The Ever Cruel Kingdom

by Rin Chupeco

  Mother closed her eyes. “We were both fools.”

  “All these years apart, and yet we have somehow raised our daughters right, for all our faults.”

  Mother smiled. “We did, didn’t we?” She looked at us. “They’ve shown more understanding of the world than we ever did. I’m afraid for what might come tomorrow, but you’re both old enough to know your own minds. We won’t let you face the dangers alone, however. We’re coming with you.”

  I leaped up and threw my arms around Mother. She hugged me back, and I felt her draw in a shaky breath.

  “When Lan returned from the Great Abyss that first time, you fought to heal her,” I whispered. “It wasn’t just because you cared about her, was it?”

  “Brighthenge broke me,” she said softly. “I was in no better shape in its aftermath than Lan was after that first expedition. I recognized her suffering as my own. She was far stronger than I could ever be. She returned to the Great Abyss for your sake. I—I couldn’t.”

  Until now, I thought, holding her tightly. It was not selfishness that had prevented her from returning to Brighthenge. And unlike Lan, her trauma had continued untreated for all this time.

  “When you arrived here, Mother, did you . . . ?” I dreaded asking the question, but I had to know.

  Mother sighed. “The waves turned violent when the world started turning. Not even the ice walls could stand before them. It decimated the city, and we had to evacuate. I remembered the gateway, then. There were a couple of young men who had been mortally injured, who had no hopes of surviving.” She looked away. “They didn’t suffer. I made sure of it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

  “Because that wasn’t the first time I tried to access the portal from Aranth.”

  “Tell me,” I insisted.

  “It was when I first learned you were sick, and nothing the Catseye did could heal you. I remembered the portal, knew I needed a sacrifice to gain access to Brighthenge. There was a criminal in the gaols who’d murdered his wife, waiting for me to pass sentence.” She stared straight ahead. “Except the gateway never opened. I believe it was because Aeon had stopped turning, that it wouldn’t work while the world was still.” Her head dropped. “I killed a man for no reason. My shock when I learned Lan had reappeared through the portal, that Inanna—no, Ereshkigal—had opened it herself . . . I was terrified.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “It’s still my burden to bear.” Mother met my gaze. “I was terrified when you first exhibited the same sickness I had—but in a strange way I’d been expecting it as well. We were in unfamiliar territory, in so many ways; I had no precedent to fall back on. The galla’s gifts I’d acquired disappeared when the world stopped, leaving only the visions. I thought it must mean that the demons were gone from Aeon for good. That’s why I was terrified when the shadow appeared over your heart. I thought it could be purged in the same way mine was. Yes, I gambled with Lan’s life. I had only my own experiences to guide me by, the knowledge that I needn’t accept the final gift to be cured. I had hoped the same for you.”

  “But Father died,” I pointed out.

  Mother smiled sadly. “Your father wasn’t the sacrifice that was demanded of me.”

  Haidee had embraced Latona; the older goddess was weeping openly as well, but Haidee’s eyes remained curiously blank, a part of her still tucked away and grieving.

  “We need to figure out how to open the portal without killing anyone else,” I mumbled several minutes later, once all our tears had run out.

  Latona and Mother looked at each other. “I believe we know a way,” Mother said finally. “But that can wait until tomorrow.”

  Sonfei was waiting when we emerged from the tent, looking more nervous than I’d ever seen him. Mother froze, her eyes wide and mouth parted, suddenly looking years younger. Latona glanced at him, and a slow smile spread across her face.

  “A—Asteria.” The usually confident Liangzhu man was stammering. “May I have a word with you in private?”

  “Yes,” Latona said, before Mother could answer. There was an impish glint in her eyes. “She’s been waiting to talk to you for a long time.”

  Mother glared at her twin, but allowed herself to be led away.

  “Sonfei was always smitten with Asteria,” Latona said, watching them leave. “But Asteria only had eyes for . . .” She paused, her eyes falling shut. “I am sorry I never told you about your father, Haidee.”

