by Mary Fan
“To an innocent little thing like you, I suppose he would have seemed like a cloud prince.” Mistress Ydaya strokes my hair. “You couldn’t have known what he really is.” She glares at Master Ydaya. “She is foolish, but her curiosity is part of what makes her unique. On’en mut funihal mand fith dolare atiyil krináthnur.”
Master Ydaya bristles, his lips pulled down in a deep frown. I repeat Mistress Ydaya’s words in my head, trying to decipher them. I something not you from changing—Or maybe adjusting? Or tampering?—with her something again. Except the word for “not,” when used as a suffix, makes a word its own antonym. My best guess is that she was forbidding her husband from tampering with my mind. Her stern expression and Master Ydaya’s plain irritation support that theory.
Master Ydaya lets out a huff, then storms out of the room.
Mistress Ydaya looks me in the eye. “I forbid you from leaving your designated areas again.”
I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”
She grips my chin with cool fingers. “Here is all you need to know about Dámiul Verik: he’s a delinquent who betrayed his family. Breaking into your school was just the last in a series of crimes he committed. He may look like a fairytale prince, but he is the lowest kind of lawbreaker there is. Do you understand?”
Her thoughts flood mine, and I nod again. I focus on the run at the end of “Butterfly’s Lament,” repeating it in my head to push back the questions clawing at my mind.
Mistress Ydaya releases my chin. “Good girl. Now, go back to the others.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I rush out of the room.
As soon as I enter the lounge, I stop and lean against the wall. I close my eyes, picturing Dámiul’s face. His eyes, which say too much to express in words. That sometimes intense, sometimes melancholy azure gaze. The angles, the slopes, the symmetry of his face. I let out a shaking breath; he’s still in my mind.
So are the questions. The Ydayas called him a criminal. Did he do more than just break into Papilio? I never believed him when he said he was ordinary, but now, I wonder just how much he left out. Reason tells me I should disregard everything he told me, but there were too many moments of truth between us. Despite everything, I want to believe in him. His anger over Papilio—is that what got him arrested? Was he as disturbed by the idea of Artists having their memories stolen as I am? He must have fought against his own father—that would explain why Mistress Ydaya said he betrayed his family.
And then there was the way he looked at me, the way he spoke. Maybe I didn’t know everything about him, but I knew him… Didn’t I?
“Back to your places!” From the loudness of Puna’s voice, she must be right beside me.
I open my eyes and notice Cara watching me. She raises her eyebrows, as though telling me something.
Hope flits through me. Perhaps she’ll finally decide I’m trustworthy enough to know the truth.
My entire body feels bruised. My legs from standing so long, my arm from where Master Ydaya grasped it, and my head from all the fond pats I received after I performed “Butterfly’s Lament” for the Ydayas and their guests. I keep reminding myself as long as Mistress Ydaya sees me as her favorite pet, she’ll excuse any mistake I’m caught making as due to my lowly Earthling stupidity. Accepting her condescension makes me feel powerless, but it’s better than losing my memories.
I enter my room. Weary, I put my case down and flop back into my chair. The door starts to slide shut.
As it nears the wall, Cara slips in. The door closes behind her, trapping a lock of her hair. Cara yanks it out, apparently not caring that she’s ripping out several strands.
I stand, surprised. “It’s less than five minutes to curfew!”
Cara strides toward me. “Puna saw me enter my room, but she didn’t see me leave. She’ll assume I’m still in there unless given evidence otherwise, which I don’t intend for her to find. So, you’re stuck with me.”
I tilt my head. “Why are you here?”
“You’ve been begging me for ages to let you in on my secrets.” Cara crosses her arms. “Well, I’m about to grant your wish.”
A rush of excitement floods me. “What made you change your mind?”
Cara leans against the wall and casually crosses her ankles. “Seemed like you were going to make trouble with or without me. The language tablet was something of a test to see if you’d crack under scrutiny. Well, you passed—and then some.” She smirks. “I must say, Iris, you’ve got more guts than I gave you credit for. Illicitly accessing Adryil info?” She lets out a low whistle. “What were you looking for? Info about Master Verik?”
