by Devin Madson
‘That depends on your definition,’ I said. ‘She might agree with you, but I assure you this is your emperor’s twin sister. Perhaps you should be careful how you address her.’
‘Don’t listen to him,’ the first said, and his companion pressed the knife harder into Kimiko’s throat, indenting her supple skin. ‘The Monstrous Laroth’s tongue is made of silver. Everyone knows that.’
‘Well, grab him and let’s go.’
The man hesitated as I stretched my hands toward him. At full stretch my sleeves pulled back, the Traitor’s Mark there like a warning on my flesh.
‘I’m all yours.’
The guard’s eyes narrowed. ‘What? Giving in just like that?’
‘What else can I do? A man of honour does not allow a lady to be harmed. Well? Are you going to take me or stand there staring?’
His eyes flicked down my person. I carried no weapons, but everyone had heard stories about the Monstrous Laroth.
All he needed to do was touch me.
‘Well? Go on,’ his companion urged, not loosening his grip on Kimiko. ‘Let’s get them back to the Keep.’
The man grunted and swung the lantern over his shoulder. Our eyes met, and as he took my wrists, I slipped my Empathy beneath his skin. To call your eyes amethysts would be an insipid injustice, Malice had said. The guard froze, licking his lips. You connect with such a caress it makes me jealous.
The other guard spoke, but there was no answer. We were in our own space, our own time, just him and me inside his head. And the memory of Malice’s words. Why don’t you look at me like that?
Fear flickered in the guard’s eyes and his jaw dropped slack.
I love you.
A cry choked in the guard’s throat and he pulled away, tripping and scattering leaves with scrambling feet. He hit the ground, sobs suspending every effort at speech. Rolling, he crushed the lantern, the loud snap sucking back the night.
Kimiko rammed an elbow into her captor’s gut. He doubled over, swearing, flailing out a hand to grasp her hair. She ducked, slipping through his fingers. At her feet the second guard screamed.
Bobbing lights approached through the trees, shouts filling the night.
‘Quick!’
Kimiko snatched at my hand as I reached for hers, and locking fingers we ran down the slope together, crashing through the undergrowth. Shouts grew louder. Closer. My heartbeat whipped to a frenzy. Ahead, the outer wall appeared through the trees and Kimiko began to gather her sadness, making ghosts of us both.
A line of men stood atop the wall, their bows dark against the brilliant moon. An arrow whizzed past my ear, another through Kimiko’s leg. It barely slowed and she ran on, dodging shafts as they peppered the ground ahead of us. My gut tingled and I looked down in time to see a fletching pass through my stomach.
We hit the wall together, the last breath squeezed from my body as we plunged into the darkness. Emerging back into the night, we ran through a rain of arrows, shafts falling through us as we sprinted for the trees. Slowly, the shouts began to fade until our pounding footsteps were all that remained.
Once the wall was out of sight, Kimiko let go of my hand. She fell to her knees and rolled over on the grass, her chest heaving. ‘Well, that was fun,’ she said breathlessly, letting loose a giggle. ‘I suppose we should keep moving.’
‘Yes,’ I agreed, resting my hands on my knees as I tried to catch my breath. My throat felt raw, the taste of blood lingering on my tongue. ‘I don’t think I was made for running. These clothes certainly weren’t.’ My toes ached from gripping the thong of my sandals.
‘No.’ She grinned at my dishevelled state. ‘By the gods this is madness. They’re going to come looking for us.’
‘Then we had better not stay here for them to find.’
‘That would be stupid,’ she agreed. ‘I have a horse.’
‘You have a horse?’
‘How do you think I got here? I don’t know how they did it in your time, but Vices have horses. I call mine Retrei.’
I froze in the act of helping her up. ‘And what does Malice say to that?’
‘He just smiles. Your brother is well read, I think.’
‘Half-brother. And yes, he is.’
