by Ava Jae
“Naï, c’mon, join us, Kora.” Dima smiles. “When’s the last time we’ve played Si-So, hmm?”
“Cycles. If I recall correctly, you stopped playing with me because you didn’t like me beating you all the time.”
“That sounds like Dima.” Jarek snickers.
Dima’s face colors, just slightly, and he scratches the back of his head. “I—sha—well. I don’t remember the precise reason but …” He shakes his head then grins again. “The point is, it’s been too long! So join us, please. For me.”
“Losing that badly already, hm?” I laugh as Dima groans. “I suppose I could stay for a game, if Jarek doesn’t mind starting over.”
Jarek lifts a shoulder. “It doesn’t bother me. I’ll just beat him again anyway.”
“Sha, sha, we’ll see.” Dima waves his hand over the game, resetting the board. The marbles rush back to their prospective sides as Dima fiddles with the projected controls on the board, splitting it three ways.
A short time later, Dima has lost and Jarek and I tied for victory. Ordinarily we’d play another game with just Jarek and me to determine a winner, but I can’t push off this conversation any longer—and besides, Uljen is still waiting for me so we can speak with the medics.
I’ve put this off long enough.
“I’m afraid I didn’t visit just to play Si-So with you both,” I say as Dima and Jarek put the game away.
“Naï, I didn’t imagine that was the case,” Dima says. “Although you’re more than welcome to stop by for such a purpose. I’m rather starved for entertainment in this room.”
Jarek arches an eyebrow, and I smirk. “I’m sure the two of you come up with plenty of ways to entertain yourselves.”
“Well, sha, but Jarek can’t spend all his time with me. He’s still in the guard, as you well know.”
“I’m aware.” I sigh. “At any rate, I’m actually here to speak with you both about … the trial.”
Dima’s smile fades, but he nods as he rolls a marble over his palm with his thumb. Jarek’s eyes widen. “A trial? So soon? I didn’t imagine that would happen for at least a term, given everything going on.”
“I imagine everything will be decided by the end of Okona.”
“But—that’s not—”
“I wasn’t going to push it so quickly,” I say. “I thought we had time. But unfortunately, Er—ken Sira has motivation to try Dima in Asheron. And I think we all know if that were to happen, there’s little chance it would end well for Dima.”
Dima keeps rolling the marble silently in his hand. Jarek stands and paces. “Please tell me you haven’t agreed. I know Eros is your friend, but—”
“I told him naï.” I pause. “But as you both know, ken Sira’s word is law. If he pushes this … Elja can’t afford a war with Asheron and Ona, and certainly not over protecting Dima, who the people recognize as a criminal.”
“He’s not just a—”
“It’s all right, Jarek,” Dima says softly. “She’s right, and so are the people. I am a criminal. I deserve to be tried fairly.”
I nod. “The important part there is fairly, and I truly don’t believe you’d get a fair trial in Asheron. They’d blame you for Roma’s crimes as well as your own and likely …” The sentence dies on my lips. I can’t say it. I don’t want to think it.
Does my brother deserve to be executed? He tried to kill me. He almost killed Serek. He ordered the murder of innocents just for protesting. He tortured Eros for sets on end and gave Roma the excuse he needed to order genocide. He has blood on his hands.
Does that warrant a public execution?
I’m afraid of the answer the Vejlan court may come to.
I know the answer the Asheron court would order.
“Execute me,” Dima says. “It’s okay, Kora. You’re not telling me anything I don’t know.”
“It’s not okay,” Jarek snaps. “We can’t just hand him over to Asheron for slaughter.”
“I agree,” I say, but my voice is tight—on the edge of breaking. “I agree,” I try again. “Which is why I’m accelerating the trial here in Velja. My hope is if we start it here quickly enough, ken Sira will let it go, because we’re already taking care of it. And now that he’s distracted with this plague, we should get it done.”
