Page 60 of The Maiden and Her Monster

Bells rang from Valón’s largest church on the day of the Lé ? rey celebration. So grand were they, the sound flooded into the Yahadi Quarter and through the window where Malka sat, combing Danya’s hair. She tensed, hairbrush stilling. The bells rang the same as those in Eskravé to signal curfew.

“I’ll never forget that sound,” Danya said. “Do you remember the day they first rang? It was so hollow, like they would swallow all sounds of happiness.”

Malka’s chest tightened, but she resumed her brushing. “You were so young.”

“And you were eighteen—my age now—still young, too.”

Malka smirked. “Last you told me, you were an adult.”

“I feel like I’ve aged so much these last few days, I will cling to all the youth I can.”

Malka settled the hairbrush on Chaia’s dresser.

“What was Mavetéh like?” asked Danya. “The first night you were gone, Hadar couldn’t stop crying. I held her close, but she never felt comforted by me the way she did with you. There was something special between the two of you. Something I wish you and I had not lost as we aged.”

Danya. Stubborn, independent Danya who didn’t understand why Malka never stood up for herself.

Why she swallowed her feelings. Danya didn’t understand because she never had to.

She was barely thirteen when Mavetéh began to hunt their girls.

Of course, it was Malka who had to step up.

But Danya was only defending her, in the way she did with the people she loved.

“We will find it again,” Malka said, determined. “I love you, Danya. More than anything.”

“I love you, Malka.”

Malka tugged her sister close, resting her chin on Danya’s boney shoulder. “There’s one more thing, Achoti. ”

“What is it?”

Malka sat back. “Promise me you’ll stay home during the Lé ? rey celebration with Amnon. You know we’ll do everything in our power to save her. But… to lose you would break me. He’ll protect you.”

Malka didn’t know what the Lé ? rey celebration would bring, or how the events would unfold. It would give Malka peace to know Danya was safe.

Danya opened her mouth as if to argue, but resigned. “Alright, Malka. I’ll stay here.”

Malka’s heart swelled, and tears gathered in her eyes.

A knock echoed on the door, and Chaia peeked inside. “Sorry for interrupting. We’re preparing some last-minute things for tomorrow. Malka, could you join us?”

“Of course,” Malka said, kissing Danya’s cheek before following Chaia into the kitchen.

Amnon handed her a steaming mug of coffee which warmed her hands. “I’ll go sit with Danya,” he said in her ear.

“Thank you for doing this,” Malka responded. “It means as much to me as any knightly deed.”

She expected a retort, a sign of frustration about his circumstance, or his lack of role in freeing Imma. But instead, Amnon smiled. A true one, that touched the corners of his eyes. “Always, Malka. Always.”

“There are two parts to the Lé ? rey celebration,” Vilém began.

“Shortly after it starts, Ev ? en will give a speech. It is usually a variation of the same speech he gives every year, about Saint Celine’s blessing on him and thus, on Ordobav.

Sévren and the king will stand beside him, but for the rest of the time they schmooze among the people. ”

“When will they bring Imma out?”

“At the end of the celebration. That is when, each year, well…”

“They sacrifice someone to Saint Celine,” Chaia finished, but her voice was soft, comforting.

“Yes,” Vilém cleared his throat. “The king, the prince, and Sévren will make their way to the balcony of the town hall to watch the burning. Katarina will delay Sévren by asking him to bless her rosary. He’s all about face, so we think he’ll do it.

Especially if Katarina plays up her reverence of him, which she’ll surely love.

To avoid the guards on the balcony and by the town hall entrance, Nimrah will use her abilities to climb through the stairwell window.

With everyone else already at the balcony, Sévren will be the only one left to head upstairs.

That’s when Nimrah will snap his neck. It’ll look like he had a heart attack and fell down the steps.

When they find him dead, the commotion that ensues will make it easier to divert attention away from freeing your mother. ”

They had explained that the transition would be slow after Sévren’s death.

The estate council in Lei, which the Maharal and a few of Vilém’s fellow magisters had been collaborating with for years, would condemn King Valski’s inaction on the worsening Mázág sickness and clergy corruption, and vote to replace him with the duke.

Apparently, the estate council was already interested in the stability of the duke’s rule after the lackluster reign of his older brother.

Chaia added, “Speaking of which, have you seen Nimrah?”

“No.” She said the word too hotly, too fast.

Vilém and Chaia exchanged a look, and Chaia frowned.

Malka knew Chaia had regretted the words she had spat during their heated fight, that she felt remorse about her betrayal.

She wore her regrets in the way she bit the skin from her lower lip, how she pulled at the split ends of her hair when Malka grew silent around her.

For so much of their lives, Malka had hidden her feelings from Chaia the same way she had her family.

It had never been intentional, only the side effect of a well-practiced muscle. But she wasn’t hiding them now.

“I’ll see if I can find her,” said Vilém, pulling Chaia in to kiss her forehead and disappearing out the door. “I’ll touch base with Katarina and the others while I’m out.”

Malka and Chaia sat in silence. Malka bit from her bread, chewing the crust until her jaw ached.