I consider how much to tell her, then decide that if I want her to reveal her secrets to me, I should reveal mine. “Not exactly. I wanted to know about his son, Dámiul.”
Cara drops her smile. “What do you want with Dámiul?”
I blink in surprise. “Do you know him?”
Cara picks up a strand of long, brown hair and examines the tips. “Maybe. Why does it matter to you?”
I hastily tell her about how I ran into Dámiul at Papilio and how he contacted me afterward, then conclude with a brief account of how Master Ydaya reacted to my watching a holovid of him.
Cara angles her mouth. “Shit. Dámiul must really care about you.”
“What does that mean?” A barrage of questions rises up my throat, and I swallow them, waiting for Cara to respond.
She shifts her gaze toward the darkened window. “I think it’d be better if someone else told you. Someone outside the Ka’risil quarters.” She looks at me, and I can’t tell if her green gaze is sharp because she’s examining me, or if that’s just her natural aspect. “As far as Puna knows, I’m sleeping in my room, and you’re sleeping in yours. In two hours, after the courtyard lights go dark, I’ll take you to someone who can tell you everything you ever wanted to know about Dámiul—and what the Adryil are doing to us.”
She’s going to sneak out again, and she’s taking me with her. I can scarcely believe it. I watch her, holding my breath, waiting for her to change her mind.
Instead, she reaches into her pocket, pulls out something silver, and unfolds it. “Put this on. It’ll keep the Adryil from entering your mind.” She pinches the ends of the silver arc between her fingers, and it glows green for a second before dimming again. She hands it to me.
I take the device and examine it. It doesn’t look like much more than a metal headband. I recall the flash of silver I saw beneath Cara’s hair. “Is this how you block them?”
Cara nods, then lifts the hair from her neck. A line of silver clings to her scalp by her nape, nearly invisible under her thick curtain of waves. “It’s called a Grámed device. Keeps the Adryil out of our heads while making them think we’re the compliant drones they want us to be.” She snorts. “Whenever Puna tries to read my mind, she just sees a bunch of inane thoughts, like ‘it’s warm today.’ After a few months of constant telepathic brainwashing by their Keepers, most Earthlings lose the ability to think much deeper than that.”
I close my hand around the machine. “Thank you.” I glance at the door, and a thought occurs to me. “The Ydayas or Puna are probably watching me after what I did. Whatever you’re planning, we should probably wait.”
Cara tilts her head. “Put yourself in Puna’s shoes. Your stupid little slave wandered someplace she wasn’t supposed to go, got herself lectured until she cried, and ran scared back to where she belongs. She’s not about to try again any time soon, is she?”
I can’t help feeling apprehensive. “But what if—”
“Screw ‘what if.’ If I listened to all the ‘what-ifs’ in my head, I’d be no better off than Andreas, or Temir, or the other Ka’risil living in blissful ignorance.” She pushes off the wall and steps toward me. “Don’t you want to know what Dámiul was fighting for?”
I want that more than anything else. “Yes.”
“Good.” Cara flings a lock of hair over her shoulder. “We’ve got some time before
it’s safe to venture out. I suggest you either study that language tablet or get some rest while you can. It’s going to be a long night.” She goes over to my bed, falls back onto it, and closes her eyes.
Whatever she has planned, I’m not about to pass up a chance to learn what she’s been keeping from me. I go over to my closet, retrieve the tablet, and start memorizing a list of Adryil nouns.
CHAPTER 25
THE GRÁMED DEVICE PINCHES MY head like a vice. All I can see is the faint blue light of Cara’s watch as she aims it at the ground before us. I follow her toward the courtyard’s gate and try to memorize her movements as she taps her fingers against the wall.
The gate silently slides open, revealing a dimly lit pathway. Cara presses her hand against the gate before it opens all the way, then slips out through the foot-wide crack. “Come on. Quickly.”
