Page 15

Chapter 14

A Hesitant Ally

Before I could form a reply or even a coherent thought, a firm hand clamped over my mouth as another banded around my shoulders, pulling me into a hard body. Startled into acquiescence, I was pulled into a dim, musty alcove as shadows billowed around me.

My heart hammered wildly, and I stayed rigid in the Fallen’s grip as I watched his shadows deepen and spread across the entrance to conceal us both.

The moment he pulled his arms away, I shoved against him, then backed up, trying to squeeze myself between the wall behind me and the empty plinth that took up most of the available space—wanting to put it between me, him, and his shadows. He stiffened as he took me in and realized I held a knife.

My outstretched hand shook at my audacity. Years of conditioned obedience had my body rebelling against the daring move. Only, I’d had a reason to submit then. I had none now.

He shifted back with his hands raised in front of him, but there wasn’t much room to move in the alcove. His wings already grazed the rough stone wall.

With his hood raised, it was impossible to see the direction of his gaze, but I desperately hoped it wasn’t fixed too closely on the knife itself—the blunt butter knife I’d stolen from the breakfast board this morning.

I dared a glance at his shadows, wondering what would happen if I attempted to dash through them and into the beckoning light beyond. I’d sought him out; I knew that. Even not knowing what to expect, it was still disconcerting to find myself standing in a pool of midnight.

Taking my eyes off him, even for a heartbeat, was a mistake. With a blur of motion, his hand shot out. He’d disarmed me and pocketed the knife before I could blink in surprise, going from utter stillness to explosive action without a hint of warning, in a single, fluid movement imbued with a powerful grace.

My breaths stuttered as I realized how little power or agency I had, even when I finally took action to defend myself. I hadn’t thought to best him, but I’d always imagined that if I chose to fight back, I would succeed. How I’d do that wasn’t something I’d ever been clear on, but to attempt it and fail so dismally splintered something within me. Even my own mother had gotten the better of me yesterday.

The image I’d had of myself for so many years—of someone strong yet silently waiting—and the person I’d allowed myself to become were not the same. Not even close.

Wrapping my arms around my waist, I folded in on myself like a wilted flower with a crushed stem.

The rumbling almost growl I recalled from the first night had me stiffening. “I apologize. It wasn’t my intention to scare you. I just wanted us out of sight before somebody else came past, and I couldn’t risk you crying out.”

His apology was unexpected, but not enough to raise the gaze I kept fixed firmly on the floor, nor to loosen the air in my chest as I tried to remember how to breathe, or talk, or be anything other than a frozen statue awaiting my fate, old habits enduring as I struggled with myself.

A rustling finally broke my stasis. My eyes snapped up, and I watched warily as he removed a sheath containing a knife from his forearm. He held it by the blade end with the hilt toward me, and I stared at him in confusion, unable to comprehend his intention.

“If you feel safer having a blade, you should have one that can do some damage. It’s small but sharp, and deadly if you know where to aim it.”

Moments passed as I tried to work up the courage to reach out and grab the offered knife, expecting it to be a trick. He waited me out in patient silence and didn’t react when I finally snatched it from him.

Watching him for any shift of movement, I pulled the small, razor-sharp blade free from its sheath and examined it from every angle, my curiosity piqued. My brother had shown me the blades he’d been gifted by his instructor when he completed his training as a guardian. I’d thought them beautifully deadly as the shiny metal caught the light, but they looked nothing like this.

It wasn’t a painted blade like I’d first thought. The metal itself had been crafted using a dark element I’d never seen before that appeared to soak up the surrounding light, while the hilt had carved symbols I didn’t recognize under dark leather banding—a slice of night to match his shadows.

“Put it in your pocket for now, but don’t keep it there. It’s too easy to get it tangled up trying to remove it. Its small size makes it easy to hide; figure out how to strap it somewhere out of sight. If you’re going to use it for more than a threat, grip the hilt firmly in your fist, then use force to plunge it deep somewhere soft, like the groin or an eye, depending on how much damage you want to cause.”

Twisting the blade in a quicker motion, I watched how the darkness of the blade blended in with his shadows. It was difficult to see in this dim light, and if used quickly, it would be almost invisible. I balanced it in my hand, testing its weight and the feel of the leather-bound haft in the same way I’d seen my brother do with his, before putting it back in its sheath and pocketing it slowly.

