by Lori M. Lee
“What river?” I asked cautiously. The only river still running that I knew of divided the East Quarter and the North District like a natural wall. And it wasn’t as impressive as the one made of stone and metal surrounding the White Court.
“The River,” Irra said. “The steady current over which Time keeps watch, in which all things flow. You must have been born of it.”
The threads. I brushed my mind against them. Yes, they flowed evenly, at the same pace—reliable, constant, ever present. Still, it remained a mystery how I could grasp and manipulate them.
My confusion was plain, because Irra added, “I don’t understand it myself.”
“How can you tell? That I’m different, I mean.”
“We each have our own gifts,” he said. “And you reek of the River.”
“I reek?” I tried not to sniff my shirt.
“Not literally,” he said. “It’s in your eyes. I can see the River reflected there.”
I stopped feeling self-conscious about the color of my eyes a long time ago—Reev made me realize that everyone was too caught up worrying about their own insecurities to see mine—but now I wanted to duck my head so Irra would stop staring at me.
“Does that mean I’m mahjo?”
But Irra had said they no longer possessed any real, usable magic, and I couldn’t do any of the things G-10 mentioned: I didn’t heal fast, I was too scrawny to have much muscle strength, and I was fast but not superhumanly so. Reev had never gotten sick, but I had, plenty of times.
Irra leaned over the table to peer directly into my eyes. Avan leaned forward a little as well. I tried not to move despite the awkwardness.
Then Irra shifted away and spooned more sugar into his tea. “No,” he said decisively.
I waited for him to continue, but he didn’t. Beside me, Avan slowly relaxed into his seat.
“Then what am I?” I prompted.
“You,” he said, lifting his cup to his mouth, “are a conundrum.” He took a happy sip.
I slumped into my chair and sighed. “So you don’t know. Shouldn’t being Infinite mean having infinite knowledge?” I muttered.
“Eternity would be quite dull if that was true.”
“Can you at least tell us where to find Reev? Is there a sentinel barracks?”
“Unfortunately, Ninu keeps that sort of information to himself. I can’t break those particular enchantments without alerting him to my interference.”
The disappointment felt heavy in my chest, but I pushed it down. I’d find Reev the old-fashioned way: by searching. Inside the White Court, I’d have a better chance at success.
“I’ll find him,” I declared.
“And I’ll leave you to it. However, I do feel the need to repeat this again,” Irra said, and suddenly, his presence vibrated around me like an echo, plunging me into that same chilling emptiness of the Void. “In the Tournament, do not use your powers. No matter what.”
CHAPTER 18
AFTER HE FINISHED his tea, Irra left us in the courtyard to await the Sun. The courtyard was enclosed on four sides by the dusky walls of the fortress. Moss and vines spotted in blue flowers had taken hold of the stone.
Since the tree blocked our view of the sky, we relocated near a fountain at the back, nestled between overgrown rose bushes. I knew they were roses from the history texts and because, rarely, I’d seen them shipped from their special gardens in the White Court and sold on the street for fifty credits a stem. I imagined sunshine would smell like this.
The fountain itself was a sad thing. Cracks threaded the stone, and water trickled from the top where green moss clogged the spout. It reminded me of the slime that grew on the walls in the Labyrinth. Definitely not something I missed. Weeds had crawled up the sides of the fountain, creeping over the rim to dip into the murky inch of water at the bottom of the basin.
I sat on the fountain’s overgrown rim, watching Avan. He took a seat beside me, his hand lingering on his arm where Irra had almost cut him.
He noticed me watching and dropped his hand. “Irra’s a little off in the head, isn’t he? Maybe that’s what happens when you’re immortal. Living forever must mess with a person’s mind.”
Maybe insanity was the price of eternity. Nature’s way of keeping balance, as Irra had said. I could see this gloomy sort of balance reflected in this entire place: Etu Gahl was a fortress of perpetual deterioration that could expand by pulling whole rooms and floors from who knew where. And this sliver of a courtyard, which Irra kept green and alive despite what I’d seen his rotting touch could do.
