Although Ev had to admit, the sailor was dashing. Surviving the fight with the medusa was a hell of a story.
“What does this have to do with anything? What effect could this possibly have on our decision of how and when to leave Estva?” Alizhan said. “How many entries are there? How long do we have to stay out here in the cold?”
Ev wanted to scoot closer to Alizhan and put an arm around her to keep her warm, but would Alizhan accept it? They were speaking again, and Alizhan hadn’t brought up what she might have witnessed at the hot springs, but Ev didn’t want to presume. She’d done something wrong, and Alizhan had a right to feel hurt. She let the space between them hang open.
Thiyo sighed a very put-upon sigh, made eye contact with Ev, and said, “Sacrifices.” Then he sat down in the straw between them. He fussed for a moment, smoothing his clothes and picking invisible straws off himself. After that, he drew Alizhan toward him and she willingly huddled up next to him.
The next journal entry was not so different from the first, although it contained no sea monsters, to Ev’s disappointment. The narrator recounted her first few encounters with the sailor, as well as her efforts to avoid her parents’ surveillance, and her passion for gardening. She mentioned a Laalvuri saying that Ev had heard often but never thought much about: the gardener’s hand should not be seen. Laalvuri preferred gardens that appeared natural and wild, as though there were no gardener and the plants had all sprung up in that arrangement, just so. Ev had to agree, having seen the sad, stark gardens surrounding the Nalitzvan palace. The gardener’s hand was all too visible there. But given Iriyat’s unseen political maneuvering in Laalvur—aided by her power to alter memories—the phrase took on a sinister cast.
Ev’s thoughts were interrupted by a slight change in the rhythm of Thiyo’s reading. “But all that matters is that when we broke apart,” he was saying, more slowly and clearly than he’d read the rest of the passage, a description of a kiss. “He looked right at me with those clear brown eyes, tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear, grinned, and said, ‘Iriyat.’”
Alizhan groaned. “Fine. This is Iriyat’s journal. She wrote it. Is that why we’re out here?”
“No,” Thiyo said. “We haven’t gotten to that part yet.”
In the next entry, young Iriyat and the sailor—Arav—discussed having sex and possibly having a baby, and Ev guessed where Thiyo was going with his reading. Then Arav revealed that he’d always been able to sense people’s thoughts and feelings, until his encounter with the medusa that had left him scarred, and Ev knew. Arav had to be Alizhan’s father. Eliyan Matrishal, a priest of the Balance in Laalvur who’d helped them smuggle orphans out of the city—Ev suspected she was Alizhan’s aunt—had told them her brother, a sailor, had those distinctive black scars from a giant medusa, and that he’d died in the last wave to hit Laalvur. This was further evidence. Thiyo was trying to show Alizhan her parents.
He read smoothly through the description of Iriyat and Arav’s youthful romance and only faltered when he reached a scene where Iriyat’s parents discovered her as she re-entered the garden at Varenx House. They were waiting for her. Thiyo took a breath and read, “‘Merat,’ my father said, addressing my mother.”
Iriyat’s parents attacked her, trying to wipe her memory, and then they locked her in her room and the entry ended. Thiyo closed the book, keeping one finger between the pages. “That’s what I wanted you to know right now.”
“Merat is a common enough Nalitzvan name,” Alizhan said. “And the woman here is named Merat Orzh.”
“Well, she couldn’t very well go around calling herself Merat Varenx, could she?” Thiyo said. “And we know she’s a Lacemaker. And Ev said she looks like Iriyat. It’s too many coincidences.”
“Iriyat’s parents died in the wave,” Alizhan said.
“And you believe that because everything else Iriyat told you about herself has been true,” Thiyo said.
“We have to consider it, Alizhan,” Ev said, less pointedly. “Merat came all the way here because she found out about the book—and she saw you with it back in the palace. She’s probably involved with Iriyat somehow. We should find out how.”
“We’ll just have to ask her,” Alizhan said sourly. “I couldn’t read her even before I came to this tomb.”
