Silk fire, p.39
Silk Fire, page 39
“Consider my trust broken.” Blinking past tears, I pressed against the wall like the sandstone could protect me. Like anything could protect me from someone who could shred my heart with the lightest touch. “Gods, we’re such wretched souls. How could we change the world, with such bile inside us?”
He recoiled. “Listen to me. The dzaxa deserve your hate. It’s not evil to rage against real monsters, even if they’re the pillars holding up your world. It’s the noblest thing of all—if you bend that anger to the right cause. Help me stop Akizeké. She’s the threat today, not your father. Help me reclaim Victory Street for its people.”
“I can’t be on the heroes’ side.” I laughed, my soul twisting like a banner on the wind. “I was wrong about Akizeké, about Zega, and innocent people have already died. I belong to my mistakes. They’re written in my eyes, as yours are tallied on your skin.”
“I did wrong,” he whispered. “I’d give my soul to fix it.”
Enough. Protect myself. I’d broken things with Ria. He’d broken things with me. Trusting only hurt me. No path led to my happiness. “Get out. Join Dzaro’s defenders, or hide below the Slatepile. I never want to see your face again. I’ve got to help Ria.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Skygarden
23rd Reshi, Year 92
“The gods once gathered the worthy dead in their golden beyond, a realm of healing, light, and miracles. But now the souls of our loved ones flee into grey, lest the greatest shadow trap them in life.”—Priesthood’s End, a Scholarly District text reserved for philosophers
“Break my heart, leave my love dead/I’ll wander forever away.”—‘Wanderer’, by Fezeof, popular song of Year 82 Rarafashi
The stabbing loss in my chest—lodged beside the wound Zega had carved eight years ago—left my magic slipping from my grasp. I showed Faziz my true self, and he turned my trust against me. Fear kept me human, vulnerable and slow. Even cursing Vashathke didn’t draw my power free in anger. Loathing for my own mistakes contaminated the swift purity of my rage.
I ran up Victory Street on foot, head tucked low, checking for stalkers over my shoulder. Bitter irony made it safe for a man—a dragon—to walk out alone. Fear had emptied the great sandstone way. A crowd only gathered by the blockade at the Slatepile’s foot, where Dzaro’s guards and Faziz’s undercroft folk joined uneasy ranks. Advancing Engineers stared them down with purple-rimmed eyes.
They needed their High Master.
My bright hands found hidden grips in the Palace’s walls. I climbed through thin air, rising level with Skygarden’s lowest talon. With a twist and grunt of effort, I leapt the gap. My fingernails sank into steel. I clambered into an entry port near the steel dragon’s tail.
My heart aching with each hovership fusillade, I snuck through the corridors to Akizeké’s apartment. One of her guards fell to my njiji dart, the other I dropped with a blow to the head. I rolled them into a maintenance shaft; then, on my knees, pushed a finger through the steel wall and peered in.
“I don’t understand!” Ria twisted against the silk cords binding her. Relief spun my head at the sight of her. “You said you respected the Fire Weavers!” Her voice cracked. Strain greyed her face. Bruises lingered on her jaw and stomach.
She’s been almost completely drained. My stomach flipped. She’s been fighting off shadow for hours.
Akizeké jabbed Tamadza’s staff in Ria’s face. The purple holdshadow rose pulsed like an infected wound. A Reclaimer hummed in the corner. “I respect you deeply, High Master. Join me, and your order will prosper under my patronage.”
“You expect my support? You allied with Tamadza to kill us!”
“The Fire Weavers discover and explore. You can do that still when I rule your district. But you’ll stay within bounds. No calling debt collectors on me or building bridges and crossways on our streets. You’ll fill my bank account, not the other way around. Jadzia’s balance must be restored. I don’t like violence, but the Treaty of Inversions has held us back too long. It’s time we chose our own rulers once more. Leaders who can restore our former glory.”
I would have laughed if I didn’t need the silence to shield me. Akizeké was arrogant, as was I, as was every red-eyed dzaxa in War. So assured she was born for greatness that she’d never questioned her own value. But underneath her arrogance lay empty, hapless, din.
