Finally, Safire turned. “You expect me to believe,” she whispered, “that the empress slaughtered a temple full of people devoted to her patron god . . . and blamed it on a child?” Her voice had gone strangely hollow. “How stupid do you think I am?”
Swallowing the knot of disappointment in her throat, Eris bit back the first cutting retort that came to mind.
What did you expect? Eris thought. That she would believe you—a petty thief in the service of a horrible pirate—over the benevolent ruler of a peaceful society?
Of course Safire would side with the empress. She was royal—just like Leandra.
Eris watched Safire roughly untie the pale blue ribbon keeping her black hair off her face only to retie it around her wrist. She then ran frustrated fingers through the strands, pulling them back, her fingers working an angry knot. “It’s in your best interest to win me over,” she said, her voice heated now as she slid a slender knife through the knot, pinning it in place while concealing the blade. “You need me to let you go.”
Well, yes, that was exactly what Eris needed. But that wasn’t the only reason she’d told the story. It also happened to be true.
She felt like she’d been tricked into giving away something precious, only to have it spat on.
When did I get so naïve? she thought bitterly.
Safire shook her head in disgust. “I can see why you’re invaluable to Jemsin. You’re not just an excellent thief. You’re a masterful liar.”
“You’re right,” said Eris in defeat. “I made it all up so you’d set me free.”
Safire scowled. “Free to hunt down my cousin the moment you have the chance? Even if I did believe you, I wouldn’t set you free.”
Someone called from above, interrupting. Eris glanced to the door, her body tense.
“We’re coming into port,” said Safire, looking out the porthole.
Axis Isle. Where Leandra’s citadel resided.
“Perfect,” she murmured, even as a sick feeling festered in her gut. “The sooner we get this over with, the sooner you’re out of my life.”
“Can’t wait,” said Safire.
After the ship dropped anchor, Safire and a handful of others went to find the king and queen’s escort, leaving Eris in the charge of two soldats. The dragons were taken away for a brief quarantine. Apparently, they made the empress uneasy.
Eris’s guards forced her to sit at the edge of the dock, where her only mode of escape was the sea. With her hands bound, if she tried to jump in and swim, she would drown.
Eris was contemplating such a fate as she stared down at her wrists. Her skin was caked in dry, cracked blood now; and the wounds were getting deeper. By tomorrow she’d be able to see the bones. If she lived that long.
What would the empress do once she finally had her precious fugitive?
A sudden splash interrupted her thoughts. The smell of rotten fish wafted over her.
Eris’s skin prickled. She knew that smell.
Turning toward it, she found two eyes greeting her. Bulging and fish-like. The thing had pulled itself up out of the water and now sat on the dock, perching there and staring at Eris. Its lithe body sometimes made of scales, sometimes made of starlight.
A sea spirit.
Eris’s heart thumped wildly as the rest of her went stone-still. She remembered the sound of teeth tearing the flesh of Kor’s crew as they rowed for shore.
“I know you,” said the spirit, its voice liquid and lilting.
“I doubt that,” said Eris, her lungs freezing in her chest. She didn’t dare look back over her shoulder to where her guards stood. Eris didn’t want to make any sudden movements. Right now it was being friendly. But that could change in an instant.
She looked past it instead, around the wharf, where the crews of other ships were milling about. Did no one else see it?
“The Shadow God grows stronger.” The creature kicked its scaly legs, letting them dangle off the dock. “We thought you’d want to know.”
“Why would I want to know?” asked Eris, keeping her eyes on the wharf.
“Because you feel it, too.” The sea spirit smiled a sharp-toothed smile. “Once he’s free, he’ll come for her.”
Eris frowned. This thing was talking nonsense. She felt no such thing. “Come for who?”
“You know.”
“I really don’t,” she said.
Suddenly, it leaned closer, reaching scaly fingers toward Eris’s wrists. “Who did this to you?”
Eris pulled her bound hands back. “Please. Just go away.”