I couldn’t recall the last time anyone had gifted me anything, let alone a means to defend myself. The gesture was confusing coming from a Fallen. If anyone found it on me it would be impossible to explain, along with the trove of forbidden items accumulating in there, but I wasn’t about to give it back—not when knowing it was in my pocket had my spine straightening again.

Just because I’d become something I didn’t recognize didn’t mean I couldn’t change. I had to keep reminding myself of that until it was true.

Still, a tiny nod in thanks was the most I could manage. I focused on taking deep breaths as the adrenaline surge faded, trying to keep a dizzy sense of relief from swamping me.

“Ask me anything you want.” His voice was deeper and gruffer in this moment than I remembered. It wasn’t lost on me that this was the second time he had invited my questions.

It still had me baffled how he’d known I had questions. There were many I should ask, but they weren’t the insistent one stuck at the front of my mind. I shook my head at myself and asked it anyway. I couldn’t stare at that fathomless hood as I uttered it, though.

“Were you following me?”

He hesitated a moment before answering, as seemed to be his way. It was impossible to figure out what he was thinking without seeing his face, or even his posture beyond his shadows.

“Yes, I was following you. It wasn’t hard. Your guardians are easy to slip around. They’re far too complacent if it’s truly the Fallen they’re guarding against.”

His last words tripped up my thoughts and made me hesitate a moment as well. I couldn’t imagine who else we would guard against. Elder Welkin had been very concerned about the Fallen, or so it seemed from the hushed conversation Mara and I had accidentally overheard. He had guardians spying on them, even if they hadn’t been seen within Lumière since before they fell.

“Is that why you’re here? To spy on us? Why would you do that?” While I was relieved he was still here, despite the risk, I couldn’t figure out what he wanted from us…or from me. We were no threat to anyone.

“Yes,” he repeated, not denying it, “and for the same reason I read your codex. Because you can’t change something if you don’t know how it works, or what your place is within it. A lack of knowledge makes you blind, unable to see the way your enemy is manipulating you.”

“Oh.” I chewed on my lip—an old habit I thought I’d trained myself out of—as I mulled over his words. They hit far too close to home. “I guess that’s the same thing I wanted from that thrall, without the spying bit. She works for my mother somehow, I’m sure of it, and I want to know why so I can figure out what my mother’s up to.”

I wasn’t sure why I was telling him that, but now I’d started talking to him, I couldn’t seem to stop.

“It won’t do any good unless you learn to speak their language,” he said. “You’ll only put the thrall in danger.”

My curiosity flared. He’d unknowingly blown on an ember and ignited a flame. “They don’t speak our language? I’ve never heard another being spoken.”

I tried to search out his eyes, but in the dimness of the alcove, I couldn’t even make out the hint of bone I’d seen the other night. Talking to the hood was unsettling. I now understood why Elder Welkin hated it when I hid my face. It created a barrier between us that I didn’t like.

“Humans, Fallen, and Neven share a common language, with some regional dialects, but the human thralls in this citadel don’t speak at all. The elders cut out their tongues so they can’t talk about what they’ve seen, or what happened to them. They’re smart, though, and they’ve developed their own unspoken language based on gestures. They usually use it between themselves. The thrall wasn’t avoiding talking to you—she can’t. She was taking a significant risk even trying to communicate with you. It’s a closely guarded secret amongst them.”

Shock had my mouth falling open, and I struggled to get words out. “That’s barbaric.”

“It is,” he said, his voice hard. “It’s not the worst atrocity your elders have committed, though.”

His answers were deeply unsettling, but another emotion had me blinking rapidly—one I hadn’t had room to process the other night beyond my fear. “You answer my questions.”

The hood tilted. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Nobody ever answers my questions.” It was one of the fundamental truths of my life.

“I’ll answer any question I can,” he said, the hard tone disappearing, “if you answer some of mine too.”

I didn’t hesitate to nod, but if we were going to continue this forbidden, closeted conversation, I wanted to make one change first. “Okay. That’s fair, but on one condition—let me see you.”

He stilled as I held my breath, frozen in this moment with me, then reared back as his voice deepened. I could hear his own confusion in it as he said, “Why would you ask that of me?”

The other night in the orchard, I had sensed deities—perhaps even the fates—hovering close, their silent watchfulness pressing on me like a weight. Now, here, today, there was only the two of us and the choices we’d make in this moment.

