Before She Ignites

by Jodi Meadows

  I knew those uniforms. I’d seen them all of my life and never truly paid attention—not until the day they’d come to arrest me.

  Altan’s glance darted from me to Aaru and back, and a spear-sharp smile grew on his mouth.

  “What’s happening?” I spoke the words, but I could hardly hear them under the rush of my pulse through my ears.

  Behind me, Aaru pushed himself up and tapped questioningly at my arm, but I couldn’t bear to look at him.

  “Your wish has come true,” Altan said as the white-clad guards marched forward. “The Luminary Council has sent for you, Hopebearer.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  ::HOPEBEARER.:: AARU’S HAND SLID OFF MY ARM.

  And oh, the mountains of hurt he conveyed in that one motion. My identity revealed. My betrayal complete. I’d had every opportunity to give him my whole name, but I’d kept that secret and now he heard it from the man who tortured him. My nemesis; his nemesis.

  Cast adrift, I slipped off the edge of Aaru’s bed. The stone floor chilled my feet through my shredded slippers. “The Luminary Council has sent for me,” I repeated, numb.

  Why, though? Perhaps they’d finally realized their mistake, but why did it have to be now, when I’d already resigned myself to the necessity of escape? What about my friends and my plans?

  Altan strode through the infirmary, his mouth pulled back in a smile. By now, I knew him well enough to understand this particular smile was one not of triumph, but of concealment.

  My release was a surprise to him as well.

  Of course, if he’d known my summons was imminent, he wouldn’t have made me watch Aaru’s torture. He knew the risk of upsetting me right before I returned to the Luminary Council.

  Because what if I told them he was a Drakon Warrior? What if I revealed his plans to them? With a word, I could ruin him. Within days, the Fallen Isles could know that Khulan’s holiest warriors had not obeyed the Mira Treaty.

  The utter stillness at my back put a stop to that line of thought.

  I could not move against Altan while Aaru remained in his custody. And Tirta. And Gerel. And Chenda. He could kill them faster than I could have them freed.

  “When do I leave?” A million questions knotted inside that one: what did they want from me, who’d come for me, where were we going? And mostly: was this forever, or a mere furlough? But I kept curiosity buried tight so that Altan wouldn’t see all the weakness in me. Only the Hopebearer.

  “Immediately.” He stopped directly in front of me, a dark tower of hatred. “Are you planning to resist?”

  “Why would I resist?”

  “Occasionally you manage to surprise me, Fancy.” He motioned toward the Luminary Guards, who’d stationed themselves in the center aisle. Now that my eyes were used to the brighter lights of the hall, the pair looked like white shadows in the dim infirmary. Out of place. Ghostly. “That girl will take you to the bathing chamber before you leave. You smell like sewage, and I don’t want anyone saying I don’t take care of my prisoners.”

  I took a step toward the Luminary Guards, but paused and risked a glance over my shoulder to where Aaru sat, his feet wrapped in layers of gauze and linen.

  Just minutes ago, I’d thought he was so much bigger than I’d realized before, but among the large warriors and Luminary Guards, and suddenly silent in presence as well as voice, he seemed to be shrinking.

  He lifted his eyes to mine, his hurt evident for all to see.

  I searched for something to say, something to make this better. But how could I reassure my ally—former ally now, probably—when I’d omitted important information, and now I was leaving? Without him. What could I say to someone I was abandoning to Altan and the Pit and the merciless darkness?

  ::I’m sorry.:: I tapped the words against my thigh, but if he noticed, he gave no response.

  “Don’t worry about your friend,” said Altan. “I’ll take care of him.”

  Foreboding dripped through me like slime. ::I will not abandon you.::

  Before I could wait for another nonresponse, the Luminary Guards moved to corral me toward the door, where Tirta waited, her head down.

  I chanced one last look at Aaru as I stepped out of the infirmary, only to catch the deliberate way he turned away from me.

