Zivah slips on a pair of gloves and grabs a pen and parchment. “We’ll send a crow, then. What else do you have to report?”
I want to laugh at the way she simply moves on. Of course, I’ll ignore the sufferings of my kin and report now like a good soldier. “I fought well. People noticed. Arxa praised me.” My self-loathing sits lodged in my chest.
She doesn’t respond, just keeps looking at me, and it’s the pity in her eyes that finally makes me grit my teeth and pull myself together. I don’t need her pity.
“You know we went north. We stopped at some strongholds, but then we took a surprise turn to Monyar. Kiran kept making notes to report to his father. They were looking at everything there. Anything that might matter strategically.”
Zivah’s pen hovers above the parchment. “If the heir himself is looking at Monyar, then this isn’t some border skirmish they’re planning. This is a major campaign.”
“The emperor turns sixty next year, and the Amparans like to commemorate these things with new conquests. What better way to do that than subjugating Monyar Peninsula, maybe even launching through the pass into the rest of the northern continent?” I consider what I just said. “Of course, that gives us an obvious way to stop the attacks, or at least greatly delay them.”
She looks at me blankly.
I speak slowly. “If the emperor never turns sixty.”
She pales. “An assassination?”
I hide my own fear with a nonchalant shrug. “I’m here. We might as well use me.” But I wonder…could I even do it? Get past the emperor’s entourage and bodyguards? And then there’s the issue of getting out alive afterward.
Zivah looks as if she’s having the same doubts. “We’ll see what Tal and Gatha say. Will you be all right, going back into Sehmar City? Can you keep earning their trust?”
“Apparently I can become any kind of monster I wish.”
There’s poison in my voice, and I see her tense. “If you’ve become a monster, let me share the blame. I gave you the potion.”
“Dear gods, do you ever raise your voice?”
“Would it help?”
Yes, it would. I want to argue, I want to yell, but she’s unflappable, and I don’t have the energy to keep knocking my fists against a wall.
“I’m still determined to do well…” I tell her. “My other self, I mean. But I also have misgivings about Neju’s Guard. I trust Arxa, but there were things that I saw…that I did…on the mission that really shook me.” I stop, because my next request feels like the worst betrayal yet. “Ask me about it before I leave. You have to convince me what I’m doing is right. You must tell me to keep doing my best for Arxa.”
Zivah’s forehead creases at my request, and I feel a perverse satisfaction. She’s finally getting a taste of what it’s like to act as Ampara’s arm. “I’ll do my best,” she says.
“I’ll listen to you,” I tell her. “I trust you….”
I break off as I think back over the past few weeks. The other me does indeed think highly of her. Maybe too highly. I suppress a shiver. It’s wrong, living two lives. The whole thing feels unstable.
Zivah meets my eyes, and I know she knows what I’m thinking. She opens her mouth, though it takes her a while to find words. “Dineas,” she says. “I know I’ve grown to be close friends with you in your other state. But I want you to know that I would never take advantage—”
I cut her off with a shake of my head. “I don’t want to talk about it. Just do your part, and I’ll do mine.”
The conversation with Dineas leaves me completely drained. As the potion begins to wear off, I have him lie down and close his eyes. I watch him toss and turn on the mat, his eyes squeezed shut as he waits for his burden to fade, and my heart breaks for him, for what he had to do, and the guilt that he must forever endure.
Gradually, he loses his agitation. The weight that was there just moments ago lifts off. I realize, an instant before his eyes open, that I need to calm myself as well. I’m deeply shaken by our last encounter, and I can’t quite quell the sense that we’re courting disaster. Thankfully, Dineas is too disoriented upon first waking to notice anything wrong. By the time he sits up, I’ve wiped my palms on my apron and wiped my face blank.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
“Groggy…and heavy.” He shakes off the potion and stands up, rubbing his forehead.
“Dineas,” I say, a bit too loudly.
“Yes?”
“You know you can talk to me, don’t you?” I say. “If there’s anything you don’t feel comfortable discussing with the other soldiers, or with Arxa.”
