Kor sheathed his dagger, then ground the heels of his palms into his eyes. He looked weary suddenly. And Eris wondered if he felt responsible for the massacre they’d left behind.
“Deal with Eris, will you? Rain. Lila. I want your eyes on her all night.”
“And this one?” Lila nodded to Safire.
Kor dropped his hands. His eyes narrowed on the commandant. “Tie them up together. They’ll be easier to watch.”
They tied them to a balsam tree with rope from the boat, with Safire on one side and Eris on the other. Together, Lila and Rain wound it around their stomachs and across their chests, constricting their arms, before tying it in a complicated knot.
The two girls stood over their captives, admiring their handiwork. Rain wiped her brow, then uncorked the water jug and took a long swig before passing it to Lila, who drank, too.
Knowing Safire had vomited up all her liquids and was likely to be more dehydrated than any of them, Eris said, “You going to offer us some of that?”
Lila looked to Rain, who nodded for her to go ahead. So Lila crouched down, holding the jug to Eris’s lips and carefully tipped it back. After Eris took several gulps, Lila rose and brought the jug to Safire.
But the commandant turned her face away. “I’m not thirsty.”
Eris frowned. There was no way that could be true.
Lila shrugged and returned to Rain’s side.
It was as the two of them turned away that Eris noticed a strange taste in her mouth.
From the water, she realized. A bitter taste. It reminded her of a draft Day used to make her drink as a child whenever she had difficulty sleeping.
A sudden heaviness crept in, flooding Eris’s limbs, making her thoughts sluggish and slow. Her eyelids closed against their will.
Eris forced them open, suddenly realizing what the taste was.
Scarp berries.
She blinked. Her vision blurred as she turned her face, looking over her shoulder to where Safire was secured on the other side of the tree.
Clever girl, she thought, just before sleep dragged her under.
Sixteen
A voice hissed in Eris’s ears as someone shook her awake.
She opened her eyes. A blurry red-gold glow flickered at the edge of her vision. Blinking, she turned toward it.
A young woman knelt over her in the dark, holding a torch made of kindling wrapped in cloth. At least, it seemed like a woman. The shape of her was fuzzy. Focusing hard, Eris could just make out blue eyes and dark eyebrows knit in a frown.
Eris reached for the girl’s name, but it was lost in the murk of her mind.
When the world started to spin, she closed her eyes to stop it. The sleep came, lulling her back into the fog. . . .
A sudden shock of cold brought Eris back. She spluttered and sat up this time, gasping.
The world cleared a little. Looking down, she found her clothes wet. The rope tying her to the balsam was gone. But the stardust cuffs around her wrists were still there. Only now they were attached to a rope. Her gaze followed the rope to find it gripped in one of Safire’s hands. In Safire’s other hand was the empty water jug. And in the trees beyond her, Rain and Lila lay sleeping.
Safire yanked on a rope, jerking Eris’s manacles and making her wince. When Eris didn’t immediately move, Safire shot her a venomous look, clearly relaying what she wanted Eris to do: get up and not wake the sleeping pirates.
Eris rose to her feet and instantly stumbled, still dizzy from the poisoned water. With the forest spinning around her, she stepped toward the two unconscious pirates. Safire grabbed her arm, stopping her.
“I already have their weapons,” Safire hissed.
Eris looked the girl up and down to find a dagger tucked into Safire’s belt and a knife hilt protruding from the top of her boot.
Clever and efficient.
But it wasn’t weapons Eris needed, it was her spindle. She looked to Rain’s sleeping form, then to the leather pouch at Lila’s hip.
“If it’s that spindle you’re after,” Safire whispered. “I already used it for kindling.”
Eris froze, then spun to face her. “You didn’t.”
Safire held out the torch to show her the flame. Proof of her crime.
Eris wanted to curse this girl to the bottom of the sea. “That spindle is my—”
Lila stirred, halting Eris’s words. Both their heads snapped to look. The girl hadn’t opened her eyes yet, but she was murmuring anxiously now.