Jarek pinches the bridge of his nose and sits next to Dima. My brother puts his arm around Jarek’s shoulders. “Thank you,” he says. “Sincerely, Kora. You’ve shown me much more grace than I deserve.”
I sigh. “You’re my brother, Dima. I wasn’t going to turn away from you.”
“And that’s what makes you better than me.” He says it so simply, so confidently. Like no one would ever question it.
I suppose they wouldn’t.
“No matter what happens, I won’t let them kill you,” I say. My heart pounds with the words. It’s not a promise I’m sure I can keep, but the words ring true in my ears nevertheless.
I won’t let them kill my brother.
I won’t.
“Thank you,” Dima whispers. But the glisten in his eyes, the pain in his smile, the shaking of his fingers—clenched tight in Jarek’s hand—
He doesn’t believe me. And I’m not sure he should.
8
Eros
It’s been twenty-four segs—a full set—since we learned there’s a fucken plague racing through the capital of the world, and 142 people have gotten sick.
And two—the mother and son we saw yesterday, who came in first with those haunting, darkening eyes and black veins—have already died.
“It acts quickly,” Deimos says, sighing as he looks over the report Zarana sent us during the midday meal. “I suppose in a way that’s a mercy. Seems like those last segments aren’t pleasant.”
“Except for the part where it doesn’t exactly give us a lot of time to save people.” I pick apart the kata wrap, my stomach twisting in nauseating ways way too intense for me to even consider eating. And that’s without the dull, pounding brainblaze sitting behind my eyes and the full-bodied exhaustion weighing on every muscle.
I didn’t really sleep last night.
At all. Again. Too busy thinking about everything going wrong, everything I’m supposed to fix. Everything I can’t even begin to tackle. Every passing set is a reminder the Remnant could make everything worse at any time. And it’s not even like I don’t want to make things better for humans—of course I do—but I can’t shake the feeling that the stuff I’m trying to do won’t be enough for them.
They don’t just want human rights—they want a complete revolution. Even if that means making me a casuality.
Mija tutted over me in the morning as she painted away the shadows under my eyes, muttering how lucky I am to have her. She’s not wrong. After she’s done, I almost look rested.
“Well, shae. But the good news is it also makes it much easier to identify who is carrying the disease and who isn’t. Zarana says the incubation period seems to be around six segs. It likely won’t be long before they’re able to develop some sort of detection test so we can loosen the border shutdown by testing those who come in and out.”
“Mostly out, if we’re being honest,” I say.
Deimos grimaces. “Shae. Mostly out.”
“At least you won’t have to keep everyone totally trapped in the city for too much longer,” Mal says. “Otherwise they’d start to lose it of boredom. Like me.”
Deimos smirks. “You know, Mal, if you’re that bored I’m sure Eros and I can find something for you to do. Study, for example. I’m already arranging for an accommodations tutor to teach you how to use a walking stick, but I could likely find you one to teach you our history and politics as well.”
“That actually sounds like a good idea,” I say. “Why aren’t we doing that?”
“Never mind,” Mal says. “I’m not bored. I’m the opposite of bored. I’m really busy actually. Busiest I’ve ever been, really.”
Deimos snickers and even I manage a smirk.
“That’s a shame,” Deimos says. “If you’re so busy, I suppose you won’t have time to come with us to Daven and Zek’s wedding. I hear the food will be incredible, with multiple courses and some of the best desserts you’ll find on Safara—but never mind that. You’re clearly too busy.”
Mal hesitates. “I’m sure I could take a few sets off. You know. For politics. Since it’s important for us to go and everything.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Are we actually still going to that?” I ask. “Not that I don’t want to—I think it’d be great—but with the outbreak and everything … is that a good idea?”
“I’m not sure if it’s a good idea, but a worse idea would be skipping it.” Deimos plucks my kata off my plate and places it on his. At my look, he just shrugs. “Well you’re clearly not eating it.”
I shake my head. “Why would skipping it be a worse idea?”
