The Rising Gold

by Ava Jae

  “Naï.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. I clamp my hand over my lips and hold back the scream crawling up my throat as Jarek sinks to his knees with a deep groan, covering his face as he begins to shake beside me.

  “You will be taken to the cells,” the woman continues, ignoring our outbursts. “And over the next two sets, you will be permitted to spend time with your loved ones to say good-bye.”

  “Naï!” Jarek is sobbing on the floor as guards approach my brother to take him to the cells. The room blurs with tears and voices fill the room as Dima bows to the panel. When he turns to us, his jaw is set, eyes shiny as the guards escort him down the aisle and out of the room. And it’s too loud in here, too hot, too full of people and I’m going to drown in Jarek’s inconsolable sorrow if I don’t get out of this room, if I don’t get air. I need to be anywhere but here, anywhere at all.

  They’ve sentenced my brother to death.

  They’re going to kill him.

  And I can’t—I can’t do anything. I’m Avra and I can’t do a kafran thing to stop this.

  The suns beat on my shoulders and the desert air is dry and familiar, but it does nothing to stem the tears flowing freely down my cheeks. I close my eyes and choke back the sob shaking my chest. I should have known. I should have known he didn’t have a chance, not even here, not even in Elja. Why did I let myself believe otherwise, even for a moment? Why did I let myself hope when I knew that in Elja, taking a life means losing your own?

  Kala, I have never wished so badly to live in another territory, like Invino, where they no longer do executions. Why couldn’t he have committed his crimes there?

  “Kora.”

  Even without opening my eyes, I know Uljen’s voice. I wipe my face with the back of my hand and force myself to look at him. Lira looks at me warmly, glassy-eyed beside him. “We should get back to the palace,” I say softly. “For privacy. The guides probably have plenty of footage of me crying out here as it is.”

  “You’re allowed to be upset,” Uljen says. “He is your brother. But you’re doing the right thing, you know that, sha?”

  Am I? Is letting them execute my brother the right thing?

  I’ve taken lives, too. I ordered a raid on Eros’s camp. I may not have shed blood myself, but I may as well have. How is that different from Dima’s lying to Roma and giving him an excuse to commit genocide? What’s to say Roma wouldn’t have done the same without Dima’s prodding?

  I told Eros I wouldn’t let Asheron hang Roma’s crimes on Dima’s shoulders, but Eljan court did exactly the same.

  Then again, even without the lying to Roma thing, he executed innocents. His fate probably would have been the same.

  “I couldn’t do anything,” I whisper. “What use is being Avra if I can’t even save people I care about?”

  Uljen grimaces and touches my shoulder. “You can’t save people from themselves.” I should shrug him away—after all, touching an Avra in public sends all sorts of implied messages that aren’t entirely inaccurate but I don’t necessarily want broadcasted—but I don’t. I don’t really care what people think. Not right now.

  I open my mouth to answer, but an agonized scream rips through the relative quiet before I can speak.

  Jarek marches toward me, tears streaming down his purpled face, fists clenched at his sides. His devastation brings fresh tears that blur my vision before I quickly wipe them away. He hasn’t spoken, not yet, but I know what he’ll say: I failed him. I swore to protect Dima, and in the end I couldn’t do anything. My brother—the man he loves—is going to die in two sets.

  Lira moves next to me and Uljen takes half a step forward, shielding me from Jarek, I suppose, but it’s not necessary. Jarek isn’t going to attack me. He stops a couple paces before us both.

  “You promised!” he sobs. “You said you wouldn’t let them kill him and you sat there and did nothing!”

  “I’m so sorry.” I’m crying again. “I thought holding the trial here in Elja instead of Asheron would shield him, but—”

  “You swore to us! You swore!” He’s inconsolable and I have nothing to help him. No way to make this better. I can’t fix this, I can’t make it go away, I can’t save my brother or Jarek’s heart.

  He tried so hard to save Dima and it didn’t do an ounce of good. It was too late. Dima had already doomed himself.