“I could help. I could soothe.”
Eris paused, studying it. The thing had no eyelids, only liquid black eyes. Its feet were slightly webbed, and its teeth were needle sharp. But there was something ethereal—something almost serene—as it pursed its thin lips at the sight of her bound wrists.
“I could . . . remove.”
“Yeah?” Eris hissed under her breath. “I know your kind like the taste of flesh. Is that what it would cost me?”
It wrinkled its nose. “Silly thing. Not you. It would be a gift . . . from those who want him free.”
A sudden chill swept over Eris. She glanced up into gleaming, razor-sharp teeth.
“Want who free?”
It sighed a long sigh. “I just told you. The Shadow God.”
A noise interrupted. Footsteps on the dock.
Behind them, a familiar voice said, “Eris, we’re—”
The sea spirit’s eyes snapped toward the sound. Eris turned to find Safire, frozen at the sight of the monster. When Eris looked back, she realized why. The sea spirit’s eyes were now blood red, its face changed from serene to . . .
Hungry.
It lunged for Safire, its white teeth flashing as its jaw yawned open.
Eris grabbed its scaly leg. The creature hit the dock. It kicked, hands scrabbling for a hold on the wood, trying to drag itself toward Safire. Desperate. Crazed.
Safire drew her knife, trembling as she did.
Eris’s grip was slipping. Knowing exactly what would happen if it slipped entirely, she dug her fingers in hard.
The spirit screamed, then swung back to face Eris. It hissed in her face, angry and wild.
But it didn’t bite. It didn’t want Eris.
When it hissed again, Eris hissed back.
The spirit blinked, as if startled. “Fool,” it spat, then it glanced back once at Safire, eyes ravenous, before turning sharply toward the dark sea. Eris let go as it dived into the water and disappeared with a plop.
Safire’s chest heaved. She lowered the knife.
Eris held up her bound hands, signaling for her not to step any closer to the water. But the sea was calm, and all sign of the sea spirit was gone. The only sound remaining was the rubbing of hulls against the wood of the wharf.
Beyond Safire, the soldats had all drawn their blades, their eyes on Eris.
She ignored them, looking Safire over. “Are you all right?”
Safire tore her gaze from the water to stare at Eris. After a long moment, she whispered, “Why did you do that?”
Eris’s mouth parted, but she didn’t have an answer.
The sea spirit had been offering her freedom. It would have killed Safire—the very person determined to bring Eris to her enemies. It would have even taken the manacles off Eris’s wrists.
If Eris hadn’t stopped it, she’d be free right now.
She clenched her teeth. Why are you so stupid today?
And then the sound of heavy footsteps thudded down the dock. Eris looked to find several men dressed in black. The lamplight pooled around their polished black boots, reflecting off the silver buckles. Blades crisscrossed against their backs.
Lumina soldiers.
The sight of them brought a rush of panic.
She saw Day, suddenly, kneeling before one of those blades. Smelled the scrin burning behind him. Heard the weavers screaming, trapped beyond the doors.
She stumbled bac
kward.
Safire grabbed her, stopping her from falling into the sea.
As the Lumina shoved her up the dock and through the city gate, she said to Safire, “I wish you had let me drown.”
Better to drown than be given over to them. The ones who took everything from her.
This was Eris’s worst nightmare come true.
Twenty
Eris saved my life.
Safire’s mind hummed with the realization as she fiddled with the ends of the blue ribbon tied around her wrist.
Why would she do that?
Eris could have easily let that monster kill her. Kill all of them. She’d be free right now if she had.
As they walked the streets of Axis, Dax and Roa rode on horseback up ahead, flanked by their guards. But Safire kept back, watching over Eris. Several Lumina soldiers walked with them, each one bearing a circle of seven stars across their chest.
All around them, the sounds of drunken voices clashed with music and clapping. Everywhere Safire looked, ribbons streamed from ankles and wrists, faces were smeared with silvery paint, and blue forget-me-nots were plaited in the hair of men and women alike—as well as strewn all over the cobblestones.
