by Jodi Meadows
It was strange to hear him speak so much, especially after decans of silence. The others had no idea what a gift this was, but they seemed delighted by his quiet, captivating voice and gentle humor. Even Mother warmed to him, and when she finally waved us away, it was with a smile.
“My dear Valmae, we’re keeping these two from their time together.” Mother looked at Aaru and me. “Go dance. Enjoy the ball tonight, and I promise that tomorrow, we will ensure that our world continues for young people like you.”
Valmae thanked us for spending time with her, and thus dismissed, Aaru and I wandered around the outskirts of the dancers as the music shifted faster, and a dozen more people threw themselves onto the floor, hips swaying and arms outstretched.
Aaru and I kept our eyes on them, walking companionably—we weren’t the only ones—but where his hand covered mine, we held a secret conversation.
::Everyone is more concerned with dancing and having fun than the summit in the morning,:: Aaru said. ::All of this is meant to impress, to show off power and wealth, but where is the intention to do something useful?::
I sighed, at the last moment turning it into something happy and admiring, rather than the truly frustrated exhale that it was.
::The memorial was a charade,:: he went on. ::Most of these people didn’t even go. They care more about seeing and being seen. How can anyone here claim to care?:: Aaru swept me around to face him. “Dance with me.”
My breath caught as I looked up at him—at the curve of his lips, the intensity in his eyes—and I nodded. The music had slowed, and we weren’t the only couple here, but when others began a long, complicated dance, Aaru and I didn’t separate. We stayed on the outer edge of the floor and faced each other, my arms looped around his shoulders, and his hands resting on my hips.
::I’m sorry.:: I tapped quickly against the back of his neck.
He raised an eyebrow.
::About those people earlier. They were from Damina.::
::That doesn’t make you responsible for them.::
::No, but I don’t want it to change how you see Daminans.::
::It doesn’t change how I see you.::
My heart squeezed.
::I’ve been so angry.:: His words came as fast as rain pattering on a window, or a lightning strike. ::It makes my chest burn. Every time I think about the Silent Brothers, my family, my community: How can they be gone? How could Idris abandon them?:: His hands curled and his fingernails scraped along my gown. ::How could he abandon me?::
I touched his face, both of my palms cupping his cheeks, but there was nothing to say.
::My home wasn’t perfect. Even before I was sent away, I knew we had problems. But still, Idris was my home, and now it’s nothing.:: His breath turned ragged, as though he was saying all this aloud. ::When Thoman started talking about how horrible Idris was, I couldn’t think. I was so angry already, and everything he said was everything I feared.::
Aaru’s skin was warm and smooth beneath my hands.
::I shouldn’t have pushed him. It was wrong, and it risked what we’re trying to do here. I’m sorry.::
::It can be easy to lose control. Back in the Pit, I stabbed Altan with a noorestone.:: The words were out before I could stop them. I cringed. ::Sorry. I wasn’t going to bring him up unless you did.::
Aaru let out a long sigh. “They won’t find him,” he murmured finally. “He’s already gone.”
“Where?”
“It’s only worth saying if it works out.” Aaru bit his lip, then shook himself out of whatever thought had captured him.
I wanted to push—didn’t I deserve answers?—but I’d just gotten Aaru back. Trusting someone, trusting him, meant waiting until he was ready to tell me.
::He wasn’t doing us any good in the closet, only making us miserable. We had to see him every day. Hear him every day.:: Aaru looked exasperated. ::I wanted to mourn, but felt like I couldn’t. Not with him there.::
::I’m sorry.:: I should have thought of that.
He offered a small shrug. ::It will be better without him.::
::The others won’t understand.:: I didn’t really understand, except that I knew Aaru would never intentionally put us in danger. ::I wish you had told me.::
::I should have. I’m sorry.::
::If we don’t work together, then we can only work against one another.:: The music shifted into a faster tempo, but not so fast that we looked strange just swaying together. ::We have to talk to each other,:: I said, stepping closer so that I could feel the heat of his body. ::Out loud. Quiet code. It doesn’t make a difference to me.::
His expression began to crumple. ::After Idris—::
I shook my head. ::I understood that. It makes sense. Grief is different for all of us, and you lost so much.::
Again, his fingertips curled over my hips, pulling me a breath closer.