I follow, hoping my mental resolution will calm my agitated body. If my deliberate breaths can’t slow my heartbeat, I might pass out before we make it half a mile. We follow the pathway for a minute or so. I struggle to keep up with Cara’s pace. My hair sticks to my face, and my dress clings to the sweat running down my back.
Cara draws to an abrupt stop at an intersection. The black streets, illuminated by the ice blue lights on the building walls, form an X before us. She checks around the corner, then turns. I run after her, wondering where she’s taking me.
She grabs my shoulder. “Lie down.” Her voice is a barely audible hiss. She flattens herself against the ground, and I follow suit, pressing my body against the cool, rough pavement.
A soft buzzing whirs above me. I glance up, but Cara grabs my head roughly and presses it down. Whatever the buzzing is, it must mean danger. I press my lips together, praying it will pass soon.
After a few minutes, the sound fades into the distance, and Cara pulls me up. “Let’s go.”
“What was that?” I pick up my pace to keep up with hers.
“Security drone. If one catches us, we’re dead.”
Apparently, the streets of Nathril have even more security than Papilio did. I follow Cara’s example and look around in every direction, checking for other drones.
We round a corner and dart down another street. Almost every window in the buildings we pass is dark. Were we in a different situation, I’d take the time to appreciate the alien city surrounding me—their strange yet elegant architecture, their foreign decorations, their otherworldly civilization.
Cara stops suddenly, and I freeze in time to keep from crashing into her. “There’s a fixed security camera ahead.” She jumps up and grabs the edge of a windowsill jutting from the building to our left. “Follow me, and whatever you do, don’t fall.”
She pulls herself up onto the windowsill, then reaches down toward me. Hoping I won’t need her assistance, I spring up with all my strength. Unfortunately, my barely more than five feet of height aren’t enough to let me climb up as she did. I grab her hand, and she hauls me up until I can grab the ledge myself.
A thin lattice design protrudes from the pale wall to our right. Cara presses her back against the window and inches along the side. She grabs the edge of one of the diamond-shaped designs, then climbs it like a ladder.
I swallow hard, wondering how I’m supposed to do the same. She climbs all the way up to a window on the third level, then stands on the ledge. From where I am, she’s so small and shadowed, I can barely see her motioning for me to follow.
The most I’ve climbed before tonight is a handful of backstage ladders. I didn’t think it was possible for my heart to beat any faster, but I guess I was wrong.
I approach the far side of the ledge I’m standing on and grab the edge of one of the protruding diamond shapes. Each diamond is only about three feet high, and I’m sure I could climb like Cara if I wanted to. If only my anxiety didn’t leave me paralyzed.
I take a moment to recall why I’m doing this. For Dámiul: the faraway prince who remains a mystery to me. Cara promised I’d meet someone who’d tell me everything about him, and I won’t let fear stop me. And for Milo: the best friend I left behind. Whoever I’m going to see, they might be able to help me get in touch with him.
If I could choose to send just one message, I don’t know who I’d pick. Before my encounter with Master Ydaya, I would have said Milo. As much as I yearn for Dámiul’s presence, at least he didn’t seem broken. But after seeing that holovid and hearing what the Ydayas said about him, I’m no longer sure.
A delinquent, they called him. Someone who betrayed his family. He must have been working against his father’s schemes. But what was he doing? And where is he being sent?
The memory of him bound in the Hall of Justice, his eyes glistening, hounds me. No matter how tall he stands, I can see the vulnerability beneath. I saw it at Papilio, when he confessed that I was his sanctuary, and I saw it in his eyes as he stood before the harsh, faceless judges.
He needs me too, wherever he is. Maybe even more than Milo does.
My only hope of finding either of them is by following Cara, so I grab the edge of the lattice and jump up.