Safire motioned with her chin for Eris to start walking. And, because she’d rather be this girl’s captive than Kor’s, Eris did as Safire directed.
The lingering effects of the scarp berry draft made the world fuzzy at the edges. For a long time, all Eris knew was the blur of dark green, the dip and sway of the earth. She barely heard the thunder rumble above her or the wind screaming above the trees. Barely felt the rain soaking through her clothes, turning her skin clammy and cold.
“Where are you taking us?” she asked Safire as they walked.
“To the Lumina.”
Of course. Had Eris really expected any different? Safire was a soldier. Not just a soldier, a commander of soldiers. She loved the law. And Eris was a lawbreaker. Why wouldn’t she hand her over to the Lumina? Safire and the Lumina had mutual goals. They were one and the same.
The thought struck Eris to the bone.
“Why not just stay with Kor, then?” Eris said coldly. “He’d have delivered us to the empress in half the time it’ll take you to find your way to the capital.”
“I’m sure he would have,” said Safire. “But I dislike being at the mercy of others.”
Eris, who’d been at the mercy of others all her life, felt something snap inside her. “Spoken like a true princess.”
Safire cut her with a gaze.
Eris looked away angrily.
They walked on in silence. As the effects of the draft began to wear off, Eris realized that Safire was leading them in the same direction they’d been going yesterday. She was taking the same shortcut Kor had chosen to take. The one that led straight past the place Eris swore she’d never go back to.
At that, Eris halted. The manacles drew taut against her wrists. Eris hissed as the steel dug into her wounds, bringing with it a vicious sting.
“We’re going the wrong way,” she said, her lie wrestling with the sound of thunder above.
Safire turned to face her. The torch was dying, too wet to burn brightly. The bit of flame struggling to stay alive made Safire’s dark hair glow red and in her hand was the rope. All she had to do was yank on it to send that stinging pain through Eris again.
“The boats are in that direction.” Eris used her chin to point beyond them, down the cliff path. “One of which you’ll need if you hope to get to Axis Isle.”
Safire shook her head. “Your friends will be expecting us to go for the boats. We need to get out of this storm.” Safire eyed Eris’s soaked and shivering form. “Otherwise we’ll soon have bigger problems than Kor. We’re going up there.” Safire pointed with her dying torch to a black, looming shape at the top of this cliff.
At the sight of it, Eris went rigid, her thoughts full of smoke and fire.
She shook her head and planted her feet.
“You go right ahead. I’m staying here.”
Safire stared at Eris like she was a small, annoying child.
“How about this,” Safire said, tying the end of Eris’s rope around her belt loop. “If you cooperate, the first thing I’ll do when we get to the capital is find a metalsmith to deal with these.” She tugged on the rope connected to Eris’s steel manacles.
The resulting pain in her wrists made Eris’s anger spark. She gritted her teeth. “So at least I’ll have my hands when you hand me over to the empress’s dogs? I don’t think so.”
Safire stepped in close, grabbing the wet collar of Eris’s shirt and bunching it tight in her fist. “Listen, you petulant piece of sea scum. We are going
up there, and if I have to drag you the entire way, I swear to the skies, I will.” Her gaze was hot on Eris’s skin. “Or I can tie you up here and leave you for Kor to deal with. Your choice.”
She let go. Eris fell back, seeing in her eyes that she meant it.
But there was something far worse than Kor waiting for Eris at the scrin.
She felt sick at the thought of it.
Eris could try to overcome Safire, but this girl was the king’s commandant. She was armed now, and Eris knew from watching her spar with her soldiers in Firgaard that Safire was strong and skilled in combat. Eris wasn’t. Eris had always relied on other abilities to survive. Without her spindle, with her hands cuffed, those abilities were severely constricted.
In her current situation, she was no match for Safire. And Kor would have noticed their absence by now. He would have sent Rain and Lila back to the boats, and pressed on ahead himself—or vice versa. If Eris continued to drag her feet, it would only ensure they were caught.
