Page 114 of Eternal Ruin

Instead, she said, like she always did, “Tell me about Farah City.”

Susenyos’s eyes brightened a little. “The war?”

“No,” she said. “After. Tell me about how you took care of your people after they lost their loved ones.”

His lips quirked sadly. This was his favorite story as well. Not because it spoke of their great victory, achieved with unbridled brute force, but because she wanted to know about a time when Susenyos needed no outside strength to rely on to reach his people and win their hearts.

40.

KIDAN

Object Deconstruction was Kidan’s favorite class for one reason only: It was perfectly acceptable to shatter things in glorious ways. Kidan could flatten a piece of metal with a hammer for hours without people thinking she was mad. And these past few days, she was unleashing her anger mercilessly.

“There’s a gentle art to breaking an object,” her professor, a tattooed woman from Luroz House, would say.

The trick was to avoid pressure at the center, chipping away at the edges in a careful maneuver. Kidan found it most challenging, often destroying things entirely. But there were things she was good at too.

Like jewelry. She made a charm for Yusef and a pocket watch for GK. For Slen, she’d made a small masinko, a lute with a single string, after learning about Ethiopian instruments in their lessons. That was before… everything.

She made things for Susenyos too. Things she’d never give him. A small angry creature. Hair rings for his twists. Currently, she was working on a too-wide mask reconstructed from a broken wooden table. She carved slits into the slab, staring into something ancient and more powerful than her. This seemed to be the closest she’d ever get to the damned mask artifact.

It was incomprehensible the Last Sage chose something as ordinary as objects to bind vampires to powerful laws. But other times, she’d regard a piece of metal in a certain light and think how the only thing human beings left behind were objects. They carried their history, memories, and will.

It was a short walk to the Philosophy Tower, but with each step, the clouds darkened and swelled overhead, promising a downpour. Ever since the House Council meeting, the protests around Uxlay had gotten worse. Kidan had to cross the courtyard quickly because they’d swarm her otherwise and if anyone touched her, she’d do something she’d regret. It reminded her too much of the journalists parked outside her apartment, vultures eager to label her as a monster.

Slen was already there when Kidan arrived for Mastering a House Law class, huddled in her large jacket. A part of her hoped all of this would be wiped away like a dirty window, maybe just maybe, that settling into class would reorient them to their old friendship. Slen’s flat gaze regarded her for a second, making Kidan draw a breath, before she faced the whiteboard. Kidan swallowed the fire climbing up her throat and chose the seat the farthest from Slen. Until she was almost at the wall.

Yusef came in a few seconds later, running a hand through his hair and panting heavily. “Sorry, sir. I had to run from Drastfort.”

The professor was sitting behind his desk, always looking out the window to the opposite tower. There was never a book on the wide table. Every lesson and quote, the stony professor pulled from his mind, a catalogue of endless knowledge.

Yusef moved to the middle of the class and paused. He drew a line between the opposite ends, taking in Kidan and Slen’s squared shoulders. His face was crestfallen as he took the seat in between the two.

Professor Andreyas stroked his smooth chin for a few minutes before he stood. His shadow lengthened on the gray floor, and he held up a golden house pin between two long fingers.

Kidan’s spine straightened at once. Slen’s pen, which had been rhythmically tapping against the desk, stopped.

“I’m rarely surprised,” the professor said. “But perhaps I should stop underestimating your cohort. I did not think one of you would master your house before we finished our teachings.”

Kidan’s eyes widened, her head whipping to Slen.

She did it? Already?

Slen stared forward, not sparing her a glance. Kidan’s fingers curled inward. What was she going to do now—

“Umil,” Professor Andreyas said. “Come collect your last pin.”

Kidan mouth fell slightly open, unsure she’d heard right. Yusef rubbed his head sheepishly and slid out of his chair, walking forward. From Slen’s stiff posture, it was clear she didn’t know either.

The walk to the golden pin transformed Yusef, his shoulders appeared broader, and he dropped his hand from his neck, chin held high.

Yusef took off his silver Umil House pin and secured the golden one to his sleeve.

“Thank you, sir.”

Even his voice had lost the humor that usually accompanied it. Finally, he faced them. Features handsome and familiar yet renewed.

Power can be silent, a charm, a smile.