by Rowan Rook
Amaranth swallowed hard and sucked her words down with the smoke. "And why would I believe that you're any better? You're all the same. All of you!" The world wavered in his watery vision. "The Anwells did nothing wrong!"
"They were heretics!" she spat back. "All I know is what my mother told me. They threatened the wellbeing of the colony. Their toxic behavior couldn't be tolerated."
"The only heretic was the boy...a boy who only wanted to save his dying sister." His voice rose in his tight throat, "I would hardly call that reason to execute the entire family!"
She flinched, staring at him with those blank, disbelieving eyes. The Anwell incident had taken place over a decade ago. She'd surely never expected to hear that name again. Especially not like this.
Amaranth came closer. Had she planned to attack by now, she would've. He knew she wasn't going to. Kaida Torus's Translation manipulated nature, like the little girl who'd once tended the garden this Councilor's mother had helped destroy. It would be useless inside burning tunnels. He had nothing to fear.
"I cannot speak for my mother. I, too, believe it was a questionable decision," the Lyrum spoke evenly, as if she could talk him out of whatever he was planning by pretending to sympathize. Like Hell that would stop him now. "But it was a sacrifice the Council of the time decided to make. They had no way of knowing whether anyone else in the family had been tainted, and the father—a Councilor himself—had concealed his son's actions from the rest of the Council. Such treachery couldn't be forgiven. It was best to remove the threat all together, all for the sake of Riksharre's safety."
"Is that so?" the cold calm returned to Amaranth's voice as he aimed the barrel of his gun at her forehead. His lips formed a small, bitter sneer. "Well, they failed."
Her eyes outgrew their sockets as something clicked inside her. She stared at him with new terror, like she was looking at a ghost. "You're—"
A gunshot rang out before she could finish. This time, Amaranth pulled the trigger as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
Chapter Fourteen: Across the Sea
Amaranth's books hit the tiles with a thud. He tumbled down after them, landing on his knees. Laughter came from somewhere behind him. He craned his neck to look at the other freshmen. Young men and women wore satisfied grins, towering over him as if they'd just accomplished some great feat by knocking him down. Classes had officially started a few days ago, and so far, this had become something of a daily occurrence. Why his classmates seemed to take pleasure in antagonizing him, he didn't know. He stared at the floor as he wordlessly gathered his textbooks.
Fingers dug into his hair and yanked him up from behind. He gritted his teeth to suppress the yelp, already knowing it was Lucillo, a student from his dorm who tormented him both in and out of class.
Lucillo spun him around and shoved him against the wall with thick hands. Amaranth glowered but didn't bother resisting. All of the first-year students were supposedly the same age, but Amaranth didn't quite match the others. He looked older, with mature features and a lithe stature. However, he also happened to be the most petite—the frailest. Against Lucillo's strength, he was helpless. Any potential struggling gave way to shaking.
The bully stared back, face still, save for that nasty, curling smile. Other students stopped and watched, whispering and gawking at Amaranth as if he were the star in some grotesque street show. Most simply walked by, sparing him little more than a second's glance of amusement or pity. His face heated with humiliation.
The world really was an ugly place. A place where someone like him didn't belong. It didn't matter where he went, it would never accept him. He closed his eyes to trap the tears.
Lucillo leaned in with a chuckle. "So you don't just look like a girl—you cry like one, too." He rammed an arm into Amaranth's chest, sending his books back to the floor and pressing him tighter against the wall.
Amaranth gagged, but he ignored the pain, turning his head away from Lucillo's tangy breath. His roommate would let him go when he'd vented enough anger for the day.
"What the Head Scientist sees in you," Lucillo hissed, "I'll never understand."
Amaranth hadn't said a thing about the way he'd been accepted into the school. Neither had Rickard. Nonetheless, it seemed rumors about his strange, sudden appearance had gotten around, and his classmates were none too happy about it.
"Enjoy it while you can," Lucillo's eyes smoldered with resentment. "I don't care how—I'll see to it that you're expelled and sent crawling back to the streets you came from."
