At last, she was spent. Her tears stopped, and she let out a few shuddering sighs. Tullen let go and scooted back, creating a generous amount of empty space between them. Tavi finally raised her head to look at his face and saw that his eyes, too, were red. Half his closed mouth rose into a sad sort of smile. Tavi returned the expression.
They didn’t speak. At first, Tavi’s mind raced with all the possibilities of what might have happened to Ellea. What if the officer who’d caught her was sun-blessed? Had he dragged her to some alley to steal her breath and get his gray awakening? Or would he have been more rational about it, taking her to the office of safety to kill her while his friends held her down? But he probably wasn’t gifted at all, so what then? Would he have sold her to the highest bidder? Or just let her rot in a cell until one of his sun-blessed colleagues grabbed the keys and . . .
No. No. She couldn’t do this. She had to wait, see if Officer Andisis’ friend knew anything. She forced her mind in another direction.
Tullen. There he was, sitting with her, right when she needed him. Being held by him hadn’t awakened any of the desire she often suppressed. This was different; she’d needed the warmth and comfort of a trusted friend, and he’d given that to her.
She knew now that if she ever truly needed him, he’d be there. She should feel relieved. He was still her friend. But then, as soon as she’d stopped crying, he’d backed away. He’d sent her a clear message: He’d be there when she was desperate. But what about the times when she didn’t need him; she just wanted him?
Sure, they still had casual, friendly conversations all the time. Or often enough, anyway. They shared the occasional laugh. But when Tavi made the decision to trust Tullen again, she hadn’t pictured it looking like this. She’d known she couldn’t put her heart on the line, because it might end in another breakup. Without really thinking about it, she’d set boundaries. Our arms and hands can touch, but not our lips. I’ll share my thoughts with you, but not my heart.
She’d thought that was working, that they were both happy in this new, non-romantic friendship. And then he’d pushed her boundaries backward. His message was clear: He’d give her a surface friendship, one that would go deeper only when she needed it most. He’d pat her on the back if she was lucky, and he’d hold her if she was heartbroken, but Sava help her if she tried to give him a friendly hug.
It’s enough, Tavi told herself, as her eyes traveled to Tullen’s face. He was looking off to the side, apparently deep in thought. I’ll take what you’ll give me, and I won’t ask for more, because I can’t lose you again.
As if he felt her eyes on him, Tullen turned his head and caught her gaze. Tavi blinked and looked down. I can’t lose you again, she repeated to herself. But as she looked at the floor between them, at the two feet of empty space that felt like a mile, she wondered if she already had.
Chapter Thirty-One
A week ago, our sun-blessed neighbor was arrested for failing to register. She is at least eighty years old. Her memory has been declining for the past ten years. I was sure they would be merciful to her.
But she hasn’t come home.
- Erti Stag to Mika Stag, from Year One: Correspondence in the Corminian Kingdom
Ash was in the back yard of the midwife house, wandering the paths meant for laboring mothers, when Sall ran out the back door.
“Is something going on?” Ash asked.
In as few words as possible, Sall told of Ellea’s capture and his own mission to seek information. Then he ran off.
Ash reacted by folding his arms tight across his chest, walking faster along the supposedly peaceful paths, shaking his head, and berating himself.
That woman’s going to die, and it’s my fault.
When had he started blaming himself for everything that went wrong in Cormina? He remembered feeling a stab of guilt when Konner had set off those bombs in the council building. But then he’d watched Konner name Aldin as king, giving the stupid young man the name Ash had chosen for himself. Any remorse Ash had felt was replaced by anger.
He and the Golds had run off to the Meadow, where he’d had far too much time to think. And for the first time since he’d tried to steal Konner Burrell’s coin purse, Ash had been free to untangle his thoughts from that evil man’s influence.