“War’s glory,” Toźätupé spat. Akizeké had bound her to the futon. The heir to Engineering lay half-drained of her essence, hair limp and voice wavering. “The world’s better with War’s glory dead.”
“Shut your fucking mouth.” Akizeké drove her foot into Toźätupé’s chest. Bones broke. Toźätupé moaned. “I won’t take orders from—damn you!” The staff spat radiant sparks, wrenching snakelike against Akizeké’s grip as Tamadza’s soul resisted. “Be still! You’re mine to command. Bow, necromancer!”
The staff spat once more. Akizeké growled and struck it against the wall. Sweat glistened on her brow. She straightened and glowered at her prisoners. “Who’s first for another taste of shadow?”
“Let them go, Akizeké.” Faziz slid through a back entrance. Hope lit Ria’s eyes as they found him. I wanted to scream a warning. He’ll break you.
“My lost boy returns.” Akizeké chuckled, and poked the staff into his jaw. “Missing my warm arms? Or still trying to glean a lordship?”
“I’m not fool enough to expect gifts or tenderness after you killed twenty of my people and nearly killed me.”
“The world can’t know who sent the Reclaimers to Engineering. I need it to look like Vashathke’s people stole the crates and used Geshge’s company to move them.” Akizeké shrugged. “When I’m enthroned, I’ll make Koreshiza breathe essence to replace what’s destroyed on my rise.”
At her promise to force me, Faziz tightened his jaw. “Let Ria and Toźätupé go, and I’ll withdraw my fighters from the Slatepile. Lady Dzaroshardze’s defenders will be easily broken then. You’ll have the massacre on Victory Street you’ll need to justify your conquest.”
“Good to have you back, Faziz.” Akizeké grinned. “But I’m not Koreshiza. I’m not fool enough to trust you.”
With a sweep of the staff, she knocked his legs from beneath him. He fell on his back, cursing as his head struck steel. Shadows wheeled from the Reclaimer, gathering around the staff as Akizeké spun it like a spindle. With a triumphant grin, she rammed its tip down his throat.
Faziz convulsed—once, sharply—as shadows tore through his chest. Dark circles bloomed under his eyes. Cool amethyst undertones crept beneath his gold, polishing old scars from his chest and arms. The hard lines of his shoulders and abdomen sharpened like chiseled onyx. His hair flowed back like a river as he stood and bowed gracefully before her.
“Dzaxa,” he breathed, his voice a whisper of brass and calling bells. His eyes deep and unfathomable as endless night. “What do you bid?”
She’d snuffed out his soul like a candle.
“Be mine.” Akizeké wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. “Fight beside me. Be loyal. Be everything I need.” He melted unresisting into her. Fear and sick loathing screamed in my ears. I will break Akizeké for this. I will shred her soul to ribbons.
I’d told him I’d never wanted to see his face again, but that hadn’t been true. I’d done what trauma had trained me, pushed away the author of my pain. If I’d had time, space, one nerve left undamaged from this awful day, I would have said what I meant: Wait. This hurts me. To be together, we must find a better way.
I needed to stop this. I needed to save him. I wasn’t ready to let go.
“Fuck you,” Ria spat. “This is sick.”
“I didn’t want your opinion,” Akizeké said. “I’m going back to my hovership. Take this time to consider my offer, High Master. I’ve a throne to inherit and a conquest to plan.” She forced Toźätupé off the couch, holding the staff to her neck. “Try anything funny and I’ll force more shadow down your girlfriend’s throat.”
I scrambled back into shadows as Akizeké stalked past, her chin arched and proud, Faziz gliding by her side.
Shit. Shit. Shit. I scrambled through the door, heart leaping into my lungs. Ria sagged against the wall, panting, worn to her soul. My heart skipped.
“It’s okay.” I cupped my hand to her temple. She hiccupped a sob into my palm. “Let me tithe to you. Let me heal you.”
“Please just hold me.”
I did. My body shook with her every gasped cry. My lungs ached as she trembled in my arms. I should unbind her. I should help her to stand. But if I let go, I didn’t think she’d ever touch me again.
“The shadow said it would show me my father. If I let it have me, it would weave me an eternal dream where the Hive never fell. Where I wasn’t in charge. Where I hadn’t failed anyone. I wanted it so bad. More than I wanted to be High Master. More than I wanted to fight back. I almost fell.”
