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CHAPTER TWENTY

Cat

M arina is upset. She closes the door behind Fen, and then stands over Cat. He sits, knees to his chest, arms looped around his head, and waits. It is always best to wait. ‘You could have struck her,’ Marina says. She paces, angry, agitated. Her sword, in its sheath, clinks impatiently at her side. ‘You could have clawed at her dainty little hands like I know you did to Elician, Cat . You could have slapped her across her mouth, even broken her arm. But you didn’t.’

Her steps are loud, thundering even. They echo in the cavern between his ears like the sound of his childhood. The precursor to being dragged out of his cell by guards dressed in protective gear. Hands holding him down, squeezing against his wrists as fire is brought to his face and the corpse-ash ink is forced into his skin. Hold still. Do as they say. Don’t say a word.

‘Thank you for not lashing out at her ,’ Marina says, as if he needs platitudes about his behaviour, ‘but I truly wish you had paid a little more attention to the rest of your surroundings in the process.’

The moment Fen had grabbed his arm, his only thought had been to not hurt her. She was a child, but the feeling of her fingers around his wrist was unbearable, the idea of being locked in place with no way out—

‘Do you know how few people can do what you just did?’ Marina continued. ‘What it would mean if anyone outside these walls knew that Reapers are capable of doing that kind of damage?’

He’s lost in memories of dark halls and cages. It’s hard for him to follow her words. Echoes cascade in his mind. Voices from years past. Pain. He presses the heels of his palms to his eyes and rubs. Finally, Marina stops pacing. ‘I think it is time you and I were honest with each other,’ she says, towering over him. ‘Eight years ago, a Soleben spy gained access to the Reaper cells in Alerae. He was going to make a report back to the crown on the condition of those cells, and instead came across something he did not expect. A boy, around thirteen years old, living in the dark.’ Cat’s fingers dig into his scalp. He doesn’t want to hear this.

‘He was horrified,’ Marina goes on. ‘While some guards pitied the child, and were kind to some extent, others thought it necessary to beat and brutalize the boy who was apparently a stain on both the house he came from and the country itself. The spy wrote letters to our king and queen, detailing every observation. Then he asked for something. Do you know what he asked for?’

She waits. Waits with a patience that could outlast the gods. Cat lowers his hands. He meets her eyes. ‘He asked if I could have a home in Soleb,’ Cat replies.

‘If you could have a home in Soleb,’ she agrees. ‘He knew who you were, of course. So did we. And I have known since the moment Elician brought you here.’ She had certainly been almost too clairvoyant in guessing his age based on the state of his scar. That should have meant something then. It hadn’t. But now, he waits for her to say his name. To draw it out like a curse. She does not. She is, painfully, gentle. ‘When Ranio tried to take you from Alelune, were you willing?’

‘Yes.’ He had been terrified, had worried what the impact and influence would mean in the end. But Brielle had encouraged him to go. Cieli . . . all those around him. What life could he have in the Reaper cells? Called out only to conduct murders at his queen’s behest. Every year, during the night of change, his mother would let him slip out to be amongst the people. A mask and fine clothing hid who he was from all the world, and every year, when he walked back to meet her at the end of the night, she only looked more despondent. As if she could not understand why he would return, when no one in all the world would have been able to stop him if he left and never came back.

A masked fool had offered. The same fool, most likely, every year he went. They had juggled balls and given Cat salted fruits, then asked Cat if he would like to leave and see the world beyond the city.

I’m supposed to be here, he told that fool each and every year, even though he kept walking to find them. Kept turning his head to see the tricks and treats. Where else would I go? he had asked his mother when she finally asked him why he never fled.

And then Ranio had offered a place. A destination. He had held out his hand, and Cat’s protests had died on his tongue.

‘Ranio failed, obviously,’ Marina says. ‘How did he die?’

‘He fell,’ Cat replies. ‘We were riding to the border. Someone had noticed I was gone. We were being chased and . . . I lost my balance. I touched the horse and it died. Collapsed. We were thrown and he . . . he broke his neck.’ He hadn’t even killed the man. Not directly. Cat had knelt at his side, stupefied. Dumbstruck. Altas and the Bask River had both been in sight, just resting on the horizon. He hadn’t even tried to resist when his pursuers caught up. Ranio was dead. Where would he be able to go without Ranio leading the way?

