by Claire Luana
Colum stepped to the prisoner and pulled his hood off with a flourish. “We found a scout.”
Kai’s eyes narrowed as she took in the man dressed in all black. One of the soul-eater’s soldiers. His hair was jet-black, his skin tanned—a darker complexion than most inhabitants of Kitina. He wasn’t unattractive, though his features were foreign. But his eyes. His eyes glowed that evil green. The color of the soul-eater’s magic.
“I don’t know how these soldiers follow those monsters.” Daarco spit on the wooden planks of the floor at the man’s feet. “What could possibly be in it for them?” There had been a time when Daarco’s anger and menace had frightened Kai, but now she was glad to have it on her side.
“Life,” Kai said softly. “It’s easy to justify atrocities when the alternative is death. Where did you find this one?”
“Like I said, he appeared to be scouting. Ever since we captured him, he’s been raving about how they’re going to kill us, destroy us, eat our bones, etc.”
“That’s hardly worth dragging him all this way,” Kai said.
“He raves and yells,” Geisa said. No—Mesilla, Kai corrected herself. “Until he doesn’t. And then it’s as if there’s something else inside him. We think the creatures speak through him. That one or more of the things can see through him.”
The thought chilled her. That dark magic could be looking through this man’s eyes right now, watching her. She straightened, setting her jaw. “I am Queen Kailani Shigetsu of the consolidated lands of Kita-Miina. Who am I speaking to?”
The man blinked at her, his eyes burning like green coals. “Twenty-six,” the man hissed.
Kai looked at the others. A number? “You have unlawfully invaded my country. Killed my husband, the king. But despite these offenses, I can be persuaded to see reason. Can there be a peace between us?”
The man laughed a hissing, hacking laugh that stood the hairs on the back of Kai’s neck on end. “No peace.”
Kai pursed her lips. “Surely, there is something you want. Something we can give you in exchange for you leaving this place.”
“Your lives,” he said. “Your land. Your souls.”
“Those items are non-negotiable.” She wasn’t going to waste her time with this man. Kai motioned to Colum. “Will you make sure he is delivered to the dungeon? I want to see what else we can learn from him. Perhaps we can find out how he is under the creature’s power. Find out a way to free him.”
The man chuckled, and again, the sound didn’t fit the vessel. “Your husband had a warrior’s soul. It fought until the end. It was delicious,” the man said. “Your daughter, on the other hand, yielded to us like a willing whore.”
In a blink of an eye, Kai had pulled Daarco’s sword from its scabbard and sliced the man’s head off. The others stood with wide, shocked eyes as Kai’s breast heaved and crimson blood dripped from the sword’s point onto the ground. She handed the sword back to Daarco, who took it mutely.
Kai brushed her hair back from her face. “Colum, I’ve changed my mind. Please see that this man’s head is displayed on a pike above the Sea Gate and his body is disposed of.”
“Aye, Queenie,” Colum managed.
And with a calmness she did not feel, Kai walked from the room, down the stairs, and out into the open air.
VIKAL HOVERED IN the dark outside Rika’s room, too cowardly to enter. He had followed her through the crowds of the Gathering Hall and the empty hallways, yet now that he was here, he didn’t know what to say. Were there words of comfort he could offer her—should he even try? Rika had made it clear where her heart was—with her home and people in Kitina. It made sense. It was logical. So why did part of him feel an aching disappointment? He leaned against the cold stone wall, letting his head fall back. Gods above. He had wanted her to fall in love with Nua. With their people. And…with him. His decision not to tell her about Sarya had been entirely selfish. He had told himself that he’d spared her the pain of his confusion, but part of him had known that mentioning Sarya might make Rika pull back. And he hadn’t wanted that.
A swirl of white materialized in his vision before swooping away down the hallway. He squeezed his eyes closed, rubbing them with the heels of his hands as if he could scrub away the image. Whatever strangeness he was seeing…it couldn’t truly be Sarya. Could it? But it felt like her. There were even moments he swore he could smell her jasmine scent perfuming the musty stillness of Goa Awan. He looked down at the offerings lining the hallway outside Rika’s door and bent to pick up a single jasmine bloom, wilted and dry. Perhaps this was what he’d smelled.
