Whatever these matters were, Nadya was not about to let someone so dangerous walk away. “I think you should go to the Guardhouse.”
“Why in the stars should I do that?”
Something twinged in the back of Nadya’s mind, but she ignored it. “The city needs peace.” Her words grew firmer. “Whatever your business is, I doubt it’s that. So turn yourself in.”
“After you. They say only the guilty wear a mask, after all.”
The challenge hung in the air, one Nadya knew she could not meet. Carefully, she said, “I will not let you pass.”
Remember Gedeon. Remember control.
“You know nothing about me, who I am, what I’ve done. I could be a crusader, same as you think yourself. You do not own the night, or the justice that comes with it.”
“Then prove it. Walk away.” Nadya shifted her weight, readying to move.
“I don’t think I can any more than you. My story isn’t destined to end that way.” She sighed, so softly that she probably meant the words for herself, but Nadya heard it, and she wondered what that story might be. How different was it from her own?
In the moments after the sigh, the nivasi shattered the stillness of their standoff.
She dashed across the street. When she was ten paces from Nadya, she leapt, twisting in the air, and brought her blades of light down upon Nadya.
They hit only the air.
Nadya dodged to the side. Her cloak whirled around her, temporarily blinding her. She blinked, and the light was right in front of her. Another dodge, and the stranger grunted as she met nothing yet again. Whatever her powers were, they did not extend to Nadya’s unnatural speed. She did not allow that to go to her head, however. This person was still a formidable opponent, well-trained and disciplined.
Their dance continued across the cobblestones. The nivasi pounced, blades flashing, hitting nothing but breath. Nadya kept moving, circling around. She had yet to lay a hand on her opponent. At first, she was reluctant to, not knowing what other abilities she might be hiding. That quickly changed into a near impossibility, as this figure in black was nearly as fast as her, fast like her father, with the speed of years of training. How young had she started?
Six or seven. That’s when most of them reveal themselves. Drina’s voice echoed in her mind, an overheard conversation from Nadya’s childhood that she had all but forgotten.
They circled one another. Above, the stars grew harsher, their light reflected in the blades that stood still now, but had whipped so easily through the air only moments ago.
“I wondered what it’d be like to fight the Phoenix.” Her breath was carefully calibrated, but Nadya heard the strain. Sweat glimmered at her hairline. “I am not disappointed.”
“Good. Because I am done going easy on you.” The taunt came easily to her lips. Her own heartbeat thudded in her ears, not from strain, but…joy? A fight, no, a duel, with an opponent who matched her in so many ways. It contrasted against her battles with Gedeon like oil upon water. With Gedeon, there was no light banter, no obvious admiration for the other’s skill. There was only control, darkness, and blood.
Nadya stilled her body for a moment before memories rose up and overwhelmed her. Her opponent saw the opening and took it, and in that moment that she raised her blades, Nadya made her move.
Pushing off the ground with the force of a galloping horse, she charged the nivasi. She swept around her and grabbed her around the shoulders. With one hand she held her tight, bringing her close to Nadya. Her other hand restrained one of the stranger’s wrists.
She struggled against Nadya’s grip, but no training could overcome the pure imbalance of strength. In her arms, she felt rough, but warm. Nadya relaxed her grip slightly. The last thing she wanted to do was crush her chest.
“You are that good. As strong as they say.” She pulled at Nadya’s grip but did not move. “I have no quarrel with you, Phoenix. We don’t have to do this.”
“Funny, that’s what most say when they’ve lost.” Nadya’s skin ran with sweat, and underneath it, a strange tingle. The heat of those blades surrounded her like a thick blanket, threatening to suffocate her. Under her arms, the nivasi grew hotter. Nadya grunted, drawing in a deep breath. The scent of her opponent filled her: burning ash, sweetened, the scent of a forest fire, of coals cradled in their hearth. Memories surged forward, but she pushed them back. To lose focus now would be to lose control. “Give up,” she said through clenched teeth.
“You first.”