Meadow traders had returned with rumors of what was happening in the nation, and it hadn’t seemed all that bad. Nobody liked higher taxes, but they’d adjust. Maybe Konner truly would make their nation strong. Ash didn’t trust the man, but at least Camalyn was there; she was intelligent. Perhaps she’d bring some sanity to the new kingdom. He’d held out hope he hadn’t messed things up too badly.
Then the soldiers had invaded the Meadow and massacred anyone who wasn’t lucky enough to escape to the caves. Looking back, Ash thought that was the first time he’d really begun to believe he was to blame.
He’d discovered gray magic. And not in the inspiring way some people discover things, after a brave, idealistic quest. No, he’d discovered it by killing his wife.
Oh, he’d tried to justify what he’d done. She’d been unfaithful. Any man would be furious at that, out of control. It was a mistake, he hadn’t been thinking. But he knew the truth: women made fools of their husbands all the time, and vice-versa. Rarely did a betrayed spouse resort to murder.
He’d made a terrible discovery through an unforgiveable deed, and then he’d joined with a man whose sole desire was to exploit that knowledge to gain power. Ash could have left Konner. But Ash had wanted power too, whatever crumbs Konner would give him. So he’d stayed, and he’d chosen to remain under the sway of a manipulative, evil man.
The shame hit him full force the day Remina Birge had, from her jail cell, changed the world. He’d known nothing would be the same after that. And he’d known, unequivocally, it was his fault. Immediately, he’d expected to hear about Blessed being murdered for their gray-giving breath. He’d just been surprised at how long it had taken people to act on their new knowledge. Weeks, instead of hours.
Remorse had enveloped Ash ever since, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He couldn’t make things right. He couldn’t reawaken Riami’s laughing eyes, couldn’t return life to the safety officer he’d helped Revinee kill, couldn’t go back and refuse Konner’s offers of wealth and power.
Lately, he’d been looking at the knives in the kitchen, wondering if he’d have the courage to use one on himself. He didn’t think he would. So then he’d considered walking straight to an office of safety and turning himself in. They’d kill him for sure. That sounded great until he realized that in his death, he’d be contributing to someone’s gray awakening. It might be a fitting end to his life, but he couldn’t bring himself to hurt the world even more as he exited it.
So he walked these paths behind the midwife house. Every day. Learning the taste of regret, letting its layers of bitterness, shame, and hopelessness slide over the palate of his broken spirit.
“I thought I’d find you out here.”
Ash looked up. It was Jenevy. He nodded and kept walking.
“Officer Andisis is here with his friend who’s a safety officer. They’re going to tell us what they know about Ellea.”
They’d arrived? But hadn’t Sall just left, perhaps half an hour ago? Ash looked up at the sun, shocked to find it had moved so low in the sky. He’d been wandering on these silly paths for hours.
He almost told Jenevy he didn’t care what the officers had to say, but that would be a lie. He didn’t know Ellea well, but she’d been incomprehensibly kind to him in their every interaction. Ellea mattered to him, though he didn’t have much hope that the news about her would be good. He followed Jenevy inside and upstairs to the Golds’ common room.
“We all here?” Officer Andisis asked. When that was confirmed, the officer said, “Good. I’ll hand it over to Officer Jarles. He’s an old friend, and we can trust him.”
Officer Jarles gave them all a nod. “I know you’re anxious to
find out information about your friend. Unfortunately, I don’t know where she is.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” Tavi asked.
“Let him finish,” Officer Andisis said. “He’ll tell you everything he can.”
“Thank you.” Officer Jarles continued, “I went to the office of safety nearest the street where she was taken. They had a record of her arrest, but they told me she isn’t there anymore, and they don’t know what happened to her. I checked all the cells and confirmed it. Someone told me the name of the arresting officer. I had to track him down at home, but I found him. He wouldn’t tell me anything. He said it was confidential, even for another officer.”
“Can’t you talk to his superiors?” Tullen asked.
“I tried. No one will disclose any information.”
“What does that mean?” Tavi asked.
