‘You don’t understand,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘Darkhaven needs you. I need you.’
‘Maybe if it was the other way round,’ he muttered. She frowned, unsure whether or not she was meant to have heard.
‘What do you mean?’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ He looked down at his hands again, clasped so tightly the knuckles showed white. ‘Lady Ayla, I’m willing to stay here and serve you in whatever professional capacity you choose. But as for this other thing you’ve dreamt up … I can’t imagine what made you think it would be a good idea, but my answer has to be no. For both our sakes.’
‘What do you mean?’ she said again, stupidly.
‘Well …’ His shoulders hunched in embarrassment. ‘For that kind of thing to work, the two people involved at least have to like each other.’
Oh. Ayla stared at him, unable to find any coherent words through the pain that tore at her heart. He’d offered her help when she was lost and alone – put up with every mood she’d thrown at him – come running to rescue her from Travers, been there to comfort her when she learned the truth about Myrren – and yet he didn’t even like her?
‘Right,’ she managed at last. ‘Yes. Of course you’re right.’
They gazed at each other in silence. Tears prickled behind Ayla’s eyes, and she turned her face away.
‘In fact, it’s probably best if you leave now. Don’t you think? I mean –’ she swallowed over the constriction in her throat – ‘since we’ve established we don’t actually like each other, seeing each other every day would be too …’ Painful. Embarrassing. ‘Awkward.’
‘Awkward,’ he echoed. ‘Of course. I understand.’
Ayla felt rather than saw him get up from the window seat. She dug her nails into her palms to keep herself from clutching at his arm. You’ve made enough of a fool of yourself already. Don’t make it worse. Don’t –
‘Ayla,’ he said, and despite herself she looked up. His expression was sombre. ‘I wish you all the very best. And –’ He hesitated, then said all in a rush, as if he doubted the wisdom of it, ‘If you ever want anything, you know where I am.’
I don’t need your charity, she almost flung back at him – but didn’t. Instead, she gave him a stiff nod. ‘Thank you.’
His hand touched hers, ever so lightly, as it had the night before. And then he was gone, walking at a brisk pace out of the hall. Only when he was out of sight did she cover her face with her hands and let the tears flow: for Myrren, for her father, but also a little for herself.
As soon as the first light of dawn broke on the horizon, the airship’s engine ramped up from a murmur to a growl. Elisse glanced down at Corus, strapped to her chest, but the noise didn’t seem to bother him; he just slept peacefully on. Given that his first day in the world had been full of panic and confusion, he was a remarkably well-behaved child.
‘Born traveller, that one,’ Sorrow remarked.
‘Yeah.’ Elisse peered over the side of the gondola as the airship began to rise above the third ring, then sat back in her seat and swallowed hard. ‘Not sure I am, though.’
‘It’s pretty smooth once it gets going,’ Sorrow said. ‘It’s the smell of the coal that usually affects people, but after a while you get used to it.’
Sorrow had arranged the flight with someone she knew. Elisse wasn’t sure how she’d managed to organise it in a single evening as well as packing up everything in her life that was essential to her, but that was what she had done. She’d claimed the owner of this particular small airship owed her a favour, but Elisse suspected she’d just threatened him until he’d have done anything to get her as far away as possible. Either way, the three of them were now in the air above the city, and Darkhaven – she risked another glance over the side, then leaned back with a sigh of relief. Darkhaven was behind them, and receding all the time.
Now that she wasn’t on edge with expecting the Helm to leap out of the shadows and drag her and her baby back to the tower, Elisse realised how tired she was. She tipped her head back against her seat, closing her eyes. The motion of the airship was surprisingly soothing, a slow and gentle rocking – perhaps that was why Corus liked it so much. Even the noise had become bearable now she was used to it. She wondered briefly what had happened to Myrren, who’d turned out to be the Changer he’d been seeking all along, but then decided it didn’t matter to her. Her association with the Nightshades was over. It was in the past, just like her life at home on the farm. The future was just her and Corus and Sorrow, riding in an airship to –
Elisse sat bolt upright. Thus far she had followed Sorrow’s instructions without question, knowing it was her best chance of leaving Arkannen without getting caught. For that reason, it was only now that it occurred to her to ask the obvious.
‘Where are we going?’ she called over the throb of the engine. Sorrow grinned at her, cheeks flushed bright by the breeze.
‘Sol Kardis.’
Sol Kardis. Elisse repeated the name to herself, tasting its strangeness. Where Naeve’s pistol came from. The Helm will never find us there.
‘Ya hear that, Corus?’ she murmured to the sleeping baby. ‘We’re going ta a new country.’ Ever so gently, she ran a finger across the wispy Nightshade hair on his head. ‘And ya don’ have ta be a Changer unless ya wan’ ta be.’
THIRTY-SEVEN
Serenna stood in the middle of the small room she had left just seven days before and looked around. It was the same, she could see that at a glance. Nothing had changed. Yet it felt completely different.