Taking her hand, I pulled her to her feet. ‘We had better go,’ she said. ‘Katashi will send search parties to comb these woods.’
‘He probably already has. Where did you leave your horse?’
Lit by a shred of moonlight, her eyes twinkled. ‘As you are fond of reminding me, I was born a lady of Koi. If I didn’t know this land, I should be disgraced indeed. Come. We have a mile or so to travel on foot.’
Showing no fatigue, Kimiko strode away into the trees. Her goal was close.
I must obey.
‘Might I ask our destination?’ I said, a chorus of night birds following us through the old forest.
‘We were to meet at the crossroad on the way to Rina,’ she replied, speaking her words to the trees ahead. ‘Someone should still be waiting.’
Rina. It had once been a border castle, high on the slopes of the northern mountains, but the border had shifted many times as relations with Chiltae soured. Even now cartographers preferred to leave the border off maps rather than commit themselves to whether Rina was ours or theirs. No man's land. Belonging to no emperor, to no king, it had become the home of gods.
‘You’re very quiet,’ Kimiko said after a time, glancing back as she came to one of the channels that fed the moat, its water trickling slowly over mossy rocks.
No doubt Malice had more than one reason for retreating to Rina. Not only was it arguably outside Emperor Katashi’s jurisdiction, but Rina also had history.
I watched Kimiko’s curls bounce with every step. All I had to do was make her vulnerable.
‘I was thinking about your charming brother,’ I said, watching my step as we crossed the first channel. ‘I was just wondering what he would do if he caught me.’
Kimiko didn’t answer.
‘Not a forgiving man, I think. And possibly the crime of refusing to take the Oath has been surpassed by the more heinous crime of touching his sister.’
She snorted. ‘Oh yes, Katashi the protective brother. The first to condemn, to remind me I am an Otako, even when it was food for his stomach I was buying.’
‘You had nothing?’
‘Nothing. Why should we have had anything? Our father was executed as a traitor. We were alive. What more could we ask for?’
The words were light, shrugged off, but I didn’t need my Empathy to sense bitterness; her voice caught on a sneer.
A man of honour would stop here. A man of honour would meet his fate.
‘And why didn’t Katashi provide for his family?’
Kimiko slowed and turned around, stopping after a few backward steps. ‘Because he was ten. No, I didn’t provide for us at ten, either. Our mother looked after us. Isn’t that what mothers do?’
I halted in front of her. ‘Why weren’t you married off to some Chiltaen nobleman?’
She tugged at a curl and did not immediately answer. I waited, watching her press her lips tightly together. ‘I was,’ she said with a little smile. ‘His name was Lord Cescar Coti. I was too young to be married, but he took me into his household. He had made his fortune in trade and was a busy man, so I rarely saw him, but in his home I continued my education as a lady.’ She bowed.
‘A lord who worked for his fortune? How boorish the Chiltaens are.’
Kimiko brought her attention back from the past, her eyes flashing a warning. ‘Yes, aren’t they? Katashi, of course, thought as you do. A merchant was not good enough to wed an Otako. So the day we came of age, when I was free to marry Cescar, Katashi officially became the head of the family.’ Her little finge
rs tightened into fists. ‘Naturally, he overruled our mother’s decision and cut the alliance. Otako pride was more important than survival, or the prospect of comfort and happiness. For five years Lord Coti had paid to keep me. Five years for nothing.’ She laughed, a harsh bark in the quiet woods. ‘And there, now you know my story. Congratulations, Silver Tongue.’
She would have turned, but I gripped her arm. ‘Kimiko–’
‘What? Would you like to help? Would you take your immense fortune and pay me for my services?’
‘Why did you stay with him?’
‘With Katashi?’ She looked away from me. ‘He’s my brother.’
‘You forgave him?’
Her breath caught on a sob and she pressed a hand to her face, tears trailing down her cheeks. ‘I always do.’
Silver tongue.
