by Jade Mere
“Sornjia!” Tahki cried. “Sornjia…. Sornjia, look at me!”
“I’m all right,” Sornjia said, dazed. He looked at the blood trailing down his arm. “So much red.”
Tahki heard Zinc’s people rush forward. Rye held them back, but Tahki could see he’d be overpowered at any moment. Sornjia squirmed in his arms.
“Don’t move,” Tahki said. He heard the click of the pistol as it cocked again. Tahki looked up. Zinc stood five feet away, blood dripping down his skull into his eyes.
“I won’t miss this time,” Zinc said.
“She’ll see,” Sornjia muttered. Tahki turned his body so his brother would be shielded.
“Don’t watch,” Tahki said and moved his hand over Sornjia’s eyes. This was it. There was nothing more he could do. They would die here.
“She’ll come,” Sornjia said again.
Zinc squeezed the trigger.
Tahki felt a powerful thrust of wind rush by them, black and sleek and deadly. Instead of the crack of a bullet, Zinc’s cry burst through the castle. Pooka hunched over them, a mass of fangs and fur, Zinc’s body caught in her mouth. She swung him back and forth like a limp doll and then released him. His body skidded across the floor and stopped at Dyraien’s feet. Blood flowed from a deep gash in his stomach, and he howled in pain. The cat let out a deafening roar, and everyone froze.
Dyraien stumbled back. “What is that thing?”
Most of Zinc’s men fled to nearby rooms like a herd of startled deer. One man drew a pistol and pointed it at Pooka, but the cat leaped quicker than he could pull the trigger. Pooka tore at his arm, bit down, and threw him against the wall. She lowered her head and growled again.
Rye tried to move toward Tahki, but Dyraien grabbed him and said, “That thing will kill you!”
“Tahki.” Sornjia’s voice. “Run.”
This time Tahki didn’t hesitate. He heaved Sornjia and moved for the door, but his brother’s body was too heavy, and Sornjia had trouble walking on his own.
“Pooka,” Sornjia said. “Help.”
The cat appeared at their side, and Tahki rested Sornjia against her. She looked terrifying, her fangs red, her claws extended, her eyes searching to find prey. Even Tahki felt disturbed by the wild animal inside her, but once Sornjia was secured and they started moving, he felt relieved she’d come to help them. With Zinc’s men too intimidated to fire at them, it left a clear path to the front door. They moved across the marble, out into the fog. The air tasted wet and heavy. Tahki tried to concentrate on everything real. The cold air. The warm blood. The scent of gunpowder. Anything that would keep him moving, keep him alert and awake, keep his mind from shutting down completely.
“Tahki!” Rye called.
Tahki faced the castle. Rye stood in the doorway. In Rye’s eyes, he saw confusion, disbelief, and a deep, deep hurt. But he couldn’t stop now. Sornjia needed him.
He turned away as the sounds of Zinc’s men stirred behind them. Dyraien was a prince trained for leadership and battle. Pooka might have surprised him, but he would recuperate quickly and send someone after them. The fog gave them cover enough to flee, but men on gingoats would hunt them. With the cat’s help, Tahki moved Sornjia far and fast from the castle, not looking back to see the chaos they’d left in their wake.
Chapter 15
HE JOGGED alongside Pooka, holding Sornjia steady. They ran hard for a time and then walked when it became apparent no one trailed them. Tahki found the ruins, the first place he’d felt a connection to Rye. Dyraien probably figured they’d run to Edgewater, try to find medical help. He must know Sornjia would bleed out unless the wound was closed. And he was right. Though they’d put the castle far behind them, they were trapped. Sornjia needed help, but they couldn’t risk traveling to Edgewater.
They entered the ring of tall stones. Tahki eased Sornjia against a thick gray slab of rock that jutted out of the ground like a giant spearhead. Pooka settled herself above him on a flat rock and stretched her muscles. She lowered her head beside Sornjia, and he reached up to pet her. His eyes appeared dim, his breath shallow. The wound bled badly. The moist fog kept it open, and the bullet was still lodged inside. They had no tools, and Tahki doubted he could sneak back into the castle to get some.