::But then you spoke aloud again—for the first time since the noorestones—and I wanted to talk to you.::
His lips parted. ::It hurt you that I talked to Altan instead.::
“Yes.” A lump of ugly jealousy lodged in my throat. ::I was sad when you stopped talking. Out loud, I mean. After the noorestones. After Altan.::
He lowered his eyes.
::I felt guilty, like I should have been able to prevent it. Like you lost something important because I wasn’t strong enough.::
::That wasn’t it.:: He stopped swaying. Stood still. Gazed down at me. ::I don’t know why it went away, or why it came back. There are so many things I don’t understand, and I wish I had answers, but I don’t. I just hurt now. All the time.::
My hands slid down his shoulders, his arms, his wrists. My fingers tangled with his. ::I love you, Aaru. Whether you speak aloud, in quiet code, or not at all, I love you. And I wish I could take the pain for you, carry some of the burden, but we both know grief doesn’t work like that.:: I slid my thumb across his knuckles and took a small step backward. ::It’s selfish, I know, but I thought when you finally got your voice back, you’d share it with me. Instead, you shared it with him. Our enemy. The man who tortured it away from you in the first place.::
His breath came with a soft shudder, and my heart squeezed with wanting as I watched his face, the lines of his cheeks and chin, the furrow of his brow, the softness of his gaze. I’d never realized it was possible to want such closeness with another person—only to realize they might not be able to give it.
::I know it’s selfish,:: I said again. ::And I know what you’ve lost, even if I can’t fully comprehend it.::
He bowed his head and drew me close again. ::I’m not the only one who’s experienced loss. You have, too.::
My throat went tight.
::I heard you in the parlor. I should have come to see you, but I wasn’t sure how to talk about it yet. My anger. Grief. Voice.::
::Damina’s book says we aren’t owed the inner workings of anyone else’s heart.::
::But it does say love leans on others for strength, and to embrace those who need support.::
I couldn’t stop my surprised stare.
::Hristo let me read his copy.:: A faint smile touched the corner of his mouth. ::He thought it might help.::
::Has it?:: Reading The Book of Love always helped me feel better, but I was from Damina. The words were burned into my blood.
He nodded. ::I didn’t think it would, but it has.::
“You’re not alone,” I whispered. “No matter what it feels like, you’re not alone. You have me.”
“Thank you,” he said. “You have me, too.”
PEOPLE CONTINUED TO move around the ballroom in tight clumps, watching one another, whispering, studying. Though a significant number of the guests had been taken from their islands—perhaps against their wills, like Mother—their behavior was normal.
::Maybe Nine isn’t here,:: Aaru said. ::Maybe Seven was wrong.::
I twisted my fingers with his as we wandered around the ballroom, watching people without watching people. W
as anyone paying us unusual attention? We’d made a scene earlier. If Nine was here, that alone probably made them want to avoid us.
::The guard is staring.:: Aaru glanced up and flashed a placating smile in her direction. ::I think she’s still angry. She’s probably waiting for us to start another fight.::
Or . . .
“I think it’s time to go,” I murmured. “But first, we have an apology to make.”
Aaru shot me a curious look, but he followed when I walked toward the female guard from earlier.
There was no humor in her eyes as she watched our approach. “What?”
My heart was pounding, but I steadied my voice and said, “We wanted to apologize for our behavior earlier. It was unbecoming. Inappropriate.”
The guard glared at me. “Just don’t do it again.”
I offered a winning smile. “Seven out of nine times, we’re really well behaved. Promise.”
Her glare narrowed into suspicious slits. “You need to leave here. Now.”
“But—”
Nine—surely she had to be Nine—glanced at the next guard over. “I’m escorting these two out.”