I touched her face, tracing her tears. As though for comfort she leant into my hand, trying to master sobs that came unbidden.
A mark was nothing more than a parcel of self injected into the flesh. It was a supreme act of dominance, and I could not fight the shiver of pleasure that thrilled through me.
You are mine and you will do as I command.
Small hands forced me back, breaking the connection. ‘How dare you!’ she cried. ‘How dare you!’
I stepped, trying to keep my balance, but my foot slipped on the edge of the channel and I slammed back, winded, rocks digging into my spine.
‘What have you done?’ She loomed over me, outlined against the silver moon.
‘I marked you,’ I said, wincing as I tried to move.
‘You shivat!’ She knelt on my chest, pressing the chill edge of a blade against my neck. ‘Give me a reason why I shouldn’t slice you open, and do it quick.’
I am better than you. I am an Empath. You must do as I command. Belief pounded through me like a drug. I could crush her heart with a single thought.
‘I don’t have one,’ I said, fighting for sanity, to remember why I had come so far.
‘Then why did you do it?’
‘Because I don’t want to die.’
Her azure eyes flashed like a summer storm. ‘What do you want, Darius Laroth?’
The sweet smell of her taunted me as I fought to swallow the rising god. ‘I want to be the man you think I am.’
Kimiko took a deep breath, eyes darting about my face, and I knew I had won. ‘Why did you mark me?’
‘Because I couldn’t let you take me back to him. I had to break his hold on you.’ Channel water was creeping up my robe.
‘And all that talk of Katashi?’
‘You had to be vulnerable.’
For a long time our eyes held, then she lifted the blade. ‘I don’t know why I trust you, Darius,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘But I do. Shall I call you “Master”?’
‘Don’t use that name.’
The words bit and she drew back the hand intended to help me up. ‘Why? It means having the power to control, does it not?’
‘It means a lot of things,’ I said. ‘You can call me Master when I command you against your will and not before.’
She helped me up, but did not wait while I fixed my robe, squeezing water from the hem. Instead she turned away, my little Otako fighter striding into the trees. I followed, staring at the back of her head, my mouth full of words I could not speak.
Kimiko kept walking. She did not slow, did not look back, seemed to pay me no mind at all until her words pierced the night. ‘You’re forgiven,’ she said, not looking around.
‘What?’
‘You want to apologise,’ she said. ‘So I’m saving you the trouble of putting it into words. If I have forgiven my brother all these years, I can forgive you.’
I stopped. Kimiko walked on a little way before turning back. ‘What is it, Darius Laroth?’
‘How did you know I wanted to apologise?’
She smiled and tapped her head. ‘You opened a door. Why can I not walk through it, too?’
I forgot to breathe.
‘Well, Darius? Where are we going?’
‘I think I need to go home.’
Chapter 8
We left the bodies on the road. The woodcutters would find them. The first to step on a lifeless limb would suck in his breath, peering down at the dark road. A body would appear, etched against the stones. Then, as if drawn from the gloom, they would see a blanket of flesh and blood; of torn skin and sightless eyes.
We continued our journey up the mountain, a smaller group than had departed Koi in the afternoon heat.
Malice kept me close. He did not look at me. Did not speak. He lay upon his divan letting his body rock with the motion of the wagon, the air thickening with opium smoke. I tried not to breathe it in, but there was no fresh air. One breath and its sweetness sucked all cares from my heart while the gentle sway of the wagon lulled me into a doze. There, strange dreams roamed the edges of my mind. Colours blurred together in the lamplight and I touched the raised scab on my cheek, caressing its smooth surface and its puckered ridges. My first Traitor’s Mark.
Malice exhaled a stream of smoke, his heavy-lidded eyes making him appear half asleep. I watched him through my own haze, his long fingers combing his silken hair.
Outside the shuttered windows another village passed. One hundred and eighty-one souls, momentarily distinguished by proximity. Soon they would fade into the mass of life like all the others, leaving only a handful of Vices at the touch of my latent Empathy. Silent. Sullen. Fearful.
