In Dawn and Darkness

by Kate Avery Ellison

  “I think we should dress her with gold,” Nona said. “Since she’s seen the sun.”

  “That is stupid,” Tallia said. “Gold isn’t a Volcanus color.”

  “She isn’t from Volcanus.”

  “She is marrying Valus. She is from Volcanus now,” Tallia insisted.

  I ate while they bickered. The worms were crunchy and tasted sweet. The white meat had a sharp, spicy tang that made my eyes water. At least I was used to such things, thanks to Tob.

  When I’d finished eating, Nona helped me bathe while Tallia worked on my hair, threading it with pearls and letting it hang loose around my shoulders in waves. They dressed me in the bodysuit and then draped a red gown over me that split at my waist, revealing the bodysuit beneath. The bodice was scaled, like the belly of a fish, and the fabric on the sleeves hung in heavy folds, almost swallowing my hands. After I was dressed, Nona applied a shimmery powder to my cheeks and lips.

  “What’s this?” I asked, pulling back.

  “You want to look beautiful, don’t you?” Tallia said. She put both hands on my shoulders, straightening me. Nona returned to her work of patting the powder on my face.

  They were much bossier today.

  When they’d finished, they stepped back to admire their work.

  “Very nice,” Nona said.

  “You look regal, like a proper gilder.” Tallia gave a brisk nod.

  “But much nicer,” Nona added.

  “Why don’t you like gilders?” I asked.

  They looked at each other as if I’d asked why water was wet.

  “They’re selfish,” Nona said finally, almost helplessly. She seemed at a loss to explain.

  Tallia tightened her lips. “Gilders have ruined the people of this city.” She studied me. “But you aren’t like them, are you? You’re from the sunlands.”

  “It’s complicated,” I murmured, and my heart thudded. I considered the next words before I spoke them. “But you’re right. I’m not like the other gilders. I have a mission. I have something I’m trying to do.”

  They didn’t ask what it was. They watched me, eyes guarded, as if something in my voice had alerted them to be fearful.

  “I can’t stay here,” I whispered. The words fell out, a confession, a thread of rawness in the stillness of the room. “I need to escape. Can you help me?”

  They didn’t speak. Their eyes twitched, and Nona breathed a little faster. That was all. Then Tallia turned away to fuss with the wardrobe.

  Had I misjudged the signals from them?

  “Forget what I said. I am nervous, that is all.”

  “No need to be nervous, my lady,” Nona said, but her voice wavered as she spoke the words.

  Before they left, Tallia drew a ribbon from the wardrobe and held it to the light. The threads glittered golden. “Perhaps a bit of gold after all.” She draped it around my waist.

  After they’d gone, I paced the room, my feet wearing a path of worry as I thought through everything.

  “You look beautiful.”

  The words rippled in a pool of silence behind me, and I turned. Valus had entered without my hearing, and stood watching me. His hands were stiff like he expected me to fight him. To turn and shout at him, strike him, shatter him. His eyes, for once, were vulnerable, and inside, I saw he was as frail as glass.

  He blinked, catching me seeing him, catching himself being visible. He straightened, his features freezing into a mask.

  “The guests are waiting.” He held out his arm.

  He was coldly handsome in his black uniform and cloak. He looked like his father, but his mouth was softer, and despite his blank expression of indifference, he lacked the cynical weariness Nautilus wore like a second skin. His cynicism was fresher, sharper, and mingled with disappointment and hurt.

  In that moment, I saw him as I’d never seen him before, and my heart folded up tightly. He was just a boy stuck in a terrible position, born with a birthright too heavy to carry alone, only he had no one to carry it with him. He and I were two halves of the same unhappy coin. But Valus’s fate was worse than mine.

  Valus had no friends, an indifferent family, and as far as I could tell, no hope for his future.

  “Are you ready?” he asked.

  Unbidden, Tallyn’s words from before my first ball echoed through my mind.

  You’re a Graywater. You’re a legend.

  I was so tired of being a legend.

  “I’m ready.”