“Well, we’re not just going for fun. The Daïvi are our strongest supporters—especially now that you’re having a bit of an argument with Kora.”
I don’t correct him on the understatement. Kora’s called twice since our argument—both calls that I ignored. I know her. She’s not calling to apologize. She’s calling to try to change my mind. And it’s not fucken happening.
“You have to remember, interterritory relationships are incredibly important, especially given Invino and Sekka’l are … being difficult. It’d be considered incredibly rude if you backed out now, and you’d risk angering one of your few supporters. As long as none of us get sick before then, we have to go.”
I nod. “I guess that makes sense.”
“Damn,” Mal says. “That’s too bad, I guess we’ll just have to go then, ugh, what a bummer, I don’t know how we’ll survive it.”
I smirk and ruffle his hair. Deimos snickers as Mal grins and eats his food.
“Okay,” I say. “So we’re going. When do we leave?”
“Four sets, so we still have time to prepare and try to get things settled here first.”
I don’t mention that it seems unlikely anything will be “settled” in four sets. I’ll be lucky if things aren’t four times as bad as they are now.
Deimos rests his hand on mine and squeezes lightly. It’s a small thing—just a reassuring touch with a worried, thin smile—but it calms the buzz prickling around my stomach, just for a mo.
I don’t know how in the stars things will settle down, but I have to try to believe they will. And for everyone else’s sakes, I have to act like I know they will.
I don’t know that they will. But I squeeze his hand back anyway.
After the morning meal, Deimos and I go back to the Council to finish talking about the communication network for the people to make themselves known and the law abolishing slavery. Most everyone is on board with the communication thing, but they also agree some people will be pissed off by the new law—especially the wealthy, and doubly so in Sekka’l—but I don’t care, and neither does most of my Council. Owning people is wrong. That’s all there is to it.
I make my first announcement in the throne room, feeling too small on the intricately carved glass throne even as I hold my head high and shoulders back and look into the orb guide broadcasting me for the world to see. And then, when it’s all said and done, I spend segments talking to Avrae across the territories about how to best implement transitional resources for now-freed servants who need homes and ways to support themselves.
By the time it’s over, I feel like I’ve had the longest set of my life—and it isn’t even mid-set.
Afterward, Deimos, Mal, Kosim, Fejn—Deimos’s personal guard—and Varo—Mal’s personal guard—and I all put on our filter masks and leave the palace out the back, where we’re less likely to run into people. The complex marketplace has been shut down until further notice, so the grounds are way emptier than usual to begin with, but I guess it’s an extra precaution.
Kosim is leading the parade, and I don’t really question him. He seems to know what he’s doing and cares about doing his job right. Or at least, that’s the impression I’ve gotten from working with him for a couple sets.
We walk to the far northern end of the complex, where a gleaming glass bubble woven with blue metal—like the glass was shattered then put back together again with molten blue metal—shimmers under the heat of the suns. It’s blistering out here—the hottest time of the cycle is coming fast—and the reflected heat ripples in the air in dancing waves as we near the weird building.
“This is the science lab,” Deimos says as we stand in front of the dome. “Or rather, this is the museum portion. The laboratory itself is actually underground—I’m not sure how deep it goes, but my understanding is it’s pretty enormous.”
“Cool.” Mal grins.
“Underground like the Remnant?” I ask.
“Well, shae, you didn’t think the Remnant built those tunnels themselves, did you?” Deimos smirks. “We’ve had underground systems in place for centuries. They’re especially popular in less hospitable regions—deserts, mountains, that sort of thing. Many of our oldest ruins even have complex tunnel systems in place.”
Interesting. “So the Remnant repurposed what was already in Enjos.”
“Most likely.” Deimos pauses. “I do believe there’s a tunnel system in place from the palace to buildings all around the complex, isn’t there, Kosim?”
Kosim arches an eyebrow. “How do you know about that?”
Deimos smirks. “I dated an Asheron guard once. It didn’t last long, but he told me some very interesting stories.”
