s late.”
The hallway outside was silent. We went down the dark, claustrophobically tight staircase at the edge of his tenement, then out into the street, where the cold, winter wind blew wisps of my hair around my face.
“What did she say? About the boy?” I didn’t want to know what she’d said about me. If she’d seen through me, all the way to the evil stitch of magic across my heart, it was no more than I deserved—but I still didn’t want to know.
“You saw how he thought she meant for him to dig through her trash for food,” Tavar said, his tone grim. “Guess that’s what the other families in the River Quarter give him, if they give him anything at all.”
My stomach soured. “Guess so.” Ever since mages had been freed to work for a wage like normal citizens instead of being slaves to the state and the Procus families, Prince Estevan’s government couldn’t afford to produce vast quantities of free victus for the poor. It was still free, but now families had to provide ration cards to pick up victus, and I’d heard victus shortages plagued the markets in the River Quarter. There were charitable houses to care for orphans, but so many had lost parents to the plague and to aurae, there was never enough space or victus to go around.
“Balei was wondering—if that’s what happens to Asylian orphans in a city full of magic and wealth, with no more plague, what happened to our own orphans, the ones we left back in the West?” Tavar shrugged, looking lost in the poorly lit River Quarter street. “I don’t know. I was just a baby when we flew here. But Balei … She and her husband were supposed to fly the plane back, pick up more survivors, and bring them here. Instead, with the plane so damaged, they had to stay here with us.”
“I see.” I shivered and huddled in my jacket.
We turned the corner into a wider, better-lit thoroughfare. The Royal Precinct was just a block away. Soon, it would be time to say goodnight, not that I would be sleeping anytime soon.
“And she said that you are brave.”
My steps faltered. “What?”
“In case you were wondering what she said about you. She said you’re brave—to train like you do, to go fight the Masters as a Sentinel.” Tavar shot me a sidelong glance. “You are, you know.”
I looked away, my throat tight.
Brave! The curse shook with mocking laughter. Wasn’t that what got you into this in the first place?
“I have to go,” I mumbled to Tavar. “Goodnight.”
I crossed the street before Tavar could reply, and as the night wind whistled between the buildings, I didn’t bother putting on my scarf. Shame warmed me just fine the entire walk home.
~
The house was dark when I got home. I kicked off my boots and carried them upstairs, trying to keep my footsteps quiet. A light shone from under the washroom door at the top of the stairs.
The door opened when I reached the top, flooding the hallway with light and the scent of rosedrop oil.
“Oh!” Alba placed a hand on her chest and blinked at me. “You startled me.”
“Sorry.” I went past her toward my bedroom, trying not to sneeze at the heavy scent pouring out of the washroom. I’d been using the same winterspice soap the Sentinels issued to us when we were first rescued, and I didn’t see any need to upgrade to something more feminine. The scent of Alba’s fancy mage-craft toiletries always gave me a headache.
“Bri.” Alba’s tone was tentative. “Hold on, would you?”
I turned slowly. “What?”
She gestured to her face and smiled wanly. “What do you think? It’s new.”
The bright luminous from the bathroom behind Alba made me squint to see her features. “What’s new? You look the same.”
“The makeup. My eyes …” She paused and bit her lip, then blinked rapidly. “Never mind.”
“Alba—”
She went back into the washroom and shut the door, leaving me in darkness.
I entered my room slowly, feeling achy and exhausted. I set my boots by the door and changed into my nightgown, then sat on my bed and waited until I heard her bedroom door click shut.
In the washroom, I splashed water on my face, dried my face with a towel, and blinked at my bleary-eyed reflection in the mirror.
My eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep. The curse didn’t like me to sleep longer than four hours a night, not wanting me to waste precious time when I could be studying or training. And today, it had woken me up earlier than usual for our annual, criminal mission—to snoop in Dad’s office and find out whether I was on track to join a Sentinel team in time for the curse’s fulfillment.
The lack of sleep took its toll on my appearance, that was for sure. My eyes were green and heavy-lidded like Alba’s, and I shared her finely cut cheekbones, but while her face was bright and pretty, mine seemed pinched and lifeless. Yet another thing the curse had stolen.
I managed to clean my teeth without looking in the mirror again.
Back in my bedroom, I sat down at my desk and opened the book I’d been studying at Tavar’s. The text blurred in the dim light. I was so tired. I scrubbed my eyes and tried to sit up straighter.
I thought of how dull and unhappy my face had looked in the mirror, then tried to imagine my face like a normal, curse-free girl of fifteen. Would I have been playing with mage-craft makeup like Alba tonight, instead of studying until I couldn’t see straight? Maybe. I’d never know.
When I’d stared at the textbook long enough to satisfy the curse, it sent me to bed.
I lay on the narrow mattress and pressed my hands over my tired, burning eyes.
Just think, the curse whispered as I drifted off to sleep. Three years from today, you’ll fall asleep like this and never wake up.
I was almost too tired to care.
Almost.