  Jarek collapses to his knees in the sand and some guards come over and gently help him up, speaking to him quietly as they usher him away. I don’t know what his friends could possibly say to him to help right now, but better that he spends time with them than with me.

  I’ll never recover from this.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper to the air, to no one, shivering in the heat.

  “You’ve done the right thing,” Uljen says softly. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, and it never may, but you’ve done the right thing. You let the courts handle it and you didn’t interfere. This is what needs to be done. You know that.”

  He’s right—of course he is. But the pain of knowing I couldn’t stop this, of knowing the courts and my people think Dima deserves this, of knowing if he wasn’t family I’d likely agree with them, of knowing in two sets I’ll be the only remaining member of my immediate family—

  It’s so much.

  Too much.

  And I wish more than anything I could turn the suns back and wind Safara back in orbit again and again and again to a time before Dima despised me, a time before his jealousy and thirst for power poisoned the good in him, a time when my brother and I were the closest of friends and nothing, not even the throne, could drive a wedge between us.

  22

  Eros

  “Kafra,” Deimos says, which about sums up what I’m thinking. The wall-mounted glass in my room keeps streaming the Eljan feed. Someone on the feed starts screaming and Deimos mutes it with a wave-like gesture. “I didn’t think they’d actually agree to execute him.”

  “Neither did I.” I rub my thumb over Aren’s bracelet. And honestly? I’m not sure how to feel about this. Kora’s going to be devastated, obviously, but I fucken hated Dima. He deserves this. Pretty sure he even knows he deserves this.

  Only thing is Kora doesn’t deserve to go through this. Even if Dima doesn’t deserve to have a sister like her.

  So. Basically. Kafra.

  “All right, I obviously have to call her, but first.” I glance at Deimos. “How does this change things? Politically, or whatever.”

  “Well, look at you, speaking like a Sira.” Deimos smiles weakly and sighs, flopping back on the ridiculous mountain of pillows propped up on my bed. The bed rocks a little with the movement and Deimos smirks a little. Pretty sure he does that on purpose. “As much as this is terrible for Kora, I think it will actually help you.”

  That’s not the answer I was expecting. “It … will?”

  “Shae. This is the verdict the people in Asheron would have wanted and inevitably would have come to. So this gives credence to your claim of generosity and the whole bit about how you trusted the Eljan government would make the right decision.”

  “Even though that was a total lie.”

  Deimos shrugs. “They don’t know that. Now it just looks like you were right.”

  I grimace. “Somehow I don’t think Kora’s going to appreciate my getting political points over her brother’s death.”

  “Which is unfortunate for Kora, but irrelevant.” Deimos sits up. “You aren’t going to talk to Kora about politics now, regardless.” He hesitates. “It’s going to be difficult to speak to her now. She’ll be understably emotional and you need to be prepared for that.”

  I grab the glass at my bedside table. “Don’t worry about me. I have more experience dealing with grief than anyone needs.”

  23

  Kora

  I’ve barely made it back to my room—sweating, but shivering, Jarek’s screams echoing in my ears—when my glass informs me Eros is attempting to call me.
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  To be true, I’m not in a proper state of mind to speak to anyone, but maybe that’s exactly why I tell the glass to allow the call.

  “Go ahead,” he says after his face appears on the screen.

  I wipe my eyes with the back of my shaking hand. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You know what you need to do,” Eros says. “Let it out.”

  There’s a moment of quiet when he looks at me, and I look at him, and there’s no question in my mind he knows what I’m feeling. He knows loss—and it’s my fault he’s so familiar with this pain—but I can’t deny that he’s been here. That he’s right.

  I don’t know how long I cry, face in my palms, the glass propped up in front of me, shoulders heaving again and again until I ache with it. Until I physically can’t continue. Until my body is an echo of grief.

  “I know things haven’t been perfect between us,” Eros says, at long last. “But I want you to know I’m here. Whatever happens, I’m here.”