Ev choose not to respond to that. Instead she asked, as gently as possible, “What do you think of the rest of the journal?”
Alizhan shrugged. “It’s sweet, I guess. I don’t see why she went to such lengths to encrypt it.”
“It’s addressed to someone,” Thiyo said. “The first entry says ‘you are the one thing in this world for which I care.’ It was only meant for one person.”
“Maybe it’s for the guy,” Alizhan said, and Ev knew then that she was being willfully obtuse. The guy. There was no way she’d failed to learn that his name was Arav.
“Before she described their lovemaking, she wrote ‘you might rather not know the details of what we did,’” Thiyo said. “Presumably, having been present for the act, Arav would already know the details. That’s not how you talk to your lover. It’s how you talk to your child. A daughter, I’d say, if I had to guess.”
Alizhan pushed away from Thiyo and stood up to face both of them. The light from outside the stall illuminated her from the side and she loomed over them. “You think Iriyat is my mother.”
Ev and Thiyo exchanged glances. “Well…”
“That doesn’t make sense! I can’t believe you both fell for it. It’s stupid. It can’t be true. I’m an orphan. My father died in the wave—my mother probably did, too. Everyone else abandoned me because I never stopped crying. I cried every time another human being touched me. You know that’s true. It makes sense.
“Iriyat found me and took me in, sure, but that’s because she saw how awful my life was at the orphanage and took pity on me. She knew she had the resources to keep me safe. She knew no one else could do it. That’s what happened. And eventually, she saw that I could help her, and she taught me how, and I did. It makes sense.
“And then we find this stupid book and finally decode it, and it’s nonsense! It’s bullshit! Iriyat’s not my mother. We don’t look anything alike, first of all.”
“Alizhan,” Ev said softly.
“Stop. Stop it. You’re going to tell me that I don’t know what anyone looks like. But I know enough! Iriyat is white and blond and buxom and I’m,” Alizhan gestured at herself, demonstrating that she was none of those things. “People would have thought about it. They would have noticed! And you,” Alizhan glared at Thiyo before he could speak, “you’re going to ask how I know all that about the orphanage, and I know you think that it was all Iriyat who told me, and yes, it was, but—it still doesn’t make sense!
“If Iriyat was my mother, she would have told me. She might have lied to everyone else, and obviously she has that power, but she would have told me. And if she was my mother, she wouldn’t have treated me like a servant my whole life. Like a thing to be used. Would my mother be ordering the murder of innocent people? Would she send armed guards after me? Iriyat’s not my mother. She can’t be. She wouldn’t have lied to me. Not about that. Not for my whole life. Everyone else, maybe, but not me. Why would she—why would she—”
Alizhan abruptly stopped talking and walked out of the stall. The half-door slammed.
Ev moved to go after her, but Thiyo stuck his arm out. “Give her a moment.”
“Do you think she really doesn’t believe it?” Ev said. “That journal can’t possibly belong to anyone but Iriyat. And if she had a baby with a dark-skinned Laalvuri man…”
“That baby might grow up to look a lot like Alizhan,” Thiyo agreed. “She knows it’s true. She might even have suspected it before this. It’s still a hard thing to hear.”
It had been hard for Ev to hear from her aunt Ifeleh that her father had, in fact, killed someone. Even if the act was justified, it was still a difficult thing to accept. It had made Ev questi
on her own character—of course, at the time, she hadn’t killed anyone herself. Now she understood better. Sometimes the world left you no choice. But her father had killed his own father to save the rest of their family, whereas Iriyat had abused and killed children. It was unconscionable. Ev shook her head as if she could free herself of the memory of the burning orphanage in Gold Street.
“I wouldn’t want it to be true, either.”
The barn had felt cold, but it was nothing compared to the open air. Alizhan drew in stinging lungfuls of air as she walked outside, let it hit the back of her throat and freeze her skin. There was a tightness in her cheeks and behind her eyes, as though something heavy were pressing against the back of her face, ready to burst forth. God, but it would be miserable to cry out here in the cold. Maybe she’d scream instead.
