Page 39
K IDAN SHADOWED Y USEF FOR THE NEXT FEW DAYS, DESPERATE TO keep him away from Rufeal Makary’s hungry gaze. He went into town with GK on weekends but often chose to spend his time inside the Grand Andromeda Hall, where Slen practiced her violin. Past the left wing, there was a wide vacant room, perfect for the beautifully haunting sounds drifting up to the curved domes.
Only Greek and Roman statues, noticeable for their expensive white marble, crowded the edges of the space as Slen played and Yusef sketched, sitting cross-legged in the middle of the floor.
Kidan sat on the cold stone too, mesmerized by the music. She glanced over at Yusef, taking note of which piece of creation possessed him. Today, it was Slen, head angled and chin resting on her violin, fingers on display, arm pulled back in motion.
Yusef already had an eraser in hand.
“Her eyes.” He rubbed furiously at the spot, and in a silvery slash, Slen appeared blindfolded. “I can’t get them right.”
Kidan was swept away by the low and high waves of the notes. Slen appeared to love the art of it, her eyes shut in the swelling and ebbing of a mournful tune. Kidan’s eyes almost misted when Slen played the final note, ringing it with a never-ending intensity until Kidan was sure the strings would snap. It vibrated right through her body, the marble, the earth’s core.
Once finished, Slen breathed heavily and lifted her lashes to them. “What do you think?”
“You’re incredible,” Yusef and Kidan said at the same time, and smiled.
Slen packed away her violin and came to sit next to them. “Hopefully, I can be a soloist by next year.”
Kidan regarded her curiously. “You love it, don’t you.”
She nodded.
Kidan’s eyes fell to Slen’s scarred palms and the gloves she was putting back on.
Her forehead creased. “Still?”
It occurred to Kidan too late that it was a rude question. Yusef froze next to her. He must know too.
She tried to apologize, to take it back. What the hell was wrong with her? But Slen answered.
“If I hated it, he’d win. He’d take far more than a little skin.”
Yusef’s eyes became downcast, his grip tight around his charcoal pencil. Kidan studied the marble, letting Slen’s words wash over her. Slen was stronger than Kidan thought. It took an incredible amount of strength to love a poisoned piece of yourself. Slen was sucking out the venom every time she played. What would that be like? To fill your mouth with toxin and spit it out instead of swallowing?
Kidan’s lips curved sadly. “I like that. Not letting them win. My sister… and I tried to hang on to Amharic for as long as we could but lost it eventually. Our foster mother made sure. It didn’t used to bother me, but now…”
She trailed off, unsure why she was telling them all this.
Yusef gave her a compassionate look. “I’m sorry.”
Slen, on the other hand, held her gaze with determination. “I can teach you Amharic.”
Words of gratitude stuck in her throat, and she could only manage a nod. The tension melted like ice, and Kidan found herself a little more at ease.
Yusef redrew Slen’s eyes, then abruptly grabbed the eraser again.
Kidan shook her head. “Will you never be satisfied with your work?”
“Not when everything exists to remind me it’s not good.”
“Really? Everything?”
“I’m trying to achieve something I can only master with a decade’s worth of experience. My future self knows every error, angle, and technique. I’m competing with his skills, and I hate my work now because of it.”
What an awful way to feel.
He sighed. “But I know I can be great. It’s like a pulse under my thumb. It’s miserable knowing your own potential. Every day feels wasted if it’s not in pursuit of it.”
She tipped her head to the cathedral-like ceiling.
“The pursuit of perfection is a reminder we will always be imperfect.” She was impressed she remembered a quote from Dranacti so clearly. “Freeing, don’t you think?”
“More like a curse.” He scratched out an eye shape. “Makary House is making an offer to buy the Umil Art Museum. If I don’t pass Dranacti this year and receive some ownership shares, I’ll lose it.”
She’d heard that ever since Omar Umil’s arrest, the status of the Umil Art Museum had declined, but the fundraiser of the Youth Art Exhibition would mark a new artist in society as well as raise millions. It was a prestigious event that the Umils held regularly. Rufeal Makary’s entry was no doubt adding to Yusef’s mounting pressure.
Silence stretched for several minutes. Slen reached for her bag and inched Yusef’s Debilitating Creative Rants jar across. Kidan released a breathless laugh. Yusef shook his head, smiling, and placed a crumpled dollar in it.
Kidan was beginning to understand their dynamic. How the arts brought them closer.
“We can start your lessons tonight.” Slen slung her violin bag over her shoulder and stood. “Philosophy Tower?”
Kidan nodded with a small smile. “I’ll be there.”
Yusef watched Slen leave. “She doesn’t tell anyone about what happened. I like that she trusts you. I don’t think she would have told me if I hadn’t found her right after it happened.… There was so much blood.” He clenched his jaw, then held her gaze with a seriousness unusual for him. “Help her. She won’t let me, but maybe she’ll let you.”
Kidan nodded, instantly liking him even more.
Yusef flipped backward to a page. A charcoal drawing of familiar hands in motion appeared—delicate and manicured. From the slender wrist dangled a vintage watch.
Kidan caught her breath. “Is that… Ramyn’s?”
Yusef traced it with swimming eyes. “Yes.”
Kidan could almost hear the broken watch—tick-ticking, but stuck in the same position. Her chest hollowed.
“She would have liked it.”
Yusef flipped again. This time the hands were larger, holding an old book, with a finger bone chain dangling between the pages. The details, to each vein and blemish, were incredible. GK.
When Kidan saw the sketch of herself, the room faded away. Nothing extraordinary about her hands—they were rough, nails still healing from the repeated scratching of her symbols—but it was the action he’d caught her in. She’d been playing with her butterfly bracelet, fingers pinching the compartment where the blue pill waited. He hadn’t realized it, of course, but it shook Kidan to her core that, somehow, he’d captured her entirely by only drawing her hands.
A ball formed in her throat. “Why… why did you draw this?”
“It’s my application for the Youth Art Exhibition. I’ve always found the hands to be more expressive than the face.”
Kidan touched her bracelet, and its coldness burned. She wasn’t sure this was how she wanted to be captured.
Yusef continued, unaware of her turmoil. “I think it started with my father. He always had this thing about keeping his hands clean. He washed ten times a day, even while painting. He didn’t like his fingers stained.” He released a dead laugh. “His hands were perfectly clean—until he slaughtered half our dranaics. Then they were covered in blood. Our parents are all sick.”
His pain was a visceral thing, making her own heart ache. How had it felt for Yusef to testify against his father? To witness something so horrific about his own family? She had the urge to travel back in time, reach young Yusef, and tug him free from Omar Umil. The same way she longed to free Slen from Koril Qaros.
“You don’t have to talk about him,” she said honestly.
“There’s nothing to talk about. He’s a murderer. A disgrace. How can I ever inherit my house when this is what it’s known for?”
When his face found hers, it was unbearably bleak, and she wrapped her fingers inward to keep herself from hugging him.
“Keep making choices your father wouldn’t. Like Slen said, we can’t let them win, right?”
She tried for a smile.
He sniffed and nodded slowly.
Kidan studied Slen’s blinded eyes in Yusef’s sketch and couldn’t help but think this captured the essence of her gaze more. There was a deadness to Slen’s expression now, a steely armor no one could penetrate. The very thing that pulled Kidan in like a violent tide.
Perhaps the key was to realize that peace lay in survival, past the scars and pinches and among righteous revenge, not surrender. What a dangerous, dangerous thought.
Table of Contents
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- Page 39 (Reading here)
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