Officer Jarles pressed his lips together and took a loud breath in and out through his nose. “This new law has changed things,” he said. “It’s divided us. Most safety officers are like me. We aren’t gifted, and we don’t like the idea of anyone loose on the streets with gray magic, even our colleagues.
“But the king and queen have insisted we need more officers with gray magic. They’re pushing us to find all the people who’ve committed these murders lately—not because they want justice, but because they want Blessed officers to use the murderers to get their own gray awakenings. They’re telling us to arrest as many unregistered Blessed as we can, for the same reason. It’s not going quickly, but rumor has it several officers have already gotten gray magic. I just don’t know who. They’re staying as secretive as they can, at least until the idea becomes more accepted.”
“Are you saying . . . ?” Narre looked around the room, not completing her thought.
“I’m saying if she’s not in a cell and they won’t tell me what happened to her, she’s probably not alive.” Officer Jarles’ voice was matter-of-fact, but his brow was furrowed, troubled.
Voices rose, some in sorrow and others with questions. Ash didn’t want to stick around for this part. He headed downstairs and out the back door, glad he hadn’t taken off his coat and hat. Hands in his pockets, he began to walk the paths again.
Not too many minutes later, footsteps sounded behind him. He looked back and saw Jenevy. Ash picked up his pace. He didn’t want company.
Her footsteps came faster as she jogged to catch up. Then she was next to him, uncomfortably close on the narrow path. Ash didn’t greet her, and when her coat sleeve brushed up against his, he scooted over, and a hedge scratched his ear.
“I won’t bite,” Jenevy said, laughter in her words. “In fact, if either of us should be afraid of the other . . .”
She didn’t have to finish the phrase. She was right. None of the Golds knew exactly how Ash had achieved his gray awakening, not even Wrey. But Jenevy had reason to fear him, even without details. It was enough to know he’d killed someone. He should be dead or in prison, not walking next to an innocent young woman behind a midwife house. Another branch scratched his ear, and Ash impatiently brought his hand to the side of his head, rubbing the sore spot.
“Ash,” Jenevy said, her voice sharp, “please move over. I’m the one who trims these hedges, and I’m rubbish at it. You’ll keep getting scratched if you avoid me.”
He raised his eyebrows and glanced her way, then allowed his feet to move a little closer to hers. His sleeve brushed hers again, and he pulled both his arms in and crossed them.
“You don’t like touching women, do you?”
He spun his head around to look at her. Was it that obvious?
Her brows knit themselves together. “Why? Did a woman hurt you?”
He laughed but didn’t tell her the truth: It was the other way around. He’d go his whole life without touching another woman if he could. Fighting was different; he could spar with the female Golds without a problem. But when a pretty young woman was walking next to him, the last thing he wanted to do was touch her. “Why are you here?” he asked.
Jenevy gave him a satisfied smile as if she’d won a dare by getting him to speak. “I wanted to talk,” she said.
“About what?”
“You.”
For a long time, she didn’t elaborate. He continued to walk uncomfortably close to her, trying to figure out what was going on in her mind.
“Something has changed in you, Ash,” Jenevy finally said. “After the coronation, you seemed eager to help in whatever ways you could. I’m sure you wanted to prove you could be a useful part of the Golds. We didn’t fully trust you, but at least we were confident you wouldn’t turn back to Konner or kill any of us in our sleep.”
Ash’s mind felt jostled, unsteady. Most of the Golds didn’t talk to him much; he’d certainly never known what went through their minds when they’d chosen to take him to the Meadow instead of leaving him on the street for Konner’s men to find. Why was Jenevy revealing this now?
She wasn’t done. “You used to share strategies, and you were good at it. It surprised us; we’d always assumed Konner was the one behind all the Grays’ strategies.”
That surprised him, too. He didn’t think he’d contributed anything to their discussions that someone else couldn’t have thought of. Except his inside knowledge of Konner, and that wasn’t strategic; it was just informative.