A light came into view at the end of the hallway, and Vikal unglued himself from where he stood. It wasn’t the wisp of white this time.
“There are things to discuss,” Sarnak said, unblinking in the glow of his floating totem. The light shadowed the craggy lines in Sarnak’s face, lending him a ghostly look. So many ghosts in this place. Vikal nodded and fell in behind him, recognizing a Sarnak summons. It wasn’t the type of thing you turned down.
A pang of loss vibrated through Vikal as he watched Sarnak’s orb bob in the air. He shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping them from fluttering uselessly for a smooth wood staff that wasn’t there. That would never be there again. When he and Rika had fled the soul-eater camp, there had been no way to get it back and escape alive. He should know; he had considered and discarded about every plan he could conceive of. In the end, Rika was more precious. But it didn’t stop him from missing it, from feeling naked without it. It was one of the great relics of his ancestors, and he had lost it. Just another in his long line of failures.
They rounded the door into Sarnak’s chamber and the old man gestured at a little chair. Vikal eyed it warily, but sat, the chair groaning under his weight. Sarnak himself perched on the bed, his crossed legs disappearing under his orange robe. Somehow, despite everything that had passed in the last few weeks, Sarnak still wore his mischievous smile.
“There were days I was not sure I would see you again,” Sarnak said. “You walk an interesting path this cycle.”
“Interesting?” Vikal said. For some reason, Sarnak’s unflappability needled at him. “I wouldn’t call it interesting. Nua is as good as destroyed. My wife is dead. I was enslaved to the worst kind of monster, forced to watch as my hands killed my own kinsmen. I wouldn’t call it interesting.”
“It’s certainly not uninteresting,” Sarnak retorted.
“What do you want, Sarnak?” Vikal asked wearily.
Sarnak didn’t respond but simply sat, looking at him.
With a grunt, Vikal stood and paced across the chamber. “I don’t have the patience for your enigmatic lessons right now. Speak your piece, or I’m leaving.” He couldn’t be here, pinned under the weight of Sarnak’s ink-black stare. Looking deep into his soul, to the things Vikal couldn’t face himself.
“Do you remember when you used to spar with Goji?”
Vikal slowed, looking back warily. The god wanted to talk about Vikal’s childhood? “Of course,” he said gruffly. “What about it?”
“The man was a seasoned soldier, one of the best on Nua. Even the king before you couldn’t beat him. You were a thirteen-year-old boy. But every time you lost, you sulked like a little girl who’d had her doll taken away.”
Vikal grimaced. “I did not like losing. I still do not.”
“This much is clear. You are too hard on yourself. You always were. You expect perfection, and such a thing does not exist. Not for a king. Or even a god.”
“This is not a sparring match! This is Nua’s future. Sarya’s life. The souls of our people…the threads of the jungle…” He trailed off as a lump grew in his throat. “Because I was not strong or smart enough, I failed them.”
“The people do not seem to think you failed them. They want you as their king. No one even suggested voting you out while you were gone.”
“They should have! I abandoned them. Fought for the enemy. Look what has become of us!
” He motioned to the dark space around them.
“They believe in you. Even when you do not believe in yourself. The island is with you still. I felt its rejoicing when you landed on our shores once again. It led you and the goddess of bright light to this place, back to your people. Nua needs you.”
Vikal pressed his fists to his forehead, trying to calm himself. “The forest,” he said. “They burned so much. Poisoned the lakes…Nua will never be the same.”
“Nua is stronger than you know. It will rebound. And now the words you will not voice, though they are defeating in their silence. Sarya. You must forgive yourself for Sarya.”
Vikal fell back into the chair with a heavy heart. Sarnak’s words were meant to comfort, but they only brought new feelings of wretchedness. Even if he somehow forgave himself for his prideful hand in Sarya’s death, could he forgive himself for what came after? He loved Sarya with all of his heart. So why was he lingering in the hallway outside Rika’s room? Why had the look of betrayal in her eyes twisted his heart?
