Page 60

T HE THREE TRAGEDIES OF U XLAY THRIVED IN THEIR NEWFOUND MISERY. Nothing could touch them, and everything was for the taking. In the weeks that followed, their work and their analyses of Dranacti took on a grayer tone, no longer solid but made of water so they could live through it, find its reflection in their own hearts, and pour themselves into its teachings.

For the last topic of Dranacti—Concordium—Professor Andreyas asked what price was paid for the peace forged between dranaics and actis. When the Last Sage asked Demasus the Fanged Lion to tether himself to the Three Binds and abandon his nature, what did Demasus ask for in return? It had to be an equal sacrifice. The answer appeared to be a silver mirror—but an interpretation of this eluded them, dancing out of reach.

They spent hours in the Grand Solomon Library, consulting old texts as well as tracking the Nefrasi’s movements throughout history. It was remarkably small, their find, so small that it had to have been plucked and erased. As the days wore on, Kidan grew agitated at the slightest false lead. This had been her life for the better part of the year, goaded and herded like a sheep while someone kept the information out of reach. A master playing with its favorite toy.

Slen read a brief news article from the 1940s under the table lamp. “‘The Nefrasi pursue enlightenment from the suffocating existence of the mundane. They trade in worldly treasures from the continent of Africa and pay handsomely to all those that bring forward such treasures. Gathering to be held at noon, next to Lotus Apothecary.’”

“They were in Britain?” Kidan asked.

“Not just there.” Yusef brought his laptop closer. “This is an advertisement from Mogadishu, 1960. I can’t read it very well, but I believe it translates to ‘We will be rid of the famine with water, blind the sun so harvest is plentiful, and triumph over death.’ They were a movement, and these ads were posted at universities to lure in new initiates.”

“I think they’re talking about the Three Binds. Look at the keywords they’re using—‘water,’ ‘sun,’ ‘death,’” Kidan pointed out.

Yusef’s phone rang, startling him. “It’s GK.”

Slen dismissed Yusef. “Tell him we’re not getting together today.”

“I hate lying to him.”

“Would you rather he know what we’re doing?”

Yusef bit his lip and went to answer.

When they could no longer stand the sight of another page, they drank and roamed the campus at night, stumbling through the corridors in fits of nonsensical laughter. They always received disgruntled looks from other students, but they were so far away that these strangers couldn’t hope to reach them. Yusef walked on ledges, teetering from side to side. Slen smoked. And Kidan hung back, talking about her failed murder attempt on Tamol Ajtaf, a ray of pleasure radiating through her whenever she earned a smile from Slen. They were as rare as diamonds.

“Slen, catch me if I fall!” Yusef shouted, and nearly did. Slen swore under her breath and moved quickly, reaching out a hand.

Kidan walked to the grass and sat, watching the stars. A night breeze washed over her, carrying the scent of sweet flowers. She exhaled. This feeling… she wanted to bottle it and drink from it forever. It was more fragile than anything she’d cupped in her hands.

“Solve a problem for me. Who’s more beautiful, Andromeda or Resus?” Yusef asked, collapsing by her side. Slen sat on her other side.

“Andromeda,” Kidan said, smiling.

“See?” Yusef winked at Slen.

“Don’t do that.” Slen drew her large jacket around herself, looking unsettled, voice unusually husky.

Kidan caught a thread of something there, too faint to pinpoint exactly what. She cast her attention to her bare wrist. Her body buzzed. These people she’d met at this haunting university, had they truly been the cure? All this time? Her mind raced, calmed, and burst with unsaid words and feelings. She needed her fingers to translate it all.

On the grass, Kidan traced a shape she’d long thought impossible. The last time she drew it was a week before her and her sister’s eighteenth birthday. June always liked to celebrate things early, to take the pressure off the actual day. Neither of them was allowed to invite friends over, so they celebrated alone, always gifting each other five presents to make it look like a real crowd. A party.

“To the saddest sisters in the world,” Kidan would say, grinning.

June would beam back. “Truly pathetic.”

It was the only night in the year June didn’t have her night terrors. Kidan would stay up till dawn, watching her sleep peacefully, drawing this exact shape.

A slow, shaking circle.

Joy.