More important, she needed the location of the Namsara. If Eris wanted to track her down, staying close to the Namsara’s cousin was her best option.
“If you cooperate,” said Safire, breaking up her thoughts, “I’ll tell you where I buried your spindle.”
What? Eris glanced up. “I thought you used it for kindling.”
Safire shrugged. “I lied.”
It was then that Eris saw the hard clench of Safire’s jaw—trying to hide the fact that her teeth were chattering. She, too, was soaked to the bone. Wet and cold and shivering.
Eris had a strange, sudden urge to take her somewhere safe, build a fire, and warm her up.
She shook off the ludicrous thought, then looked to the top of the cliff.
If Eris went with Safire now, despite the horror of what lay up there, she would learn where her spindle was buried. At that point, all she’d have to do is get free of this girl and double back to dig it up.
“Fine.” Eris glanced down to the hilt peeking out of Safire’s boot. “But if you want me to cooperate, you need to give me that knife.”
“So you can cut my throat with it?” Safire turned back to the path, tugging Eris after her. “I don’t think so.”
Worth a try, thought Eris, who winced and gave in.
Not that she really had a choice.
By the time the trees thinned, the torch had gone out completely. The lightning flickered across the sky, illuminating their way. They followed the dirt path through the darkness and up the cliffs. When the sandy soil turned to crumbling shale steps wet with sea spray, they started to climb.
Eris’s legs were soon burning as they rose higher into the cliffs. It had been seven years since she’d walked these steps. As the lightning lit up the black sea below, Eris thought of all the nights she’d sat watching storms surge over this same sea. Letting the thunder silence all the unanswered questions inside her.
The higher they rose, the closer they came. With every familiar sight and sound and smell, Eris’s gut twisted. Memories she thought she’d locked away sprung loose, making her nauseous.
I can’t do this. . . .
Eris stopped, halting Safire. She pressed her hands to her knees, trying not to throw up.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to keep it all back with the sheer force of her will. “Just . . . an effect of the scarp berries.”
When the nausea—which had nothing to do with the scarp berries—settled, Eris avoided that too-keen gaze and stood. Safire watched her in the darkness. Eris ignored her and pressed on.
Soon she was breathing hard. Her legs shook with exertion. It had been so long since she’d made this climb. But when she looked to Safire, no sweat broke across the girl’s hairline. No wheezing breaths issued out of her lungs. She was as fresh and alert as when they started.
When they arrived at the top of the slab steps, Eris slowed her pace. A huge black shape now loomed before them. Eris felt its presence like a knife in her ribs.
She forced herself to raise her eyes and look. It wasn’t the home of her childhood that stood in front of her now; it was the nightmare she’d run from.
Flashes of lightning illuminated it. Once clay-red and creeping with dark green ivy, the walls were now blackened and scorched. The shattered stained-glass windows gaped like too many mouths of broken teeth. The timbers hadn’t been able to support the roof as it burned, and it had long since caved in.
No dogs barked at their approach. No animals brayed.
The silence felt like a weight around Eris’s neck.
Sometimes, when she was out at sea, or inland doing a job for Jemsin, she could pretend it had all been a dream. But now, as Eris stared up at this ghost from her past, that horrible night came back to her like a rushing wave, crashing over her.
When Safire stepped up to her side, Eris whispered, “Welcome to the scrin.”
Seventeen
Safire gaped at the scorched and soulless wreck before them. It seemed to her like something between a lighthouse and a temple, half burned to the ground.
The scrin.
Had she heard Eris correctly? This was the scrin—the place Asha and Torwin had set out for?
A horrible thought struck her then.
What if they were in there as it burned?
“No . . .”
Suddenly, she was running, dragging Eris behind her. She passed beneath the entrance, where flames had eaten the doors right off their hinges. Her heart pounded in her chest. Her stomach tightened into knots.
Eris halted just inside, forcing her to stop. “Safire.”