“I did not deserve her love,” Vikal finally said, running his fingers through his hair, cradling his head in his hands. “She has only been gone a matter of weeks and I am having…thoughts.”
“About the lovely young goddess you rescued from a foreign land? Yes, I can see how that would encourage…thoughts.”
He couldn’t meet Sarnak’s eye. “Sarya deserved better than me.” Rika deserves better.
“She says she chose you anyway, you sand-headed water buffalo.”
Vikal’s head whipped up. “What did you say?” His heart skipped a beat within his chest. Those words…they were Sarya’s. It was the name she called him whenever he was being bull-headed. Well…she had said it a lot.
“She said she should be drinking tea with her ancestors, but you keep her tethered to you as tightly as a babe on his mother’s apron-strings.”
Vikal couldn’t comprehend what Sarnak was saying. “Sarya. Is here? She’s speaking to you?” The whips of white he had been seeing…so subtle he was sure he’d been going mad. Could they truly be Sarya?
Sarnak sighed and stood. “The god of endings sees souls into the next cycle. Helps them move on. But in some cases, they are not the one who needs help. It is those still living who refuse to let them go.”
Vikal found himself on his feet, looking around the cavern, lit only by Sarnak’s glowing orb. A breeze tousled his hair, bearing the scent of jasmine and coconut. They were inside. There should be no breeze here. He froze, feeling unmoored. “Sarya?”
“I will leave you two alone,” Sarnak said, reaching up and spinning his totem with a single finger. “If I cannot get you to see sense, perhaps she can.”
The light of the orb cast wobbly shadows on the walls. Sarnak disappeared into the hallway, but Vikal knew…he wasn’t alone. The hairs on his arms stood on end. “Sarya?” His voice was small.
As the orb spun, it began to knit together an image in the air, as if a spell was being cast, added to by each revolution of the sphere. Sarya began to take form. Her delicate brow, cascading black hair, soulful brown eyes. She wore the same dress she had the day she’d died, magenta silk trimmed with golden thread, a fold of fabric falling gracefully over one shoulder. A sob escaped his throat and he ran to her—only to find his arms embracing nothingness.
“You can’t hug me, you…”
“Sand-headed water buffalo,” he said with her, tears beginning to fall. “I know. Because you are not real.”
“Of course I am real. I am just lacking a body at the current moment.”
“How is this possible?” Vikal asked. “Your soul…it was consumed. I was certain it would be the end for you. Your last cycle.”
“Even the soul-eaters do not have the power to rip a soul from the cycle of rebirth forever. I was a captive, much as you were, within the soul-eater’s essence. When the goddess of bright light destroyed the soul-eater, I was released.”
Vikal’s elation dimmed at Sarya’s mention of Rika. Had she been alongside this whole time…watching? Shame burned his cheeks. He had dishonored her by how quickly he had grown to respect Rika. Grown…close to her.
Sarya clucked her tongue. “I am not hovering over your shoulder every moment, Vikal. We always knew this was a possibility. When we chose each other, we knew there was a risk. That a goddess of bright light would be born. That the fates would take you down another path.”
“I choose my own fate,” Vikal said. “And I chose you. I still choose you.”
“You have always been honorable to a fault, Vikal. That is one of the things I love about you,” Sarya said, raising a translucent hand as if she could reach out and grab his nose. He let out a choked laugh. It was such a Sarya gesture. Whenever he was being too serious, caught up in the stress of his duties, she would reach out and grab his nose. It had never ceased to bring a smile to his face. It seemed it worked even after death.
“Better,” she said. “It pains me to see you so full of despair and mourning.”
“It pains you?” he said. “What of my pain? How am I supposed to get through this life without you? I cannot do this alone.”
“You are not alone,” she said. “You have someone new to stand by you. It brings me great comfort to know that you are loved, that you will love again.”
“Never,” he said, though the hated part of himself whispered that was a lie. “I will never love anyone but you.”