  “This way.” Tirta’s voice was soft as she guided me through the halls, the Luminary Guards at our backs. She didn’t ask questions, or try to reassure me. As Altan had promised, she simply took me to a bathing chamber, though not the usual one.

  This room was bigger and smelled less like sulfur. Besides the bricked, kidney-shaped pool of steaming water, there were seven stone benches with crossed maces carved into the backs. Three noorestones were embedded into each bench—one above the maces and one on the end of each arm (twenty-one bench noorestones total), and twenty noorestones were planted in sconces around the room.

  Noorestones had been so innocuous. Once.

  Alone—we’d left the Luminary Guards in the hall—Tirta took my hands and squeezed. Her eyes were wide with confusion. “What’s going on?”

  My voice caught in my throat. Too many emotions bombarded me at once. Shock. Joy. Relief. Hope. Anticipation.

  Guilt.

  How could one person bear the guilt of leaving while her friends could not?

  Tears weighed down my eyes. I couldn’t forget Aaru’s immense pain caused by my betrayal. What would Tirta think if she knew how deeply I’d hurt him? And Gerel? Gerel would be furious when she found out. All her worst thoughts about me were coming true.

  “All right,” Tirta said when I couldn’t find my voice. “Let’s do this quickly, before they come in to get us.”

  I glanced over the new bathing chamber again. The table in the back held a pitcher of water, condensation gathering on the glass, and a pair of cups. There was even a plate with grapes, orange wedges, and strawberries arranged in three neat rows. Baskets on the benches held soaps, cloths, and hairbrushes.

  Tirta followed my gaze. “Sometimes they use this room to reward prisoners for good behavior. Not usually first-level prisoners, though.”

  This definitely wasn’t a reward.

  Careful of the bandages on my back, I shed my grimy clothes and tossed them in a corner. The Luminary Council had sent a simple dress for me, along with all the other comforts from home.

  “Which soap do you want?” Tirta asked. “There are several scents.” She said it like it mattered. Like we were girls living in Crescent Prominence with nothing better to do. But she rattled off the various fragrances and I chose one that Krasimir had always said worked nicely with my natural scent.

  She handed me a basket filled with the wonders of my past. Shea butter and honey soap. Orange blossom and jasmine hair cream. Three soft linen cloths. A wide-handled comb with all the tines. Even a peel for my face. When Tirta poured a glass of water, I drank the whole thing down in long gulps. The fruit followed shortly.

  Carefully, I let out what remained of Ilina’s twists. The ends of my hair were ragged and needed a trim, but that wasn’t the worst: brittle pieces broke off and scattered in the water. A strained whimper squeaked out of me.

  “It’s just stress,” Tirta said. “It’s living in this place. Not being able to take care of yourself properly.”

  “But—”

  “No one will notice.” She went to the table and picked up two jars. “Look, we can make it nice again. You tell me what’s going on, and I’ll help with your hair.”

  I gave her the comb and closed my eyes as I forced out a short summary of the last two days.

  She lowered her voice as she smoothed creams into the mistreated strands of my hair. “Mira, do exactly as they say. Don’t be brave. Just be smart.”

  If only I knew what being smart in this situation entailed.

  “You’re getting out, though. That’s good.” She smiled, but if she thought I couldn’t tell how strained it was, she was wrong. “I knew they couldn’t keep you here forever. You’re too i
mportant.”

  “No one has said how long this will be. They might send me back.”

  She shook her head. “You’re Mira Minkoba. The Hopebearer.” She always said that with such sincerity; it ached. “I bet this was all a cruel lesson and your life will go back to the way it was before.”

  My life could never go back. I knew too much. I’d lived through too much. “What about you?” I asked. “And all the others?”

  She lowered her eyes. “There’s no hope for the rest of us. All we can do is try to make the most of what we have here.”

  Finally, I was clean. With my hair pulled into a loose bun, and a soft red dress covering my aching body, I hugged Tirta—”I won’t forget you,” I whispered—and left the room.

  The Luminary Guards took me through the Pit, into an immense hallway I’d never seen before.

