Lightfall, p.26
Lightfall, page 26
“So, it’s true?” Sander asked.
Thorne nodded. “The Blood Hive has burned. The prisoners are gone.”
Cistine cupped her mouth. “Gods have mercy. All those fighters…”
Aden yanked his hands through his hair, lifting his head at last. “How?”
“That remains to be seen,” Thorne said. “Sander?”
The High Tribune climbed to his feet. “Right, then. Off I go.”
“Tati,” Thorne added, and both she and Quill stiffened, “and Aden. You’re with him.”
His cousin’s eyes flashed. “You aren’t serious.”
“You’re my best tracker, and you taught Tatiana a good deal of what she knows. Sander and the other Tribunes will find out how this happened. You two will find out why and what happens next.”
Tatiana nodded, and Quill squeezed her hand.
“Three times,” Thorne added. “This is three times Salvotor has landed a blow when we weren’t looking. Let’s not make it four.”
“I’ll continue working with Saychelle in the meantime,” Mira said. “We’ll use this diversion to our advantage. She’ll be ready to take the witness chair again when you return, Sander. I give you my word.”
“I trust that word more than any sword at my side.” He brushed a kiss to her forehead in passing and took her hand, tugging her out the door with him. Cistine frowned after them, shaking her head slowly.
“What do you want the rest of us to do, Allet?” Quill asked.
“Actually, I could use your help, Quill,” Cistine said quickly, breaking her pensive stare after Sander and Mira. “There’s something I want to do before Salvotor rallies enough to swing another blow. It might help us defend against him.”
Thorne tipped his head. “You have our attention.”
She fidgeted with the betrothal ring hanging around her neck; for the first time in weeks, she wasn’t wearing Kristoff’s compass pendant beside it. “I’ve been reading about Atrasat blood. I think we can use it as ink, like Morten did on his ankle.”
“You want to ink Atrasat blood into us?” Tatiana frowned. “Why?”
“Because it’s an element of the world. It conducts augments like Salvotor’s scales.” She let go of the betrothal ring, jaw firming. “That way, with or without armor, we’ll never be vulnerable. One less way for him to hurt us.”
Ariadne sat forward beside Aden, fingers tapping her elbows. “There’s no reason it shouldn’t work, given the properties of Atrasat blood. And it’s true, the advantage. Salvotor went to such lengths to reinforce his skin because the danger from augments is ever-present. If we could forego that danger…”
“It could turn the tide of a battle,” Tatiana finished.
Quill shrugged. “Augmented inkings sound impressive, and I could do with a new way to strike terror into my enemies. Clever thinking, Stranger.”
Cistine shrugged modestly. “It was going to be my gift to all of you for Darlaska, but I don’t know if we should wait that long.”
“When do we go hunting?” Quill asked.
“Give me one day. I think I found someone who can help us track the Atrasat.”
“Go prepared,” Thorne warned. “All of you.”
As one, everyone departed except Aden and Ariadne, lingering on the sofa, and Thorne, holding the door. Shadows haunted his cousin’s eyes when he stood. “So. Now you know. I understand if you don’t want me on your Tribunal, in your council. That weakness…”
“It is not weakness,” Ariadne cut in. “It was not weakness when it happened to me, it was not weakness when it happened to you.”
Aden’s eyes cut to her, not quite meeting. “It isn’t the same. You were untrained, unable to fight him. I was…I am—”
“A victim. You were as much a victim as I was. No sword can cleave the power of herbs, and anyone, man or woman, can be taken advantage of if the circumstances are right.” Ariadne surged to her feet, pulling him around by the arm to face her. “Look at me.” Slowly, his gaze dragged to hers. “I forgive you. For that night, for that choice, for everything that came of it. You have done enough, Aden. You never owed me penance, but even then, you’ve done enough.” She laid her hand on his cheek. “I forgive you.”
He bowed his head, but in the stiffness with which he withdrew from her grip, it was clear he had not forgiven himself. He had far to go still before he could release what happened in Siralek.