Pushing wasn’t something I felt comfortable doing, but I was already way outside my comfort zone. I took a moment and chose my next words with care.

“You told me everything in the codex is a lie. How can I know what you’re saying is true when you’re hiding in shadows? If you’re going to accuse me of being blind, like you did the other night, the least you can do is give me the chance to see.”

His unseen gaze burned me as I waited for his answer, leaving my nerves in silent disarray.

“You’re not like the other potentiates. Your elders don’t encourage intelligence and curiosity amongst your ranks.”

I’d been in this male’s presence for moments, and he already knew I was a terrible potentiate. The thought was depressing, and I sighed. It wasn’t a question, but I answered him anyway.

“I know. I’m well aware there’s something wrong with me.” The words left gravel in my throat as I tried to swallow down the frustration welling within me.

“Maybe it’s not you. Maybe there’s something wrong with them.”

It seemed desperately sad that those words were the nicest anyone had said to me in years. They echoed Mara’s sentiment the other night too—that maybe Elder Welkin’s intentions weren’t what they seemed. It felt too much like fates were intertwining. I just wasn’t sure whose fates.

“Please, let me see you.” I had never asked for much in this life, but the more words that passed between us, the more my urge to know the truth grew. Fear of the unknown was still making my heart hammer in my chest, yet there was something about him, even just his voice, that I couldn’t turn away from.

Every question I’d ever bitten back without asking now burned in my throat. I needed to see him with an intensity that was as unfamiliar as it was disturbing, to see for myself if the stories told about the Fallen in the codex were truth or lies.

The shadows deepened, but rather than trying to reach for me as they had the first night, they seemed almost protective as they wrapped around him. It was my turn to tilt my head as I traced their path, curiosity overtaking my fear. They seemed sentient, and more comforting than threatening, almost familiar. I wondered if I reached out to them, would they feel as soft as the small tendril I still carried, or would my hand pass straight through them like mist?

“You don’t know what you’re asking.” His voice was so quiet I barely heard it, and his hood dipped even lower. I wasn’t sure who he was trying to talk out of it, me or him, but he seemed at war with himself.

“I do,” I said. Nobody hid beneath a hood unless they had scars, and not always the kind you could see. Only, I needed to see. That’s why I was here. “But if you don’t show me, no one will.”

It was the truth, dredged from a place deep within me. I’d been sleepwalking through a nightmare for years. Now that I was aware, I felt instinctively that if I didn’t reach out and take this chance, my world was going to drown me in a gilded cage as I silently screamed.

I waited a heartbeat, and then another, waiting to see if he would accept the challenge I’d had the shaky audacity to ask. He watched me closely. His hands flexed before they slowly reached up and pushed his hood back from his bowed head. Fear flooded back in at the prospect of what he was about to reveal, a nightmare in the flesh.

His hood fell away as he took another step closer, and the dim light filtering through his shadows revealed the truth. He towered over me in his dark leather tunic and swirling pants, but it was the dozen knives strapped to him that had me tensing, until I raised my eyes to his face.

The face of bone was animalistic and terrifying, with its sharp, jagged edges that reeked of death. Only, it wasn’t his face at all. Without the hood, it was easier to see the leather bindings and hints of his real face beneath. His eyes, while still cast in shadow under the deep eye sockets of the mask, burned a bright amber that was startling. They drew all the light in the dim alcove into their depths, as if the very light was seduced by him.

I couldn’t look away. The mask was mesmerizing in its brutality—but I needed to see all of him. Underneath all his layers.

“The mask too,” I whispered.

His hands moved achingly slow as he reached up and pulled the mask off. For a moment, I thought I might faint. I’d forgotten how to breathe.

Dark brown hair curled messily around his lowered hood, and warm golden skin gleamed. A light stubble covered his angular jaw, and he had a smear of dirt on one cheek. He looked uncivilized, like he belonged in the wilds on the ground I’d only ever dreamed about, yet there were no horns or sharp teeth, no claws or dripping blood like in the whispered stories. Behind the mask was a darkly beautiful winged male who looked as wary of me as I felt of him. He could have been any one of the males from the dining hall if not for his black wings and dark hair, or the silvery scar peeking up from his collar that inferred a familiarity with combat.