  “You have the rest of our lives to tell me,” Haidee said.

  “I do, don’t I?” Latona looked at me next. “I should have searched for you,” she said, her voice harsh with self-recrimination. “I would have torn the world apart all over again, if I’d known.”

  “I had Mother,” I said, smiling. “There is nothing to be sorry for. I only wish I’d met you and Haidee sooner.”

  Latona opened her arms, and I stepped into them. She smelled like Mother, too.

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” she said. “I still need to talk to my commanders about how to proceed tomorrow. I have ordered Torven Arrenley detained in the gaols until further notice. I could forgive him perhaps, for seeking out the stone of immortality without my knowing, but I cannot forgive him for putting you two in danger to get it.”

  She left, leaving us looking up at the night. There were stars, I saw, and a full moon. It was a rare sight in Aranth, where the sky was constantly enveloped in dark clouds and unrelenting rain.

  “We’ve been doing this all wrong,” Haidee finally said. “Your galla’s gifts. Some of the passages we’ve read about Inanna or Brighthenge talked about how we could use them to save Aeon.”

  “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  “You told me that every time you make something grow, you wind up poisoning the soil underneath and making it barren. I read a journal once, written by my—our—ancestor, Nyx. She talked about being able to resurrect a dead bird. The way she described it was similar to how you described resurrecting your . . .” She paused, looking worried.

  “My Devoted,” I finished for her.

  “Yes. But at the shrine, when we combined our abilities—”

  “—we could channel the Gates of Life and Death. If we do it together,” I continued, growing excited. “You could nullify what repercussions there should have been—”

  “Never tested it yet. But the passages about channeling these gates could have been the key all along. We were too focused on the prophecies and on Brighthenge and The Ages of Aeon, and we never thought we could—”

  “There was a reason why Inanna couldn’t fix the world without her twin. I still don’t know how we were able to get Aeon to spin again, but when we did it together, somehow we—”

  “I’m sorry.”

  I stopped, puzzled.

  “I resented you. When Arjun died, I went down a list of things that went wrong, things I could have rectified if I’d been stronger, or faster, or thought it through better. And for a short time, I blamed you.”

  “You had good reason to.”

  “I don’t, actually. That’s what happened with Latona and Asteria. They were goaded into distrusting each other, into hating each other.” Haidee still wasn’t crying, like there was something inside her that was too broken now for tears. But her smile was soft and warm, more like the cheerful sister I knew. “I don’t want us to be like that.”

  “Haidee.” I was crying enough for the both of us. “I wish I’d known you when I was younger. I wish we’d grown up together. All I can think about is all the time we’ve wasted.”

  “So we shouldn’t waste a second more.” She was firm. “Mother Salla thinks it’s a suicide mission, to enter the Cruel Kingdom without having any way of getting back. I feel like we don’t have a choice. But I don’t want you to do this without talking to Lan first. If you decide not to go with me, then I’ll—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I interrupted. “Of course I’m going with you. Lan knows more abo
ut duty than I ever could. She knows what the risks are, and she agrees with me.”

  A cry sounded from camp, and we turned to spot a mass of frothing shadows in the distance, partly swallowed up by the night. “They’re attacking with greater frequency now,” Haidee observed quietly.

  This time, though, we felt no fear. I heard the alarms sounding at the encampment, everyone scrambling to find weapons and a position to shore up against the approaching swarm.

  The stars disappeared behind heavy clouds. I heard the steady thrum of the familiar, detested voices inside my head, whispering join us, but Haidee was here, her presence overpowering, and the miasma in my mind hissed and fled.

  I wove the incanta needed to create the Gates of Death. At the same time, Haidee wove the incanta for the Gates of Life.

  Lightning sizzled down. It caught a group of galla mid-crawl, blasting them into nothing. We were relentless. More bolts rained down on the gathered horde, striking endlessly. I should have felt exhausted; we were using too many patterns, expending more energy than should be healthy. But I felt refreshed; without the constant murmur of voices plaguing my mind, I felt rejuvenated and happy and free. Haidee’s mind was an interlocking piece, falling into place perfectly against mine, with a strange contentment in that joining that bordered almost on euphoric. It felt like I was a half who’d never known I could be whole.