Her free arm came up, the sword gone. In its place, a dagger of the same brilliant white light, reversed in her palm. Nadya bit her lip and tried to wrench the blade away, but her opponent was too good for that. The blade bit deep into Nadya’s forearm.
She screamed and let go. The blade slid out as she pushed the nivasi away from her. Nadya’s breath came in gasps. She clutched her arm, trying to stem the flow of blood that poured out of the wound, pooling on the ground below. Pain radiated up and down, a fire as hot as the pure energy that made the nivasi’s blades. Her chest constricted against the pain, pounding so hard she thought her heart might explode.
“I may not be as strong as you, Phoenix, but I am not to be underestimated. Your strength can’t always win a fight for you.” She twirled her blades, now both longswords. “These are distilled fire. They can cut through anything, no matter how strong.”
Nadya gasped as she removed her hand. Underneath the crimson blood, she saw the white of her bone and the clean cut that nearly sawed her arm off. The supernatural weapon would’ve gone deeper—if she had not reacted so quickly—
Get it together, she told herself. Pain is not important. Stopping her is. Protectress, give me the speed I need to avoid those blades. Another hit, and she would not rise again.
Her arm screamed as she straightened it and turned toward her opponent. “I do not go down that easily.”
“I’d be disappointed otherwise.” She charged again.
Nadya avoided her blow, but only just. Pain slowed her reflexes, clouding her mind. Focus. Restrain her. You know how to do this.
She feinted to the left when the blades came down again and heaved upward, catching her opponent in the stomach with her good arm. The nivasi flew backward, landing on her feet. She grunted and rose. The scent of the woman’s blood rose in the air.
“You’re making me angry, and that is not a good idea.” She began walking forward, and as she moved, orange flames sprouted around her hands. They moved up her arms, swirling against the black leather armor she wore. She stopped for a moment, her face betraying strain as she must have fought for control over that anger.
Nadya nearly choked. How…
Something roared in her mind, and in her pained state, she could not push it back anymore.
Memory flashed, blinding her vision. Playing outside in the gutters of the Nomori tier. Splashing through the rainwater. The scent of clouds and worms and fresh loam. Laughter as a dozen blurry faces joined in the fun. One girl came forward from among them, tugged on her sleeve—Got something to show you, Nadya—and the two of them snuck away behind the bakery. Look. Fire blooming from the hands of a six-year-old, its tiny flame illuminating the grin that stretched across her face.
Shay’s face, a child. A week later, Nadya went to her friend’s door, and her parents cracked it open to deny such a face ever existed.
How is it possible? Her thoughts screamed, but Nadya looked calmly at the nivasi across from her. Before her eyes, the curves of childhood returned, along with a softness to those dark eyes, and Shay stood there, flames licking at her armor.
“Do you give up?” she called, blades raised.
Nadya did not know if she could win this fight or not, but either way, she did not want it to continue. “I don’t want to fight—”
“You say that now, the great Phoenix, staring down defeat.” Her blades of light came up. Nadya had no doubt that if Shay were to charge, she’d be shredded in moments.
“I d
on’t want to fight you, Shay!”
“How…?” The blades disappeared, but the flames around her body grew stronger, striking out. Anything organic near her feet burned up, the acrid smell covering up the dull scents of decay along the street. “How do you know that name?”
Nadya swallowed, tasting blood. This was not her father; this was a friend from long ago, one who might prove as dangerous as Gedeon in her own way. But trust, as naïve as it was, must be offered to be obtained. She steeled herself and said, “Because I know you.” She lifted back her hood and removed the face mask. The hot air, heated by Shay’s fire, hit her bare face. She felt naked, exposed, but she made herself hold Shay’s gaze.
“Do I…Nadya?” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. “Nadya Gabori?”
She took a step close, and Shay did not reignite her blades, though her posture tensed. “Yes. It’s been a long time.”
“Ten years.”
Nadya gave a weak smile, clutching her injured arm. “I—I think we should call it a draw.”