Tahki stripped off his shirt and held it to Sornjia’s shoulder. “The wound isn’t bad.” The white shirt turned bright red.
Sornjia smiled. “Liar.”
Tahki swallowed. “I’m going to the river to get some water. Do you think you can hold my shirt here?”
Sornjia nodded, clumsily grasped for the shirt, and shut his eyes.
Tahki walked to the river, and when he was far enough away, he cried. He sniffed and coughed into his hands. Tears blurred his vision, but he didn’t wipe them away. The river here was calm. He knelt and splashed his face and then removed one of his boots and plunged it beneath the water. Goose bumps rose on his skin, and he shivered.
He had never felt so powerless in his life. He needed a plan, some way to heal Sornjia. He could sneak back to Gale’s house, but she might not help them now that Sornjia had been exposed. Edgewater was too far, and Zinc’s men would be on the lookout for them. He might be able to return to the castle and bargain with Dyraien, offer to take the blame for killing the queen if Dyraien promised to save Sornjia, but who was to say he wouldn’t kill him on sight?
Even with Pooka, he’d never be able to get into the castle without help. And Rye? He didn’t want to think about him. By now, Dyraien would have fabricated some elaborate story about Tahki, and Rye would believe him, because there was no explanation for Sornjia or Pooka.
Feeling defeated and without options, he wiped his eyes and returned to Sornjia with his boot full of water.
“Hold still,” Tahki said. He moved his shirt and poured the icy water onto Sornjia’s wound. It occurred to him that cleaning the hole to prevent infection would prove useless so long as the bullet was still lodged inside.
“Tahki,” Sornjia said, his eyes still closed. “We have a visitor.”
Tahki frowned. “A visitor?”
Sornjia pointed behind him.
Tahki turned. At the edge of the ruins, Rye stood straight and stiff. He stared at them both, and then took a cautious step forward. Tahki watched him a moment, until he caught a glint of a knife in Rye’s hand. He lurched forward to block him.
“Rye, stop,” Tahki said. “Whatever Dyraien told you, he’s lying. I know you don’t have a reason to trust me, but Sornjia is innocent.”
“Tahki,” Sornjia said. “Let him pass.”
Tahki glanced at his brother.
Rye walked around him and mumbled, “You’re so dramatic.” When he got to Sornjia, he stopped and stared at Pooka, who stared back with her large sky-filled eyes.
“She won’t hurt you,” Sornjia said.
Rye didn’t move.
“Pooka,” Sornjia said. “Can you leave for a minute?”
Pooka inclined her head and nudged Sornjia. He smiled and patted her snout, and then the cat rose to her full height and vanished into the ruins. When she was gone, Rye knelt beside Sornjia. Tahki joined them, ready to defend his brother if needed. But Rye only dug through the leather bag at his side and took out several medical tools. The object he carried wasn’t a knife but a surgical scalpel.
“We need to get the bullet out,” Rye said. “It’s deep. I didn’t have time to grab anything to numb it. It will hurt.”
“I’ll be fine,” Sornjia said.
Rye nodded and leaned forward.
“Rye,” Tahki said.
“Let me work,” Rye said. “Or he’ll bleed to death.” His voice was calm but stern.
Tahki dug his fingers into the cool soil as Rye pressed the knife to Sornjia’s shoulder. Sornjia’s face remained placid as the knife cut his flesh. Tahki’s own shoulder throbbed just at the thought of the knife. He realized, after a moment, that Sornjia was meditating. He’d seen monks sit for hours and hours, putting themselves
in a deep trance, able to block out pain and hunger and all other sensations. For the first time, Tahki understood meditation wasn’t a waste of time. It was a way to train your mind, to strengthen your mentality, to control your body when outside forces threatened you.
Something clinked against a rock. The silver bullet fell to the ground, bloody and misshapen. Tahki flinched but also marveled at how something so small could do so much damage. Rye stitched Sornjia’s arm shut and wrapped it in a white bandage. Tahki tugged his bloody shirt over his head and gagged at the smell, but it was too cold not to wear it.
“He needs rest,” Rye said. He gathered his supplies and put them back in the brown leather bag.
“He’ll survive?”
“So long as he doesn’t tear it open, he should be fine.”