  I didn’t realize how much I needed to hear those words until he said them. Something inside me shifts—it feels like release—and though everything still hurts, I can breathe a little easier. Not much, not now.

  But it helps.

  Uljen is fast asleep, his chest rising and falling peacefully beneath my ear. He always falls asleep after we have sex. It’d almost be funny if I wasn’t still devastated by the set. And if the actual having sex part of having sex wasn’t over so kafran quickly. Though I’m not sure if that’s an Uljen thing or a sex thing. Not that it hardly matters right now.

  The point is he’s out for the night, and no amount of lying there listening to him breathe is putting me to sleep. My mind is buzzing, humming; my bones are vibrating with the need to move.

  I roll away from him and throw a night wrap on. My feet pat softly over the cooling tile as I comb my fingers through my hair. I’d already dismissed the guards usually standing outside my room as Uljen and I entered my bedroom—I told them I wanted privacy and to patrol outside tonight instead—so the hall is dark and empty as my bedroom doors silently slip closed behind me.

  My brother is going to die.

  What was once a terrifying possibility is now an undeniable truth. I will be the last of my immediate family. Alone. And even now, as the ruler of a nation, I’m powerless to stop it.

  And the truth is I shouldn’t want to stop it. The truth is, if anyone deserves to die, it’s my brother. But for all the awful he’s done, I can’t unwed that from the reality that he’s my brother. My twin. We were close once, and now that he seems truly repentant for his horrible actions, I think we could become close again, with time.

  But we don’t have time, not anymore.

  Dima will die the set after tomorrow. And I will have to watch and act stoic. Like a ruler. Power, strength, respect—but Kala, those words are meaningless as I walk the edge of breaking.

  “Think they’ll sharpen the blade?”

  The whisper stills me mid-step. The hallway turns sharply to the right just ahead and I’m close enough that the voice carries. Guards. I silently slip over the bare tile until my back hits the mosaicked wall.

  “Why wouldn’t they?” a second voice asks. They don’t seem to be getting any closer. I’ve wandered farther from my room than I realized—the throne room around the bend is guarded at all times, as is that entire hallway. The guards are stationed in pairs there in four spots along the long pathway. They don’t move until their relief arrives. Which means I can listen here around the corner without fear of them discovering me.

  “I saw an execution once where they didn’t. The first time didn’t cut all the way through. I’ll never forget those screams—or the blood …”

  I cover my mouth and press hard with my palm, stifling the bile-hot horror climbing up my throat. I’d heard of butchered executions—even heard whispers they were sometimes done on purpose to especially vile criminals. I’d never given it much thought before, always assuming someone sentenced to die had done something deserving of such a violent end.

  But imagining Dima with his head on the block, suffering. It’s agony.

  “Kala,” the second guard hisses into the darkness. “I did not need to imagine that.”

  “Sha, well, I didn’t need to see it and yet here we are. I just hope I don’t have to see it again.”

  “I don’t think you will. Dima’s fate may be decided, but he’s well-respected. They may even sharpen the blade extra. Make it quick.”

  “Maybe.”

  I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose, trying to still my quivering breaths. I don’t know how I’m going to hold myself together at the execution. I can barely keep from shattering just imagining it. Kala, why did this have to happen? And why did it have to hurt so severely?

  “I wonder if Jarek will take his position as second. I think it more likely he might just leave,” the second guard says.

  “Sha. He hasn’t been himself since the trial was announced—or before that, to be true. Seemed distracted, but with Dima dead … I don’t know he’ll be able to handle staying here.”

  “It’ll be hard for everyone in the guard.”

  “Sha, but … you know.”

  The first guard sighs. “I know.”

  I can’t listen anymore. I turn around and retrace my steps, back into my room, holding my breath as I cross my room where Uljen is still asleep, then out into the warm night through my garden. My steps carry me quickly with that conversation echoing in my mind. With the image of my brother on his knees. His purple blood staining the sand, spilling so much it leaves a near-black slick—

  I won’t think it.

