Cecily looked at me for a long moment, and then glanced reluctantly at the hem of her dress. Several loose strands hung from the bottom. She tugged them off and wrapped them around a finger.
“Dina, when your grandmother says you see very well, I’m starting to believe she means it much more than just figuratively.”
“Taa always means much more than she says, Cecily. I’m just observant, is all. There are lots of observant people in the world.”
I kept my eyes closed as I spoke, half-hoping I’d fall back sleep. I was usually better at getting up in the morning, but today the dream kept me in bed. Pieces of it were disappearing faster than I could put them back together. There was Saythana. The cliff. The moons. The blood. I thought of my shoulder, just realizing now that it was cold and wet. A numbing sensation flowed down my arm to the end of my fingers, ringing at my nails like I had tapped on glass for too long. I held the blanket tighter with my other arm.
“Yes, but most haven’t just turned thirteen,” Cecily replied. “And most aren’t this quick just a few seconds after waking up.” She pushed my leg with a hand. “It was a strange night, is all. I’ll tell you about it when you’re back home from the Cathedral. Are you going today? It’s your birthday. You could stay home if you want. If not, you’ll have to go now. It’s Kettleday. You have class early.”
“You know how I feel about that,” I said, mumbling into my pillow. “I want today to be just like any other day.”
“I’d understand if you were thirty, but at thirteen, it’s a bit odd not to like birthdays,” Cecily said, raising a brow. “Enjoy them while you can. Before you know it, four years will zoom by and you’ll be a grown-up.”
I lifted my head. “Four years? Why mention four years?”
She looked at me oddly. “Isn’t that when you’ll be of age to take the throne? Not that your father would retire so early.”
I lay back down, but with my eyes open now. It was raining outside. Summers in Chaya were a mix of blistering hot weeks and then days of rain and storm. It was my favorite season. When it got too hot, Father would have the garden lit with alchemical lamps that cooled the air in hues of silver and blue. When it rained, sometimes the canals would rise all the way to the roads and the whole kingdom would flood. Streets turned into rivers, carriages into boats, and merchants into sailors. You could find eels swimming next to floating markets, munfish planted on the side of buildings like blankets of algae, and people throwing down fishing rods from the tops of their homes. For several days, all of Chaya would turn into a different kingdom. An ocean city. A river town.
My room was the size of a small classroom. Not the halls they used for alchemy practice, but the smaller ones that could fit fifteen or twenty students. I wasn’t a messy person, but I had so many things here it always looked cluttered. Glass telescopes, leather-bound books, parchment maps, scrolls of poems, tinted vials, wooden clocks, dictionaries, oil paints, travel guides, letters, pots, lots of canvas sandals, and a few artifacts Taa had left here for me to study. I had to keep the room crowded to hide the things I stole from the Cathedral. I was getting good now. Sometimes, I didn’t know the contents of my pockets until I was back at the palace. Guessing at the identities of different weights and textures could take up the better half of a class.
“Are you all right?” Cecily asked, her eyes downcast.
“Hmm?” I tried to act surprised, wiggling my fingers under the blanket to nurture feeling back into my arm. “Yes, why?”
She was clutching something in her hand.
“Your dream catcher is broken,” Cecily replied, lifting the device. She tried not to look worried, but her hand was trembling. It wasn’t that she was particularly afraid. Cecily’s hands often trembled. She circled a finger around the edge of the dream catcher, and then put her hand through, as though testing to see if she were seeing correctly. There was a perfect circle cut through the middle of the net, and tiny rips across the string of feathers tied to the side. It looked more like someone had carefully carved up the instrument than something had broken through it.
Cecily had been my caretaker since I was born, and my closest friend besides Elsa. The older sister I never had. She had sable hair that glistened darkly like autumn leaves caught in moonlight. Her hair was tucked to the side now, wrapped into a braid that could have extended to her ankles. Cecily wasn’t from Chaya, and you could tell it just from a moment’s glance. Her skin was pale and her face sharp enough to resemble a vampire’s. She had the high cheekbones and green eyes of a Xenashi. She blinked often, lied rarely, and liked to dance in private. I loved her in a different way than my friends or family. She was wiser than Elsa or Mawlik, but not too wise like Mother or Taa.