‘His head was sent to us not long after we lost contact with him. The Alelunen ambassador presented it at court.’ Marina takes a deep breath. ‘Ranio Ragden was Fenlia’s biological father.’

Unexpected pain lances through Cat’s chest, forcing the breath from his lungs. His eyes burn with tears. His lungs spasm as they try to maintain air. Ranio’s daughter. His daughter . He could have hurt her. He could have hurt her badly . But he hadn’t. Gods keep me . . . he hadn’t.

‘Her father was King Aliamon’s dearest friend, and after his death Aliamon took it upon himself to adopt her. To make her his daughter and a true member of his house. A few years later, right around when your mother restarted the war against Soleb, Fen rather publicly brought back a beloved pet from the dead. And, well . . . you know what it’s like to be exalted and then sent away, don’t you?’ Marina crouches down, finally at Cat’s level. His chest hurts. His skin tingles. She leans towards him. ‘The war started in earnest. Elician was sent to the front, where he fought for three years. And then . . . you were given another chance to leave Alelune. What were you actually told, Alest?’ His name burns in his ears as his heart constricts painfully beneath his ribs.

That’s not my name anymore, he wants to say. But it will always be his name. It will always be a part of him. It is why he is even having this conversation at all. For if he were not Alest of Alelune, he would simply be a nobody. And he would have sworn himself to Elician the moment Fen asked him to.

Nothing would have held him back. Elician was worth swearing loyalty to. But as much as he had wished to just be Cat, Cat is not the whole of who he is. And Alest of Alelune will never bow his head to Soleb. Not even in this.

‘My queen told me that if I killed the royal family, she would let me leave when my task was done.’ Everything comes out in a rush. He switches to Lunae halfway through, head aching. ‘She said all the Reapers could leave if I did this one task.’ She had not said those words publicly. That could not have been allowed. But in her study, just before he had left, she had offered the boon.

It’s what you want, isn’t it? she had asked. To leave and not come back? To know your . . . people are safe and still at your side? Do it, then. Kill these people, and in return I will give you what you want most in this world.

Marina touches the top of his head. She runs her fingers through his hair and counsels him on how to control his rapid breathing. Then, only when he has calmed sufficiently does she continue. ‘Did you believe her?’

‘I wanted to.’ Trusting his queen, his mother, has never been something that comes easy. She says one thing and does another. She makes plans he does not understand. She offers exceptions and possibilities, then reneges on deals and betrays her allies. He could do what she asked. He could find all the loopholes and follow all her orders, and still . . . there would be no guarantee that she’d do what she had promised.

‘Your abilities. How long have you known you could kill something without touching it?’

‘The last time they burned my face,’ he replies, rubbing at his wrist. ‘I just wanted them to stop.’ Someone knocked him out not long after the first body fell. He had still apologized to his queen when she came to pass judgement on the murder. It had not been on purpose. She had not punished him for it, either. She had simply nodded her head and walked away.

‘You could have killed the entire Soleben army the day Elician captured you . . .’ She huffs. A humourless laugh. ‘You can walk out of Kreuzfurt at any time you want to; you can kill those guards on the wall before they even fire their bows. Why don’t you?’

‘I – why would I?’ He shivers. With the curtains drawn and the sun long past the towers, the ointment on his skin is icy cold.

‘Tell me one final thing,’ she beseeches, touching his smooth and newly scar-free cheek. ‘Do you believe Elician can make a difference on the throne?’

Of all the questions to ask, why that one? Elician is gentle. Thoughtful. Na?ve, perhaps. He likes stories and fables and animals. He named Cat after a mythical creature no one ever sees, which features in both their people’s histories nevertheless. ‘I had thought he was honourable,’ Cat sighs, too exhausted, too cold, to argue.

‘ Had thought?’ she presses. ‘Do you no longer believe that?’