Growth and decay.
“It’s all so impossible,” I said.
Faced with truths I never would have imagined, I still had no idea what I was. I had tried so hard to remember, to pull images and thoughts from those years of my life before Reev, questions I had finally forced myself to bury. But those questions rose again to the surface. What did Irra mean when he said I’d been born of the River?
And he’d spoken of Time as if it was a person—which, considering Irra had called himself Famine, maybe it was.
“Yeah, but I’ve seen what you can do. Nothing is impossible after that.”
It was still disarming having other people know about me. For so long, this had been my secret. Mine and Reev’s.
But Reev had other secrets.
“Do you think Irra is being honest with us?” I asked. “He’s pretty quick to offer up help.”
“We’re his guests,” Avan said. “He’s given us food, shelter, and protection. And now he’s going to get us back into Ninurta. We’re not exactly in a position to question his motives.”
“I didn’t realize you were so blindly trusting.”
Avan’s expression darkened, and he regarded me coolly. I didn’t know how he could go from warm to cold so quickly. I’d seen a lot of Avan’s “faces”: the polite but distant shop clerk, the beautiful boy with a smile that could spin fantasies, the friend unwilling to leave me alone in the darkness. And the kid from the Alley who hid behind a cool exterior when anyone tried to peer past his walls.
I didn’t understand why he felt he needed those walls with me. After what we’d been through, I thought our friendship had gotten past this.
Maybe I should have chosen my words more carefully. I thought of those rumors about Avan accepting anyone’s bed to keep from going home. Guilt stung my chest.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” I said. “You’re right. I should be more grateful. I am grateful.” And I was. I had no illusions about where we’d be now without Irra. “It just worries me that he’s helping us without asking for much in return. Information is great, sure, but is that really it?” In my experience, there was always a catch.
But maybe I was being paranoid. Maybe this was what the Infinite did when they weren’t … building human cities to spite one another.
Avan’s fingers plucked at the weeds clinging to the fountain. “I don’t trust him. But we don’t have any other options.”
I tucked my hair behind my ear. “I know.”
He sighed heavily. “Do you think maybe Reev knew about all this?”
I looked at him. “About what? The Infinite?”
He shrugged. “He was a sentinel. He must have escaped for a reason. What if it wasn’t coincidence that he found you?”
“What are you saying? That Reev had something to do with me losing my memory?”
I had told Avan years ago that I couldn’t remember anything from before I was eight. At the time, he said he envied me.
“I’m not saying anything. I’m just … thinking out loud.”
“Reev took care of me,” I said. Whatever Reev had kept from me, I’m sure it had been in my best interest. “I trust him completely.”
Avan’s dark eyes locked on mine. “Exactly. I’ve seen the way you look at him, Kai. The way you talk about him.” He dropped his gaze. “You love him so much that it blinds you to his faults. You won’t even consider—”
“
I love him in spite of his faults. He’s my brother.”
Avan’s lips curved, but it was a mockery of a smile. “Yeah. Your brother. You don’t even realize it.”
“Realize what?” I demanded.
He ran his fingers through his hair, and the look that darted across his face made something wrench inside me. “He has so much of you already,” he said, the words stilted as if they were being forced from him. “Is there anything left for—” He cut himself off and shook his head. “For anyone else?”
I didn’t understand why he was saying this—of course Reev would always hold a part of me—but the answer seemed to matter to him. So I said, “Yes.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Have you ever asked him about his past?”
Only a few failed attempts about his collar. But I wanted to. I never stopped wanting to. Fear had kept me silent—insecurities and doubts that haunted me over the years despite everything Reev had done. Someone had abandoned me on a riverbank. There was no blood to connect me and Reev, and if I pried into things he wanted kept secret, what if he decided to leave me, too?
Avan didn’t wait for me to answer. “Or about your own past. Why are you so content not knowing?”
