by Kate L. Mary
“It is over,” Zuri said.
I opened my eyes to find her still next to me, her fingers crushed in my grip.
“You did well,” Roan said, his eyes once again burning with admiration. “I have seen grown men pass out when met with that many piercings.”
I exhaled, realizing I was holding my breath, and sucked in a mouthful of fresh air. The movement made the skin on my neck pull against the fangs, but the pain was little more than a dull throb, nothing compared to what I had just been through.
“I am no stranger to pain,” I managed to say.
More than a year ago, after Lysander defiled me, my husband went into the city to avenge me. It had not turned out the way he planned, though, and instead he had been captured and put to death. As if killing the man I loved had not been enough, Saffron, the woman I worked for, had declared I was to be punished as well. As an example to other Outliers, I was whipped to within an inch of my life, and I still bore the scars from the beating. Inside and out.
When I moved to sit up, Zuri tried to keep me down. “You must rest. You have lost a lot of blood.”
“I need to see what is happening,” I said, resisting when she once again tried to stop me.
Realizing I would not give in, she allowed me to push myself up. The world swayed, and my body felt as frail as it had all those weeks following my beating, but I refused to give in. Instead, I reached for Zuri, using her for support so I could stay up.
The Outlier army was still in the valley, hundreds of them. We had gathered here hoping to storm the city once Asa and Nyko opened the gate, but things had not gone as planned. Instead, the bubble had appeared, not just over the city, but over the tower and mirrors as well. Then Emori attacked me, certain Asa was responsible, and everything had been put on hold while my injury was attended to.
How much time had passed since then? I looked toward the horizon where the sun now shone in full view. It was still low, telling me maybe an hour had gone by, but not much longer.
“What should our next move be?” I asked, turning my gaze back to Roan.
Behind him stood Ontari, head of the Huni, her face and ears decorated by piercings. Claws from birds were stuck through her earlobes, while the teeth of forest cats ran in a line across her forehead. Like the rest of her people, her hair had been cut to the scalp, and her dark skin shone under the bright morning sun.
“What is there to do?” she said, her gaze moving past me to the bubble. “We cannot penetrate that.”
“There must be a way,” I replied, looking back toward the bubble. “The tunnel, perhaps?”
“We sent a party out, but it is blocked,” Ontari replied.
“We are open to ideas if you have any, Indra of the Windhi,” Roan said.
I exhaled as I turned to face the other Heads. “I have none.”
My gaze moved back toward the city, and then to the tower. The bubble over it was smaller, but it was no doubt as impenetrable as the one over the city. The tower and surrounding mirrors were how the Sovereign got their electricity, as we had learned only yesterday. It was also where the untouchables were sent to live. According to Asa, every fifth Fortis baby had been born with some kind of deformity and sent there to live. A life of exile had awaited them, but some people, like Asa, refused to turn their back on family. His sister, Elora, lived among those people. Her existence helped create the man I fell in love with. Because of Elora, Asa had fought against the Fortis ways, had struggled to remain human when the people around him had wanted nothing more than to turn him into a monster.
“The people in there will die if we do nothing.” I tore my gaze from the tower and focused on the people around me. “If we are unable to penetrate it, neither are they. They will be trapped with no food or water, and no help from the Sovereign.”
Roan frowned thoughtfully. “The city needs them to maintain the tower and mirrors. That was what Asa said. If they let the untouchables die, they will lose their power.”
Silence fell over us.
He was right. If the people in the tower died, the power would fail, including the bubble, leaving the Sovereign vulnerable once again.
I knew how long it took to die of starvation, though, and I also knew the Sovereign would not let it go that far. No, they had other plans. What came next I could not even begin to guess at, but I had been in the city and walked among the men and women living there, and I knew the evilness inside them. They had other plans. Plans that would make the centuries of abuse my people had already endured seem small in comparison.
“They will not let it go that far,” I said. “They have other plans, and the worst thing we could do right now is underestimate that.”
6
Indra
Every time I spoke, the fangs pulled at the wound on my neck. It was an uncomfortable feeling I would have to get used to, at least for the time being, but it also served as a reminder of what Emori had done.
I was searching the crowd for her when Roan said, “What do you think our next move should be?”
“First, I must deal with my attacker.”
I started to stand, but found my legs shaky and once again had to reach for Zuri. She was at my side in a moment, grabbing my elbow to ensure I did not fall. Once I was on my feet, I scanned the crowd a second time, but I did not have to look far to spot Emori. She was on the ground, her hands bound behind her back, and flanked by two men. Atreyu, my childhood friend, was one of them, while the second was Arkin, Ontari’s most trusted advisor and lover.
My legs felt heavy as I made my way toward them, but I kept my head high. Even the fact that I could not walk without the aid of Zuri could not make me waver. I had known for some time that Emori would eventually rise up against me. Her hatred of me started with Asa, but it had burned brighter with each decision I made until she could only see an enemy. The moment of her attack had been unexpected, but her actions were not.
“Stand, Emori,” I said when I stopped in front of her.
