Page 27

Chapter

Twenty-One

Liv

The day I told Rebeka about my visits with Stephen, my first lover, she struck me.

She never trained with our mother like I had, so it didn’t bruise.

Not my skin, at least. Her resemblance to my mother always bothered me, how she wore her face.

I always consoled myself that I had our mother’s heart.

But the looks Rebeka gave me with our mother’s warm brown eyes were as cold as the Keepers she sold me out to.

F alizha’s spacious bedroom was inviting and cozy, not what I had expected from the cold-hearted woman. It had a window for a wall opposite the door. The grey and stormy sky cast eerie shadows across the shaggy carpeted floor.

To the left was a wall of photos, and a dresser topped with weapons and discarded clothing.

She was disorganized and had a surprising amount of keepsakes.

I scanned the wall, seeing images of her standing next to her father with his arm wrapped around a man who had to be Falizha’s older brother.

The very one who was meant to be a Guard had Kazhi’s assassination of him gone to plan.

Falizha was not smiling, though her father and brother were, and I hated I understood how she came to be.

I couldn’t imagine being that man’s daughter was easy.

It was clear she was not the favoured child.

“Doesn’t excuse you,” I told the photo.

Awards hung next to photos of other Council members.

I quickly lost interest, not wanting to know her any more than I did and turned to the other end of the room where Maev was combing through a large bookshelf.

The bag she had slung over her shoulder sat near the door with a second bag next to it I hadn’t noticed before.

“I found some Guardian clothes for you. And a pack to put your old clothing in. In case you wished to keep them.”

“Thanks,” I said, picking up the items she left out for me. “I think these may be too small.”

It hit me for the first time that I had left my old pack in his room in the Guardian City. Meaning I had lost my beautiful crystal brush.

“Doubt it. Take a good look at yourself. You’re half the size you were when we found you. Your green top is barely keeping on your shoulders.”

She wasn’t wrong. Not only my top, but my pants weren’t fitting well either.

The humming, vibrating sound of magic filled my ears.

My fingers trembled, and I lost my grip on the clothing, as the familiar sound came back in waves, blocking out everything else.

Maev continued to explore the shelves, unaware of the magic’s presence.

The Ikhor was growing stronger, reacting to every small emotion.

I picked up the dropped clothing, spotting my reflection in a standing mirror next to a large wardrobe.

I straightened, holding my breath. The girl staring back was the one I had been running from, who I thought I had left behind in my old world—the weak girl who hid away in the Endless Forest, the one who had no friends and no loyalty to anyone.

Scared … helpless, the perfect host for the Ikhor.

Everything the Guards had done to make me healthy and whole was gone. Any signs of the life they had revived had washed away in the weeks I had been hiding inside my grief.

“You okay?” Maev asked carefully, her hip against the edge of a desk close to the large bookshelf. She already had a pile of things stacked to go through.

The air rushed from my lungs. “No!”

“No need to get angry with me.” Her lip curled as her arms crossed.

“What kind of joke is this?”

“Excuse me?”

“The gods—the ones that everyone worships—what kind of game are they playing? Look at me, Maev. I’m not a saviour. I’m a monster. I’ve killed without thinking. I’ve flooded I don’t know how many homes. I’ve turned on my best friend.”

My insecurities and weaknesses were stacked high, piled like a cage around me. I searched between the cracks for any kind of mettle that could push me—something that could lift me out of the catacombs and into the light. I demanded it from Nuo, so why couldn’t I do it myself?

“You learn to move forward,” Maev said softly.

“Move forward? How?”

“Just keep trying.”

“Do you think you could? If you became something your friends hated?”

Maev softened, unfolding her arms. She took a step toward me but stopped when I flinched back. “I see you are in pain, but the rest of the world hasn’t crumbled. You’re missing the good parts still out there, worth fighting for.”

“What would you know of my pain? What would you know of suffering?”

“Hello? Girl, it’s called perspective.” Maev pushed my argument away with a wave of her hand.

“It’s called empathy. I have eyes. I see the world around me and how it works.

There are thousands of years of suffering and history shows us others beat it.

If the past is any indication of the fortitude of men, then you should know you can get through this. ”

“And how am I to do that? If you’re so wise, tell me.”

Maev surprised me, showing her teeth for the first time. “You fight it. You’re not fighting. You’re drowning and not even raising a hand for help.”

“You saw what happened. You remember what Nuo said to me. How am I supposed to get over that?”

“It’s not fair to judge someone in their darkest hour. You haven’t reached yours yet, the Oracle warned you. And there’s a ton of bad you’ve said, too.”

I took a step back. “How do you know about the Oracle?”

“You told me, Liv. On one of our many long days on the boat.”

I had no memory of the conversation. What else had I revealed?

“Whatever. You couldn’t understand anyway. I’ve lost everyone I care about. Who have you ever lost?”

“A brother. And a mother. In fact, I never had one. I grew up with a ghost and a few photos. Everyone has a story, so don’t try to feel special because yours is hard right now.”

I swallowed back the retort I had ready, and Maev frowned, tapping her finger against her biceps. Her words were as sharp as her expression. She was a tough friend to have—if I could consider my enemy my friend.

“I didn’t know,” I tried as an apology.