  We were ruthless. Even the shadows sensed that there was something new to our partnership, something they could not seek to comprehend nor overcome. I could see pockets of them attempting flight, the first time I’d seen any of them retreat from battle. And still we pursued, lightning coming swiftly down to savage the lot. At intervals we shaped the air into a mile-wide cleaver, and cut many of them in half in one fell swoop, the bodies falling away and evaporating like the desert rain. The clans were no longer gearing themselves up for battle; they watched the carnage with open mouths and wide eyes, and eventually, scattered cheers rose from our audience.

  Darkness rippled through the Inanna—no, the Ereshkigal!—demon, like a disturbed reflection on a lake’s surface. Something like hair flowed around her, curled like snakes waiting to strike.

  But there was nothing vulnerable about us now. I knew ice and water best, and so I shaped my weapons into a glittering shard, the pointed tip sharper than even the best of swords. Haidee knew light and fire best, and so her flames wrapped around my blade, hot as hell yet never melting the ice or blunting its edges. With my strength merged with hers, her fires blazed blue and deadly.

  We launched it right into the approximation of the creature’s heart, heard the satisfying thunk it made as it tore through its chest, cleaving it almost in half. It bent backward, maw agape, and the rest of Haidee’s fires were quick to consume it all, until there was nothing left, until there was nothing unnatural about the darkness around us.

  Now that the threat was gone, we stumbled and clung to each other, shaken by our combined ferocity but also elated. “I’ve never used that many incanta at once before,” Haidee said, awed. “All this time, killing one goddess and dooming the other to misery, when together, they all could have been this . . .”

  “Your Holinesses!” Noelle was trotting out to us, and even her normally stoic expression had turned to reverence. Latona was there, matching her stride for stride. “I have water and a bite of food prepared,” the steward said.

  Haidee and I looked at each other, and we both began to laugh; mine loud and clear, Haidee’s soft, like she was relearning how. Trust Noelle to be pragmatic.

  Latona’s eyes were a mystery, but when she spoke, the pride in her voice was evident. “My daughters,” she said softly.

  My sister nudged at me. “Go to Lan,” she said softly, reading my mind. “Have no regrets this night.”

  I hesitated. “But . . .”

  “I want to talk to Mother for a bit.” The skies cleared again. Now there was only the pristine desert, white against the moonlight, and empty of danger. “And I want to look up at the full moon a little while longer.” She turned her head and gazed upward. “He would have liked seeing this,” she added softly. Her voice had regained some of its impassivity, but her fingers were still wrapped around mine.

  “You know I love you, right?”

  “Always. And I love you, too.”

  I hugged her then, but knew our moment of connection had passed. She was somewhere else now, back among thoughts of Arjun and happier days, and not even I could trespass there.

  “What’s a joust?” Lan asked when I returned. She was still in bed, but this time reading a book—a romance book, I realized. The Lady’s Pirate. My romance book.

  “You said you’re not a romance reader.”

  “I had very little else to do. And now that I’ve started, I must confess it’s a lot more interesting than I thought. What is a joust?” Trust Lan to be interested in the parts of the book about weaponry. “How do these lances work? It sounds a bit ungainly to handle, given the length the book describes. And atop a horse? What is that? Is it possible to bring beasts onto a ship—”

  “How fully recovered are you?” I asked abruptly.

  Lan blinked. “Well enough.”

  “Can you move without tearing anything?”

  “Yes, thanks to Sumiko, I’m only slightly sore in places. What—”

  I took the book and tossed it aside, pulled her close to me, kissed her. No regrets, Haidee had said. And I fully intended to take her advice. I mourned for her, and for Arjun, but I wanted to celebrate what little life I might have left with Lan.