A wordless whimper escaped through Amaranth's clenched teeth. What had he done to make these people hate him so much?
"That's enough," a small voice ordered. "Leave him alone or I'll tell Rickard."
Relief washed through him, and the thought of how much left an empty pit of shame in his stomach.
Shakaya stood a few feet away, watching the incident through emotionless blue eyes. While the girl's circumstances were equally as unspoken as Amaranth's unusual admittance to the school, the students were well aware that she lived in the Head Scientist's office. When it came to having others expelled, she had much more influence than Lucillo did, and the bully himself knew that.
Lucillo glared at her before releasing his grip and letting Amaranth stumble to his ass with a startled gasp. "Big talk for such a little lady." He strode toward Shakaya and hoisted her up by the collar of her dress until her feet no longer touched the floor. His eyes shimmered with silent threats. "You wouldn't want to get anyone in trouble now, would you?"
Her stare wasn't so different from his. "If you don't put me down, I'll get you in much worse than that."
Lucillo's laugher seemed tight in his throat. "It's cute how you think you're tough. It's like you actually think you'll survive as a soldier one day. I could make you cry, too. I bet Rickard would send both of you away together, then."
"I mean it." She frowned irritably, as if to prove she wasn't the slightest bit intimidated.
Grinding his jaw, Lucillo let her go.
She landed on her feet. Neither her eyes nor her mouth moved, set in that same somber stare. "Don't do anything like that again, or I'll tell her even if you stop."
Lucillo was the first to look away. "Brat." He spat at her feet and turned to his followers, his face painted red with indignation. "Let's go. I've got better things to do than deal with these two."
The students dispersed into the hallway as casually as they would any other day.
Shakaya dusted herself off and padded up to the student still sitting on the floor. She offered a hand to help him up. "You need to hurry or you'll be late for class."
Amaranth flushed, looking away while he once again gathered his books. "Thank you." He ignored her hand when he pushed himself to his feet.
He hadn't worked up the courage to say anything about the girl to Rickard, despite his earlier intentions. She still followed him, silently appearing and disappearing without warning.
For a passing moment, their eyes met. She stared up at him with her usual dispassionate gaze while her empty hand returned to her side.
He wasn't the only one who considered her dangerous. As long as he had her for a shadow, he had something that frightened the other students. It was useful, really. She was a powerful tool. But the realization of how much he'd come to rely on a child made him sick. What did it say about him that he needed her to even make it to class on time? And what did it say about him that he'd started to accept it? That he'd started to accept the presence of a girl who wanted to grow up to be a killer, so full of hatred?
"Something wrong?" she asked, concern absent from her face.
If she would only let a sliver of life into them, there were times when her blue eyes would look just like...
Amaranth didn't let himself finish that thought, turning away without answering and hurrying down the hall.
The pitter-patter of light footsteps followed behind him.
Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ
Amarant
h stirred, his consciousness fighting off stubborn slumber. The first thing he noticed when his senses woke was a strange, rhythmic rocking. At first, he wondered if it was a trick played by his hazy head, but when he forced his eyelids open, the whole room was tipping back and forth. He blinked slowly, too groggy to be anything more than confused by his surroundings.
He was in a small room with curved wooden walls, a closed door obscuring the rest of the world. The soft glow seeping in from the window carved out his bed and the table beside it from the shadows. The only familiar sight was his bag, propped against a closet door. It occurred to him that peering through the window might offer an idea of where he was, but he was far too weary to sit up. Neither his muscles nor his mind responded in the way he wanted them too, each motion, each thought, trudging through sludge. Nausea gnawed at his stomach.
What the Hell happened? What was the last thing he remembered? Groaning, he lifted a shaky hand to his forehead and wiped off the sweat. Try as he might, he couldn't recall anything. He and Shakaya had been in Riksharre, and...
A gunshot echoed in the back of his skull.
He gasped and pushed himself up on his palms.
The two of them had hunted down the Councilors inside the colony. Dorzin Rita had escaped after injuring him with an arrow and talons. Kaida Torus hadn't been so fortunate. He'd killed her. He'd shot her dead inside the burning tunnels.