So Thorne said a silent prayer that his plan would succeed. Then he said to his cousin, “Go. The Blood Hive needs you one last time.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
IN MOROSE QUIET, Tatiana and Quill packed their satchels—admittedly with finer threads and more augments and weapons than they ever took from the Den. But Tatiana’s heart still ached, missing him already. Missing Pippet, too, who perched on the edge of their bed, heels stirring the air, weight braced back on her hands. “Please can I go with? I hate being left behind.”
Quill shut his satchel with a sharp yank. “That’s not happening.”
“But Cistine’s even hiring that hunter we met in the tavern…Daria! She gets to go, why can’t I? I’m trained, ask Aden! He trusts me!”
“Aden wouldn’t take you to Siralek any more than I’m going to take you beast-hunting.” Quill pulled out his custom-made dagger, then slammed the chest-of-drawers shut. “That’s the end of the discussion.”
Pippet pouted. “This is just like Starhollow.”
Tatiana stepped from the closet and shot her valenar a look. He held it for a moment, then turned to the bed, his face softer toward his sister than ever since Thorne marched her into their room from a night out gambling, of all the stars-forsaken things. He walked over to the bed and planted his fists on either side of her, bending on her level. “You know what? I might’ve let you come if this happened a few days ago. Do you know why I won’t?”
She looked down at her lap. “Because I gambled.”
“Listen to me. Because you kept secrets.” Quill took her chin, lifting her head. “If I’m going to take you along on missions, I have to know I can trust you. Maybe Aden already can, but I can’t, and until you prove that to me, you’re not flying this nest, Hatchling. Understood?”
Her jaw bobbed against his hand.
“Besides,” he added, “you’re still stuck here for another month. That’s for gambling.”
“Fine. Then while I’m here I’m going to be the best, honest, most trustworthy warrior who’s ever been.”
“Believe me, I’d sleep a lot better at night if you were.”
“I could pay Daria!” she added. “I still have mynts!”
Tatiana bit back a laugh at Quill’s wild stare. “You don’t have to—”
“I’ll do it! I want to.” She dove off the bed, wrapping her arms around his chest, then slithering past him to do the same to Tatiana. “And then I’ll stay right here the whole time you’re gone! Ariadne will help me with my schooling. You’ll see…I’m going to be so well-behaved!”
“Only while we’re gone,” Quill muttered when she dashed from their room and slammed the door to hers. “Stars damn it…gambling?”
Laughter scraped Tatiana’s throat. “She’s truly her brother’s sister.”
“Don’t remind me. If I come back and she’s down to three fingers…”
Tatiana banded her arms around his waist, inhaling the smell of cinnamon and steel-polish from his clothes. “I wish I was going with you.”
“I don’t blame you.” Quill twisted in her embrace to splay his hands on her hips. “Beast-hunting, or searching some stars-forsaken catacombs? I actually feel bad for you this time, Saddlebags. We’re going to have all the fun without you.”
“Doubtful. I am the fun.”
“Don’t I know it.” Even in his quick kiss, she found a flirt of eagerness. Quill was like her—he wasn’t built for a life inside courthouse walls. The wilds beckoned and sang to them both.
She drew away first, eyeing him shrewdly. “Remember. First one back—”
“Starts questioning the inventors.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I know. I’ll check the markets for the schematics again, too.”
“You really are going to have all the fun without me!” Swatting his haunch, she grabbed her satchel and slung it across her body, went to the door, then looked back. Melancholy pulled at her nerves; it was her first time going on a mission without Quill since the one that brought her home to the Den with a poisoned arrow in her shoulder. Back then, just like now, the thought in her head was singular and screaming: just get home. Just get back to him.
“Quill.” He turned at the crack in her voice. “You know I love you, right, Featherbrain?”
A brash smirk cut across his face. “What’s not to love?”
She gestured rudely, then slammed the door on his laughter, carrying that sound with her all the way from the courthouse.