Chapter Seven
“How is this even possible? You hid your abilities from the Elders all this time?”
They sat on the rooftop of the Nomori public bathhouse. Well, Nadya sat. Shay paced back and forth across the shingles. Underneath the stonework, Nadya heard the comforting sound of running water and idle chatter. She tried to concentrate on that and not the roiling, unnamable emotions that threatened to topple her at any moment.
“Not quite,” she said. “My…abilities, they did not surface until I was fifteen.” She pushed back the flash of that memory, the sound of cracking bone and the scent of blood.
“A late bloomer?” Shay frowned. “I suppose it is possible.”
“And you?” Nadya finally asked. “You were—I mean, your parents—”
“Had me killed, yes.” There was such a matter-of-fact tone to her words, but underneath, Nadya heard something else, too subtle to categorize. “My sister, she had a proper Nomori gift. She could know the true essence of anything she touched. The strain of wheat used in a loaf of bread, the purity of a gemstone on your mother’s workbench. The taint of nivasi blood masquerading as a normal Nomori. She…well, it did not take long for my secret to be revealed. As soon as the Elders found out I could summon fire, my parents turned me over. I was to be taken outside the city, and the threat of the nivasi neutralized.”
Nadya flinched. A fate that she came close to so many times. It haunted her nightmares, and even now with her father knowing, it still held enough fear to tighten her chest.
“Their mistake? They gave my uncle Adi the task. I was always his favorite.” For the first time, her voice softened. “He gave me my seal.” She cleared her throat. “Uncle Adi could not go through with killing me. Lung rot had already taken root in his breath, so he had little left to lose in his defiance. He sent me off with a trade caravan. He knew a woman, a master weaponsmith who agreed to take me on as an apprentice.”
“And you’re back.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Why? Jealous of the competition?”
“There is no competition,” Nadya said carefully, watching Shay’s body, the way it moved, preparing for her to attack at any moment. Such caution felt unnatural around her childhood friend.
People changed a lot in ten years, Nadya reminded herself. At any moment, Shay could decide this conversation was over and ignite those deadly blades. Even as she warned herself, however, she could not rid her mind of the girl who once convinced her to nurse a dying snail back to health after finding it in a culvert.
“I’m just surprised you would come back.” Nadya stood up. She grunted in pain. Her arm was wrapped, but the ache of it radiated through her bones.
“Sorry. You want me to look at that?” Shay asked, nodding to her arm.
“No, it’s fine. It will heal within the week.”
Shay whistled. “So the stories are true. I mean, I felt your strength firsthand.” She rubbed her ribcage where Nadya had landed a good blow. “Like being hit by an angry wildebeest. You have a lot of power.”
Of all the reactions she might have had, Nadya felt herself blush. “Having blades that cut through anything is no small thing. And you’ve been trained.”
Shay held up an arm. Fire ignited along her limb, tapering at her fingertips. Nadya steeled herself not to move. The fire changed from orange to deep blue and finally to white. It lengthened and thinned until Shay held a pulsed blade of white light. “Fire by its nature is uncontrollable. To control it, to become its master, is to alter its form. From fire to light.”
Nadya bit her lip. Slowly, she said, “I understand.”
Shay’s fire went out. “You don’t.”
“No, I do.” Her words echoed the conversation she’d had with Kesali earlier that day, but Nadya knew this was different. Something powerful, something unseeable connected her and Shay, and it scared her. But that did not mean the connection was not there. “I have killed people. The stories they tell of the Iron Phoenix? They’re true. Every moment of every day I must watch myself. An accidental touch, a brush, could hurt someone. To walk in daylight with everyone else in this city, I must become something different, to draw back my strength, dampen it in any way I can. Your fire, my strength, these are weapons. But unlike a guardsman who hangs up his rapier before embracing his children, we cannot let our weapons go. We can only learn to control them.”
Shay leaned toward her as she spoke, and when she stopped, she snapped back. Her eyes were unreadable, nearly as black as the paint that surrounded them. “Because they say we have to.”