“Oh yes, I broke it walking in yesterday evening,” I lied. “The candles were out, and my curtains were pulled. It got caught in my hair and I ran my fingers through it.”
Relief washed over her face and her hands steadied for a moment.
“Elsa and I were playing in the gardens till late,” I said. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to make you worry.”
“You should have told me, Dina. I would have gotten a new one for you. Your mother would be furious if she knew.”
“It’s fine,” I said. “I won’t tell. It was my fault anyway.”
“Maybe you should speak to a priest at the Cathedral today. Father Clairmont.” She looked away at the window. “Mother Mendhi. Or the warden. It’s not safe to sleep without a dream catcher. You are going, no?”
“Of course. And tell Father also, I want nothing to be done for today. Last year he threw that surprise ball,” I groaned.
“I did already.” Cecily smiled. “He wasn’t very happy. I’m sure he wanted to celebrate. He asked if I could change your mind.”
I rolled my eyes, shuffling underneath the blanket.
“Elsa is waiting for you in the alcove,” Cecily said. “She came quite early.”
“Yes, I know.”
“I won’t bother asking how.”
She walked over to stand next to me. “And what are you—” before I could stop her, she jerked her hand forward and pulled the blanket off. She shrieked tersely before covering her hand with a mouth.
“Dina! Your shoulder! What happened to it?” She spoke in a whisper while throwing my head back and pulling on the sleeve of my shirt for a better look. I didn’t bother resisting. If she called Mother, we would both be worse off for it.
I looked down with one eye closed. It was just a dream, I thought.
My left shoulder looked like it had been chewed on, with bite marks all around the top. The flesh was turning pink and green, with deep, dry wounds, like the cuts had been left to wither for weeks. There was no clear outline of a jaw, only unpatterned scars, as though hundreds of ants had each pincered a tiny piece of flesh out.
“I’m sorry. It happened last night in the gardens.” I tried to sound hesitant, hoping that would make it more believable.
“Dina, are you mad? How could you not tell anyone? The queen will have my head. Your father will have me exiled. The whole of the palace will see me punished.” She ran her hands through her braid, picking at the bands that were keeping it together.
“Be calm, Cecily. Just take a deep breath. We were attacked. It was a giant moth.”
Her eyes widened. “This is not a time for your jokes.”
“I’m telling you, you haven’t seen how big the wicker moths here get. I saw one the other day carrying one of my coats away—not even to eat, it was just cold.”
“The flesh,” Cecily said, holding my shoulder firmly. “It’s closing. But there’s wet blood here.” She ran a finger down my arm. “Some of the smaller cuts are still fresh.”
“All right, all right, I just didn’t want Taa to get in trouble,” I relented, pulling my shoulder back. “It was one of her plants in the gardens. You know, the exotic ones that she keeps. Didn’t see it move. I shouldn’t have been down there anyway. It just bit me suddenly. Don’t wor
ry, the poisonous ones are all locked away in the basement.” I put my hand over hers. “I did go to the physiker already. One of the palace physikers. Parn. He said it would be fine by the end of the day. He used alchemy to heal most of it.”
“Don’t lie to me, Dina.”
“I’m not lying. You can ask him yourself later today.” She wouldn’t be able to, of course. He wouldn’t be back in the palace until next week. I always kept a memory of these things. I needed them often to cover my tracks in case Cecily or Mother caught me in trouble.
“Your grandmother is turning the gardens into a jungle,” Cecily said, digging her heels into the rug. “Go with Elsa to the Cathedral. See another physiker before your lessons. Or after. Don’t get me into trouble, Dina. Your mother is already upset at me for Grayson’s handling of that wolf that crossed the palace walls.”
I nodded silently, hoping she would drop the matter.