  I need to see him.

  I cross the sands with my fists at my side and my eyes stinging, daring someone to question me. But as I enter the nondescript building that marks the entrance of the tunnel down to the dungeon, there’s no one there to ask me what I’m doing. Which is … odd.

  I pause in the small, empty, brightly-lit room, glancing around just to make sure I haven’t overlooked someone standing in a corner, but the room isn’t large enough to hide anyone, even if it were dark enough to do so. It should likely concern me at least two people are not at their very important post, but it saves me an argument so at the moment, at least, I don’t care. I won’t waste any more time worrying about it—instead, I continue forward down the steps and into the belly of the dungeon.

  The dungeon is a single, long hallway with doors spaced evenly on either side. Everything is too bright down here. And white—uniform, uncomfortably so, which I suppose is the point. Down here there are usually orb guides patrolling and recording, along with two guards in addition to the two upstairs. And there are orb guides—three of them on the floor, facing the walls, turned off. Something grips my heart and squeezes—this isn’t right, something is very wrong. But then the door at the very end of the hallway opens and four guards walk out with Jarek and my brother and it all makes sense.

  The six men stop abruptly and stare at me, wide-eyed.

  “Oh, Kala,” one whispers just as Jarek grabs his shoulder to keep from running into him.

  “What’s …” Jarek’s gaze meets mine. His shoulders slump slightly, like the release of a long-held sigh. While the four guards are looking at each other with something like terror, Jarek just looks sad. “You know I had to try.”

  “Of course you did.” My words come out even, tempered. Of course Jarek had to try to release my brother, of course the guards—who are loyal to Jarek and Dima—would risk their jobs and their lives if Jarek asked them to. And of course Jarek asked.

  Dima laces his fingers with Jarek’s. Is this the last time they’ll be able to do that? Dima has a set left to live; I imagine he’d like it best spent with Jarek, but his final segments are slipping away. In a set and a half, the executioners will arrive to take him to the city square.

  “I know what you have to do,” Dima says softly. “It’s okay, Kora.”

  But it’s not
okay. My heart beats against my ears and I can barely see through the sting and it’s not okay. Nothing about this is okay. I’m falling apart and I haven’t even said good-bye yet.

  “I’m going to turn around.” This time my words shake. I squeeze my shivering hands together behind my back and straighten my shoulders. “I’m going to turn around and walk out this door. I wasn’t here. I didn’t see anything.” I look at the guards. “I hope you four have excuses prepared for how you let my brother escape.”

  Jarek’s eyes widen just as a guard steps forward and nods. “We do. Jarek will—”

  I hold up a hand. “The less I know the better.” I step forward and wrap my brother in a tight embrace before I can think better of it. For a breath, Dima stiffens—but then he relaxes and holds me in return. I close my eyes and, for a moment, I can almost imagine the way things used to be, when we were young, before the jealousy and anger and hatred. Before my brother turned against me and started down the path that led us here.

  I miss it dearly. I miss him—I never had the chance to reunite with that Dima again, and now I won’t.

  Then I force us apart and wipe my eyes before they see the tears. “I love you.” It hurts to speak. “Be careful. Be safe. Both of you, please.”

  “We will,” Dima says with a soft smile, confirming what I’d guessed: Jarek will run with him. Good. At least he won’t be alone.

  “Kala’s fortune,” I whisper, and then I turn around and force one step after another, down the long, cold hallway. And I don’t look back, not when I climb the stairs, not when my feet brush against the soft warm sand, not when I enter the palace again, tracking sand over the smooth tile.

  “Kora?”

  I startle to a stop, the gasp caught in my throat.

  Lira steps through the shadows, frowning as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Are you all right?” she whispers.

  I hesitate. “Naï,” I admit quietly. “Not really.”

  Lira nods. “I’m sorry about Dima. I can’t imagine what you must be going through right now.”