“You’re still here.” I stroked her hair. “It’s okay.”
“How can it be okay when what we had is broken? I fell in love with a caring, kindhearted boy. I tried to make him my anchor as the shadow ripped through my mind. But he was a façade, and the shadow struck deep, and… I remembered my father, and held on for the love of him, but he’s gone. I need to love someone living, vital and real. I need you. And I’m not even sure who you are.”
“I didn’t know who I was. Not for a very long time.” I worked the ties on her hands, letting essence fall from my tongue to her cheek. Filling her. Healing her. My life’s tale came out as I unraveled the knots, every bloody footstep I’d trodden from the Prizeheron to the Palace and beyond. I couldn’t speak the truth and meet her eyes.
“So let me get this right,” Ria said when I finished. “Your mom sells you into an engagement for a plush job when you’re six years old. Rarafashi learns your mom is this loose end that could endanger her and Vashathke’s baby-snatching plot, brands her to shut her up. Your ex-girlfriend beats you up, robs your dying mom, and tries to abduct you, and you accidentally kill her trying to get away. Your ex-boyfriend drains all your essence, and so you sleep with his wife—which is literally the only reaction any sensible person would expect eighteen-year-old Koré to have—and your ex-fiancée tries to coerce you into an abusive relationship, so you flip the tables on her and seize an opportunity to make your own life. Where in this story is the big, terrible thing that’s all your fault?”
“I’m the thread that draws it together,” I said. “I exist because my father hungers for power. I could never even make my own parents love me. How can so much be about me without it being my fault? I knew you’d leave me once you learned the truth, and yet I hid it from you. I exposed and mocked your deepest shame before the judge’s court, and now Victory Street is on fire!”
“At least it helps me understand why you’re being such an ass.” Her hand slipped free and shoved my shoulder. Dulled as she was, I couldn’t tell if she’d meant it to hurt. “Believe me, I wish we’d uncovered Akizeké’s plot sooner, but what she’s chosen to do is on her, not us.”
“And what I’ve chosen to do is on me.”
“Koré, I did everything in my power to earn the world’s respect—and then the moment you needed protection, I humiliated myself before Rarafashi’s court and confessed to a crime I never committed. Because I love you. And I understand now, even if you don’t—you’re not just involved in this because you hate your father. You love Victory Street. You love Jadzia, and everyone in it, and you know they deserve better leaders than they have.”
I bit my lip. “I never thought of it that way.”
“I’m pissed and hurt—but that’s on a personal level. The shit that’s your fault, you did because you care about this place. I just want to know if you also care about me. Like, I’m still not sure if you got close to me because you liked me or because I could help you get endorsements for Akizeké.”
“Both,” I admitted. “I’ve felt so many heartbreaks. I could only bring myself to let you in by telling myself it was all a grand scheme. But I loved you from the first time we spoke. And that terrified me. Because love would mean showing the world my magic, and it would also mean showing you my shame.”
“You think I’d ever be ashamed of you? The day we met, I threw up on your skirt!”
“But that’s you, Ria. I’m just me.”
“Yeah, because we’re so damn different.” She rolled her eyes. “We both expect way too much of ourselves. You’re just better than me at hiding how that hurts. And I can’t help if you’re not open with me.”
“Let me help you now.” Regret stirred in me, damp and heavy, weakening my embers of power. My tongue shaped puffs of essence into tiny drifting clouds. Too little. But my own essence store glimmered like sunlight under my skin, and the bittersweet pleasure of holding her for one last time tugged on it.
I surrendered to the sheer joy of touching her. One last time. As my lips brushed her sweaty throat, I gave, and gave, and trusted she wouldn’t abuse what I’d offered. Trusted my gentle, hesitant touches wouldn’t sting like a monster’s claws.
Magic swam between us, sure as sunrise, waking her flesh. At last, she grunted, and kicked through the ties on her ankles and knees. My bones cried in pain as she pulled away.
I might never touch her again. But I’d never stop loving her.
“What’s going on out there?” She turned her opesero on Akizeké’s Reclaimer, devouring it in flames.