  Bright noorestones illuminated heavy banners all bearing Khulan’s crossed maces, gold on red. Columns loomed on either side, with statues and glass-encased weapons in between. It reminded me of the grand hall, where I’d first seen the true glory of the Heart of the Great Warrior, but this, if anything, was bigger. Even more impressive.

  And there was a warm yellow light at the far end. For one second, wind gusted through the hall.

  Outside.

  Sunlight.

  Anticipation made my heart thrum in my ears. When I walked faster, the Luminary Guards kept up.

  Fifty steps.

  Seventy-three.

  One hundred and four.

  That was how many steps I’d taken from seeing the exit to reaching it. I stopped moving right in front of the huge, thrown-open doors.

  The guards stopped, too.

  Great, golden light poured across me. I lifted my face to the outside and breathed in the scents of sun and sky and a wide-open world. Tears poured down my cheeks. Fresh air curled around me.

  For one moment, everything else was forgotten: the Pit, the torture, all the reasons for this nightmare. A sense of triumph stirred inside me; all I had to do was lift my hand into the brilliant light of freedom.

  A silhouette formed against the shine, resolving into a familiar shape.

  “Congratulations, Fancy.” Altan strode toward me wearing a dark smirk.

  Suddenly, the trance brought on by this unexpected look at the open world snapped and vanished, replaced by yawning despair. This wasn’t freedom. Nor was it triumph. Whatever waited for me out there was worse than all I left behind.

  “Do as you’re bidden, but don’t tell our secret.” Warning entered his tone as he paused and asked, “Do I have to explain what happens if you betray me?”

  In my mind, all I could see was Aaru strapped to the chair, noorestones pressing at his feet. All I could hear were the desperate cries.

  “No,” I whispered. “You don’t have to explain.”

  “Very good.” Then he brushed past me and was gone, only the echo of his threat settling in me like a phantom. I could not unhear the words. And I could not ignore them.

  I took three steadying breaths.

  And one step outside.

  BEFORE

  Seven Years Ago

  KRASIMIR WAS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PERSON I’D EVER seen.

  She was ageless, with luminous brown skin, high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes that reminded me of a cat. She had this confident way of moving and speaking that I envied.

  The first time we met, I waited until my mother was out of the dressing room before I told Krasimir what I thought. She laughed and took a cloth from her kit, splashed a citrus-smelling solution onto it, and wiped it over her face.

  The cosmetics came off. Beneath the powders and creams, there was just a woman. Same strong features, but less pronounced. Her eyes were not cat eyes. She was mortal after all.

  And there, on her right cheek, a drop of white marked her polished-amber skin. Only one spot, but I shuddered.

  Krasimir’s expression remained blank. “Do you think it’s ugly?”

  “No,” I whispered. “It looks like a rose about to bloom.”

  She smiled and the tip of the rose expanded across the apple of her cheek. “I’ve always thought so, too.”

  “But you hide it.”

  “Yes.” She pulled a few items from her kit. “What would your mother say about it?”

  Mother would say it was ugly. A mark of shame. That no mistress of beauty should have something that imperfect.

  “Now you’re one of the few people who’ve seen my real face,” Krasimir said as she applied a tinted cream to her skin. The white rose vanished. Then the rest of her face became a flawless jewel, like before. “The only other person who’s seen the mark is my wife. Besides my parents, but they died years ago.”

  “Why show me?”

  As she pressed dark powder onto her eyelids, I began to understand. She drew attention to her best features: the shape of her eyes, the lines of her jaw, and the fullness of her mouth. “I showed you,” she said, “because you’re hiding something too.”

  “You told Mother my face is perfect.”

  “It is.” She glanced at me in the mirror. “But you’re not hiding something on your face.”

  The counting. She knew about the counting. “I’m trying to stop.”

  Krasimir smiled. “Only stop if that’s what you want. Personally, I think the counting is one of the things that makes you beautiful.”

  “Your rose is beautiful.”