For the first time, he betrays a bit of tension. “What do you mean?”
I pause, hoping that I’m taking the correct approach.
“You seem bothered by something. Is it the campaign? Something afterward?”
He looks at me, stunned. “I hadn’t realized I was so easy to read.”
“I don’t think you are. But I’ve been trained to pay attention.”
He takes in my words, wrestling with some decision, then abruptly starts pacing back and forth. “Can I trust you? No, I’m sorry. Of course I can. You’re probably the person I can trust the most.”
If only he knew the layers of lies that surround us.
“It’s just that…there were parts of serving in Neju’s Guard that were…hard. The fighting, I could do that. But what we did to the wounded afterward. We killed them all, you know. Just ran them through.” His voice falls to a hush. “And there’s the way Arxa treats prisoners. The way he questions them.” He runs his hands through his hair. “I’m probably being foolish. I’m sure the rebels deserved every punishment the emperor deemed appropriate. What do I know of the world, right?” His self-deprecating smile is strained.
And here’s the point where I take the guileless soldier I’ve created and mold him into something ugly. Dineas might betray his people without full knowledge of who he is, but I must do it with my eyes open. The words don’t come easily, but they do come. “It reflects well on you that these punishments weigh on your conscience, Dineas. It shows you have a good heart. Soldiers must do unpleasant things sometimes, but it’s for the good of the empire.”
He grasps at my words. “Do you think so?”
I think of my own village, about the humiliation we’ve suffered at Ampara’s hands, the constant threat of destruction if we refuse their ever-increasing requests. Of Dineas’s own time as their prisoner that left him so damaged.
“Imagine what would happen if the rebellions were allowed to continue. The empire would fall apart, and chaos would take its place. It’s taken years to build up Ampara to the great empire it is today. Nothing is worth that. Criminals must be made an example of.”
Dineas nods uncertainly. I wonder if saying something with enough conviction makes it true. I wonder if being forced into a lie makes you less of a liar.
“Arxa has been very generous to you. Do your best to prove yourself to him. Show him your gratitude, and he will take care of you.”
Once again, he nods, more sure this time. “Thank you, Zivah. I think I just needed someone to talk some sense into me.”
The trust in his eyes makes me want to take it all back, to undo the damage I’ve done. But by some miracle I force a smile. “You’re a good man, Dineas. Ampara is fortunate to have you.”
Dineas returns to Sehmar City that evening flush with the new confidence I’ve instilled in him. As for me, I return to my duties and do my best not to dwell on how complicated things have become.
The next day, Scrawny brings me a letter from Kaylah, which I eagerly open. As I expected, she’s very interested in what I’ve learned from Jesmin thus far. She’s also glad to see circumstances improving in the rosemarked compound. Still, I’ve not completely won her over to my mission.
It does make me feel better to hear about the good you’re accomplishing there. Perhaps that was the Goddess’s plan for you all along, though I would urge you to st
ill be mindful of the vows you took the day you earned your healer’s sash. It’s a tricky thing, when one starts making choices, weighing the good and the bad, and deciding the best balance point. Those judgments are the Goddess’s domain. Better to strive solely for the good. That is the purpose of our vows, to keep us firmly in the mortal world.
It’s good to hear from Kaylah, but her letter does nothing to dispel my unease. I wish I could scoff at her simple view of things, but given what I have just lived through, I’m no longer sure. Could Kaylah be right? Have I crossed into the domain of the gods, with all I’ve done to Dineas’s mind? And yet, what was my alternative but to let our village be crushed under Ampara’s heel? If I couldn’t trust the Goddess to save me from plague, how could I trust her to protect Dara?
It’s a question that smacks of hubris, the type of thinking that in the Amparan stories of old would cause a man to be crushed for his insolence. Perhaps Dineas and I will be punished for what we’re attempting. Perhaps we already have been.
Utana sends us another invitation to tea a few days later. Mehtap rushes to my doorway, clutching the invitation. “Do you think he’s met with any success? How wonderful would that be?”