Chapter 9
“‘Born with little, died with less.’ That’s the last line.” I slumped to the side and rested my elbow on Tavar’s kitchen table. Late-afternoon sun streamed in from the thin glass window behind me, the warmth tempered by a draft of cold wind that rustled through the tenement’s thin walls. “I can’t write about this poem. It doesn’t make any sense.”
In just under two years, I would turn eighteen and take my final exams as a tracker mage, and then I’d finally take the Sentinels’ test. At the curse’s direction, I’d broken into Dad’s office this morning to check on my records, and according to Raven’s notes, I was on track. So why did the curse insist I study so hard for the subjects that didn’t matter to its plans? Especially my worst subject, Western literature.
Lazy creature, it hissed. You must excel in all subjects. Stop whining.
I shifted, awaiting its vindictive, sizzling energy in my heart, but it held back, probably wary of Tavar’s steady attention.
Tavar laughed quietly and leaned closer, scanning the poem on the table in front of me. “What are you supposed to do?”
The skin on my arm prickled at his nearness. “Write something about how this poem makes me feel.” I held back a groan, mindful of the curse’s annoyance. “But it doesn’t make me feel anything, because it doesn’t make any sense.”
“The Ballad of Red Beard,” Tavar read quietly. “One of my mother’s favorites. I’ve never read it in your language before.” He scanned the poem, his brow furrowed. “Translation looks good. What don’t you understand?”
“The point, I guess.” I rubbed my temple. “They survive the raiding army and rebuild their own lives, and then they lose it all ag
ain. ‘Born with little, died with less.’ Nothing is built that isn’t destroyed by the end of the poem. Why bother reading it? Or writing it, for that matter?”
Tavar glanced at me. “Not everything gets destroyed by the end. They have each other.”
“So it’s a sad ending.”
“No, a happy one.”
“Doesn’t make—”
“They had their lives, and every life matters.” Tavar’s fingers brushed the last poem with an odd reverence, and then he sat back in his chair, his gaze turning distant. “Their lives mattered. Not their wealth, their power, their positions. The man and his wife—at the end, they had their lives, and they had each other. It was enough.” He stopped speaking, and though his explanation had been beautiful, his jaw hardened, like the words had angered him.
“So it’s happy,” I repeated, feeling a strange, inexplicable loss. There was nothing happy about Tavar’s posture now. I shivered. The air in Tavar’s apartment seemed to have turned frigid, so cold was his expression.
“It’s the opposite of those monsters in the Badlands,” he said, his accent thicker than usual, his tone grim. He stared blindly at the notes in front of him. “To those mages, no life matters. Nothing matters but power and control.”
“Oh.”
And who was right in the end? The curse seemed to smirk. What do you think, creature? The West is nothing. The plague took millions of those precious lives in the space of a few years. If their lives mattered so much, write about that.
“Thank you.” My voice was barely above a whisper.
Tavar didn’t seem to hear.
I took out my pencil and made a show of writing a few sentences, hoping he’d warm toward me, but he never did.
When I went home for the evening, I felt sick and bereft, like the moment had stolen what little warmth remained in my ugly, broken life.
I should have learned by now not to be so hungry for warmth.
~
“Who’s the mage this time?” Tavar took a long swig from his canteen.
“Um …” I found myself staring as a droplet of water traced the contours of his throat before disappearing into his rumpled training shirt.
“Bri?” He watched me, an odd look on his face. “Are you well?”
“Of course.” I turned away and downed the last gulp of water in my canteen, then tossed it to the side of the training mats.
The large, low-ceilinged training hall was quiet. Most of the other recruits had gone home an hour earlier, but Tavar and I were still sparring, preparing for a big curse-breaking test coming up the next day.
On the other side of the room, Raven was working with a small group of brand-new recruits still fumbling through their first attempts to break curses in the middle of hand-to-hand combat. The combination of the two skills was difficult, which was why I was still practicing with Tavar.
“I was the mage last time.” I checked my braid, then shoved a few loose chunks of hair into the tie at the end. “Your turn.”
“Fine, fine. If you think you can handle it.” Tavar still looked wary, but he took the vial of practice curses from me without argument. “Ready?”
I had to stop paying so much attention to Tavar. He was just another recruit, practically a tutor to me, since he’d helped my performance so much since we’d started working together. There was no reason I should be watching him drink water like it was the most exciting moment of my day.
I shook myself, then rolled my shoulders and got into a defensive crouch. I slid my obcillo crystal into my pocket, then adjusted the fabric of my pants so it would be easy to remove quickly.
Work fast, creature, the curse hissed. No mistakes. You will not enjoy the consequences if that crystal comes near me.
I gritted my teeth. “Ready.” Three years of training to break curses without revealing my own curse, clutching obcillo crystals in secret, nightly drills until my fingers bled, and Elektra’s magic still expected me to fail every time I sparred at the Sentinels compound.
Tavar sprang forward and struck at my jaw.
I dodged easily, expecting the move, then darted in close and tried to subdue the arm where he held the vial.
He twisted out of my hold and put distance between us, laughing as we circled each other. “You tried the same move last time. Got to get creative,” he taunted.