Grayson was Cecily’s husband. Taa had set the match together last year. Grayson was a talented alchemist who served in the army. Someone who often heard news that wouldn’t reach my father. News that wasn’t bad enough that it had to be reported. He would come home and share it with Cecily, and then Cecily would share it with Taa. This was how Taa built her web. Slowly and deliberately, like a musician weaving together the strings of her own instrument. My mother was queen, and my father king, but it was my father’s mother who saw everything. From the very edge of the last river in Chaya, to the darkest corners in the servant’s chambers, nothing ever got past Taa’s eyes. Not even me. Usually.
“I’m going, I’m going,” I told Cecily, getting up and acting as though there was nothing wrong with my shoulder. It was half true. I could feel no pain, and the numbing sensation was fading into a cool prickle now, but the scars were still a frightening sight. I went to bathe, hoping it would soon heal enough to avoid the physikers. I liked the Cathedral, but not so much that I’d want to spend time in the lower levels, and certainly not while restrained in bandages. Priests and physikers had a curious way of making me feel exactly the opposite way of what they were there for.
“Cecily, did you remember to get the rose oil for Mother?” I asked, grabbing new towels from a closet. “She’ll make me use coconut oil again if we don’t have any. I tried to hide it from her last time and she said her next alternative to keep my hair smooth is goat’s blood.”
“My memory has been off all day,” Cecily replied, rubbing her temple. “Thanks for reminding me. I’ll get it later today.” She walked over to the windows facing east and pulled across the rest of the curtains in one smooth motion. Sunlight poured in, brightening oak floors, bear skin rugs, and stone walls with the pastel yellows and warm reds of a Goldleaf dawn.
This was my second favorite month, despite my birthday. Outside, Chaya stretched out into a labyrinth of cobbled roads and square roofs, all of them wet and glinting from the sun and rain. The palace stood on a hill between the marshes that led to the Dwah Forest and the upper kingdom. Without using the telescopes in my room, you could see up to the market square in Center Chaya clearly. Merchants and soothsayers were already bringing in their caravans, getting ready to sell their amulets and charms for tonight. The coming day might be bright and warm, but dusk would bring the blue moon, and with it, all of Narkissa’s servants.
CHAPTER 3
Elsa was the kind of person you could pick a fight with easily. It wasn’t that she was always angry, just always ready to be angry. To defend me, or Chaya, or her mixed ancestry—something always seemed to offend her in a conversation. Mother said she would grow out of it. I said she would grow into it. It wasn’t a bad trait, just one that took a bit of getting used to. It was like having an overeager hunting dog. Always fiercely loyal and unconditionally loving, but it could leave you with mixed feelings the day after you brought home a pet rabbit. One of my earliest memories is of Elsa trying to shave Mawlik’s and Jahlil’s heads after they had cracked an egg over my face. To be fair, I must have deserved it, though I can’t remember why now.
Elsa was a fast learner, and a devoted eavesdropper with a penchant for being at the right place at the right time. A good complement to my own skills. She had large green eyes, light golden hair the color of cider, and the kind of plain magnetism you could find in portraits of old rulers. Her face was almost a perfect circle, and her hair fell just below her shoulders. Her skin was the same color as mine, a burnt tan like cinnamon. The giveaway for any native Chayan. Taa would say that I was beautiful like a bird of paradise, and Elsa was beautiful like a swan. That I had wild feathers that showed in different colors in different lights, while Elsa was just one perfect color all the time. Unlike her, I had a slightly angular face. I was told that I was a mix of Mother’s soft beauty and Father’s hard features. I had Mother’s grey eyes, Father’s small nose. Mother’s low cheekbones, Father’s dark eye lashes. Mother’s round lips, Father’s jet black hair—with the strands of dark blue that you could find in every Anasahara girl.
She was sitting on a porch in the alcove next to my room’s entrance, combing her hair with one hand and holding a mirror with the other. She was wearing the same thing as me. Canvas boots, black trousers, and a white cotton full-sleeve shirt. It’s what we always wore on days we had alchemy practice. There were two guards standing nearby. The corridor that led to my room was sometimes patrolled through the night, but it was rare for anyone to be here after daybreak.