“Is there no end to your stubbornness, water buffalo?” Sarya said. “It always was your destiny—to love the goddess of bright light. To have had the time I had with you was a great gift, and one I will cherish into the next life. But you were only ever mine for a time.”
“That’s not true. I am forever yours. And you are forever mine.”
She looked at him with kindness in her brown eyes. “A heart is capable of loving more than one person. Do not limit yours. Let it grow to make room for what is new.”
“I would never betray you like that,” Vikal said, desperate to believe his own words.
“It is why I asked Sarnak to speak to you. It is not a betrayal when one cycle is done to move to the next. It does not diminish what has come before. The cycle of our love is complete. It is time for me to move on, to be reborn into my next adventure. But I cannot do so unless you release me. Unless you move on as well.”
“What do you ask of me?”
“To let me go. To be happy for all the rest of your days.”
Her words cut him to the quick. “I…cannot. I do not know how.”
“Then we will both be nothing more than ghosts.” With those words, she stamped her foot and vanished.
“Wait!” he cried. “I am sorry! I will do whatever you want. Just come back. Stay with me.”
But she didn’t return, didn’t rematerialize. The light of Sarnak’s orb cast lonely patterns on the wall as it continued to spin in a lazy circle.
Vikal sank onto the floor, feelings of wretchedness overtaking him. Bahti was right. Somehow, despite his best of intentions, he had betrayed two women.
RIKA’S TEARS HAD started falling before she reached her room. She hated those tears, cursed them. Her father deserved tears. Her mother and brother and the brave defenders of Yoshai who were probably under attack right now deserved tears. Vikal did not deserve her tears. These people—this land—didn’t deserve her tears. They didn’t care about her. They cared about what she could do. What power she had been born into. They cared about some ancient goddess who was wearing her skin. The goddess was just as bad as the leeches. Stealing her life for her own purpose.
Rika pulled her father’s sword out from under the little cot that she called her bed, curling around the cold metal like a lover. She traced the etching on the scabbard, the leather of the grip, the ruby of the pommel. Her father had held this sword, had walked through life with it on his hip. It had rested by his side when he’d met Rika’s mother. When he’d fought to overthrow the mad moonburner Queen Airi. It had sliced through
tengu, saving their lands from destruction. It had sparred and parried, been sharpened and oiled. It had rested at his bedside when he’d gone to sleep each night. Rika let out an incredulous laugh through the darkness of her tears. She was jealous of a sword. She set it back down on the ground with a sigh.
She lay on the hard bed in misery, trying not to think about Vikal. As much as she had tried to focus on learning how to use her power and getting home, something had crept in—something more. In those moments when Vikal’s stoic mask fell, she saw glimpses of who he had been before the soul-eaters had taken him, and it was someone she wanted to know. Wanted to be near. And that fire had flamed brighter for thinking he might feel the same. But now, she saw the truth. Everything had been carefully calculated to win her aid, to convince a lost girl that a god like Vikal could fall for her. She felt like a fool. He was in love with another woman. And she could hardly blame him. She was his wife! Rika squeezed her eyes shut. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
At least she hadn’t thrown herself at him. A sliver of kindness crept into her angry thoughts. She hadn’t told him how she felt, or tried to kiss him, or flirted shamelessly with him. She knew, inside, what she had been feeling, but he didn’t. She could pretend that nothing had passed between them, that it was nothing but a business arrangement that had brought her here. Free his people, then free hers. It was this thought that finally settled her mind enough to sleep. She would complete her side of the bargain. Then get the hell out of Nua and never look back.
When Tamar came to fetch her in the morning, Rika dragged herself from bed. Exhaustion pulled at her, and the claustrophobia of being away from the sky and movements of the sun and moon was beginning to drive her mad. She wanted to open her third eye, to summon a star to blow the walls off Goa Awan and expose it to the open air. But she was too cautious to even try her powers, keenly aware of what had happened when she had summoned Cygna. As much as she longed to practice with her powers, she couldn’t risk exposing the last remaining Nuans by summoning a shooting star like a bullseye, could she? Though she had gained insight and control from Liliam…it still seemed an unnecessary risk.