Tahki nodded. “Rye, if you’ll just give me a chance to explain.”
“I just said your brother needs rest,” Rye said. He stood and motioned for Tahki to follow. They found a group of rocks far away from Sornjia so they wouldn’t disturb him but could still see him.
“How did you find us?” Tahki asked.
Rye watched Pooka slink over the rocks. She curled her body near Sornjia, her massive form shielding him from the wind. “I followed her paw prints.”
“Won’t Zinc’s men do the same?”
“I told Dyraien I saw you heading toward Edgewater. He sent a few men out that way but wanted everyone else working on the castle.” Rye didn’t take his eyes off Pooka. “What is she?”
“I’m not sure you’ll believe me if I tell you,” Tahki said.
“That’s for me to decide.”
Tahki swallowed. “I think… I think she’s my dead great-grandmother.”
Rye turned his head slowly back to Tahki. “All right. You have my attention.”
Tahki sat against a rock and sighed. “I’m not sure where to start.”
“How about tell me who you are, where you’re from. Start with things that are true, and then we can move on to the lies.” Rye pulled a match from his bag and busied himself by starting a fire.
“Won’t someone see the smoke?”
Rye shook his head. “Not in the fog.” He glanced at Tahki. “Are you going to talk, or should I just take Dyraien’s word as the truth?”
Tahki rubbed his wrist. “What did Dyraien say?”
“He said you killed the queen. That you’re a spy.” Rye hesitated. “I said I’d bring you back to him.”
“And will you? Bring me back to him?”
Rye held his eyes. “Tahki, tell me the truth. I want to hear it from you.”
Tahki sighed. “My full name is Tahki’jie. My father is Lord Aumin’jie.”
Rye frowned, like the name sounded familiar but he couldn’t place it.
“My father is royal ambassador to the Empress of Dhaulen’aii.” He studied Rye’s face, watching every subtle inclination of his eyebrows, every slight tilt of his mouth, every narrowing of his eyes. “I came here without my father’s permission. I forged documents and snuck across the borders, but I’m not a spy. Rye, I swear. I only wanted to enter the fair for a chance to win. I never thought I’d get offered a job by the queen’s son. I know it wasn’t smart, but after I lost, I felt like I’d go home a failure. When Gale offered me this job, I couldn’t believe it. I thought I actually had a chance to become famous.”
Tahki spoke, and Rye listened. He talked in great detail about the thing in his room, about the illusions, about his fight with Pooka. He spoke about the conversation he’d heard between Dyraien and Hona and Zinc. When he got to Nii, Tahki hesitated.
“I need to show you something,” Tahki said. He rose and walked to where Sornjia rested. Rye followed but stayed at a distance. Tahki reached out a hand to Pooka. She growled and he retracted.
“I need to show him,” he said to Pooka.
Pooka lowered her head but still growled. Tahki extend his hand and ran it across her shoulder. The eels boiled up around him, their long, oily bodies forming tiny hands at the tip. They grabbed Tahki’s fingers, swaying and drawing him in. He pulled away before the black hands reached up to his elbow. A shudder ebbed through his body, but he repressed it. Rye couldn’t know how unsettled Pooka still made him.
He walked back to their spot and sat down, resisting the urge to wipe off his arm where the hands had touched him.
Rye looked tense, and his eyes flicked back to her with a kind of enchanted horror. “That’s not possible.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling myself for weeks.”
“I’ve never seen anything like her,” Rye said. It pleased Tahki that he sounded more fascinated than fearful. At least he’d keep an open mind.
“I needed to show you, because what I’m about to say is going to sound crazy.” Tahki told him about Nii, about the Királyes history. He finished with Gotem, with what Sornjia had done, and how Dyraien had sent Zinc to kill his own mother.
By the time he finished, dusk had settled over the ruins. When Tahki said his last word, he felt lighter, like he could finally take in a full breath of air. If he had known confessing everything would feel this good, he would have talked a long time ago.
He gave Rye time to contemplate. The fire popped and spat, and the fog cleared a little.
“You’re right,” Rye said. “It does sound crazy.”
“I don’t have any proof, other than Pooka,” Tahki said.
Rye raised an eyebrow. “Pooka?”