Safire, who would normally be memorizing every street corner and storefront and face right now, kept her attention on Eris—whose hands were now free of their bonds.
Safire had made the girl a promise. So, as soon as they entered the city, she demanded they find a blacksmith to remove Eris’s manacles. The Lumina soldiers refused, saying the empress was impatient to meet her guests. Safire insisted, saying she hadn’t brought the empress’s fugitive all this way for the girl to lose her hands to such a barbaric practice.
This was perhaps the wrong thing to say. Accusing your hosts of being barbarians? Not the best first impression. The soldiers all narrowed their eyes at her, and even Dax threw his cousin a desperate look. One that said, Please don’t ruin this.
But Roa came to her defense, pointing out a forge across the square.
Now, Eris walked at Safire’s side. Her hands were bound with rope now, but even this felt awful. The girl’s wrists were brutalized, the cuts deep and bleeding. The rope was clearly irritating them.
Most of all, Safire could feel Eris’s energy coiled tight, as if waiting for her chance to run. It was the reason Safire kept the end of the rope firmly in her hand—to keep the thief from escaping.
“We’ve been trying to catch her for years,” said a sudden voice from beside her. Safire looked to find a tall young Lumina soldier at her side. The chest of his uniform bore the Skyweaver’s crest like all the others. “How did you manage it?”
“Actually,” said Safire, her attention fixing on something in the distance, “she caught me.”
Beyond the rooftops lining this square, a black and solitary tower rose up into the gray mist. It seemed to never disappear from view. No matter how many streets they turned down, it was always there. Watching over them.
As Safire told this young man the story, there was a sudden tug on the rope. Safire’s gaze shot to Eris, her grip tightening. But the girl had merely tripped over the heel of the Lumina in front of her.
“Don’t worry,” said the soldier at Safire’s side, sensing her unease. “We’ll be at the citadel soon. So long as this crowd lets us through.” He winked at her. “I’m Raif, by the way.”
Eris cast a look their way.
“I’m Safire.”
“I know.”
Safire looked up into gray eyes framed by blond lashes. Raif smiled down at her.
“You’ve arrived right in the middle of Skye’s Night,” he said, stepping closer.
“Oh?” said Safire, feigning interest as she felt another tug on the rope and turned to find Eris scanning the square now. As if looking for something.
“Do you know about Skye?” asked Raif. “The girl who fell in love with a god?”
Skye. She shook her head, despite recognizing the name. It was carved into Eris’s spindle.
“She’s something of a legend in the Star Isles.”
If Skye was a legend, surely there would be lots of girls named after her. That spindle could belong to any number of them.
“Skye’s Night is her festival. It’s a day of promises and betrothals”—he smiled mischievously—“and a night of secret unions.”
“It’s a drunken orgy,” Eris muttered from beside her.
Safire looked around her. Ribbons and petals danced through the air. They passed a priest performing a binding, then a circle of couples dancing, their faces smeared in silver. The women wore flower wreaths on their heads as their partners led them in the steps of the song.
Soon the crowd thickened, then thickened again. Safire watched Dax and Roa grow smaller up ahead. But Raif and two other Lumina soldiers remained behind. And all the while Raif smiled at her and told her about the city. How it was built a thousand years ago, after the defeat of the Shadow God. How the empress’s crest—which he proudly wore across his chest—was symbolic of the seven Star Isles, as well as the seven stars in the Skyweaver’s crown.
Last of all, he told her he knew where the most beautiful beach in the world was, and, if she wanted to see it, he could take her to watch the sunset sometime.
Beside her, Eris smirked. “Trust me, Raif, she’s not the sunset-watching type.”
Safire turned to face her. “Is that so?”
“You’re not,” said Eris, staring straight ahead.
She was trying to provoke Safire. Messing with her mind again. Safire knew the best thing to do was ignore her. But there was something in her tone. Something almost possessive. Safire couldn’t let it go unchecked. “You don’t know a thing about me.”