She’s in high spirits as we walk over, chattering about everything from the warmer weather to her old memories of court. My own mood is more mixed. I’ll be glad of anything that can help the sick, but I remain convinced that Utana’s hiding something, and that it has to do with the rose plague and his work as minister. But despite my attempts to coax information out of him, Utana has proven remarkably discreet about anything having to do with the imperial court. It’s a valuable virtue for a minister to have, but unfortunate for me.
When Utana answers his door, I know the news he bears is not good. Mehtap senses it too, and she takes worried glances toward me as he pours our tea.
“I wish I had better news,” he says. “I’ve written to my old friends. Some didn’t write back, and the ones who did sent their regrets. The emperor has big plans for next year, and that leaves few resources to deal with other concerns.”
Mehtap’s delicate mouth opens in surprise. “Nothing? But surely they could offer some help.”
Her disappointment is hard to see, perhaps even harder to face than my own. I hadn’t truly pinned my hopes on Utana’s efforts, but Mehtap clearly had.
Utana turns his palms up in an apologetic gesture. “I will keep writing and keep trying. Perhaps donations could be collected from the citizens. Any little bit would help, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” echoes Mehtap quietly. “Every little bit. Thank you, Your Excellency, for your efforts on our behalf. We are grateful.”
But as we walk home, Mehtap takes my arm and speaks her true thoughts. “They’ve forgotten us, haven’t they? To the healthy ones, we don’t exist anymore.”
Mehtap is noticeably quieter over the next few days. She makes some attempt at conversation when I’m around, but her eyes drift off, and her words sometimes stop midsentence. When I try to ask what’s wrong, she says she doesn’t want to talk about it and makes an excuse to leave the room.
It’s a full week before her spirits rise again. One morning, she runs to my doorway. “I’ve news,” she says, leaning in and hanging on the doorjamb with one arm. “Good news!”
“From Utana?”
She frowns. “No, not that. Never that. But come. Dineas is waiting in the courtyard.”
Dineas? Conspiring with Mehtap?
Mehtap bounces alongside me as we make our way down to the courtyard. When I get to the doorway, I come to an abrupt stop. Dineas is standing in the courtyard. He’s in full ceremonial attire—black conical helmet and silver-and-black-embroidered tunic. The bronze of his shield shines, as do the buckles on his fine leather belt.
Mehtap giggles. I quell my unease at seeing Dineas standing so proud in full Amparan regalia.
I dust my hands off on my apron. “I’m underdressed for the occasion, apparently.”
He bows deeply, his eyes full of mischief. Then he pulls out a parchment and starts to read. “On behalf of Emperor Kurosh of Ampara, I hereby extend an invitation to Mehtap, daughter of Arxa, and Zivah, daughter of Ruven, to attend the Spring Equinox Festival in a fortnight’s time in the Imperial Palace Gardens.”
“The emperor’s gardens,” says Mehtap in a singsong voice. “It will be so beautiful.”
That can’t be right. The garden is in the city.
Dineas continues reading. “Three soldiers of the empire will be honored at the feast for their bravery in service of the empire. Commander Arxa, son of Asina; Walgash, son of Frada; and Dineas, son of the gods.”
Has everyone gone mad? “Dineas, the festival’s in the palace. In the middle of a city full of people.”
Dineas drops the formal act and breaks into a boyish grin. “The emperor’s made allowances. You’ll be taken to your own marked area in the gardens, separate from the other guests.”
Mehtap adds, “But we’ll still be able to see the festivities, hear the music, eat the food, sit in the gardens.”
Their enthusiasm starts to rub off on me. The emperor’s gardens are said to be beautiful beyond compare, but I never thought I’d see them for myself.
Mehtap is still chattering. “You’ll need a dress, of course. You can borrow one of mine. A dark blue one would look lovely with your hair.”
“Are you sure it’s a good idea?” I’m still having trouble believing this.
