The Glass Girl

by Kim Alexander

  He sat still for a moment. “What exactly did my mother say to you? Exactly.”

  She handed back his glass. “It was the day after you left for the Edge. You said I would make it more difficult for you, and people didn't want us to be together.”

  “That's not what—”

  “You left me alone, and the next night she came for a visit. I can see where you get your looks, she's beautiful. Anyway, she was sad and sorry, but she said you told her you couldn't bear to see me cry and didn't want to hear me beg. She said I was a distraction and an inconvenience, and you wanted me to go home. She said you were…” she paused. “She said you were fond of me, but it was time for me to go home. So, I did.”

  He looked stunned. “Lelet, I didn't tell her any such thing. I’ve never said a word to her about you at all. Why didn't you wait and talk to me? How could you believe these things?”

  “Because they were just the same as what you said when you left. You wanted me to go.”

  He took her hand. “I wanted many things, but for you to leave? No. Never. No wonder…” He rubbed his thumb gently over the scar of her absent pinkie. “I thought you were acting strangely at the party.”

  “Tell me about the candle. What did I see that made me leave you?”

  He was silent for another long moment. “When I was under Scilla's binding spell, I lived on your balcony. I watched you, I stole your things, and I learned what humans did. I watched you sleep, and dress, and join with that blond boy. That part, I'm not sorry about. I didn't know any better, and you were the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. But when I had the chance to tell you, I was too ashamed. I thought Ilaan, in his anger at me, gave you the candle. You thought I was a liar, a thief, and a coward. That's what I've thought all these months.”

  “That's it?” She looked at him with a trace of amusement in her eyes. “Moth, I knew all about that. I was hoping you'd tell me on your own, but…”

  “Who told you? Was it Ilaan?”

  “It was Scilla. She watched it herself. She thought you were, um, nasty and weird, but she said, 'he must really love you to sit through your boring life'. You honestly thought that was all it would take to make me leave you?”

  “Yes.”

  She pulled her ruined hand away from his and held it up between them. “Do you see this? If I had to do it again, I would, gladly. I would have given anything for you. Don't you understand that? You don't, do you? Moth, do you hate yourself so much you can't believe I love you?” At once she clapped her hand over her mouth. “I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—”

  “Mother Jaa was right about you,” he said quietly. “You are a sharp-edged weapon.” He looked at her and continued. “And anyway, what kind of person sends their mother to break things off? What did she say? I was fond of you? I am fond of…of… Olly. And Scilla. I love you. I told you a thousand times. And you didn't believe it. You left because you wanted to.”

  “Well. Now we know the truth, what really happened. Is it better? Or worse?”

  He drained his cup of sarave. “I have no idea.”

  Chapter Sixty-Six

  Eriis

  They sat together on the long leather couch, their hands resting by their sides. Not touching. Just close. Rhuun forced himself to relax into the seat and tipped his head back. His neck ached. The moons were both nearly down.

  He broke the silence. “The timing is the thing.”

  They had been over it and over it, circling around back to the same conclusion—a lie, but the best, most effective kind of lie—wearing the truth like a mask.

  Lelet rubbed the bridge of her nose. He thought she looked tired, too. “She came to me after you left for the Edge.”

  “That’s what I mean about the timing. That was long before—a very long time before she found my uncle. How did she know I’d be gone? Or where I went? How did she even know I was holding the Seat?”

  “She said you two spoke frequently.”

  He reached for the nearly empty bottle of sarave and splashed the last inch of liquid in his glass. They’d been sharing it. “The last time I saw my mother was before I went through The Door the first time, to escape the Mages after Ilaan’s party. When she came to see you, as far anyone knew she was lost on the sand, out in the Vastness, or dead.”

  “Sounds like someone in your court was talking out of turn. Someone’s been talking to her.”

  He thought of the eyes on him, of those few he counted as friends, of those who wished him harm, and wondered who would do such a thing. Then he sighed. It could be any of them. His mother was still the queen no matter what she did with the crown, and she counted more friends than he did.

  Lelet continued. “Is that why she skipped your party tonight? So, she wouldn’t have to confront me? I guess she thought I’d never come back.”

  “She’s been acting oddly lately. Avoiding me, although I can certainly understand that now. She must have known I’d find out what she did to us. It’s the 'why' of it I don’t get. Why come between us like that? It’s so…graceless. Unlike her. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  She took a small sip and handed him the last of the drink. “Really? That’s the one thing I completely understand.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “She was looking to protect you and that’s what she did. She said my being here with you was making it difficult for you, and it would help you if I left. That part wasn’t a lie. She was looking to strengthen your position.” At his expression, she added, “Wasn’t she?”

  “You’ve got it backwards, shani. When you left it weakened my position. Considerably.”

  “I don’t understand, I thought everyone hated me—”

  “Well, that’s not true, to begin with. But stop, and let’s think about this. Everyone—inside and outside the Arch—they all knew what happened at the Raasth. And if they somehow missed that story, they all knew about Yuenne. Hollen made sure that everyone heard how you changed your face to one of ours and served as my weapon against the Counselor. That’s what they were talking about, outside the Arch—how you put my family back on the Seat. No one, not even the Zaal himself, would have moved against me with you at my side. I had a protector who must have been granted to me by Light and Wind. How else could you have done all these things, without their approval? Do you know how long it took me to find people I could trust after you were gone?”