The climb takes more strength than I expected. My arms ache under the strain as I pull myself up, and my legs protest as I use them in ways they’re unaccustomed to. If I thought I was sweaty before, I must not have seen the worst yet. I’m glad the lattice is made out of something akin to concrete. It’s the only thing letting me keep my grip.
I catch a glimpse of the street below me. It seems desperately far. If I lose my grasp for just an instant, I’ll end up a blood-splattered mess.
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to force myself to stop trembling. I can do this. I pull myself onto the next diamond, ignoring the objections in both my body and mind. By the time I reach Cara’s level, I’m so exhausted, I almost want to fall forward onto the pavement below.
Cara raises her eyebrow at me. “What took you so long?”
“Haven’t… done this before.” My words rush between gasps. “Sorry… just need a moment.”
She leans against the window behind her. “Fine.” I can sense her rolling her eyes.
Irritated, I draw a new breath. “I’ll be faster next time, okay?”
A pause. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be a bitch.” Even in the dim light, I can make out the slight smile angling Cara’s mouth. “You’re actually doing all right. I lost my grip my first time up. Would’ve fallen if it weren’t for Alan.”
My annoyance fades. “Alan?”
“Yeah. He’s the one who showed me everything I know—how to break out of the dorms after curfew, how to escape the Ka’risil quarters, how to get to the underground hideout we’re heading for.”
My legs feel like jelly, and I sink down on the window ledge. “Is this the same Alan who was my predecessor?”
Cara sits beside me. “Yeah. He was part of the original quartet, along with Temir and Andreas. I was brought in because their previous second violinist died suddenly, and they needed a quick replacement. I never quite meshed with the Ka’risil culture, and Alan introduced me to the people we’re going to meet.”
“What happened to him?”
Cara’s expression darkens. “The Ydayas attended a Papilian Spectacle. They were originally going to get a dancer, but then Mistress Ydaya saw this brilliant little violist she just had to have. She didn’t want to wait in case someone else snapped you up. So she sent Alan into retirement to make room for you. I never got to say goodbye.”
I bite my lip. “Is that why you hate me?”
“I don’t hate you.” Cara’s voice emerges as a disgruntled grumble. “I just… well, you were the reason I lost someone who was like a father to me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault. How the hell could you have known? You thought you had no choice. So did I. So did all of us.” She stands. “You ready to go?”
I rise. “Yes.”
Cara climbs across the latticed wall to the next window, which looks so far away, it might as wel
l be on a different building. I draw a breath and follow her.
Dámiul mentioned that forgotten underground buildings lay beneath Nathril—a dark, winding labyrinth of dusty corridors lined with doors that look old enough to crumble. Some are illuminated by lights, filled with glowing blue chemicals, that remained in place long after there was no one left who’d need to see by them. Others appear so black, you might as well be blind. I never imagined I’d be running through them someday.
By the time we reach a wide, brown door in the wall, my lungs feel ready to burst. Cara kicks the door three times, then knocks in a rhythmic pattern. A few seconds pass, and then the door starts sliding down into the ground, surprisingly soundless for something that looks so thick and bulky.
“Here we are,” Cara says.
Though I still don’t know where exactly we are, Cara’s said enough for me to glean that it’s a hideout of some kind whose location is only known by a few. A special knock doesn’t exactly seem like top-notch security. “Couldn’t anyone stumble upon this place?” I ask her.
“Probably, but all they’d find is a boring door they can’t open. One that looks no different from the thousands of other doors in Nathril’s vast, abandoned underground.” Cara squints at the doorframe. “There’s also a hidden camera that shows the people inside who’s knocking, and someone’s always keeping watch. I know what you’re thinking, though. You were expecting a hideout on a tech-filled planet to have more sophisticated security, weren’t you?”
I nod in response.
“Well, so would the people these guys are hiding from.” Cara gestures at the widening gap. “Machines can be traced and hacked, and if anyone spotted a security scanner or anything in a building that’s supposed to be abandoned, they’d get suspicious. So these guys rely on the power of camouflage to keep from being discovered.”