“Of course, you didn’t. Cause you haven’t tried for a moment to get to know me. Or my brother, who is quietly fuming while also doing as you asked, taking us away from the crossing to our lands and dodging the beast at every turn.”

“What else have I told you?”

I was a coward, ignoring what she was making me feel. I had no memory of telling her about the Oracle or any conversation from our six weeks of fleeing the Guards. And she was right—they didn’t need to help me, but they were against their own wishes.

“You told me many things in short, stuttered conversation—of your homelands, of your time with Nuo. You don’t want to be angry with him any more than you want to be the Ikhor.”

“Are you defending the Interrogator now?” I studied the black clothing in my arms, picking at lint.

“I’m defending your friend. Because you once believed in him. And if you don’t give him the benefit of knowing he was in his own hell, who will forgive the Ikhor in the end?”

She was right. Who would forgive me? Yet I hadn’t said the things Nuo had said.

“He promised to kill me.” I choked on the swelling lump in my throat.

“Well, you’ll know the truth next time you meet. I don’t like the Aspisser. I don’t like any of them, and honestly, Liv, I’m starting not to like you.”

I stared at the shirt, concentrating on the colour that was fading on the fabric.

No one had ever said those words to me, though I saw it written on their faces time and again. I was too different, a risk to society, a terrible choice of friend. But Maev hid none of her feelings toward me. Either through words or her expressions, I knew exactly what she was thinking.

“Listen,” she said, sighing and turning back to the bookshelf. “Let’s go through these shelves and try again.” She looked at me over her shoulder. The expression on her face was almost comical—judgemental, annoyed, yet hopeful all at once. “Maybe, if we push hard enough, we could still be friends.”

“I thought you didn’t like me.” When had I become so pathetic? Perhaps I always was.

She smiled and fidgeted with the pile of books to her side. “Well, you haven’t lost me yet. Get changed.”

“The books Kazhi mentioned will have to be near the top.” I quickly changed into the black Guardian clothes, hating how tight they were to my body. You could see bone more than muscle. “Or closer to the bridge where they’re accessible.”

I didn’t feel right getting into Guardian gear. But my reflection showed I looked the part with crystals and bones in my ears. I was only missing the tattoos.

“I’ve never heard the word Aspisser,” I said, grinning at the name. It was clever.

“You’ll hear it often when we get to my city.”

I stuffed my dirty clothing and my cloak in my new pack, reattached my belt, secured my useless swords, and joined Maev near the shelf.

“Journals, written in Day!” She lifted a book over her shoulder. Her face fell, remembering she was mad at me.

“Can you read them?” The script along my swords was written in the ancient language of Day, but I couldn’t read them. It was the same with the journal as I peered at the words on the page—their meaning eluded me. It made me pause.

When I was brought to Veydes, I discovered I could speak their language—the common tongue.

Weeks later, when I was at the Guardian City, I discovered I could read the language of Night, a dead language.

So why, when I looked at the language of Day, did the writing feel like something I couldn’t quite grasp?

“I can’t read them quickly—it’s an old language. But Ollo can decipher faster than I.”

I scanned the room one last time, and just before leaving, I spotted a photo I had missed on the wall. A whimper escaped me, and I coughed to hide it, but Maev was too attentive to miss it. She found the framed image that stopped me—Falizha standing with the Guards.

He was there, standing stoically in his Guard’s uniform.

He stood taller than the others, and the darkness I had always questioned lingering behind his eyes was visible even in the photo.

I thought the weight of his goal, guarding the Aspis, caused him to lose sleep.

Or perhaps the dark circles under his eyes were from worry.

But no, it had always been because he was host to the Aspis.

The beast had always been lingering beneath his skin.

I moved closer to the photo, setting the journals on the dresser below. Seeing the photo, seeing him as just a man, made me realize the dreams I’d been having were only that—dreams.

Nightmares.

I had been desperate to believe he might be alive, but a quick reminder of what he looked like as a man told me all I needed to know—there was no resemblance to what I was conjuring in my nightmares. He was gone.

I brushed some dust off the glass covering the image.

His hair was pulled back, revealing the tattoos inked above his ears—the Aspis tattoos. The scar running down the side of his face was faint but visible in the photo. No hint of the iridescence in his eyes showed the sign of his skill at seeing in the dark—the cursed child.

Maev approached, lifting the image off the wall and staring at it. Then, after a moment, she gave me a reluctant smile. “He is quite handsome.”

“Was,” I corrected.

Maev tapped the glass with her finger. “Is. Right here.”

I sniffed, trying to hide the pain.

She turned the frame over and grabbed hold of the back covering. When Maev was in a bad mood, her movements were jerky.

“What are you doing?” I gasped as she ripped the back of the frame off.

Next, she removed the picture, tearing it apart, and throwing part of the photo to the ground. Falizha’s face stared up at me from where it landed.

“I think this should belong to you. I’m heading back to my brother. You can keep wandering or doing whatever it is you were doing,” she said, passing me the photo.

I was almost too afraid to touch it.

“What about the other pile of journals?”

“I’ll get Ollo’s help. It’s just he and I helping my people now.”

She lifted a bag from the floor and shouldered it before walking from the room.

“Thank you,” I choked out to an empty door frame, grateful and ashamed all at once.