  She finished lining her eyes, a cat once more, and looked at me. “Imperfections reveal true beauty.”

  I wanted to be grateful for permission to count, but I banished those thoughts. Mother would never accept it.

  Still, I was always happy to see Krasimir, not only because she brought new soaps and creams and combs, but because she gave me hope that I, too, could hide the thing that made me different.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SUNLIGHT BLINDED ME AS I STEPPED OUT OF THE Heart of the Great Warrior.

  And the sounds. I could hardly sort through the cacophony of life up here. It was overwhelming, disorienting.

  I blinked, resisting the urge to duck my face; I wouldn’t show even more weakness in front of the guards.

  When my vision finally adjusted and the burning daylight eased, I could finally see the world that had been denied to me for more than a month.

  Thirty-three days of darkness. Thirty-three days of ceiling water. Thirty-three days of slowly being smothered underground.

  But now, I stood under a sweeping blue sky, rich with orange and pink and purple clouds that huddled on the horizon. It was just after dawn and daylight had been reborn.

  A huge red-and-gold carriage waited four paces from the door, blocking most of my view, but I caught the impression of a busy street that curled into a circular drive. Four enormous columns stood on either side of the door, with crossed maces carved into the marble.

  “Let’s go.” A Luminary Guard prodded me to the carriage. Seven horses were harnessed to the front, their ears flicking and hooves stamping while they waited.

  Then there were the guards. Seven, at least that I could see. Two with me. Three at the carriage. Two more near the warriors standing at attention by the entryway.

  Once, I’d believed anyone with Luminary anything in their title was an ally. Now I knew better. Anyone could be an enemy.

  The carriage door swung open to reveal another enemy.

  Elbena Krasteba sat on a padded bench.

  “Get in,” she said.

  “Where are my parents?”

  “Not here.”

  Hadn’t they orchestrated my release, though? Maybe that had been nothing more than a wild, unfounded assumption. A hope that my removal from the Pit meant something good.

  There was nothing good about this.

  A wild urge to run overtook me, but the Luminary Guards would be fast. The warriors would be faster. I couldn’t see much beyond the carriage and columns—just the suggestion of a crowded street and tall buildings—but even if I
could run past all the guards, I’d soon become lost in a tangle of streets.

  This was Khul-tah, the City of the Warrior, and I would not survive here on my own. I was not capable of such heroics.

  I took the four steps from one prison and climbed into another.

  Two benches facing each other, a small mahogany table (bearing two covered plates, two glasses, and one covered pitcher), and curtains pulled tight against the view: these were the contents of the carriage.

  The door closed after me, choking off all the light but that of three noorestones.

  I rocked back in my seat, disoriented. For a moment, I was in the interrogation room again, cradling Aaru’s feverish body, whispering apology after apology, wishing I could strip away all his pain.

  Elbena motioned to the pitcher. “Water?”

  “No.” A desperate thirst stirred inside me, but I wanted nothing from her.

  “Very well.” She smoothed back stray hairs that had escaped her long braid. “I’m here as your friend, you know.”

  Doubtful.

  Some people said Elbena had won the position because of her youth and beauty. And it was true that she was both young and beautiful, with smooth skin the shade of umber, wide brown eyes, and a smile that dazzled. But I’d voted for her because she’d always seemed to care so much for the Daminan people. I’d liked the way she encouraged everyone to think of more than just themselves, to always look out for their neighbors.

  Hristo had never liked her; he’d noted that she never mentioned Harta in all her speeches. He hadn’t been permitted a vote, though, because he wasn’t a natural-born citizen of Damina. Now, I wished he had been allowed; he could have negated my (clearly wrong) vote.

  “How was your time in the Pit?” she asked.

  “You don’t want to hear about that,” I said. “Unless you’ve been longing for stories about bathing in filth, relieving oneself over a hole in the ground, and never getting a good night’s sleep because someone down the hall is afraid of the dark.”

  She folded her hands on her lap. “That sounds positively miserable.”