Tahki motioned to the cat.
“Pooka,” Rye said. “As in Cuddle me Pooka, the popular child’s toy? That’s what you named her?”
“I didn’t name— You’re missing the point. I know you don’t believe me, but she’s proof there’s something wrong with Dyraien and his family. If we could get to the black pool again, maybe Pooka could turn back into a human, and you’ll see I wasn’t lying.”
“I never said that,” Rye said.
“Said what?”
“That I didn’t believe you.” Rye ran a hand through his hair. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”
Tahki shrugged. “It never seemed like the right time.”
“The right time was the moment before we spent the night together.”
Tahki cringed. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Rye, please believe me when I say I’m sorry.”
Rye sighed. “It just doesn’t make any sense. I know Dyraien doesn’t want to lose his country, but he’s not a bad person.”
“He tried to kill me,” Tahki said.
Rye hesitated. “He must have thought you were a spy.”
“You know he didn’t.”
“I can’t just condemn him without evidence.”
“I thought you said you believed me.”
“I do. I believe something strange is happening here, and Dyraien hasn’t been honest about it.”
“So let’s go to the capital. Expose Dyraien’s plot.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
“Because I can’t betray him like that. Dyraien saved me, Tahki.”
“I know, he took you in off the streets. But one good deed doesn’t excuse murder.”
“You don’t understand,” Rye snapped. “He didn’t just take me off the streets. After my mother left, I had nowhere to go. The authorities picked me up. I know you think Vatolokít is modern, is advanced and civilized, but the truth is, the city is corrupt. Orphan kids are placed in one of two places: in the factories for hard labor or in the brothels for a life of depravity.”
Tahki stared. He was about to ask which one Rye had been sent to, but he already knew. It was why Rye had avoided the brothel in Edgewater, why he’d been so experienced in bed, and why he’d been so uneasy about letting Tahki touch him.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Rye said. “I didn’t sleep with anyone. But these brothels, they train you until you’re thirteen. Then they put you out for sale. I lied about my age when I went in, said I was younger than I was, so they kept me in tr
aining for a few years. When I turned fourteen, though, they said I was ready to work. I don’t expect you to have the slightest idea what it was like for me, surrounded by twisted perverts, watching children my age exposed to horrible sexual acts.”
Tahki could only shake his head.
“But I didn’t have to work for them. I ran away to the upper cites one night, but the authorities caught me. They would have returned me to that awful place, but Dyraien saw what was happening and saved me. He took me in, gave me an education. He taught me how to fight, how to shoot a pistol, how to ride a gingoat. He gave me a home. Tahki, I owe Dyraien everything.”
Tahki felt gratitude toward the prince, but only for the prince who’d rescued Rye, the prince who hadn’t tried to kill him. He knew he wouldn’t be able to convince Rye that Dyraien was a bad person. Maybe Dyraien had saved Rye, maybe it had been the only kind thing he’d ever done. Even with that knowledge, Tahki still couldn’t forgive him.
“Gotem is Dyraien’s captive,” Tahki said. “Believe what you want about him, but Gotem is like family to me. I have to save him.”
“And I’ll help you,” Rye said. “But I still want to talk to Dyraien. I know I can reason with him. I have to give him a chance to admit to his crimes. I owe him that much.”
“And if he tries to kill me again?” Tahki asked.
“I won’t let that happen. Tahki.” Rye moved next to him, put his hand on his face. “I won’t let him hurt you or your brother. And….” He leaned in and brought their lips together. They held each other a moment before pulling apart. “And I forgive you for lying to me because I trust you. But you have to trust me now. Trust me that Dyraien can be changed.”
Dyraien could not be reasoned with, Tahki knew that, but Rye needed to see it for himself. If Rye wasn’t totally committed to stopping Dyraien, they would fail, and Dyraien would be free to unleash whatever he planned upon the world.
THEY SLEPT curled in the dirt, wrapped around each other for most of the night. When the sun rose, Tahki woke to quiet chatter. He inhaled and immediately coughed as his nostrils filled with something that smelled like burnt hair. Tears filled his eyes and he had to plug his nose as he rose and approached the fire where Rye and Sornjia sat.