“Not every family has to be broken, Avan.”
I regretted the words the moment they were out. My lips tightened, and my hands curled in my lap. Avan remained still, his hair shielding his eyes from me. He began to rise. My fingers latched on to his forearm.
“Please stay,” I said, ducking my head. “I don’t … I don’t want to argue with you.”
I held my breath and didn’t release it until he sat again, his face turned away. I scooted closer so that our sides touched. He nudged my shoulder, and I relaxed against him.
I didn’t tell Avan that he had it wrong. I wasn’t content not knowing. I’d never told Reev, but the reason I wanted to be a mail carrier was because it allowed me to explore the North District beyond his restrictions. And because maybe one day I’d find someone who looked like me. Or recognized me. Someone must have taken care of me before I was eight.
Maybe this was the universe’s way of punishing me for wanting to know about my past. Reev had taken me in, cared for me, loved me like his sister, and still I had wanted more. Having Reev should have been enough. Why couldn’t that have been enough?
I tilted my head, resting my cheek against Avan’s shoulder. Right now, the most important thing was rescuing Reev. Everything else could wait.
Closing my eyes, I listened to the wind rustle the branches of the tree. Much nicer than the clang of metal walls. I would miss this place when we left.
“Kai,” Avan said. “Look.”
I felt it first. Spreading across my face. Warmth. Radiant, natural warmth. I raised my eyelids, slowly. There it was.
The Sun. It hurt my eyes, so I squinted at the clouds around it instead. They were yellow—not in the usual stark, chemical way, but vibrant and muted at the same time—and highlighted in gold where beams of light filtered through. Sometimes, the clouds held beauty in their own way.
I closed my eyes, letting the heat and light soak in. The Sun shone on my face for the first time in twelve months, but I couldn’t help thinking that the best part of this moment was being able to share it with Avan.
I leaned against his side and felt his arm circle my shoulders. Even though I knew it wasn’t true, I imagined his warmth like a Sun that shone just for me.
CHAPTER 19
OUR LESSONS WITH G-10 proved how little I knew about fighting. And G-10 transformed into an unrelenting jerk in the training circle. When I remarked on this, he gave me a look that made me cringe and said, “In the arena, you’re not going to win with kindness.”
I didn’t care about winning, just making it through so I could find Reev. G-10 replied to this by knocking me on my already-bruised ass.
He had made his point. And now I had no qualms about breaking his nose. Or trying to, anyway. Having survived in the North District our whole lives, Avan and I had pretty good reflexes, and Reev had taught me basic self-defense.
But we were still no match for G-10.
Avan landed on his back. Then he set his jaw and shoved himself to his feet. G-10 had given us new tunics and fitted pants that matched what the others wore. The clothes were much tighter than what we were used to, and as Avan brushed off his backside, I had to admire the view.
“Again,” Avan said.
G-10 attacked. He was fast, faster even than Reev, although I was pretty sure Reev had held back when he taught me. Avan blocked a punch, avoided a kick, and then swung for the ribs. G-10 caught his wrist, but Avan’s foot came up, connecting with G-10’s shoulder. G-10 didn’t even stagger before sliding close and striking beneath Avan’s chin. Avan grunted, stumbling.
I winced and rubbed my chin in sympathy.
G-10 crossed his arms. “That was good. You landed a hit.”
Avan opened and closed his jaw to make sure it still worked and then swore under his breath. “Again,” he said, straightening.
“You don’t have to defeat me,” G-10 said wryly. “Your opponents in the arena won’t be trained sentinels. Most will be normal cadets. They’ll have two years of combat training, though.”
Two years next to my paltry skills sounded intimidating. But one day, those cadets would become Watchmen, and fighting them now would almost be like hitting a Watchman without worrying about the consequences.
“Will we be able to tell if one of them is a descendant?” I asked.
“They always rank at the top by the end,” G-10 said.
I rested my elbows on my thighs. Avan didn’t budge, stubbornly facing G-10, and I stifled a laugh. He’d never struck me as the competitive type.