Eyes burning with hate glared up at me. With the exception of the Fortis, no one had ever looked at me with this much hatred, and coming from one of my own people, it gave me pause.
Had I wronged Emori? Every decision I made since Bodhi’s death had been for my people, but I was human and not above making mistakes. Had I done something to Emori to deserve this hate?
Before she left the city and her sister, Isa, took her place in Saffon’s house, Emori and I had worked together. We had been friendly with one another, and since we were only a few years apart in age, had even played together as children. But that all changed the day Lysander cornered her in the pantry. I had stood in the kitchen listening to her cries for help and done nothing. I was not alone in my inaction, and she had done the same when my own time arrived, but I was not foolish enough to think those things made me blameless. Was it possible Emori’s hatred stemmed from that moment more than anything that followed?
Yes, but it did not change the facts. She attacked me, tried to kill me, and I could not turn a blind eye to that.
“What do you have to say for the things you have done here?” I forced my voice out louder than I wanted to, and the fangs at my neck pulled tight once again.
Emori’s gaze moved to my throat, lingering there as mixture of satisfaction and disappointment shimmered in them. “Only that I am sorry I did not succeed.”
A hiss of disapproval moved through the crowd, and I lifted my hand, motioning for the people behind me to remain silent.
“You are brave,” I said solemnly, “I will give you that. I only wish you could have focused your rage on the right people. I am not your enemy, Emori. I have wanted nothing but what is best for our people since before this started, and that has not changed.”
“You aligned yourself with the very people who have spit on us for centuries,” she said, her voice sounding like the hiss of snake. “You allowed yourself to be defiled by them, bound yourself to them. You are not fit to be Head.”
The rage in
her voice could not mask her pain, and despite the throb in my neck that told me she must pay for her actions, I found my heart going out to the woman in front of me. I knew some of what she had gone through in the city, but she had no doubt endured much more than I could even imagine. As a rule, the Fortis had never been kind to our people. Quite the opposite. They had made the torture of Outliers a sport. Had reveled in it.
I exhaled and turned my back to her, facing the other Heads. Roan’s gaze was fixed on my attacker, his expression cold and unyielding, but like me, Ontari wore a conflicted expression on her face.
“I am new to this job,” I said, working to keep my voice low. “And I never expected to find myself in this position.”
“As Head,” Ontari asked, “or forced to punish one of your own people?”
“Both,” I replied quietly.
Roan’s dark brown eyes focused on me. “It is not something you should rejoice in. If you did, you would not be worthy of your position. But it is necessary. You cannot look the other way after something like this, Indra. If you do, your people will see you as weak and lose respect for you.”
“What am I to do, though? We have no precedent for something like this. I cannot remember a time when one member of the Winta tried to kill another one. We were much too focused on trying to avoid the wrath of the Fortis.”
Roan let out a breath. It was long and drawn out, and years seemed to pass before he finally said, “The Mountari believe in an eye for an eye.”
“As do the Huni,” Ontari said.
“You mean I should put her to death for trying to kill me?”
It was a reality I did not like. I had always known I might have to make an example of Emori, but I had done my best to avoid thinking about what that might mean. Now, I found myself in a position I could not avoid.
“That,” Roan said, “is for you to decide.”
An eye for an eye.
Emori had tried to take my life. When she ran that knife across my throat, she intended it to be the end of me. She had failed, but did that make her intent any less malicious?
Still, I was unsure if I could kill one of my own people, and asking someone else to do it seemed wrong. The Winta, when they existed, had not only had a Head, but also a succession of people who were trusted advisors. While there were several people I had looked to over the last year, my new tribe, the Windhi, had not yet established an official group, and there was no one who could take this burden from me. Meaning it rested solely on my shoulders.
But there could be an alternative. The equivalent of death, after all, could be many things. For example, I had felt dead after my tribe was wiped out by the Fortis. Would stripping Emori of her tribe and banishing her to the wilds be almost the same as death? She would have no one unless she chose to go to the Trelite, something I knew she would never do. She would be a ghost. She would belong nowhere.
“Exile,” I whispered before turning my back on the other Heads and facing Emori.
“Exile?” Her eyebrows jumped up, pushing her passing markings with them, and I was reminded of the marks she bore binding her to us.
When we formed the Windhi, we had each knelt in front of the fire to receive new passage markings, signifying us as the members of a new tribe. A line across the chin that swirled up on each side like a smile, with nine more lines cutting through it. Anyone who saw her in the wilds would instantly know where she belonged because of those marks. They would forever see her as Windhi.
To make sure she was properly exiled, I would need to change that.
“Bring me a knife,” I called, my gaze still on Emori.
Once again her eyebrows shot up, and for the first time fear shimmered in her eyes. She swallowed and looked past me, either to see if my request was being carried out or to search for support. No one spoke up, not even to ask what I was doing.
“Indra.” Zuri was at my side, and when I held my hand out, she laid a knife in it.