‘He’s lying. To everyone.’ Lying is what royalty does. It is how they stay in power. It is how they maintain that power. Cat’s queen lies and cheats and kills whenever it suits her best. She says Reapers are irrelevant to the Alelunen way of life, then she uses them to assassinate anyone who stands in her way. She says, Stello Alest is dead , then stands him in her court to execute those who betrayed her. And all the court nods and accepts and holds the lie, lest they be next to feel his touch. And Elician? He had seemed better than that. And yet—‘If it is forbidden to become king as a Giver, why should he become king?’

Marina loves Elician. Perhaps she is even blinded by him. He can be blinding. Rarely had there been a time where Cat had not wanted to look at him, listen to him, know what it was that he was thinking. It had been easy to simply lie next to him by a dwindling fire and listen to him talk about one thing or another. When Elician speaks, people listen. It would serve him well as a king if he did ascend the throne.

‘Because some laws are made to stop those who could do the most good from ever having a chance to try.’ Marina settles one hand on his knee. ‘He knows what he is doing by hiding his secret and knows the legacy a Giver on the throne would inherit. Shawshank ruled for generations. A great Giver on the throne of Soleb. He made it so no one ever died within his country’s borders, sending Givers far and wide to keep the whole of his people living eternally. And it ended in disaster. Death was furious at being denied and designed a plague to sweep through the country. An illness that no Giver alone could stop, but every Reaper was blamed for causing.’

She grimaces, eyes pinching at the corners. Cat remembers, suddenly, She is old enough to have been there. To have seen it all. When she continues, her voice is hoarse. Defeated. ‘Shawshank’s only method of correction was to undo it. To try to remake the balance of a world he threw off kilter. He sent all the Givers and Reapers in the country as far away from the people as he could, created new laws that governed how and when the exalted should use their talents.’ She sneers. ‘He let the rumours grow. Let Reapers be blamed for his hubris, for if only Reapers didn’t exist or Death herself had just left Soleb alone, everything would have been perfect. But it wasn’t. And it isn’t. And here we all are. Still in a walled-off enclave, separate from the world. Encouraged to help only a little, and only those strong enough to make the journey here in the first place.’

Marina holds Cat’s gaze and says firmly, ‘Elician is not another Shawshank. But he knows the story, the fear and the risk. He has a plan for this country’s future. And if you ask him next time you see him . . . I imagine he’ll tell it to you in far more detail than he told me. His dream has always been peace, Stello Alest . And that means peace for Alelune too.’

Cat presses his back against the wall behind him. The ointment on his skin burns in icy retaliation at the excess pressure. ‘You have a traitor in the royal family,’ he says quietly. Marina’s fingers tighten. ‘My queen sent me at the advice of a spy of our own. One who detailed Elician’s habits, his routes within the Soleben camp. They specified a Reaper should be sent to kill him. Of course, he’d heal from any assassin’s strike. But sending a Reaper . . . Someone knew about him. And they wanted it revealed.’

Marina shakes her head. ‘Maybe that’s so, but then why wouldn’t they have merely revealed the secret when they had a chance? Elician’s secret isn’t exposed; he is gone .’

‘I don’t know.’ He keeps turning things over in his mind. Twisting the facts this way and that, trying to make it work. ‘I wasn’t told .’

‘But you know Alelune is still responsible somehow.’

‘Yes.’ He can’t explain it. Can’t put into words why , but the feeling is ever present. Sinking into his skin and digging its cold fingers straight through to his heart. There’s a traitor in the Soleben royal family, but Alelune is also involved.

‘Do you know where Elician is now?’

‘I can guess.’ If Elician had been publicly brought before Queen Alenée, all of Soleb would know. Every courier from one end of the continent to the other would be spreading the message as fast as they could. None of this would have happened if he had simply imprisoned me in Altas, he thinks, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as he can.

‘Will you help us get to him?’ Marina asks him.

That would be treason. Worse than simply writing a letter to Elician or expressing fondness. This would be an active step against his queen. Her interests. But not against my people. ‘I want the Reapers in Alelune freed,’ he murmurs. ‘All of them.’ This is his price. He knows she cannot swear on behalf of the crown, but she can still act. And Marina has priorities of her own. She serves as the matriarch of a House that wants nothing more than its own freedom. And in this, their goals are aligned. Marina holds her hand between them and nods assent. He presses his palm against hers.

‘Tell me everything you know,’ she commands.

He does.