A needle of remorse pierced his skin. It had been simple—far too simple—to pull the trigger. Old rage had drawn him in and he'd turned into someone else.
...Was that true? Was that person really someone else? He'd simply accomplished the goal with which he'd entered Riksharre. He was a willing participant in the Butterfly's bloodstained schemes. Even if he believed in the future he was fighting for, that didn't change the fact that he'd... That he'd done such terrible things. That he'd chosen his cause over others' lives. That he'd let himself call it revenge. He shivered, trying to dismiss the sounds and pictures replaying in his head.
What was done was done. He'd already made his choice. He'd picked his path forward, and now, certainly, there was no turning back.
More present questions remained. If he last remembered being within the burning tunnels, then why was he now tucked into bed inside a strange, swaying room? What had happened after the shooting? Everything else was foggy.
The door clicked open.
Shakaya pushed it ajar just a crack, peering through. Her eyes widened when she saw him sitting up. "Ama?" She stepped inside, wearing her usual white coat and not the dress she'd worn as Sohna. A tired smile lifted her lips. "Are you all right?"
Amaranth nodded, though he wasn't altogether sure. Vertigo sucked on his senses and grew stronger the longer he sat up.
Frowning, Shakaya placed her palm on his forehead. Her worry deepened and she gestured toward a glass he hadn't noticed before on the bedside table. "Drink it."
He did as she suggested, forcing down the pleasantly cool liquid. He'd assumed it was simply water, but a bitter taste surprised him. Was it some kind of medicine? Why would he need medicine, though? For the first time, he realized the pain in his shoulder was gone. All he saw was a scar where the arrow had protruded. There were no marks where Rita's talons had once sunk in and carried him into the sky. He shuddered.
"What happened?" he finally managed. "Where is this?"
Shakaya sat at the foot of his bed. "We're on a ship headed for Havventhale. We left port only a few hours ago."
"What?" Amaranth sputtered, sitting up straighter. Of all the things she could've said, that wasn't an answer he'd anticipated. Well, it explained the rocking, if nothing else.
"You've slept for over two days. You never returned from the tunnels, and I couldn't go in after you—not into the fire." Her eyes narrowed. "Then it appeared."
"It...?"
"The masked Lyrum that approached you at the train. It already knew where to find the Council's hidden exits. The flames hadn't filled the western tunnel yet, so we climbed inside once we unearthed the trap door. We found you lying unconscious beside a Councilor's body." She pulled a star motif brooch from her pocket, as if for evidence.
"Ah." He swallowed bitter traces of the memory.
He'd shot and killed Kaida Torus. He'd simply stood there after that, trying to force his limbs to stop shaking and his lungs to stop heaving after the Inkwell's shivers jolted through him. Suddenly, he'd realized he couldn't breathe. He'd wasted too much time, already lightheaded from a lack of oxygen before it had occurred to his shattered mind to escape. The images cut off after a few steps toward the exit. It seemed he hadn't made it far.
"Riksharre had long since noticed the fire," Shakaya's voice returned him to the present. "We couldn't escape the way we'd entered, not with the whole colony in arms. Instead, more Butterflies arrived and guided us out through the southern woods. We boarded one of their carriages after that, and they took us here, to this ship. If we're going to continue collecting Inkwells, then Velvire is our next destination."
Velvire...the Human capital city. Dread pooled in Amaranth's gut. "What about Rita, the Councilor who escaped?"
Shakaya sighed. "With the way it looked at us, I wouldn't be surprised if it seeks us out first."
Amaranth was quiet. She was probably right. Dorzin Rita had seethed with anger as he fled...the kind of anger that foreshadowed revenge.
"Glad to see you with your eyes open."
Amaranth looked toward the doorway to find a dark-skinned, dark-haired man in Butterfly garb. Familiarity faded in—this was the same man he'd watched argue with Morak Mayver in Hazza.