“If you can’t forgive me, I hope you’ll eventually be able to forgive Nimrah. I pushed her. Told her it was the one way she could redeem herself.”

Malka said nothing, resisting the urge to scratch the newly traced letters carved into her arm.

“She cares for you.”

Malka bristled. “She cares for her duty.”

“And you are so different?”

Malka glared at her. “We aren’t the same.”

“No,” Chaia agreed. “You are more like the teal-taloned owl we would see in Kratzka ?ujana’s trees when we hid during the Game of the Foxwit, brooding over those you love so they have the chance to grow.

Nimrah is more like the gray-faced lion, which roars as loud as its voice allows to scare off a threat.

You both lead such different lives, but at the heart of it your goals are the same—to be protectors.

Nimrah was made to protect the Yahad, yes.

But from the time I met you, Malka, there hasn’t been a second you haven’t thought about protecting those you love.

Even if it meant sacrificing yourself. Can you blame Nimrah for sacrificing her feelings for you to protect the Yahad in Ordobav? ”

“I cannot help the betrayal I feel. How easily Nimrah was able to throw Imma’s life to the wayside. How easily you could betray me. I think that hurts most. Knowing the one person I thought I could always trust has forsaken me.”

“Of course, you can feel hurt and betrayed. Of course. You have every right to be mad at her. Mad at me. I will take your anger. All I ask is that you see how alike you and Nimrah are. That you give her a little grace with a tough decision she had to make. I can tell you she will never forgive herself for betraying you.”

Chaia said the words about Nimrah, but Malka knew she meant them for herself, too. But it was harder to talk about Chaia’s betrayal. Made her relive the pain over and over again. Anger at Nimrah was easy.

“She will fulfill her duty and I will fulfill mine. We will go our separate ways.”

Chaia raised her brow. “And is that what you want?”

“It’s what is best.”

“Those are not always the same.”

Malka gritted her teeth. “They will have to be this time.”

“You are allowed to want something, Malka. Want someone. ”

Malka regarded her best friend. Her jaw ticked. “I wanted you to come home. I begged for it every day. And I lost you. Then I got you back, and you betrayed me. I wanted Hadar to have a future away from all this violence and look at what happened. I am not allowed to want. I cannot want.”

“Malka, Hadar’s death was not your fault.

Neither was my disappearance. Leaving without any goodbyes will haunt me.

Do you think I don’t dream of it? That I don’t wake up angry with myself knowing you thought I was dead?

For letting my parents possibly go to their grave, thinking they had lost me first?

You are not the only one who has lost people they love.

Who regrets. Who feels they are letting everyone down.

Who feels selfish for doing what feels right at the time, even if it means hurting the people I love.

You do not own this grief, this heartache. ”

She wasn’t just talking about her disappearance anymore, but the plan she had made with Nimrah that would have betrayed Malka.

“If this is the price you are always willing to pay for politics,” Malka said, “you’ll soon find yourself without anyone left to bargain.”

“Everything I do is for the people I love! For you. For my parents. For Eskravé.” Chaia drew her ring between her fingers, tracing the curve of the design.

“When Vilém met me, I was so angry. My life had turned upside down all because I wanted justice for Eskravé. I had never felt more powerless. I had left everyone I cared about. I was so angry, Malka. Angry about the injustices forcing me to make this impossible choice. For feeling like I might have chosen wrong every day.”

She took a deep, ragged breath before continuing.

“Vilém… he became the sand to my fire. He never tried to put it out, only made it more manageable for me to survive. When I felt homesick, he would take me in his arms and whisper silly songs in my ear until I laughed instead of cried. He has a terrible voice, you know.”

Malka and Chaia both chuckled, and the tension in the room eased, like how a brush of rain can crack a simmering summer day. Malka struggled with the upkeep of her anger. She had lost so much; she could not lose Chaia, too.

“I forgive you for leaving me,” Malka said. “I don’t know if I can forgive you for betraying me.”

Chaia’s face fell. Her brows creased and her mouth drooped to cry. A tear fell from her cheek, and Malka wiped it away with her calloused thumb.

“I understand, Yedid Nefesh. ”

Malka would always feel hurt by Chaia’s disappearance. The year Malka thought her dead would be etched into her heart. It would pull and ache. She’d never be rid of the feeling. But Malka understood Chaia, and why she had to stay in Valón.

She understood why Chaia had betrayed her, too. She had sacrificed what she loved for a greater cause, just as she said Nimrah had done. And sacrifice was something Malka knew well. Yet it did not ease the pain. Ease the loss of trust.

They stood, and Chaia wrapped Malka in her arms. Malka let herself be hugged. She pressed her chin to Chaia’s shoulder, taking in her familiar rosewater scent. They stayed there until their muscles ached and the candles dimmed low, letting each other be the comfort they needed.

Malka had lost countless people already.

She hoped, eventually, she and Chaia could rebuild from this. Learn to trust again. It was the Yahadi way. The values Baba had instilled in her. She held them close.

For now, this moment was enough.