  “Quite the instruction manuals, these romance books,” Lan murmured, mellower now than when we first started. I was snuggled beside her, sated, happy, and pliant, tracing small circles on her bare skin. “I think I have a better understanding of why you like them now.”

  I muffled a giggle. “I should have brought the raunchier ones for the trip.”

  “Is there no romance book you don’t like?”

  “A few. The ones where the heroine or their love interest dies. Or both.”

  She paused, stroking my back. “I suppose that’s a realistic outcome? Surely they can’t all have happy endings.”

  “Real life is harsh enough that I’d rather not be reminded of it.” Wanting to lighten the mood a little more, I quipped, “Wouldn’t you rather read naughty scenes instead? You did say they made good guides.”

  “I look forward to testing more of them out in the future.” She gave my backside a quick squeeze. “How is Haidee?”

  “I’m worried about her. She’s still hurting badly. I know I have to give her time, but it’s paining me to see her like this.”

  “That’s the nature of losing someone you love,” Lan said softly. “It never completely goes away.”

  “Was it like that with you and Nuala?”

  “Leave it to you to talk about an ex when you’re in bed with me, my yexu.”

  I laughed. My old jealousies felt ridiculous now, assured as I was of her love. “I was only curious. As much as you claim it was nothing serious, I know you better. You leave a little of yourself in everyone you care for. You can’t help it.”

  “I left a lot of myself in you, if tonight was any indication.” There was a leer on her face, and I blushed. She sobered. “It’s not always about the pain going away. It’s about learning how to live with it.”

  I didn’t think Haidee was going to learn how to live with it. If the worst happened tomorrow, in the Great Abyss, she intended to sacrifice herself. She still thought it was her destiny to. “If anything happens to me, I want you to mourn, and I want you to move on.”

  Lan could have protested, insisted that nothing would. But the stakes were too high, the future too unpredictable. She’d been a soldier for almost all her life, too long not to know the risks. “If anything happens to you,” she said simply, “then that means something has already happened to me.”

  I could have made the same protests, but didn’t. I placed my head on her shoulder
instead, and breathed in her warmth, accepting this as truth.

  Presently, she shifted. “You never told me,” she said, her voice coy, “how salacious some of these romances of yours are. A few scenes made me wonder if they were even physically possible.”

  “You’re still injured.” I gasped as she moved over me, kissing up my neck.

  “Not where it counts,” Lan said, before setting about proving me wrong.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Haidee at Peace

  I DIDN’T SLEEP. INSTEAD, I sat outside my tent and waited for the sunrise.

  It was beautiful. More than that, it should be a sign of change. Today, we would journey into the Cruel Kingdom. Today, we would face Ereshkigal once and for all. In a few hours, it would be over. Either we would have destroyed Ereshkigal’s hold on the world, or Aeon would be destroyed.

  But at the moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care either way.

  The coming dawn painted the sky in orange and vermilion hues. I watched the stars wink out one by one, unwilling to compete with the growing light. There was a comfort, I thought, in knowing that they were still there looking down at me, though I could no longer see them.

  The remaining clan leaders had been solicitous, a shade more respectful than I was used to. The soldiers stood to attention a little more forcefully, a little too self-aware in their discipline. Strangely enough, it was the cannibals who seemed most comfortable; their leader, Bull, met my eyes with a newfound gravity, as if he’d never tried to hunt me down as food several weeks earlier. He saluted me with a clenched fist, a sign of respect among them. I suppose it was easier for them to shake off the loss of one of their members; their whole lifestyle had been based on always expecting the worst.

  But this wasn’t just a comrade I’d lost. It was . . .

  My twin sister never blamed me, even despite the accusations I’d flung her way. I knew the guilt weighed heavy on her still, no thanks to my thoughtlessness—even after our conversation, even after we routed the last swarm of galla together. Secretly I was grateful, that she’d never thought my grief was something to be pitied. Neither did Lan, nor Noelle. Given what the former had told me about her own past, she was probably the one who understood best.