Their bubble of delirium and controlled chaos collapsed on Saturday morning. They were at their new favorite place, East Corner Coffee, waiting for Slen’s order and discussing Demasus’s war campaign as it related to Concordium.

Slen and Kidan had annotated seven classics and referenced the possible interpretations. They’d expected Yusef to crack from the workload, but surprisingly he pushed on, and he was at the coffee shop that morning before Kidan and Slen, brimming with new insights, his third coffee of the day already in hand.

“If this is what it takes to acquire focus, maybe we should host murders every month.” Slen watched Yusef’s focused state with an unusually heated gaze.

“God, you’re sick.” His brown eyes shone. “Come to my studio later?”

“No.”

He grinned. “I won’t talk. You’ll just watch me annotate stuff.”

Slen opened her mouth to refuse but hesitated, seeming to consider the invitation. He grinned wider. Kidan shook her head, hiding a smile.

A café worker walked over and set down a coffee in front of Slen, and when Slen grabbed the cup to drink from it, she felt a note taped to the side. She stiffened. Her flat eyes scanned the crowd at once.

Kidan noticed, alert. “What’s wrong?”

Slen held out the note.

What if your own blood fell out of a tower?—Ramyn’s sister

Yusef pushed aside his books, leaning over to read. “Ramyn’s sister?”

Slen got up from the table and threw out the coffee like it was poison. “Ramyn didn’t have a sister. Someone’s messing with me.”

“Is it the 13th?” Yusef’s complexion yellowed.

“Probably,” Slen said darkly.

“What do we do?”

“Nothing. They want us to make a mistake. We just attend all classes, and pass. If they believe we’re on our way to graduating, they won’t hurt us. They need heirs, remember.”

Slen’s words were reassuring, but her eyes translated differently. Kidan saw the shields return to them, a guardedness that had briefly dissipated but was now on high alert, and no one was exempt from suspicion.

Slen didn’t join them for their afternoon session. Kidan worried her bottom lip, listening to Yusef share his findings on the Nefrasi but thinking about how, if the 13th got to Slen now, Kidan’s path to June would be ruined.

“Here’s what worries me.” Yusef rubbed at his temple. “This Nefrasi group creates the 13th to, what, take over Uxlay? That means they’re not part of our twelve houses. They can’t enter Uxlay land without being detected. So we can assume they’re rogue houses.”

In her East Africa and the Undead class, Kidan researched the Separation of the Eighty Acti Families and their different factions. Only twelve houses had chosen to join the institution of Uxlay, founded by the Adanes and Farises. But sixty-seven houses existed outside those tall gates, and none of them practiced the Last Sage’s teachings. One house had gone extinct.

Yusef shivered. “If that’s the case, I’ve heard stories about how they feed on their actis.”

Kidan swallowed. She prayed June hadn’t gotten caught up with them.

A loud, heated argument traveled from the courtyard. Through the open window of the library, Kidan and Yusef could see Slen’s brother shouting at her. He was visibly upset, and they could hear him using colorful words. Slen remained quiet, dwarfed under his tall figure. He slammed her against the nearest pillar.

“What the hell?” Yusef was already rushing through the door. Kidan was close on his tail.

When they reached the evenly cut grass, they heard his pleas.

“Make this right. Tell them what you know.”

Slen met her brother’s gaze, calm as a silent storm. “I can’t.”

Her brother gaped, fists forming. Yusef and Kidan sensed his fury and stepped between them. The look he directed at Slen was so heartbreaking, Kidan’s own chest ached. It was a familial break she knew all too well. She snuck a glance at Slen, who focused on the grass.

After her brother left, they stood in the winter cold, dazed.

“What was that about?” Kidan asked.

Slen’s brother had received a letter of his own.

Your sister knows who killed Ramyn Ajtaf.

Kidan’s world tilted just after it had found its balance. She scrunched up the letter into a tight ball. The 13th were making their threats. Soon, they’d act on them.

“What do we do?” Yusef whispered.

Slen appeared lost, so Kidan straightened and said, “I’ll deal with it.”

His face eased into relief, and Slen gave her a small nod of acknowledgment. Kidan found new strength in their trust, a power she’d wield to defeat all who threatened them.