  She raised a brow.

  “Of course, you don’t. Well, a long time. No, I was isolated by what she did, not strengthened.”

  “But…there was talk…”

  “That’s all it was. Talk. It’s our national sport. If you thought they hated you, you should have heard what they used to say about me. Maybe they still do. But you didn’t know that, and I didn’t make sure you knew. I didn’t want to talk.” He rubbed his face. “I was afraid of what you might say if we did. I know that life here was not to your liking.” He hung his head. “I know I no longer pleased you.”

  She touched the back of his hand. “I didn’t want you to know that. And I also know you didn’t care for what you saw, when you looked at me.”

  He shook his head. “That is not true—”

  “Moth. Please. These are things we should have said before. If we had…” She began to speak, then covered a yawn with both hands. “I’m sorry. It’s been a day-and-a-half. I should go.”

  “You should stay.” He watched her face, the way she looked both eager to say yes and yet still consumed with sadness. He wondered again what had happened to her. Whatever it was, he would fix it.

  She turned to face him. “I have to tell you something.”

  “No. You don’t.”

  “I do, Moth. About me, about what my life is like now. We’ve been apart a long time, and I—”

  “Tell me tomorrow. It’ll be the same story, won’t it? Until tomorrow, let it hang with the moons in the sky. Stay with me.”

  Tears shone in her eyes. “I made a promise.”

 
“So did I.” He swallowed hard. “I know you remember. I promised I would love you until the moons fell into the sand.” He nodded at the sky. “They’re still there, even though we can’t see them. The Fire and the Pearl. And so, you were still here,” he took her hand and placed it on his chest. “You were here. Even though I couldn’t see you. You were always here.”

  They moved from the sitting room past the fish painted screen to his bed, and because he had to have her in his hands, he carried her the whole way. Later, he wouldn’t recall the exact moment her rose patterned robe fell to the floor, but he would never forget pulling her close and kissing her, and how his heart felt like it would shatter. He would always carry the memory of how her skin warmed under his hands, how she felt like water and tasted like flowers. After guiding her to her pleasure, he gave his heart permission to shatter, if Light and Wind wished it so, because there could be nothing better, ever.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  Eriis

  But there was something better.

  “Show me. Let me see.” There was a low urgency to her voice. She wasn’t done with him.

  He lifted his head from under a veil of her long hair, smiling. “What part of me haven’t you seen?”

  As fine as the hot rush of rage had felt, it was nothing compared to this. How had he lived without the heat in her eyes? “Raise the lights,” she said, “and show me your wings.”

  He looked around his room—they would barely fit. “I don’t think—”

  “I’ve been in a world with no wings and no fire. I need to see them. I need to know I didn’t dream you. The man I love has wings. So, show me.”

  He went up onto his knees and she crouched on the bed before him, and he lifted the lights and spread his wings. As always, it was a singular pleasure to stretch those rarely-used muscles. She put her arms up and he lifted her, too, and her kiss was as hot as any demon. He set her down and she looked up at him, and he thought No matter what, no matter what it takes, I am never letting her go. She gently cupped his stones and took his yala in her mouth, and the rhythm she found was matched by the beating of his wings. He could hear crashing, something was blazing, or maybe it was only the blood crashing in his ears and the heat of her mouth setting his body aflame. He felt himself rising, and as he pulled away from her, the transition from hot to cool spurred him to finish with an explosion of white light that was exquisitely close to painful. He opened his eyes to find her sitting on the bed with her hands raised, while he beat his wings in his own ecstatic rhythm against the ceiling, which was on fire.

  “Moth! Can you put it out?” she cried. “Are you all right?”

  He dropped down, throwing a wing over her, and together they watched the flames bloom above their heads, and then just as quickly diminish and go out. Soot and tufts of feathers drifted around their heads in the slow air current.

  There were voices in the hall. “Your Grace? May we assist?”

  “No,” he called to them, tucking his wings away. “Just knocked something over. Everything’s fine.”

  He and Lelet looked at the scorch marks above their heads, the ash and feathers on the coverlet, then at the piles of books he’d swept off his desk, the baskets of glowing rocks strewn across the floor, and his beautiful fish screen; fortunately, it was just pushed over, not torn. They set it back in place.

  “Is this, um, new?” she asked.

  “The screen?”

  She laughed. “I mean setting the whole room on fire. I’d like to try that again…” she righted a small sculpture of a leaping fish, wrought in smooth white stone. “Maybe outdoors.”

  Again, there’s going to be an ‘again.' “You have a pronounced effect on me,” he said. “Anything else you’d like to take a look at?”

  Instead of answering, she smiled at him, and then sat on the bed next to him and blew a bit of fluff out of his hair. “I wonder if you remember something. The first time we joined.”