She’d never been so grateful for augments. Any other journey from Stornhaz in Sander and Aden’s company would’ve proved uncomfortable beyond words; instead, it was a matter of moments before they traded the unseasonable heat at the heart of their kingdom for Nordbran’s dry red sands. The northern territory opened its arms to them, an embrace of vicious beauty from a place Tatiana had hoped never to see again after she and Quill departed one of its many bazaars and traveled into the wild lands beyond the Isetfells. But this time, rather than a view of endless dunes and distant steppes leading up to the mountains, something dark and terrible rose on the horizon.
Siralek. Or what remained of it.
It must’ve been impressive once, but the many-tiered elliptic structure lay cracked in half now, halberd-bearing statues toppled, the gates ripped from their hinges and speared into the sand like a parting challenge from the prisoners they once contained. Tatiana, Aden, and Sander passed under the ruined archways and climbed stone slabs ripped from seats and walls to meet a contingent of Vassora—too few, in Tatiana’s opinion, but they were stretched thin between here and Detlyse Halet these days—and took an official report.
It wasn’t only the prisoners gone; the fighting animals were as well. The nomad camps and the white stone homes sat empty now, not one person left. And no trace of a struggle, either. Nothing but the Hive itself remained, broken wide open.
“Sand hides a multitude of evils,” Sander said with a sharp glance at Aden. “Let’s rest the night. Come morning when the other Tribunes arrive, we begin the hunt afresh. Make no assumptions, base nothing off what we’ve seen thus far. We scour this place and the city to the last inch. And we will not stop until we learn something about Rakel and Devitrius…and what they’re doing with all those fighters.”
When Dusan, Noaam, Ambrose, and Jesper—with his valenar Sabra, true Yager Tribune over Nordbran—arrived the following dawn, they declared the catacombs too unstable to be searched. Aden scattered half the Vassora and Yager’s hunters into the city to turn over every stone; the other half, Sander dispatched with earth augments to prop up the catacombs.
“Dangerous, but necessary,” he said with an unexpected clap on Tatiana’s shoulder while they watched the guards depart. “If they made these places unnavigable, then perhaps the clues we’re searching for lie there.”
Tatiana certainly hoped so, because the city gave up little of worth. After two days, they discovered no patterns. Some people had vanished and left all their belongings behind; some took everything with them, stripping walls bald to the last stained patch where mirrors once hung to help light the dark stone abodes.
Never a trace of blood. Never a sign of struggle. Never a hint of a clue.
“I give up!” Tatiana barked halfway through the third day. Standing in yet another unscathed dwelling, hands on her hips, she scowled at the unruffled cushions and dead hearth. “You’re the one who taught me that even the effort to not leave a trail leaves a trail, but look at this place! There’s nothing! Who attacked it, the stars-damned Undertaker?
Halfway up the steps to the upper level, Aden halted, smoothing his palm on the broad, flat stone railing. He frowned at his empty palm, then met her eyes.
Tatiana tossed up her hands. “Fine. Don’t tell me what you’re thinking, don’t tell me you’re as confused as I am. I can see it in your pretty face.”
His brow tweaked, but that was all the emotion he showed. Then he went back to staring at his palm.
They turned over two more homes with no luck before the sun began to sink and the bitter cold of another desert night set in; it was time to build a fire and surrender for the day. They chose the same place they had the last few nights: an oasis at Siralek’s heart. While other fires kindled—Vassoran fires and hunter fires, and somewhere out there, one where Nordbran’s Tribunes gathered together—there was little talk and less laughter. Eeriness stamped the world, and the feeling that whatever had vacated this place could return at any moment and vacate them as well.
To distract herself, Tatiana built the fire high enough to work by, then spread out the only items she stuffed in her satchel besides battle armor and rations: a cloth wrap, a set of tinker’s tools, and her newest invention.
It was a ridiculous form of absolution: since she couldn’t search for Kadlin’s thief right now, she would at least make use of the woman’s schematics. So by firelight where she didn’t risk anyone spoiling the surprise, Tatiana tinkered and built, pouring effort into her invention. Hair tied back, tongue poking between her teeth, she sat cross-legged with the tools before her and her handiwork in her lap, passing the hours that way.