“Sit. Kai’s turn.” G-10 motioned for me to join him on the floor.
Oh boy. I stood, and Avan relented, taking my place on the sideline.
The indoor training yard, another area thankfully without decay, spanned an entire floor. An array of weaponry lined the walls like an armory, and tall windows allowed plenty of light into the expansive room. Numerous broad, gray circles marked the rings where the hollows sparred. Aside from two boys throwing knives at the other end of the room, we were the only people using the training yard.
I took a position in front of G-10. For the first few days, he’d taught us combinations, and how to hit, kick, and block. He’d forced us to repeat the motions for hours until each move was committed to muscle memory. I spent more than an hour each night in the bathhouse soaking away the aches. Now we had to use what we’d learned.
I nodded to indicate that I was ready. I didn’t even have time to be surprised before pain shattered my jaw. I found myself on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. My face and neck throbbed. I blinked lights out of my eyes and didn’t move.
“You hit her where she was already injured,” Avan said, his voice tight. I focused on his voice, drawing strength from it.
“Yes, I aimed for her weaknesses.” G-10’s feet appeared in my range of vision. I groaned and rolled onto my stomach. “Kai, if you expect to fool the Tournament judges into believing you’re a cadet, then show me you’re better than this.”
Drek. Something savage and angry clawed up my gut. Gritting my teeth, I pushed to my feet. I was better than this. Reev had taught me better than this.
“Good,” said G-10.
His leg blurred, and I dodged, rolling away to avoid the kick that swung over me, snagging the end of my ponytail. From the corner of my eye, I saw Avan stiffen at the strike. My speed was my main advantage. Reev had always said so. When G-10 came at me again, I ducked and jabbed, driving my knuckles against his ribs.
He grunted. Then he smirked and dived in close, strikes coming fast. It was all I could do to block. He dropped low and then sprang upward, his palm crashing into my chest. I fell, landing on my back with a breathless gasp.
“In the arena, use that speed,” G-10 said. “End the match with as few strikes as possible.”
I drew a breath. Ow.
“That’s enough for today. Same time tomorrow morning.”
Avan tried to help me up, but I brushed away his hands. I would do this on my own. I was pretty sure my bruises had bruises, but I managed to keep from groaning as I stood. I averted my face so they wouldn’t see me grimacing.
“Kai!” G-10 called after me. “I need to talk to you.”
I rolled my shoulders and then fixed on a smile as I turned to look at him. “What about?”
G-10 walked past me. “Come with me.” He glanced at Avan, who was leaning against the door frame. “You can leave.”
“Sure,” Avan said. “I’ll just go wander aimlessly through the corridors.”
G-10 snickered. “Don’t get lost.”
I gave Avan a shrug as I followed G-10 out into the hallway. “Where are we going?”
“To see Irra.”
My feet faltered, but I caught up to his side again. This didn’t sound promising, but maybe Irra just wanted to share another cup of tea. “Why?”
He didn’t answer. I chewed on my bottom lip. I hadn’t seen Irra for a couple of days, which, according to G-10, was nothing unusual. He tended to disappear into his study or the nether regions of Etu Gahl for periods of time, the reasons for which no one quite knew.
When we reached Irra’s study, the door was cracked open. The rusty doorknob was held in place with a single half-screwed nail. G-10 knocked before pushing the door open wider.
Irra sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of a lantern, his long legs bent like a spider’s. He was facing the glass doors that led to the courtyard, but the curtains were closed.
G-10 and I stepped in, and he closed the door behind us. The wood scraped shut. I didn’t ask what Irra was doing.
“How is your training?” Irra asked, unfolding his legs and standing in one fluid movement.
“Fine,” I said warily.
“Is that correct?” He directed the question at G-10 as he circled his table piled with bread bites. They were now arranged into a circular wall, surrounding a tall bread fortress. I wondered if it was supposed to be Ninurta.