  He took my hand, setting my fingers in the crook of his elbow before leading me out into the hall. Our feet echoed. The pearls in my hair clicked together. Valus’s arm was warm beneath my hand.

  Part of me wanted to laugh, and part of me wanted to break every piece of glass we passed. How many times had I been dragged to a ball or gala in the last few months? How many times had I been trotted before a crowd of nobility like a prized animal?

  I was tired of balls and galas. They always came at my expense.

  The corridors twisted and doubled back in a maze of stone and steel and occasional stretches of glass that gave glimpses of workers in the lower city far away. The air tasted like a licked stone.

  We¬ took a lift at the end of a great black tunnel, and the rush of it shooting upward made my stomach turn over. When the bronzed doors opened, we stepped out into a room bathed in orange and red light.

  A garden sphere.

  A bulbous ceiling glowed a lurid, semi-transparent orange above us. A floor of polished black reflected the light of orbed lanterns that surrounded it, the spheres enclosed in sculpted cages of silver carved to look like the mouths of fish. Unlike a Primusean or Verdusean garden sphere, this one did not look out at the sea. Stone spires formed jagged shapes, and colored lights cast artful shadows across the floor and paths. The effect was cave-like. The air smelled too sweet, like perfume and sweetmeats, and it was hot.

  Sweat prickled my back. I felt like an animal trapped in a hole.

  Men and women mingled before us, their smiles fixed, and in the middle of the floor, some danced with rigid precision. The crowd was smaller than I’d imagined, and many of the men and women wore uniforms that marked them as officers.

  As we entered the room, whispers ignited. I heard Valus’s name repeated, but not mine.

  Did they know who I was?

  I looked for Nautilus, but I didn’t see him. For that, I was thankful.

  Valus led me through the crowd to a pair of chairs set on a small dais. “Here,” he said, “we’ll receive gifts and well-wishes.”

  I sat, and a few of the partygoers detached from the crowd and came forward immediately, as if they’d been waiting for this moment. A man, his skin dark and his hair gray, bowed to us both and presented me with a carved stone box.

  “For the lady,” he said. He didn’t look at me, only Valus. It was as if I were merely an ornament.

  I opened it when Valus nodded at me, indicating that I should do so. Inside, a pair of blood-colored jeweled earrings sparkled on a folded cloth.

  The man bowed again and stepped back to be replaced by another man in uniform, this one younger, with thinning hair and eyes the color of pale blue marbles. He offered me a carved, ceremonial knife. “For the lady,” he murmured. He also didn’t look at me.

  Valus plucked the knife from my hands and turned it over in his.

  I supposed he didn’t want me holding a weapon.

  Another man took his place, giving me a scarf woven through with red silk. When he raised his eyes, I froze, my blood ice in my heart. He had curling black hair and eyes as brown as driftwood.

  I knew his face. He’d been one of the soldiers on the ship when I was a prisoner with Nol, the one who had answered my questions curtly, as if offended by my ignorance. He must have been promoted to be with this crowd.

  He didn’t recognize me, perhaps because he barely looked at me. He murmured his niceties and drifted away.

  More people formed a line, bringing gifts to pile before Valus and me as
though we were a king and queen receiving tribute. Valus played the doting betrothed, touching my hand and leaning over often to whisper in my ear. I sat woodenly, heavy with anxiety, wanting nothing more than to escape this stifling room filled with enemy eyes. When I looked at each smiling, bowing official, I saw the room where I’d been a prisoner with Nol and the other boys from the Village of the Rocks. I felt splinters of panic and grief. The seconds ticked past, each one painful as blood squeezed from a cut. Each second was a second longer we were lost, a second longer that the Dron and the Itlanteans waited in strained amnesty for our success. A second longer that I saw my captors from my first and most painful kidnapping.

  “You’re pale,” Valus observed. “We should eat.” He raised a hand, and a servant came forward with a tray of delicacies.

  I bit into a crabcake but didn’t taste it. My mind swirled with thoughts, plans.

  Valus turned his head, spotting someone.