The Fallen’s real face was unexpected. His bright amber eyes held mine, like liquid warmth, as I searched his gaze. Over the years, I’d gotten good at spotting the glimmer of malice in someone’s expression when they looked at me. I didn’t see any now, only a curious intelligence that surprised and confused me. Goosebumps skittered along my skin as our eyes remained locked. The very air surrounding us seemed to kindle with tension and a hint of danger—the first sparks of a wildfire.

He was motionless for agonizing moments. The warm honey tone of his eyes darkened with emotions I couldn’t read. It felt as if the rest of the world disappeared and there were only the two of us left in this small, shadowy space, where time itself felt meaningless.

“What’s your name?” The softly spoken question caught me off guard, but my name tumbled out as if he’d called it into existence.

“Alula.”

He sounded it out, and the way he repeated it in that lilting, almost musical tone I remembered felt like he’d marked it on my skin somehow, branded me with my own name. Nobody had ever spoken my name like that before. Like it held a deeper meaning.

“What’s your name?” I asked, needing to know.

“Nier,” he answered with a momentary frown, as if he didn’t like his name. “It’s a word in the old language, not a traditional name. It means to renounce or deny.”

“I like it. It’s mysterious. It suits you.” The words slipped out, startling even me. I never volunteered an opinion on anything—or I hadn’t in a long time. My inner world had become my own, and I rarely let anyone in anymore.

The sudden silence felt far too weighted. There was both not enough and far too much distance between us. Feeling too much and afraid of what else would slip out, I looked away.

I almost missed it when he lunged again in a whirl of shadows, startling me as he briefly pressed a finger to my lips in a silencing motion. His other arm went above my head as he leaned in and surrounded us with his wings, enshrouding me.

My heart rate spiked, but instead of tensing up, my body seemed to go boneless as liquid fire stirred to life deep within me. Though his touch had been fleeting, the heat from his finger felt imprinted on my lips and every breath I dragged in brought a deep earthy scent, with a hint of floral sweetness, that was heady. My eyes fixed on the silvery scar at his throat, and the rapid beat of his pulse alongside it, that almost seemed to beat in time with my own.

His eyes weren’t on me. He tracked the movement of a thrall I hadn’t heard as they passed our alcove, waiting until they were well past before he whispered close enough to stir my hair. “My shadows are stretched thin keeping watch along the passageway, so I don’t know if your brightness will leak through. Plus, they only muffle sounds, so we have to be quiet, and still.”

After a moment, he moved back infinitesimally but stayed close, not giving me any room to breathe, or think, or feel anything but him.

“I know how to be both,” I whispered, my words coming out far too shaky as I licked my suddenly dry lips.

He stared at my mouth before his gaze dropped to my throat, where I could feel my heartbeat thrumming wildly. He seemed as entranced as I had been watching his a moment ago. My body reacted differently to the way it had when the guardian had crowded me the other night. Now, that liquid fire flushed through me in a way that made me aware of every inch of exposed skin, and had my light surging, pressing underneath the surface.

“Why didn’t you out me last night?” he asked. “You could have done it so easily. You should have.”

Concentrating on his whispered question while he was so close was a battle. My gaze dropped again, but this time it did nothing to break the moment. There was no escaping, not with his wings still curled around us protectively as he towered over me, the warmth from the wall of his chest heating my skin and my light trying to burst free to reach him. Not even focusing on the crossed leather straps holding more sheathed knives in place could stop the heat building within me.

I should have felt terrified. He was a Fallen—forbidden for a reason—but I’d never felt so safe, and the very idea had my brain misfiring.

“I…I don’t know,” I stammered, trying to focus my thoughts. “The night had drawn me outside. I was seeking answers, or maybe relief—I’m not sure what. All I know is I needed a choice, needed to stamp my will on the world in some small way, and there you were, and I made one. Only time will tell if it was the right decision.”

My fingers twisted in my robe, restlessly seeking something I didn’t dare explore.

Peeking up, I met his gaze as he searched my face. This close, his molten-amber eyes that saw far too much were inescapable. They were more potent than any sigil I knew, as if he was wielding his will into me with no more than a look.

Self-preservation had me dropping my gaze again. I kept it firmly fixed on the dark knives and a curl of shadow twining between us. A reminder of our differences, and the impossibility of whatever was brewing in this pocket of darkness that had no place in either of our worlds.

“Next question,” he said. “Why were you looking for me? What is it you want from me, Alula?”