I curled my fingers around it, and my heart pounded harder. Sunlight glinted off the pointed blade, making my stomach twist. This would not be easy, but it was necessary if I wanted to be a leader. And faced with the alternative—putting her to death—it was the best option. As angered as I was by her attack, I could not bring myself to take the life of another Outlier.
“Kneel.” My voice roared over the crowd.
Emori shook her head, but she was unable to resist when Arkin grabbed her shoulders and forced her down. At her side, Atreyu’s eyes were wide, filled with worry and even a little bit of horror. I hoped, after this was done, he would be able to see that Emori had given me no choice. She had forced my hand, and it was either this, put her to death, or hand my tribe over to her.
A murmur moved through the crowd when I stepped closer, but I did not take my eyes off Emori. “Today, you have committed the first transgression since our new tribe was formed by trying to take my life. The other tribes believe in an eye for an eye, and while the situation pains me greatly, I can see no way around it.”
I had to pause when another murmur moved through the crowd, this one louder.
In front of me, Atreyu stepped forward, his hand out. “Indra—”
“I am Head,” I said, my voice coming out firmer than I anticipated and causing the skin on my neck to pull tight. Pain throbbed through me, and I sucked in a deep breath before continuing, both because of the pain, and to buy myself a second to gather my strength. “I must do what is best for our tribe. I must do whatever I can to keep us together. Would ignoring a transgression like this help unify us, or would it tear us apart?”
Atreyu lowered his hand, his mouth hanging open as he thought my words through. Finally, he said, “It would tear us apart.”
“Then you can see that she has left me with no option.” There was begging in my voice now, pleading for the man in front of me, the man who had once been a boy I played with, to understand why I was doing this. “I have no choice.”
Atreyu looked away. “Emori has left you no choice.”
“She left me no choice,” I repeated, this time quieter and to myself.
Once again, I focused on Emori, whose eyes had grown to twice their normal size as she waited to learn her fate. Even amidst the fear swimming in their brown depths, the anger remained. It burned into me. Scorched my skin. It told me I was doing the right thing. If I let this go, she would try again, and next time, she might succeed.
“Emori, because of your actions here today, I have no choice but to banish you. From this day forward, you will no longer be Windhi.”
“Where do you expect me to go?” she spit at me.
“Perhaps Cruz will still allow you to join the Trelite,” I said.
Emori’s upper lip curled. “I would rather live with the marsoapians in the wastelands.”
“That is your right,” I replied, “but know this is not my doing. This is your doing. It was your decision to attack me. It was your decision to cut my throat. You forced my hand.” I took a deep breath before saying, “Hold her down. I need her restrained.”
Arkin, to his credit, did not hesitate. The tall man was much stronger than his gaunt frame made him appear, and he had no problem restraining Emori on his own even though she fought with everything she had. She swore and growled like an animal, and within moments, Atreyu had moved to help the Huni man, taking her other shoulder and pushing her against the ground.
“I take no pleasure in this,” I said as I approached, “but it is necessary. You bear the marking of the Windhi, and I must do something to signify that you have been cast out. You must be an example.”
I took a deep breath before kneeling next to the thrashing woman. As much as I tried to steady myself, my hand trembled when I moved the knife toward her face. Emori’s eyes were large, brimming with fear and hate and fury, and it occurred to me that doing this might create an even more powerful nemesis than before, that killing her could have been the right decision. The best decision for us all.
It was too
late to change my mind, though, so I moved the blade closer to her face. “If you do not hold still, I may cut you too deep. It is not my wish to kill you. Only to give you markings that show you have been exiled.”
“If you think I will stop fighting you for even a moment, Fortis lover, you are even more of a fool than I thought. I will never stop,” Emori growled. “Not until you are dead and bleeding and my people are free of your evil ways.”
Her words not only confirmed my fears, but also solidified my decision. Emori had to know I would not back down. She had to know I was strong. That even cut and bleeding, I would not bend to the will of a madwoman.
I ran the blade of my knife down her right cheek, careful not to cut too deep. Blood bloomed, pouring from the wound, and Emori let out a scream that echoed through the valley. It shook me to my core, but I knew I needed to keep going. I could not let her win. Could not back down. If I did, she and the people who stood with her would rise up against me, and then we could forget about fighting the Sovereign, because we would be at war with one another.
I kept cutting, blocking out the nausea swirling through me, blocking out the screams from Emori, and blocking out the call of the underworld where I would most certainly go when I finally left this earth for good.
“An eye for an eye,” I said, focusing on the cut. “You tried to kill me, and now you will be dead to our tribe.”
7
Indra
I sat on the ground, staring at the blood on my hands. Emori’s cries still rang in my ears even though her sentence had been carried out some time ago. I was unable to move, though, unable to forget what I had done. Thankfully, I had the excuse of blood loss or I might appear weak, because even though I wanted my people to know I had taken no pleasure in the pain I delivered, I could not let them see how much it truly bothered me. At this point, I had killed more men than I could count, but I had never inflicted pain on someone I knew. Not like this. Not on a woman I had grown up with, had worked side by side with for years, and had considered to be one of my people.