The other guard nodded, and before I could protest again, Nine was marching us toward the door. We drew a few curious eyes, and heat crawled up my face. If I’d been here as myself, the humiliation of being asked to leave the ball might have killed me. Even in disguise, I could feel Mother’s judgment.
But instead of taking us outside, Nine led us to a small room—away from servants or guards. Chairs, tables, and other furniture crowded the space, but we all squeezed in, and finally Nine whispered, “Who are you?” Her hand rested on the dagger at her hip, and I had no doubt she was more than capable of using it. But I could feel the buzz of noorestones nearby—three inside the room, and fifteen more just outside.
“We have a mutual acquaintance.” It was a risk, revealing anything, but if she really was Nine, then someone needed to take the first step. “He goes by Seven.”
A quick, indrawn breath: that was the only hint she gave that she knew him, but it was enough.
“He sent us here to find you,” I said.
“Who are you?” Her tone was all caution.
I glanced at Aaru, and he gave a faint, encouraging nod. ::Her heart is pounding. She’s nervous, but I don’t think she means harm.:: His tap came against the small of my back, hidden from Nine’s view.
I turned back to her. “You know who I am. I am Mira Minkoba. Hopebearer. Dragonhearted.”
She gave only a soft grunt. “Where is Seven?”
I hesitated. “Dead.”
Her eyebrows drew inward as she let out an unfamiliar curse. “How?” She held up a hand. “Wait, not now. I need to get back, and you need to get out. Paorah already has the false Hopebearer; he can’t get his hands on you, too.”
I’d known it, but the confirmation hit me in the chest. Still, I was glad she’d changed her mind about discussing Seven. I wasn’t ready to admit that his death was my fault. “Wait, before we go, do you have a way into the summit tomorrow?”
She gestured at her uniform. “Obviously.”
“We need to get in, too.” Not to mention I had a thousand questions for her. What about the dragon bones?
Her lip curled in annoyance. “I’m not your friend, Hopebearer. I’m not your ally. And I’m certainly not your servant. Find your own way in.”
“Seven said you would help.”
“He’s dead, and you could be lying.” She shouldered past me toward the door, but as her hand curled around the knob, I drew a breath of noorestone fire into me. It twined around my fingers like smoke. Nine stared at me. “What are you?”
“I already told you.” The blue-white light shone brighter, dancing down my hand and wrist and arm. “Now, please, I want your help.”
Nine looked me over again, reevaluating. “That was you in the ballroom.”
With a flick of my fingers, I made the light vanish—back to the noorestones. “That was me.”
“All right, Hopebearer.” She shifted her weight to one leg. “You want to get into the summit in the morning.”
I nodded.
“Both of us,” Aaru said.
I raised an eyebrow his way. He’d come to this for the memorial. That was his right. He didn’t need to go to the summit.
“Both of us,” he said to me. ::Please. I should have been helping you since we got here. Let me do this now.::
“All right.” I turned back to Nine. “Both of us.”
She studied us for a few moments, then nodded and produced a piece of paper and pencil. Quickly, she scribbled an address. “Very well. Meet me here at dawn. The summit begins three hours after that. I won’t wait for you.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
THREE TIMES, OUR HORSECARRE WAS STOPPED FOR inspection, thanks to the curfew, but the memorial invitations worked as waivers, and we continued through the quiet streets of Flamecrest. By the time we returned to the hotel, it was nearly midnight.
Tanhe waited up for us, like an anxious parent, and we answered a few of his questions—if the driver had been polite, what kind of food had been served at the Red Hall, and whether anyone noticed his emblem on the horsecarre and inquired about his business. Then we headed up to our suite, exhausted but giddy with the success of finding Nine.
I wasn’t even a step inside when LaLa launched herself in my direction with a happy screech, and Ilina scrambled to catch her.
“Wait until she gets changed,” my friend scolded. “We talked about this. The shop said we could sell the gown back if it’s in good condition, and sweet dragon weasels ruin nice things.”