Having lost all concept of time, I knew not how long we travelled before the wagon stopped. Muffled voices sounded outside and the door opened, pale, hazy light drifting in. Then Avarice, his large, dark form blocking the doorway.
‘We’ve arrived, Master,’ he said.
Malice let out a long sigh. ‘Delightful.’
‘There’s no sign of Conceit or Folly, Master.’
‘Not so delightful, yes? We will wait here for news.’
‘And if it doesn’t come?’
He clicked his tongue. ‘Not a thing to be suggested, yes? They will come.’
He will not leave me.
The whisper came without touch, shearing through the air. The words Malice had left unspoken. Darius would never die to escape me; could not, even if he tried.
‘Staring at me, Endymion?’ Malice said.
‘Yes.’ My tongue felt lazy and fat. ‘What if you’re wrong? What if he dies?’
Malice froze in the act of curling his ponytail around his finger. Then, lifting the opium pipe he tapped it against his forehead. ‘Stay out, yes?’
‘Then don’t shout.’
A smile flickered on his lips. ‘What good advice, yes? Hope?’
The young Vice came to the door, his face pale and his eyes dark-rimmed.
‘Show Endymion to his room.’
‘Master,’ he murmured, but did not wait.
‘I think you’re out of favour, yes?’ Malice said. ‘Off you go.’
Trying to shake the lingering fumes, I stirred my limbs to action, each heavy with a weight I had never known. I gripped the panelling with trembling hands. Outside there were eleven marked Vices and twenty-one unmarked men, and another sixty-two further up the mountain. The numbers flowed through my head as easily as thoughts. A village of seventy souls sat at the edge of my Sight and the vast bulk of Kisia at my fingertips, its precise numbers eluding my touch.
‘I believe I asked you to leave, yes?’
Malice’s words brought me back and I found I had frozen mid rise.
‘Try to stay with us, yes?’ he said. ‘I don’t know how to bring you back.’ He waved a hand toward the door. ‘Go, clean yourself up. Eat. Rest. And Endymion? Don’t let my Vices eat you, yes?’
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‘Yes,’ I said, stepping into the pale haze of a new day.
The wagon stood in a courtyard beneath the boughs of a large tree. Men in common peasant clothes were unloading supplies from beneath the running board, while the Vices rubbed down their jittery horses. Entirely in his element, Avarice was taking the time to pass his hand over each velvety nose, murmuring words of comfort under his breath.
A squat tower blocked some of the morning sky, its stones speckled. It looked like part of an old castle, its rampart tumbling. The scrubby hillside was littered with the jutting remains of old walls, another half tower collapsed on the next spur.
Hope stood at the edge of the courtyard staring back the way we had come. There the road wound down the mountainside and into the dense oak forest, its canopy a green blanket that seemed to stretch over Kisia all the way to the rising sun.
Out there was a place he had once called home and a man he had once been.
‘What is this place?’ I asked, forcing my lips to frame words.
‘Rina.’
As though my question had reminded him of his orders, he turned toward the tower. Dodging moving men, he made his way across the wide courtyard to the open doors, not seeming to care whether I was following. Most of the Vices ignored him, turning their shoulders and stepping out of his way, but Ire, a long gash still bloody upon his face, stood his ground, forcing the shrinking Hope to go around him. His scowl followed us, burning into the back of my head.
The gods will judge.
I followed Hope through the large doors and into a dark hall, its stones smoke-blackened. Beams the colour of rusted iron twisted across the roof, each one hung with dozens of dark lanterns. It might once have made a grand constellation of stars, but now the old paper was moth-eaten and barely hung together.
‘Hope,’ I said, as he led the way along a winding passage full of tight spaces. ‘I’m sorry, I–’
He lifted a shaking hand. ‘Don’t.’ His pace quickened, fingers clenching into fists.