“What happened last night?” I asked.
“You missed it all,” Elsa said, shaking her head. She brushed a curtain of hair to the side. “You missed it all, Dina. I would have called for you, but there was no time. Not that they would have let you out of the palace anyway.” She spoke quickly, and all in one breath. “I thought you would have woken, with all the noise being made in Chaya.”
I glanced up. “A fire. Sometime in the middle of the night. Outside the city walls. The farmland?”
“You already heard, then?”
I shook my head. “I saw piles of empty buckets left by the canals. Always happens after a fire. If it happened too early in the night, I would have been awake for it. And if it happened anytime near dawn, then Cecily would have had light when she came to check on me last night. She bumped into a few things—it had to be dark. I saw the buckets but nothing in the city that caught my attention. Figured it had to be outside the walls.” I shrugged, leading the way down the stairs to the gardens. It wasn’t a long walk, but four flights of stairs can be a trial for someone not particularly athletic. I hummed a tune to hide my shortness of breath.
Mother called this place Green River. The palace gardens wrapped around the Togaru Wing and stretched all the way to the entrance down by the main road. There were three floors in the basement devoted to storing plants that needed darkness, and seven floors’ worth of open space with garnet glass ceilings for the ones that needed to soak up the sun. There was always a stagnant humidity in the air, and the kind of heat that made you think the foliage was playing tricks on your eyes. There were oaks here, brought in from the old continent, that extended beyond gaps in the roof to nearly as high as the astronomy towers went. Flowers that could make your memory lapse, beds of figment roses that clicked when they bloomed, and rare shrubs that carried medicinal berries the palace apothecaries picked for Chaya’s physikers. Taa’s favorite plants were in the bottom floors—the carnivorous types from the Manasi Jungle that ate whole goats when they were hungry. The stone walls of our dungeons were lined with septic ivy and gnarled and desiccated vines. They shifted quietly in the dark when no one was looking. Their movements were as subtle as a tuning fork’s, and their scents were as ensnaring as grey widow venom. For Taa, these plants represented all the mystery and wonder of the old magic.
There were two guards posted by the entrance. One was asleep against the wall. The other came to rapt attention when she saw me. She nudged her sleeping partner, though it did no good.
We waited several seconds to pass the guards before speakin
g again. This was one of those small details in our friendship that I could be unreasonably proud of. Mid-conversation, and on the drop of a hat, Elsa and I could jump to a non-awkward silence or another topic if we thought someone was listening. You wouldn’t know where one thread ended and the other one began.
“Dina, your grandmother has gotten you into the habit of always thinking too much,” Elsa said once we passed the guards. She tapped my head playfully. “I could have just told you all that.” She changed her voice to a cracked, serious one and hunched over, rolling her shoulders forward. “Dinaaaaaaa, if there are two rabbits in a man’s hat, and three rabbits in his left shoe… then what was his great grandfather’s favorite color?”
I laughed aloud, partly because her impression was so accurate, but mainly because Taa had once given me a riddle that was similar.
“Taa’s lessons are a bit less complex than that,” I said. “You should try one once. They’re more fun than they look.”
“I could never,” Elsa griped, clicking her tongue. She buried her expression in her hands. “Anyway, I’d have no use for it. Neither will you, if my theory holds. You’ll be locked away in your palace. An indifferent queen, writing poetry and reading old histories down in her dungeons.”
“Unmarried and unloved?”
“You’ll have me.”
“And you’ll bring me all the news of the six kingdoms, then?”
“I’ll bring you all the news.” Elsa sighed dismissively. “Just as I do now.” She turned to look over her shoulder before changing her voice to a low and urgent whisper. “It was a daemon hunt. Yesterday. Started a bit after midnight. Half the kingdom must have been awake. Stakes and spears, torches and swords—it was like Chaya was going to war.”
Vermilion Dreams (Book One of A Vampire Fantasy Epic) Page 2