“I’m just practicing the new techniques we learned for our test.” I felt the curse’s annoyance with me pulse in my chest. “Go ahead, get creative, show-off.”
He feigned one side, then went for the other, ripping the stopper out of the vial as I shot out a leg to trip him. He went down, but not before tossing a dash of silvery, immobilizing liquid onto my left side.
Oh, wonderful. Now I had to a count of seven before the curse would take hold, which meant I actually had a count of five before the new curse would be deep enough into my body to reach my other curse.
I’d learned from practicing alone in my room that if that happened, it would make the obcillo crystal smoke and shatter trying—and failing—to break Elektra’s stronger curse at the same time. If anyone saw it, the curse would be given away.
One, two—
I dug for my obcillo crystal as Tavar tripped me from his new position on the mat. I hit the ground hard, the hand in my pocket wrapped around my obcillo crystal and unable to break my fall.
Three, four—
I didn’t bother to remove the crystal or roll to my other side to defend the next blow, which came quickly against my upper back. I ignored the pain and wrapped the crystal in my palm, letting it absorb and heal the new curse through the skin of my hand.
“Bri!” Tavar grabbed my shoulder and rolled me to face him. “What’s wrong with you?” His eyes were wide. “You still had two counts left. You were supposed to defend against a blow to the head, not lie there with your guard down while you break the curse. I could have knocked you unconscious.”
“Oh.” I sat up. Perhaps I could feign cluelessness. “I forgot—”
“And we’re only training!” He shook his head. “I could have seriously injured you. You should have just let the curse take hold. I would have broken it a moment later.”
His chest heaved. I could see the throbbing of his pulse in his throat. Was Tavar truly so concerned about accidentally hurting me?
“Sorry.” I ran my hand through my hair, making an even worse mess of my braid. I felt off-kilter and confused. “I guess we should finish up.”
Tavar’s tense shoulders eased. He studied his hands, then glanced at me. “We could go get some dinner, if you want.”
I found myself staring at his lips. “Dinner …” There was a freckle just on the edge of his upper lip, and it always seemed to draw my eyes. We were both sixteen now. Other Sentinels our age got dinner together at the nearby markets after training all the time, but Tavar and I had never gone out to dinner alone. Why did it seem like it would mean crossing an invisible, unspoken line?
Tavar didn’t smile. He always smiled when I was distracted. “Bri …” He shifted slightly, glancing quickly at the small group of recruits on the other side of the training room. “C’mon. Dinner. Let’s go.” He stood, then held out his hand.
I took it, enjoying the shock of warmth coming from his skin on mine, my attention still fixed on that freckle as he pulled me to my feet. It was close enough to kiss—
IDIOT. The curse shot a spike of pain into my chest.
I yanked my hand out of Tavar’s, but the curse was just getting started. A second, searing stab of pain fired from the stitch into my heart, followed by a third pain.
I collapsed to my knees and clutched my chest, breathless from the pain. Would it kill me this time?
I SHOULD kill you. You deserve to die, worthless creature! The curse’s voice in my mind was a high, piercing shriek. For some reason, all I could think of was Elektra’s face when she threatened to transport into my family’s sitting room and break their necks. How DARE you?
I clutche
d my chest. Another pain seared my heart. You will not kiss him, the curse shrieked. You will not touch him. You will not you will not you will not—
“I’m so sorry,” I tried to whisper, but I had no air to voice the words. I slammed my hand against the ground, begging the curse to stop without words.
I couldn’t breathe. There was a roaring in my ears, drowning out what I thought might be a chorus of voices yelling somewhere over my head.
Someone turned me onto my back, but another pain came at once. I shoved their hands away and rolled onto my side, covering my chest protectively.
“Please,” I finally choked out. “Please.”
The curse only shrieked with wordless rage.
“What is it?” A man’s unfamiliar voice spoke urgently over my head. “Please what? What do you need?”
The curse shot another jolt into my heart, then stilled, as though it had just realized we had an audience. You will pay, creature, it hissed. I will not forget this betrayal. Neither will you.
The pain in my chest disappeared. I froze, then let the hands on my shoulder roll me to my back.
A man with a brown beard and black tattoos running up his arms stared down at me, his lips moving as he checked my pulse and pupils. Tavar knelt beside him, looking horrified. Raven crouched on my other side.
The roaring in my ears finally faded. “—you tell me your name, kid?” The bearded Sentinel felt along my ribs. “Can you say anything?”
“Briar Rose,” I rasped. I shoved onto my elbows, then sat despite his protests. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Tavar growled. “Lie down, Bri.”
“I mean, I’m fine now.” I rubbed my chest gingerly. “It just ached for a minute.”
“It ached, huh?” The Sentinel raised his eyebrows. “That’s one way to put it. I’ve never seen someone rendered breathless and speechless for several minutes by an ache.”
“I’m fine, though. Truly.” I rolled my shoulders. “I could spar again—that’s how good I feel. So everything’s fine.”
The man glanced at Raven. “I think your recruit has heart problems. Ever seen anything like this from her before?”