  “Excuse me,” he murmured, rising from his seat and stepping into the flow of the crowd.

  I was left alone on the dais, beneath the weight of dozens of stares.

  “It’s a pity none of them really see you, because you look regal,” a voice said to my left, and I turned.

  A woman dressed in shimmering black with a cloak pinned over her left shoulder stood with her hands clasped, watching me. She had cropped black hair and large, dark eyes. A coil of silver clung to her neck, and bracelets jingled as she moved her arms. “Your servants dressed you well,” she said.

  “And what do you know of my servants?”

  “I am Pegryna,” she said instead of answering. “And I bring a gift.”

  None of the others had introduced themselves. None of the others had looked into my eyes. I studied this woman with interest as she produced a scarf of gold.

  “You should wear it now,” she said, and before I could speak, she stepped forward and draped the fabric over my shoulders. Then she put her mouth to my ear and spoke.

  “When the fighting starts,” she said, “take cover beneath the food tables. Someone will find you there.”

  She put a finger to her lips and stepped back, melting into the crowd.

  “Aemi?” Valus was back. He laid a hand on my elbow, and his hand was like a brand through the fabric of my bodysuit and dress.

  I touched the scarf the woman had wrapped around me, my hand shaking as I scanned the room. “Valus, I have to tell you something. Listen quickly.”

  His brow knitted. He leaned forward.

  “I sent the signal that your father intercepted.”

  “You? I... I don’t understand,” Valus said.

  “I needed us to get captured. I have a plan. A plan for destroying Nautilus, one so crazy I think it might work. My mother knows about it, and so does Myo. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before. I trusted you—you said you’d keep me safe if we were ever captured. I trusted you to do so. And you have kept your word so far, but I think it’s about to be taken out of your hands.”

  “What—?” He half-stood. “What’s going on?”

  “Something’s going to happen—that woman just told me to hide under the food tables when the fighting started.”

  “What woman?”

  I looked. She had vanished.

  That was when the shouting started.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  THE ROOM ERUPTED in confusion as a horde of dark-clad figures poured into the room. A man to my left toppled, his shoulder bleeding, a shaft embedded in his robe. Valus shoved me to the side, shouting, “Get down!” I stumbled, tripping on the hem of my dress. I landed on my knees beside the chair I’d been sitting in. My fingers knotted around the scarf at my shoulders. Fleeing men and women jostled me as half the room scatted, and the other half rallied to do battle.

  I felt for the knife I’d just been given as a gift. The blade was a slice of sharp cold in a mound of fabric, biting my fingers as I found it among the pile of gifts.

  The sounds of the room dimmed, and my breathing thundered in my ears as I focused on the table the woman had pointed at, piled with crab and fish and draped with embroidered cloth. I staggered up and ran in a crouch, dodging the people around me.

  No one seemed to be paying me any attention as I slipped into the shadowed place beneath the drapery and drew my knees to my chest. I could see through a crack in the folds. Valus grappled with a figure in a black bodysuit with a cloth face covering atop the dais. His face contorted with pain as his opponent struck him in the side, and he doubled over with a cry.

  The fabric hiding me was yanked back, and a face appeared. Startled, I swung the knife reflexively.

  “My lady,” a voice whispered, harsh with pain. “Wait. Please. I’m here to help you!”

  I knew that voice. “Tallia?”

  She crouched down, her hand pressed to her sleeve where a splotch of crimson blossomed, compliments of my knife. “Come, you can’t stay there.” She jerked her head to indicate that I should follow.

  I crawled from under the table and dodged past the people around me as I trailed her to the door. She pulled me into the lift, and I turned in time to see Valus shout my name before the door slammed and we were descending. I pressed against the wall, shaking.

  Tallia inspected her arm. The cut was small and clean, and she spit on her gloved hand and wiped away the blood without comment. I watched her, silent, still gripping the knife, although it felt like a pitiful defense. She raised her head and met my eyes after she’d finished, and I swallowed hard, but the clawing feeling in my chest wouldn’t ease. She wore dark garments and a length of cloth over her hair. A long piece that must normally go over her mouth and nose to hide her face dangled at her shoulder, and I supposed she’d pulled it away so I could recognize her. She seemed taller now, harder, the persona of nervous servant vanished and replaced by this other woman who shrugged at injuries and stared at me with eyes as cutting as coral.