Kosim purses his lips. “That’s true, sha.”
“Then why did we go the burn-into-a-flaming-crisp way?” Mal asks.
“You three need to get registered before we can take the tunnels anywhere.” Kosim shrugs. “As registration happens in the science building anyway, this was the most practical route.”
Mal grumbles and crosses his arms.
I smirk. “It’s almost like you didn’t grow up in a desert even hotter than here.”
“It’s not just the heat,” Mal says with a pout. “I just really hate the light reflection on this sand. It makes it even harder to see than usual.”
“Maybe the techies can make you darkening glasses,” Deimos says. “Talk to them about it while we’re there. I’m sure they won’t mind.”
Mal frowns. “They probably have more important things to work on than glasses for me.”
Deimos shakes his head. “There are loads of techies. I’m sure one of them will be able to make the time—they may even have some on hand already. You’re not the only one who doesn’t love the suns’ glare, you know.” Deimos pats his shoulder. “We’ll ask.”
Kosim walks up to a glass panel framed in gold—it slides up like an opening mouth and Kosim gestures us inside. We all enter and I grimace. I mean, the place is amazing—sleek white floors, cool metal statues that look like poured molten metal frozen in time, and projections all over the place showing one scientific process after another. Above us is a glass floor so clear it looks like the people standing up there and shelves and statues on that floor are all floating in the air.
It’s incredible in here—but it’s also like walking into the suns. It’s even hotter than it is outside.
Kosim clears his throat. “Ordinarily this building is nanite-cooled, but you know …”
Yeah. We know.
“It’ll be cooler underground,” Deimos says. “But we have to get registered, shae? Let’s get that over with so we can get out of this kafran heat.”
Registration, thankfully, doesn’t take long. One of the building staff sets us up on a glass, taking our handprints, scanning our faces, and taking a voice clip from each of us. Once that’s done, she leads us to a huge glass box sitting on the far side of the room. Two doors slide open on the box as we approach, and our bodyguards and Deimos waltz right into the box like it’s no big deal.
Mal leans toward me. “What are we walki
ng into?” he whispers. “Is there something special on the floor?”
“It’s a … don’t worry about it. Just stick with everyone.” I guide him forward until the doors close behind us.
It’s kinduv hard to breathe in the box—the heat is so thick it feels like inhaling soup. And the tight fit in the box is kinduv making me itchy. My heart stutters in my chest as sweat slips down my temples and back, glistening all over me like a second skin.
We’re all facing the doors and I have no fucken clue why.
“What is this?” I finally ask. “Why are we standing in here?”
“It’s an elevator.” Deimos gently knocks my shoulder with his. “Don’t worry. It’ll take us down to the lab.”
What the fuck is an elevator?
And how is a fucken box supposed to take us anywhere?
“Are you—”
The floor shifts and—sinks.
It’s sinking into the ground.
Stars and suns alive we’re sinking into the fucken ground.
My pulse hammers in my ears as packed white sand walls replace the room we were just in and we sink lower and lower. I don’t think I’m breathing. All I hear is drumming. I grip Aren’s bracelet on my wrist and grit my teeth. It’s really fucken hot and the air is too thick and there are too many of us in this tiny box and the glass floor below us just shows—black.
We’re descending into a hole in the planet that goes on for stars know how deep.
“Ej, Eros. Are you okay?” Deimos is frowning at me. “You look a little pale.”
“This is the coolest thing ever,” Mal says. “We’re like flying into the planet.”
Flying isn’t the word I’d use. More like falling. We’re falling into the planet.
Oh, fuck.
“Hey.” Deimos stands in front of me and holds my shoulders. “This is fine. We’re fine, see?” He grins. “It’s a controlled descent. These elevators are very safe, and we’ll be opening up into the floor levels soon, which I think you’ll like. Just relax, shae? We’re fine.”
Kosim glances at me. “Is he having a panic attack?”