  “In the forest, by the river, and then we ate the rest of the food. The blanket was brown and blue, and it was a blue sky day—”

  “Okay, you do remember. I asked you what it felt like. You said—”

  “I said it felt like flying.”

  “Yes, you did. And I always wondered what it would be like, joining while really flying. How it would be for you. Once you had wings, I mean.” She got up. “Help me shake this blanket out. It’s got ash all over it.”

  He held up his hand and a speck of soot landed on his finger as a miniature grey blizzard floated towards the floor. “Now we know. Explosive.”

  “Good explosive?”

  He laughed. “Couldn’t you tell? Outside though. Next time.”

  She smiled. “Next time.” Yawning, she tossed the coverlet back on the bed then curled up under it. He pulled it away for the pleasure of seeing her uncovered; soft and delicious.

  He stretched out next to her and she put her head on his shoulder, the way she had before—when he was enslaved by a child, when he was trapped by the Mages, when he was being erased by a shadow—back when everything was better.

  “We should have talked before. This is my fault. If—”

  “If, if.” She cut him off. “The fault is yours and mine, and anyway, it’s in the past. And you know what they say about ‘if’—If your aunt had wheels she’d be a garbage cart.”

  “My—what?” He propped himself on his elbow. “Wheels? I don’t even have an aunt. Why would you say—why are you laughing?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just a stupid old Mistran expression. It means you can say ‘if’ about anything, and it doesn’t change anything. It’s not an insult, even though I guess it sounds like one.” She pulled him back down. “No more ifs, though.”

  But he could tell she still had something to tell him.

  There just wasn’t enough time between her falling asleep in his arms and the demands of the morning and the new day. He wanted to wake her and have more of the sex, although she had explained to him calling it that was rather crass, and one ought to say ‘make love.’ He liked that, it seemed like a good name for a charm he could actually work; turning his love for her into a physical reality. A charm that took two to achieve, for surely, she felt the same, based on the combustible results. He watched her sleep and thought about what she’d said—the man I love has wings. He thought about the time they’d wasted.

  My heart is yours to shatter, he thought, and in his head Light and Wind and Lelet were all the same. Just please, not tonight.

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  Eriis

  “Why did you cut your hair?” Lelet had awakened while he was busy thinking about waking her up—maybe he did have some gifts after all. He paused to kiss her—lips, and the nape of her neck, and the spot where the heron charm rested against her breasts—before answering.

  “I thought you might like it,” he said.

  She skated her fingernails along his bare neck, making him shiver. “You should grow it back.”

  “Oh.”

  She laughed. “Don’t look like that. Of course, I like it. But you mustn’t change the way you look for me. You live here. You are Eriisai. If you look different, if you’re tall, well, that’s an accident of birth. You can’t change the shape of your eyes. But your hair, now. Cutting it was a decision, and people will judge you for it.”

  “She’s right, you know.”

  The voice came from the other side of the fish-painted screen. It was a voice they both knew quite well.

  They stared at each other for a moment, then reached for their robes.

  “Good morning,” said Ilaan. “About time you two were up and about.” He cocked his head. “Oh, your hair. That is unfortunate.”

  He was dressed in a grey traveling robe and lounging on the big leather sofa. His feet were propped on the edge of the table, near a silver tray bearing a large canister and several silver mugs. The canister steamed, a rich, sweet and bitter fragrance Rhuun thought he recognized.

  “What are y
ou doing here?” Rhuun stepped in front of Lelet, who tried to do the same to him.

  Ilaan watched as the pair jostled each other. “Is that what humans call dancing?” he asked. “Shocking. You can relax, I’m not here to set either of you on fire.” He sniffed the air. “Seems like you’ve already got that covered. Anyway, I brought coffee.” He laughed. “Remember how I didn’t like it? I still don’t, but I find I can’t stop drinking it.”

  “Why are you here?” Rhuun asked again. His heart was pounding. He wasn’t sure, but he thought it was possible that joy was back. He knew Ilaan had something to tell him, he knew both of them would say things he didn’t want to hear, but for this one moment everyone he loved was with him. He would try and remember how it felt.

  Lelet reached for a cup, which, as Ilaan promised, was full of real coffee, and sat in the overstuffed armchair next to the couch. She tucked her feet under herself and twitched her robe into place. “Are we supposed to do the three-sip thing with this?” she asked. “I don’t suppose you made any cream or sugar?”

  “No to all of it. I’ll be sure to add it to my list of ways to improve your stay here on Eriis.”

  She smiled, unsure if he was joking. “I don’t know why you’re here,” she said, glancing at Rhuun, “but I am glad to see you.”

  “I will ask again. Why are you here?”

  “Can’t I pop in and visit an old friend? One who is about to make a terrible mistake?”

  Rhuun leaned over Ilaan, gripping the back of the couch. “She is not a mistake.”

  Ilaan raised a brow. “Interesting you’re jumping to that conclusion. I wasn’t talking about your…renewed acquaintance. And I said ‘about to’, not ‘just finished.’”

  Rhuun stole a glance at Lelet again, thinking of the wonderful sounds she made while they were joining, and their conversations during and after. About fire. “How long have you been here? And what mistake, then?”