Eris’s mouth curled to one side as she looked ahead to the backs of the Lumina marching before them. “You’re not that difficult to figure out, princess. Order, routine, control . . . these are the things that excite people like you. Not spontaneity. Not beaches and sunsets.”
An angry blush rose to Safire’s cheeks. “People like me.”
“Aye,” said Eris, catching her gaze. “People like you. You’re as predictable as a rock.”
Safire’s anger roiled and churned inside her.
But what did it matter what Eris thought of her? She was a thief and a murderer. She was nobody.
Raif turned the corner in front of them.
The moment Safire turned it, too, though, she nearly barreled into him, taking Eris with her. Before she could look to see why he stopped, he put his arm out, pushing her back. Safire glanced up over his shoulder, and found the reason.
Five Lumina soldiers stood some ten strides away, dressed in black, light glinting off their blades. They stood in a circle as one of them beat some kind of club against what looked like a sack of grain.
When Safire looked harder, she realized it was a young woman.
She froze, staring as the club swung down, again and again. The sight sent a memory slicing through her. In an instant, she was back in Firgaard. Barely fourteen years old. Curled up on the mosaicked tiles of the palace floor. . . .
The dark shapes of Jarek and his soldats stood over her, their boots finding their marks in her stomach and back, her shoulders and legs. Places people were less likely to notice the bruises. With every blow, pain burst through her. But she would rather the blows than the names they called her. Horrible, disgusting things. The same things they called her mother.
And then, like she’d stepped right out of an old story, Asha was there, dressed in her hunting gear, splattered with dragon blood. Her black eyes were wild as she gripped her throwing axe in one hand, screaming at them. Screaming things twice as horrible as the things they’d screamed at Safire.
Raif spun on his heel, grabbed Safire, and drew her—and Eris along with her—out of that quiet alley faster than she could draw breath. The crowd hummed around them once more. But the past had Safire in its claws, and it wasn’t done with her yet.
Dax stood behind A
sha, the storm in his eyes belying his calm demeanor, suggesting he wanted more than anything to draw his weapon and join his sister. Instead, his knuckles tightened around the hilt of his undrawn sword as he stood between the soldats and the two girls at his back, using himself as a shield.
Raif took her arm this time, jolting Safire out of the memory. “Keep walking.”
It didn’t matter that her cousins came to her rescue, though. The next day, those soldats returned to their stations, waiting for the next moment to strike. And if they didn’t return, others just like them did. But that was never the part that stayed with Safire.
The part that stayed was Asha and Dax, coming to her aid, always.
Who did that woman have coming to hers?
“She needs our help,” said Safire.
“Trust me,” said Raif, staring straight ahead. “That woman’s beyond our help. Just keep your head down and walk fast.”
“I’m with Raif on this.” Eris’s solemn gaze met hers. “That woman is as good as dead. You will be too if you interfere.”
If that’s true, thought Safire, then someone needs to stop them.
Handing Eris’s rope to Raif, she turned back, pushing through the crowd. Someone growled at her to get out of the way. She heard Raif yell for her to stop.
And then she was in the alley again, the market bleeding away as she strode toward the circle of Lumina. The one with the club was so involved in his brutal game he didn’t see Safire until she stepped between him and the woman lying bruised and broken on the ground. Safire caught the club in the palm of her hand.
It should have hurt badly. But all Safire felt was her own swelling rage.
The Lumina’s pale blue eyes widened in shock. The others stood frozen, staring.
“You dare interfere with the law of the empress?” said the soldier before her, trying to wrench his club from her grip. With a muscular frame and a strong jaw, he was the type of man she would have called handsome in other circumstances. But then, these types often were.
Safire’s fingers tightened, holding on. She tried to summon Dax’s calmness, even as her whole body shook. “Surely there’s no crime that calls for such a wicked punishment.”
The Sky Weaver Page 14