Better than thinking about what lay around them. Better than wondering where these people went. Tinkering was pure logic. Things either fit together or they didn’t, and the latter could be amended with the right tools. Nothing at all like entire cities vanishing or catacombs being broken into, leaving no trace of people or beasts behind.
She was so absorbed in her work, she didn’t hear Aden approach until the flames guttered as he sat across from her. He offered a gourd of water, then two fruits from the oasis. Tatiana took the drink but not the fruit, rolling the bottle neck between her palms while she watched him.
She’d spent five years wondering where Aden was, alternately hating him and missing him—unsure if the boy who helped raise them, growing into the man who betrayed them, had died believing they never wanted to see him again and were better off with him gone. And not knowing herself whether that was true.
Hearing what came out in that courtroom made her regret every terrible thought she’d had about him for all those years. Clear as the moonlight in this empty, endless desert, he was just like her: riddled with mistakes, hung on hope, desperate to make amends. Her weakness had been a love of numbness found in strong spirits; his was the promise of seeing his father again. Both of them were saboteurs seeking redemption. He put himself in this place to save members of Sillakove imprisoned by Salvotor, and she threw the doors of her heart wide open, let in Cistine, Quill, the rest of the cabal, even strangers like Kadlin, and tried every day to make up for years of resenting and shutting out and hating anyone who hurt her.
Maybe Thorne saw all that. Maybe that was why he really sent her along on this mission.
Tossing up a silent prayer, she offered the gourd back to Aden. “It must be a nightmare for you. Being back here.”
His eyes flicked up to her face, then back toward the cracked-open elliptical that was his prison for five years.
“You don’t have to say anything,” she added. “Stars know I wouldn’t want to if I were you. But don’t forget who made tea and sat on your sofa listening to you talk about schooling and training to become a Tribune for hours after the others left those Sillakove gatherings. I’m not like Mira, and it’s been years, but I’ll still listen if there is anything you want to say.”
Aden accepted the gourd, swigged from it, and went on staring at the ravaged arena. Tatiana went back to tinkering.
“I swore an oath to myself that I would take my own life before I ever came back to this place.” A quiet admission. He still didn’t look away from the arena, crouched on the horizon with its spine split open. “Mira tells me such oaths are beneath people like us, that there’s no world where my death is an acceptable trade for Siralek’s clutches. And that having escaped once, I could do it again.”
Tatiana set her tools aside. “So, do you feel better, knowing it’s destroyed and no one can lock you away in here anymore?”
“Yes.” A beat, and Aden towed his hand back through his long hair. “But also, no. No, I don’t. It isn’t Siralek that remains a fortress, it’s the pieces of it in me. I haven’t escaped that. If I ever will.”
She wondered what shackles kept him bound to this place; if it was Deja, or Nimea and the Tumult, or even Ashe. If it was the fighters he didn’t save. “I think you can walk out of here if you want to. When Quill and I used to talk about where you went after you left Hellidom, I always thought you stayed away because you didn’t want to come back, not because you couldn’t. If you really wanted to leave, you would’ve found a way. And I still think you will.”
Aden was quiet as she took up her tools again, hiding the shakiness of honesty in busy hands and downcast eyes. When he spoke at last, gratitude quieted his voice. “I won’t say I’m not surprised, but I’m glad you never stopped believing in me. Thank you.”
Heat needled her throat and sinuses, and she could no longer see her invention through blurry eyes. “I’ve given the cabal plenty of opportunities to stop believing in me, too, but they always hope. That’s what we do for each other. And you’re still part of that, Aden.” This time his answer was wordless, a hand extended around the fire, that fruit offered again like a truce. So Tatiana took it and toasted to him. “To always believing.”
“To believing,” Aden echoed, and they bit into the succulent flesh.
The first taste was achingly sweet—then sickeningly so, writhing with complexity like the first notes of a harsh beer. Tatiana gagged and spat out the fruit, flipping it over in her hand. At its very core, past her teethmarks, it was rotten and syrupy. Maggots plopped onto the sand.