Estva never slept, but it always had the air of a dead place, since no one stayed outside if they had the option to be indoors. There were people patrolling the ramparts and guarding the gates, but any work that could be done inside was. With tunnels and protected passages connecting so many of the buildings, hardly anyone crossed the open spaces in between.
The woman in white glowed from the sparse light of lamps and torches. When she called, “There you are,” Alizhan thought at first that she’d imagined it. That she’d finally lost it and now there was an apparition haunting her.
But Alizhan knew that voice. She’d heard it in Ilyr’s private quarters. Merat Orzh was coming toward her. Alizhan’s skin burned with the memory of Merat’s fingers touching her face. Alizhan remembered her hands as scraping claws, but that was a flight of fancy. They’d been well-manicured, clean, soft, aristocratic hands. That image—and the memory of her light, inconsequential touch—contrasted with the spike of pain Merat had driven through Alizhan’s mind. She clenched her hands in the pockets of her coat. Was she strong enough to withstand an attack?
If Ev and Thiyo are right, she’s my grandmother. The thought had no effect on the chaos that had already consumed her insides. What did it matter who else was in her family, if Iriyat was her mother? She’d dreamed of meeting her mother her whole life—and if Ev and Thiyo were right, she’d always known her. How many times would Iriyat dupe her?
Merat’s extravagant white coat and fur hat were immaculate. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Did you come here to kill me?” Alizhan’s own voice emerged from her throat as if she were a machine operated by someone else. Emotionless. Mechanical. She hadn’t known she was going to say those words. But their last encounter had been violent. She had no reason to expect anything else.
And if Merat answered yes, Alizhan had no reason to expect she’d survive.
“How much space do we have to give her?” Ev asked Thiyo. Neither of them had moved since Alizhan stormed out, so they were still sitting in the straw. “Do you really think she should be alone right now? She’s spent so much time by herself lately, and I think she feels alone now even when we’re with her—”
“A few minutes. Then you can run after her and talk all about your feelings. Spare me that conversation.”
Thiyo hadn’t been so short with her in weeks. Not since he’d been in pain. Once the suspicion took hold, Ev couldn’t shake it. Thiyo had both his hands in his lap, resting atop the closed book. His right hand was no longer discolored with bruises, but he still treated it gingerly. His crooked fingers curled toward his palm like a half-closed flower. Ev hadn’t noticed until now.
She took his hand in both of hers, examining it with her touch. His skin was warm and unblemished, but his fingers were stiff. “Henny told you to do exercises.”
“She also told me it wouldn’t heal if I didn’t rest. I can’t rest. I need both hands to work. It’s not just using the press here—it’s everything. Eating. Getting dressed. Climbing up the occasional roof to save my own life. And sometimes I don’t realize how much it hurts until the pain becomes impossible to ignore.” Thiyo sighed. “As for the exercises, I did some.”
“Some?” Ev asked. She didn’t look up from his hand. Henny had poked and prodded at it regularly while they’d been on the road, and she’d always stared like she could see right down to his bones. Ev’s stare didn’t reveal any such wisdom. There were no more bruises to mark where the pain was. Thiyo’s tan skin was smooth and blank. “But not others?”
“Couldn’t find anyone to do them with.”
“What do you m—” Ev stopped. When she met Thiyo’s eyes, they were sparkling with some joke. The conversation with Henny about what Thiyo ought to do with his fingers came back in all its mortifying, sexual detail. She averted her gaze.
“Are you volunteering?”
“No!”
“Pity,” Thiyo said. He slouched against the wall. “That feels nice.”
Ev wasn’t doing anything but holding his hand. And if he was going to be sharp-tongued and shocking, she’d stop.
But maybe he wasn’t going to tease her. When he stayed silent, Ev thought about how sad and frustrated he’d sounded about his hand. And when he’d said that feels nice, it had been quietly content, not taunting or smirking or trying to goad her into something uncomfortable. She didn’t always understand him, and she wished he’d speak with less innuendo, but he wasn’t a bad person. Like her, he’d stumbled into intrigue he knew nothing about, and he’d suffered for it. And right now, all he wanted was for her to touch his hand. A small comfort. It would be easy to give. A few minutes where they wouldn’t have to think about how either of them would ever get home, and what would be waiting for them if they did—a future as encroaching and impenetrable as Night.