I related everything. The defenders holding the Slatepile. The enthralled Engineers marching into battle against their will. What we’d learned from the Lost District envoys, especially the slim, unreliable hope Akizeké’s will wouldn’t completely break Tamadza’s.
“The ground assault is bad enough,” I finished, fighting to think of strategy instead of my fractured heart. “But that hovership’s cannons could flatten Victory Street in a few hours. We need Skygarden to counter it. Only a judge can activate its weapons.”
“Rarafashi’s dying. She’ll summon Akizeké soon.” Ria straightened. “I have a plan.”
I could sense where this was going. “Absolutely not.”
“This is bigger than one throne. One street, one district. Our world is broken. No single step can fix it.” She took my hands. “If we do this, we’ll survive today. And we’ll have the rest of our lives before us to change everything. Can you give me your trust?”
My fingers ran along the warm, ancient gold of her opesero. I remembered the weight of the one she’d offered me in the Surrender, months ago. Trust. The old knot of anger pulsed in my breastbone, demanding vengeance. But I clenched my fists and bade it quiet.
I knew what mattered most. I knew what I fought for.
And I would do anything to equal the love she’d shown me.
The Dzaxashigé family prison cells lay in the steel dragon’s spine. Bolts from the hovership’s cannons had chewed through the walls, leaving holes with red-hot shattered edges. The guards had fled, but electrum snakes still curled around woman-tall holdfast locks, judging us with slitted eyes.
“Stand back, asshole!” Ria shouted. An ice fist smashed the lock on my father’s cell. The door swung free.
With a desperate shout, Vashathke flung himself towards the light.
“Nope!” Ria’s bracers crackled. Manacles of ice locked around his lower body, pinning him still. “I don’t want to deal with this gasbag any longer than I have to. He’s all yours, Koré.”
Soon I’ll be all his. I stepped into the cell, my heart beating like it would leap from my throat. Ria closed the door.
“Hello, dragon.” He spat at my feet. “Did you fuck Dzkegé’s shade? That’s the only reason she would have chosen you.”
No. There’s more. As broken as I was, I’d come to do right. Maybe Dzkegé chose me because she knew how much I’d willingly give.
I donned a courtly, mocking smile. Showing him I had leverage. “Hello, Father. This feels strange, but I’m here to bargain instead of breaking your teeth.”
“A bargain?” His eyes glinted. “You’ll consider it wasn’t me who attacked the Hive?”
I rolled my eyes. Classic Vashathke. Always striving to be trash. “I’ll consider you stood between Ria and her justice.” Quickly, I outlined a plan more like madness than strategy. Sweat rolled down my neck with every passing second.
“You think I’ll strike a bargain that requires I make peace with Engineering? They killed Geshge.”
“I killed Geshge.” I spat the confession like bile. Geshge wasn’t your precious obedient good son either. “You’ll always be free to take vengeance on me.”
If rage had a face, it was his. Vashathke looked like he’d shatter the world for a handful of silver. I knew that feeling. I’d control him with it.
I’d accepted the consequences of shapeshifting before Rarafashi’s court. My enslavement to the state was a foregone conclusion. But I could choose my master. And I could shield Ria from his wrath.
“Give me twenty-four hours to save Victory Street and my dear ones,” I said firmly. “Then my body and power are yours. As will be everything you’ve wished for.”
His eyes narrowed. “Done. Though it kills me.”
Vashathke didn’t meet Ria’s eyes as she unwove him from the ice. None of us spoke as we three raced to the courtroom. Guards jumped as we turned the corner. Ria clapped two in icy prisons, knocking back the third with a net of lightning. An alarm bell shrieked.
“I’ll guard the door. Act fast, Koré.” She pointed her opesero at my father. “Move, fuckhead, and I incinerate you.”
“I lied about attacking the Hive,” Vashathke said. “Didn’t you hear?”
“Why do you think you’re still alive? But you can’t be trusted with power. Not where my district is concerned.”
I ducked from the two of them and threw myself into the empty courtroom. I need a weapon. The dragons’ sword hovered above the judge’s throne. Patterns of light swam through its blade. A thousand shimmering scales. A hundred winking red eyes.