A spark of annoyance flared, making me huff and clearing some of the heat haze that had settled over me. His question called me out, but I didn’t deny I’d been looking for him. Subtly pinching my leg, I forced myself to focus. I needed answers right now, not whatever this was.

“You called me blind, but I have questions that nobody in this citadel will answer, and the few answers I’ve gotten create more questions. I need to ask them of somebody who has an outside perspective and no agenda in lying to me.”

Maybe it was a truth sigil he was slowly wielding on me, because I hadn’t been this honest with anyone in a long time. Not even Mara.

“And you think that’s me?” He sounded incredulous.

“Not completely.” My life had been sheltered, but I wasn’t that naive. “You have a reason for spying; I just don’t know how it relates to me and what your motivation was in revealing yourself. Even so, you are still my best option. So, why are you here, Nier? What do you plan to do with the information you uncover?”

Tipping my head back, I watched him as closely as he’d been watching me, knowing that if I was going to change my path I needed to step out of the hole I’d dug within myself and bring to light parts of me that had been hidden for far too long.

His eyes met mine again as if they’d remained locked on me even when I’d looked away. “My first aim in coming here was to gather information and take it back to my people so we can better defend ourselves. Our lives on the ground are full of dangers, including the one hovering above us. We know very little about the Neven within the citadel since it rose. If I couldn’t readily find that information, my next aim was to find an ally, someone who could provide us with the information we need to survive.”

“I assume you don’t mean gathering information by talking to people around the citadel, at least not at first?” I jerked my head toward the dark wings and the shadows still crowding us. There was no way he could stop in a passageway, or even on the street in town, and tap a random Neven on the shoulder for a chat.

“No. I tried to find a library to read your histories. We suspect they’re very different from ours. Only, I couldn’t find one anywhere, or even any books besides your codex. I’ve mostly listened in on conversations, but your people hold their secrets close. I’d heard whispers about the Hawk—a male who runs a black market for trading food with the thralls. I thought he might make a good ally, but I haven’t been able to find him. He covers his tracks too well.”

He’d been looking for another potential ally, and he’d picked me, of all people? “So when you approached me in the orchard, it was as a potential ally? You knew nothing about me. How did you know I wouldn’t scream and rain guardians down on you?”

He hesitated, then shrugged casually. “I didn’t know how you would react, which is why I used the feather and I only spoke at first. If you had screamed, I would have left Lumière before a single guardian could land. I hoped you wouldn’t, because you having the feather as proof the citadel had been infiltrated by the Fallen may have made any future visits impossible, leaving my people in the dark again.”

“That was an enormous risk you took,” I said, feeling the words to be inadequate. No matter how casually he tried to shrug it off, one scream from me could have had him killed on the spot, especially with Haniel so close. “Why would you do that?”

He was silent for a moment, but this time, there was no escaping me . I refused to look away.

“Because you weren’t the only one drawn to the orchard that night.”

“Oh.” His reply surprised me at first, but I couldn’t argue with it. “That makes more sense.”

This time I saw his confusion up close. He seemed surprised by my answer. If he’d tried to give me some kind of strategic reason, I’m not sure I would have believed him, but strangely enough, his honest response resonated with me.

My curious mind had already snagged on something else, though.

“What’s a library?”

His mouth twitched. “Well, that explains why I couldn’t find one in the citadel. It’s a building or a room full of books that anyone can come in and read.”

“You have entire rooms full of books? Who writes them all? What do they write about?” Each elder had a scribe, but they only wrote pronouncements of the elders to circulate amongst themselves. I couldn’t imagine a room full of their writing to be anything of interest.

“We have some who talk to people in our community and write our histories, while others do it for themselves in journals, but we also encourage anyone who has skills or knowledge to share it by writing it down.”

Rooms full of books. “I don’t even know how to wrap my head around that.”

“Where do you keep your books? They must be well hidden.”

Something about the notion of rooms full of books had me distracted. “We don’t have a lot of books; mainly just the codex. Most of our teaching is done in practice. When I was young, I once read a book I found that had tales about other realms, but my mother confiscated it as soon as she discovered me with it. The tales fascinated me, but I never saw it again, nor anything like it.”

The memory came up bright and clear, followed by another one that felt both fresh and old at the same time. It had me gasping.

“I think I know where they’ve hidden our library.”