It was for Thiyo, of course—his health, his happiness, his reassurance, not hers. And since Alizhan wasn’t around, no one could probe any further into Ev’s motives than that.
She’d seen Henny do this often enough. She stretched out his fingers, one by one, slowly and gently. She massaged little circles into his palm, then turned his hand over and did the same. He let slip a little sound of pleasure. When Ev risked a glance at his face, worried that his lips might be curled with amusement over some joke she didn’t want to understand, his eyes were closed.
He opened them. There was more warmth in his dark gaze than she expected, and she wanted to look away, but couldn’t. Somehow he managed to make Ev feel he’d caught her doing something indecent—and that he was pleased with her for it.
There was nothing to do but change the subject. “She would have come back by now if she were coming back. What if she fled? She’s wanted to leave for so long and we finally crossed some line—”
“She brought us all the way out here to the stables to say goodbye to Ket,” Thiyo said. There was none of the earlier scorn and exasperation in his voice. “She’s very sentimental and attached, even if she doesn’t always know how to show it. She won’t leave without you.”
Ev wished she felt that kind of certainty.
“Of course not, darling,” Merat said, her tone cloyingly sweet. She reached through the darkness for Alizhan, and even though her hands were gloved, Alizhan took a sharp step backward. “I finally figured out who you are. I put it all together. We’re family.”
“I’m not your family or your darling,” Alizhan said. She kept her hands in her pockets. They were bare. She hadn’t been able to overpower Merat last time, but this time she’d be prepared. “You tried to hurt me. You tried to hurt Ev, too. And you had Thiyo thrown in prison.”
“Fine,” Merat said, returning her own hands to her pockets. The change in her speaking voice transformed her into a different person. “We don’t have to like each other. Let’s stick to business. You’re out to get Iriyat, and that gives us something in common. Let me help you.”
It was a relief that Merat was no longer reaching for her and no longer playing the role of some long-lost, loving family member. But Alizhan didn’t relax. “This isn’t what you wanted when we met in Nalitzva. What changed?”
“I thought you were working for her, no
t against her. I assume you’re going back to Laalvur,” Merat said. “I can get you there.”
“How did you figure it out?”
“I thought the book was a message you were delivering. But why steal it back, in that case? And in my brief brush with it, I saw Iriyat’s name stamped inside. She’s not stupid enough to send an encoded message that has her name on the outside. That means the book was stolen from her. You must have brought it to Nalitzva in the hope that our famous scholar prince would help you understand it somehow.” Merat laughed, a dainty little sound. “No wonder you had to run off with the boy whore.”
“Don’t call him that.” Alizhan didn’t want to speak to this woman anymore, so she turned to walk away.
“Wait,” Merat said. “I’m sorry. I overstepped. You befriended him and that’s very sweet. You obviously didn’t get that sweetness from me. But think of what I can do for you. I was serious about that.”
“We’re not family.”
“My darling, if we weren’t family, you wouldn’t remember your own name right now. But because you’re my blood, I’m treating you with respect—unless or until you prove yourself unworthy, like your mother did.”
“She’s not my mother.”
Merat laughed again. Alizhan hated the sound. She’d wanted to know her family her whole life and instead, she’d gotten this cruel joke.
“That fierce stubbornness is hers through and through. It’s a shame you didn’t come out looking more like her. She’s flawed inside, not outside. But let’s leave that subject alone, since I see it’s making you unhappy. I’m sure you want to leave this horrible place even more than I do. I can get us to the coast in a triad. There’s a ship waiting.”
“What’ll it cost?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“I’ve wanted to see my disgrace of a daughter ruined since she ran me out of my own home and told the world I was dead. I can’t do it alone. But if you intend to take her down, I will pour all of my considerable resources into helping you.”
Nightvine Page 25