Jenevy continued, “And then, like I said, something changed. I’ve tried to figure out when. I think it started after the attack at the Meadow. And I know it got worse when Remina Birge’s flyer came out.”
Ash folded his arms even tighter and quickened his pace, wondering if she’d somehow eavesdropped on his thoughts from earlier in the day.
“I’m sorry if this conversation makes you uncomfortable,” Jenevy said.
Jenevy of the Meadow, mistress of understatement.
“But we must discuss it,” she continued. “You were a productive member of a growing resistance. Now you sit on the periphery, your lips sealed. What happened?”
He felt like he was a boy again, his father looming over him, screaming and demanding that Ash explain how he’d broken a full jug of milk, the second one that month. Or how he’d failed a mathematics test. Or why he’d gotten a black eye and the other boy had escaped unscathed.
Back then, he’d frozen up, unable to move or speak. Now his interrogator was several inches shorter than him, and she certainly wasn’t yelling, but he was still frozen. His legs moved of their own volition, one step after another. But his voice didn’t work, because his brain wouldn’t send it any signals.
Jenevy took three big, fast steps forward, then spun around and stood directly in front of Ash, making him stop short. “Ash,” she began, reaching out a hand to touch his arm.
He reacted by stumbling backward, nearly tripping.
Her mouth opened, but she didn’t say a word. They stared at one another.
Finally she said, “When I told you I wouldn’t bite, I didn’t think you were really afraid of me.”
“I’m not.”
She tilted her head and gave him a small, skeptical smile, leaving him to wonder why in Sava’s name he was afraid of her. She was only asking questions, questions he could evade.
Questions that made it seem his heart was laid bare in front of a young woman offering him undeserved compassion.
“We need to talk.” She emphasized every word. “This nation is going to Kovus, and quickly, in case you haven’t noticed. You’re a Gold, and we need you to act like one. So we need to talk and get past whatever is holding you back.”
“Then talk.” He knew he was being defensive, yet she didn’t respond in kind.
She pointed toward the midwife house. “We can sit on that bench on the back porch, or we can go to the sitting room. Your choice.”
He swallowed. “The porch.”
Jenevy led him there and settled herself on one end of the bench. He sat on the other. “What changed, Ash?” she asked.
Oh, so they were j
umping right in. He stared out at the yard. “Nothing.”
“What are you ashamed of?”
He swiveled his head and met her gaze, which was calm and unflinching. He blinked but didn’t look away.
She waited.
He wanted out of this conversation. But he was seeing a new side of Jenevy. He’d always known she was too kind for her own good. Sensitive and compassionate. A perfect midwife apprentice. What he’d never realized until now was that she was stubborn, too. He could get up and leave, and she wouldn’t be so stupid as to try to physically restrain him. What she would do was come find him after a few minutes or, if he was lucky, a few days. And she’d keep asking until she got answers.
So, refusing to pull his gaze away from hers, he gave her the answer she demanded. “What you’re fighting against is my fault. Every last bit of it. And there’s no way for us to win.”
“I’m going to ignore the second part of that,” Jenevy responded, still calm. “Let’s talk about the first part. In a way, this is all your fault.”
He laughed, a response that clearly surprised her as much as it did him. He’d expected her to give him sweet, kind reassurances about how everyone must take responsibility for their own actions, and he couldn’t carry it all on his shoulders. “Glad we can agree on that,” he said, a smile still tugging at his lips.
She held up a hand. “ ‘In a way,’ I said. And in a way, it’s not, but you know that. You’re smart, Ash. You know you can’t take the blame for others’ actions. But, yes, you did something terrible, which led to you gaining gray magic. Then you shared it with a man who was more dangerous than you could have ever realized.”
Sudden anger entered Ash’s chest. “You don’t have to gloss over it,” he said. “I didn’t ‘do something terrible.’ I murdered someone. You don’t know the details, but believe me, it was unforgiveable.”
Facing the Fire Page 29