Nadya frowned. “You sound like Gedeon.”
“The Chaos-maker? I heard tales of him. You think I’m like him.” It was not a question.
“I think you’re afraid. I’d be too, if I lived through what happened to you, if I—”
“You know nothing of me, Nadya,” Shay shot back. “I am not your friend, not the little girl who wove crowns out of hay. I have seen things you can’t even imagine, and I have fought enemies that make Gedeon look like an untrained drunkard.”
“Then tell me. Why are you here? Why come back if you despise this city so much?” Nadya demanded.
“My reasons are my own.” Her breath stuttered a moment, and Nadya heard her heart speed up.
“I need to hear them.”
Shay stared at her. “Are you threatening me?”
Was it Nadya’s imagination, or did the temperature on the rooftop rise slightly? She saw no flames on Shay, except for the burning in her eyes. She licked dry lips. “No, I just—”
“The Iron Phoenix wishes to cleanse her city of danger, I understand. This is not my first excursion out like this. I find cleaning up the scum, whether along a highway or in the dark alleys of a city, very…soothing.” She smiled, and it sent shivers along Nadya’s arm. “Tell me, then, why should you get to stay, when I must leave?”
“You don’t have to leave,” she said hoarsely.
Shay laughed. “We both know you would rather I did.” She backed up, looking over her shoulder at the drop below. “Do you want to stop me because you are afraid that I will turn out to be of the same ilk as Durriken and Gedeon? Or because you are desperate to keep me from turning so, to give yourself some bit of hope?” She smiled, and Nadya’s breath caught against her racing heart. “Good night, Nadya.” With that, Shay dove off the rooftop.
Nadya had no answer to her question. She remained where she was, arm throbbing, pulse pounding. The electricity of Shay’s presence remained long after Nadya heard the last of her footsteps fade into the night.
*
Shay’s eyes followed her home, haunting her fitful sleep, and remained with her as the sun rose the next day. She washed out her injury with boiled water. It stung like a beast, but the cut was thin and clean. Already, she could see her bone had begun to knit together.
She skipped her training session with Shadar. He’d be worried, yes, but less about her safety, she was sure, and more about w
hat she had been up to after dark. She did not feel like explaining her injury to him, and something kept her from wanting to tell him, or anyone else, about Shay.
Could it really be? She asked herself that more than once as the day’s hours drained on. She spent them making deliveries from the Guardhouse, when her father was not on duty, to the various stations. Most guardsmen knew the captain’s daughter, and they were more than a little grateful for the extra pair of hands, especially when it accompanied a packet of jerky and dried apricot.
Shay’s story seemed plausible enough, but another nivasi in the city? One who was not descending into madness? Nadya reminded herself that she could not let her memories cloud her judgment, that Shay’s behavior last night marked her as untrustworthy, and her fighting as dangerous, but neither could she deny the connection she felt.
It took Kesali’s note to rouse her mind from its obsession figuring out Shay.
When the first of the sun’s rays sank behind the wall, Nadya handed off her final delivery. The guardsman thanked her with a broad smile, and she left. For a moment, her feet seemed unsure. Go back for her cloak? It was at least a two hours’ trip back to her home on the second tier from where she stood on the third. That is, if she went the conventional way.
Kesali has gotten enough of the Phoenix, she decided. I have done as she asked. Tonight, I will just be Nadya, and hopefully that will be enough.
She began the slow journey up the massive staircase, opting to walk rather than take the railbox. This time of late evening, the transport would be crowded, and Nadya wished to be alone. She kept a steady pace; even so, it would take her three hours to reach the top. Plenty of time for night to come on in full force. To climb such a large portion of the stairs was unheard of; outside of ceremony, the staircase was usually only used for short trips. She recalled standing on the edge of the Nomori square as a child, watching as the casket of the late Duchess Isyanov had ascended the stairs, carried by guardsmen and the Duke himself, and again five years later when Lord Marko made the lone march up to the palace to officially claim his place as heir.
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