She lets out an exasperated sigh. “You don’t understand, do you, Zivah? You must go. One of the honored guests at the feast has specifically requested your presence. Father has asked if I could be there, and…” She looks significantly at Dineas, who nods.
“You really must see the gardens, Zivah,” he says. “I couldn’t share the rest of my journeys with you, but this I can. And besides, you’re the closest thing to family I have.”
Warmth spreads through me at his words. I imagine the scent of spring flowers drifting on the wind, and the last of my resistance crumbles. “In that case, I would be honored.”
“Don’t come to the equinox festival.” I blurt out those words as soon as my memory returns.
Zivah’s taken aback. To be fair, it hasn’t yet been an hour since I read her the invitation and pleaded for her to come. But that was before she pulled me away for another treatment. Before I remembered who I was and regained my senses.
She speaks slowly, as if addressing a temperamental child. “Why do you say that?”
I don’t want to tell her why. “I think it’s a bad idea. It’ll be a good chance for me to see the emperor’s bodyguards up close, but there’s nothing for you to do. You can make some excuse to stay away.”
“I can’t simply change my mind. It would offend Mehtap, Arxa, and the emperor. It will offend you, once this potion wears off.”
Part of me knows she’s right, but I don’t want to admit it. “There must be a way. Are you really thinking about our mission, or do you just want to spend a night in the gardens?”
A spasm of irritation crosses her face. “What’s wrong with you? I do want to go, but that’s not the point. If you want me to back out of this festival an hour after agreeing to go, you have to give me a reason.”
I grit my teeth. “The reason…” I stop. Breathe. Force myself to spit out the words. “The reason is because I’m falling in love with you.”
And finally, one of us has said it. Zivah’s jaw snaps shut. She knows I’m not declaring my devotion to her. No, my words are an accusation.
I never thought I’d live long enough to speak of love. I’ve been one of Gatha’s elite since I turned fifteen, and that meant an early death on the battlefield. Killing Amparans was far more important than chasing women. How I got here to this point, sitting on a mat in the rosemarked hospital, sorting through the heartsick adventures of my other self, I do not know. It’s like my other self was a lovesick puppy, and now I’m left to clean up the mess on the floor.
“I know
that you’re—he’s fond of me,” she says carefully. “But you overstate things.”
“Do I? I see him getting more hopeful every time he sees you, daydreaming about you all hours of the day. And he’s thrilled that you’ll be at the feast. More thrilled than he should be.”
“You can’t blame me for his infatuation. He doesn’t have many friends outside the army, and I’ve helped him through a difficult time. If it gets to be too much, I’ll set him straight.”
She brushes a hair from her eyes, and I notice the curve of her cheekbones, the graceful arch of her wrist. Her rosemarks, strikingly bright against her skin, accentuate her features. Though they disgusted me just a few months ago, they now seem to give her an otherworldly beauty, the beauty of someone who’s seen life and refused to back down. It’s something he would think, not me, and it just makes me angrier. What madness is this, being possessed of someone else’s eyes? I feel as if I’ve just climbed out of a swamp. I want to be myself again, the real me, but the other Dineas clings to me like a film of mud. Stubbornly, I dig up my oldest impressions of Zivah. The timid Dara villager, too fearful to devote herself to war. The plague victim, covered with the marks of death. Yet those impressions no longer feel right. They’re faded and awkward, like a piece of leather that has shrunk after the rain.
I shake my head. “Don’t lie to me about pushing him away. Do you think I don’t see the way you look at him? The way your eyes light up when he surprises you? The way you threw yourself into his arms when he came back from Monyar? I was there, Zivah. I remember everything.”
She stiffens, and I can almost see her wrapping invisible tendrils around herself and pulling herself together, that maddening self-composure. “I was happy to see him safely back. I was happy to see you back.”
She speaks so softly. I remember that was my first impression of her, and remember how I thought she was weak. But I can no longer dredge up that reaction either. What was once weakness now looks like quiet strength, and a capacity for compassion that I’ve never seen in anyone else.
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