  “The New Dawners have been waiting for you, ever since we heard of your rescue and return to Primus months ago.”

  New Dawners. That sent a shiver through me, even though this was what I’d planned, what I’d hoped for.

  Tallia cocked her head, observing my expression, my silence. “You’re frightened,” she said. “Don’t be. We mean you no harm.”

  The memory of the clawing hands of the New Dawners on Primus made me think otherwise. “Perhaps not,” I said. “But friendly intentions haven’t always stopped harm from happening.” I paused. “Thanks for the rescue.”

  She didn’t smile.

  I focused on the important matters at hand. “What about my friends? I was not captured alone.”

  “We will arrange their rescue,” she said.

  “And Valus?”

  Tallia’s lips thinned. “Nautilus’s son can find his own salvation. It won’t come from us.”

  “He helped me. I want him kept safe.”

  She grunted. “We’ll see.”

  “That isn’t going to be good enough,” I said. “I’ll need your word.”

  “Talk to the leaders,” she replied.

  The lift shivered as it slowed, and then the doors were opening onto a hall lit by steady orange light.

  Tallia led me from the lift and into a narrow hall. We descended a ladder into darkness, and then, our path illuminated by a lantern Tallia produced, we walked. I could only tell from the sound that we were in a massive space. At the end of the darkness, a single light glowed in a gray wall that disappeared up and out as far as the light shone. In the wall was another door, which opened to another lift.

  Heat blasted my face as I stepped out of the lift and into a corridor. These walls were rough, unadorned and uneven with chisel marks. A door of plain bronzed metal waited at the end of the hall. The light came from glowing orbs set in the uneven floor of stone. In the mortar between them, someone had carved words. I couldn’t read them.

  “These are ancient stones,” Tallia said when she saw me looking. “They bear the weight of h
istory and years. This is a hidden place where the New Dawn has met for many years, waiting for this time.”

  The bronzed door slid open as we approached, and two figures dressed similarly to Tallia stepped out, making way for us as we passed. They didn’t speak as we passed them into the room beyond.

  I gazed upward in astonishment. The ceiling was high and rounded, and painted blue like a sky, with a smattering of white clouds. A giant gold orb glowed with an almost blinding light. The room around us seethed with green—vines, trees, bushes. The air was wet and tasted like dirt and growing things. Water splashed from one wall in a stream that pooled into a basin of bright blue.

  “A garden sphere?” I said, surprised.

  Tallia snorted, as if the mere idea had offended her. “This is our Place of Remembering. It is not like those shriveled, over-styled spaces the wealthy like to prance about in. The garden spheres are full of stones and heat and darkness, just like Volcanus. Here we have a sun and a sky.”

  Other people moved among the plants, some tending them, others gathered in groups, speaking in low tones. A hush spread over the space as Tallia and I were noticed, and I heard my name repeated. Aemiana, Aemiana. I shivered, half-expecting the press of a sudden crowd, my mind flashing back to the way they’d grabbed for me on Primus.

  But no one moved in my direction. We passed by unmolested and reached the basin of blue. The water bubbled in the center, and I saw that the bottom was covered in a mosaic of fish, dolphins, and ships. Seven shells were arranged in a circle.

  “My lady,” a voice said, and I raised my eyes. A woman in dark garb like the rest bowed and pulled away her hood. She had graying hair and a scar along her upper lip that made the skin pucker. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “I am Meret, one of the guides for the New Dawn.”

  “Guide?” I asked.

  She inclined her head as if understanding my unspoken question. “I lead the people.”

  “I am pleased to see you are safe,” she continued.

  I drew my best impression of my mother around me like a cloak, letting the persona settle over me as I lifted my chin and steeled my voice. “My betrothed may be in danger from your people—”