LaLa let out an indignant squawk and puff of smoke.
“I don’t think she cares.” I smiled. There was something so good about seeing LaLa and Crystal every day, even though we were constantly cleaning up after them. Before LaLa exploded with the need to snuggle, I found one of the hotel robes and—with my gown safe beneath the heavy cotton—stretched out my arms for my dragon.
She shot toward me and gripped the robe while I petted her and admired all her scales.
Chenda ambled toward me, glancing at my right cheek to make sure her work had stayed in place. “Well,” she said, “how was it?”
“Not as fun as dragons.” I kissed LaLa’s nose.
“We found Nine,” Aaru said. “She’s mean.”
Zara half fell out of her chair. “You can talk!”
He cocked his head. “I did the other day.”
“But then you stopped again.” She turned her attention on me. “Did you see Mother? Did you talk to her? How is she? Does she look all right? Does she miss me?”
“Wait”—Chenda stood—“let’s hear about Nine first.”
“Or how you’re getting into the summit in the morning,” Gerel said.
When the questions faded, I perched on the arm of the sofa and recounted the highlights of the evening. LaLa continued clinging to my robe like some kind of affectionate burr, while Aaru stood just behind me, one hand resting on my shoulder in a warm declaration of support—and quick quiet code whenever I missed a detail someone would want, or put events out of order.
Zara sank deep in her chair when I confirmed that our father was dead, while Hristo grew still and quiet when I gave him the news about his. I pushed my own sadness aside again; there was no time to indulge my grief.
“Nothing on my father?” Ilina was hesitant. It must have felt so uncomfortable for her to ask for hope when she knew there was none for others.
“I didn’t see him,” I said, “and Mother didn’t say anything about him. I’m sure he’s here, but I have no idea where. Maybe tomorrow I’ll learn something.”
She gave a faint nod. “Thank you.”
Finally, we got to our encounter with Nine, and the meeting we’d arranged for dawn.
“Are you sure you can trust her?” Gerel asked. “Aaru doesn’t seem to like her.”
Aaru offered a one-shouldered shrug. “I don�
��t distrust her. Just don’t like her.”
“She is an imperial spy,” I added. “We should trust her as far as LaLa could carry her. But she’ll help us get into the summit.”
“She didn’t lie when she told us where to meet.” Aaru’s voice was soft. “She meant what she said.”
“How do you know?” Zara asked.
“Heard her heartbeat.”
“Oh.” Zara glanced around the room, clearly searching for someone to exchange an exasperated look with, but everyone just nodded to themselves like that was a normal thing to say.
“So you both intend to meet Nine in the morning?” Gerel crossed her arms and frowned. “Don’t you think Chenda and I should go? She knows about politics. I know about fighting enemies.”
I shook my head. “Nine may not like us, but she’s expecting us. If we send other people, she could change her mind. We can’t risk it.”
Gerel sighed, but she didn’t argue.
“All right.” Ilina stood and shooed everyone out of the parlor. “To bed. At least two people have to get out the door in a few hours.”
“I miss sleep.” I slid off the arm of the sofa and turned to look at Aaru. Part of me wanted to thank him for coming with me tonight—and promising to come tomorrow—but it seemed inappropriate. The memorial, his entire reason for going, was a cloud over everything.
So I just squeezed his hand and said good night, and then headed for my room.
Ilina blocked the door. “Wrong way. You’re in there, remember?” She pointed to the boys’ room. “I told you I was going to switch everyone around. I’m sharing with your sister. Hristo took my room. I’ve already moved all your things. You’re welcome.”
Her tone was enough to make my whole face burn, but what could I say? Swapping rooms back would take time, and already I could feel my thoughts fogging over. Plus, I wasn’t sure what insisting on changing our rooms back would signal to . . . anyone.
I slinked into the bedroom she’d sent me to. Aaru was already there, studying the floor like it was the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t think she’d actually do it. I can sleep in the parlor.”