"Tayla patched you up again, as well as she could, but you've been out for a couple of days. Smoke inhalation knocked you out and blood loss kept you down. Fever also caught up with you on the way here. There wasn't much she could do about that, but one of our Human medics devised a blend to help ease it."
"Thank you, umm..."
"Jeriko," the man smiled.
"Jeriko." He stared blankly at the last few drops of medicine in his glass. He found another question resting on his tongue. A few moments passed while he debated whether or not to ask it. "Where is that woman?"
"Who?" Jeriko blinked at him.
"The masked Lyrum," Amaranth pressed, earnestly unsure why he cared. Maybe it was the unease he couldn't shake off. "The Lyrum Overseer, I think she called herself."
Shakaya stiffened. Perhaps he shouldn't have brought it up, after all.
"Oh, she's around." Jeriko shrugged. "She's aboard the ship, but she prefers to keep to herself unless business calls for her."
Amaranth couldn't stop another question from escaping his mouth, "What's her name?" His heart pounded as he awaited the answer. No, he reminded himself. The idea eating away at him was impossible.
Jeriko frowned, tapping a finger to his chin as if to animate deep thought. "I'm not sure I should tell you that. In fact, I'm sure she'd kill me if I did! If you want to know, ask her yourself the next time you see her."
Amaranth answered with a listless nod, simultaneously disappointed that his worry wasn't going to be sated so easily and somehow relieved.
"Shouldn't you be getting back to the rest of the Butterflies?" Shakaya grumbled, glowering at Jeriko.
Amaranth blinked up at her. She wasn't usually so passive aggressive with strangers—why was she restraining herself? Still, perhaps it wasn't particularly odd. She had already spent a couple of days traveling with the Butterflies while he was dead to the world.
Jeriko shot her a mischievous grin. "I see. If you want some time alone, all you have to do is ask." He glanced at Amaranth. "Make sure to rest while you can." He turned and left, closing the door behind him.
Amaranth looked at Shakaya, expecting her to ask him something—she'd gone through the effort of shooing the Butterfly away, after all—but she was silent. She stayed that way, staring at the wall. Her throat bobbed with a heavy swallow.
Ƹ̴Ӂ̴Ʒ
Amaranth leaned
over the sea, his arms resting on railing. Autumn sun glistened off the waves so brightly it forced him to squint. Despite the chill, the ocean was smooth, stirred only by the ship. In the distance, but closer than yesterday, land with lush shades of green peered up from the horizon line.
The ship had sailed on for nearly four days. Today, he finally had the strength to walk around on his own, at least for a while. The fresh, salty air was just what he needed. He savored a deep breath.
As he'd explored the ship for the first time, wandering through lounges and bars, he wasn't sure whether he hoped or feared that he'd find the masked woman. Either way, he hadn't.
"We'll be in Havventhale by tomorrow night."
Amaranth startled and turned to see Shakaya standing beside him. She'd appeared as silently as a shadow, just as she had for ten long years. He smiled, in spite of himself.
"It's a nice day for early autumn," she observed. There was no pleasure in her voice—she was merely stating a fact. Sometimes, he wished she had a little more life in her, that she could smile over simple things like everyone else. She must have been able to, once. He hoped giving her a second chance with her family would return that to her.
"It's beautiful, really," he tried, offering her a small grin. "I've never been on a ship before." A raft, sure, but that hadn't been anything like this. At the very least, the voyage was a last new experience. He absently wondered whether he'd ever make it back to Lusanthine.
"I've visited Havventhale before with other soldiers. We've been summoned by the capital's army a couple of times." Shakaya's eyes drifted toward the landmass splitting the sea and the sky. "It's much greener over there. Velvire couldn't be more different from Elavadin." She finally smiled, just slightly, "I think you'll like it."
Amaranth mirrored her warmth, and a long, comfortable silence spread between them while they watched the subdued waves.
"How are you doing?" Her eyes found his. "Will you be well enough to make it to Velvire when we dock?"
"I...think so." Although he didn't want to be a bother, it was likely they'd still need to travel slowly on account of him. Shame cooled the heat in his chest.