Safire didn’t hear her. Her gaze hastily scanned the dark interior, looking for . . .
Fingers dug into her shoulder. On instinct, Safire spun, drawing her stolen knife, eyes wild. Eris let go, raising her bound hands, and took a step back. Eris’s pale hair was slick against her face and her body shivered uncontrollably. Safire could see the girl’s collarbone through her shirt, soaked as she was.
“It happened a long time ago,” said Eris.
Lightning crashed above, illuminating the ruin. It was then that Safire saw the leaves, decomposing in the corners. And the fallen timbers, soft and rotted with rain and age.
Asha must have arrived, found the scrin a ruin, and left.
Unless she was still here. . . .
Safire glanced around her. They stood in a wide room with high ceilings, its purpose unclear to her. Piles of ash and rubble gathered along one wall while several archways—their doors long since burned away—stood empty on the other.
The only unbroken window rose high on the north-facing wall. A faceless woman was cast in multiple shades of blue and purple glass while seven stars crowned her forehead. In one hand she held a loom, and in the other a spindle shining like starlight.
Safire recognized her. It was the same image woven into the tapestry on her office wall. The tapestry Eris stole.
“The Skyweaver,” Eris explained, looking where she looked. “A god who spins souls into stars and weaves them into the sky.”
Eris stepped forward, toward a statue standing beneath the window. At first glance, Safire thought it was a dog. But when she looked closer, she saw chiseled wings and a lion’s tail. Talons and a head like an eagle.
The statue was cracked, the head fallen to the floor. Eris picked up the head in both hands, almost tenderly.
Safire looked at the pile of rubble at her feet. Reaching down, she pulled out a shaft of burned wood.
What happened here?
She turned to ask Eris, but paused when she found the girl picking something else up off the floor. From where Safire stood, it looked like a small gold disk. And from the way Eris stared at it, it seemed to be important.
“What is it?”
Eris looked up, her brows stitched in a frown as she seemed to be piecing something together.
“A button,” she said, her thumb tracing its circumference. “Belong
ing to someone you know.”
She flicked it. The button arched toward Safire, who caught it in her free hand. When her fingers uncurled to reveal the object on her palm, Safire’s heart skipped.
She remembered that day on the dragon fields with Asha, who’d worn her new flight coat. The one Dax had made uniquely for her, his Namsara. Safire remembered the way the sun glinted off the golden buttons down the front, each one impressed with an image of a namsara flower.
The button lying on her palm was one of those same buttons.
“She’s here,” said Eris, already turning, her gaze searching the shadows. “Or was here recently.”
Safire glanced up to find Eris changed. Standing before her was no longer the drugged, drenched waif of a girl she’d climbed the stone steps with. This girl looked more like the one on Jemsin’s ship, that night in the rain. Her hair shone like starlight and she smelled like a storm—surging, powerful. Her green eyes lit up as her gaze searched the scrin, hungry to find her prey.
The sight made Safire remember what Kor said.
Let me tell you something about Jemsin’s precious Death Dancer. . . .
Safire remembered how Eris had been reluctant to come here. How she seemed weighed down—almost sick—the closer they came.
Seven years ago, she set fire to a temple full of people. Half of them children. Not a single one of them escaped.
“You did this,” Safire realized aloud, drawing her stolen dagger. Eris spun. Seeing the blade, she drew back. But the rope was still tied to Safire’s belt. She was still a prisoner. “The temple Kor spoke of . . . it was this place.” Safire shook her head at the monstrosity of it, imagining the ones locked inside these walls as they burned. Imagining their panic and fear. “This is why the Lumina are hunting you. Because you’re a monster.”
Filled with loathing, Safire backed the Death Dancer up against the wall, keeping the blade pointed at her chest.
“That’s right,” Eris said bitterly, her back hitting the charred red-clay bricks. “Why not finish the job you prevented Kor from doing? It’s what the empress will do as soon as you hand me in anyway. This way, you can save yourself the misery of my company.”
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