She had left Darkhaven that morning at first light, declining Ayla’s offer of an escort and simply walking down the hill to the sixth ring. She had returned to the Altar of Flame sure that everything she had seen and done must show in her face. Surely the emotions that filled her lungs with hot lead and her belly with a stone must have left some external mark. Yet the few priestesses and acolytes she had encountered between the entrance and her own room had greeted her with barely a pause. After all, she hadn’t been away that long. To them, one week in Darkhaven was nothing compared to the nine years she had spent as a priestess. She was the only one who realised that in fact it was the other way round.
Now she stared at the walls and heard, over and over, the sound of a pistol being fired.
No. She had to stop thinking about it.
She picked up the small bag she had taken with her to Darkhaven and began unpacking the contents, concentrating on returning each item to its place. When she’d finished, her face was wet with tears. This was ridiculous. Even if yesterday’s events had never taken place, she was a priestess. She couldn’t really have stayed with Myrren, not without breaking the vows that made her who she was. On some level she’d always known that, despite how the idea had tempted her. So what was the difference?
Of course, she knew the answer to that. The difference was, he’d still be alive.
‘You should never have come here,’ she said fiercely to the empty room. ‘You had no right to tear my life apart like this.’
But there was no answer. There never would be an answer, only memory and regret.
I hope you will remember me from time to time.
Serenna sat down on the edge of the bed as more slow tears fell. This would fade, she knew it would. Weeks and months and years would pass, and she would gradually fit back into her old life. She would become what she once had been, only with the weight of experience behind her. Experience is growth, her father had always said; she would cling to that, and wait for something good to come out of what had happened.
She just wished it didn’t have to hurt so much in the meantime.
Caraway sat at the table, palms face down on either side of the bottle of taransey, and stared at the unbroken seal on the lid. He’d made the right decision. He knew he had. So why did he feel so bloody miserable?
He’d bought the taransey with the money Ayla had sent after him yesterday. A servant had come running with it, catching him
before he was halfway down the hill to the seventh gate. A small fortune in mixed coins, enough to pay his rent for months and give him plenty of time to find work – good work, permanent work, not just a series of casual jobs. He’d understood that Ayla was repaying her debt to him; that she had realised what a mistake she’d almost made, and this was her way of expressing gratitude at his rejection of her proposal. As a result, he’d gone right ahead and spent most of the money on vintage liquor. He’d vowed to drink the lot and the future be damned. Yet night had shaded into dawn and here he was, sitting with the bottle unopened in front of him.
You were desperate for this a few days ago, he told himself. Just drink the stuff, and go back to being who you were. But he couldn’t. Something had changed in him – a door had slammed shut, never to be reopened – and now he couldn’t even seek solace in his own weakness.
Pushing the bottle aside, he stood up and began pacing the room. He’d done the right thing. Ayla despised him; she soon would have regretted asking him what she had, and that would have been worse – to see the mute dislike in her face as she struggled through a life with him by her side, an inescapable burden. At least this way the pain was clean. At least this way he didn’t have to fight every day with the knowledge that his love for her – the love he’d always felt – was unwelcome and unwanted.
I’ll leave Arkannen. The resolution came out of nowhere, like a gift from a higher power. Better out of the city.
He’d unpacked his few belongings when he and Ayla first arrived in their new rooms; now he fell to his knees and began feverishly stuffing them back into his bag, ignoring the pain in his wounded shoulder. He’d go to the Kardise border, become a patrolman. They were always short of men out there, so they didn’t ask too many questions of anyone who came seeking a new life – and besides, he’d heard there had been a few skirmishes with Sol Kardis recently, raids designed to test Mirrorvalese strength. If there was going to be war, his weaponry training could find no better place. He could still be of use to his country, and to the Nightshade line. He could still be of use to her …
‘I always liked you, you know.’
The voice made him start. Dropping the last item into his bag, he turned. Ayla was standing in the doorway, her face very pale, her hands curled tight at her sides. Caraway got to his feet, making a half-formed gesture of rejection, though his heart was suddenly beating faster in painful hope.
‘You shouldn’t be here, Lady Ayla.’
‘You never treated me as if I was inferior,’ she went on, ignoring his admonition. ‘The rest of the Helm saw me as tainted by my mother’s blood, but not you. That’s why it hurt so much when I thought – when I thought you’d killed her.’
He nodded. ‘I understand that.’
‘I don’t think you do.’ She took a few steps into the room; one hand lifted as though she wanted to touch him, then fell again. ‘When you came after me in the city, it brought all that pain back. I hated you for it, and I made that clear. But even after I realised it wasn’t your fault, I was too proud or too stubborn to admit it. To tell you I was wrong.’
Not knowing what to say, Caraway said nothing. As the silence stretched out, Ayla wrapped her arms around herself, shivering.
‘So that’s why I’m here. To apologise for how I behaved towards you. And to tell you … to tell you I still like you.’
That sent a trickle of warmth through him, but he knew he couldn’t succumb to it. She was lonely; she was bound to be lonely, with Myrren gone. That didn’t alter the facts.
‘Ayla …’ He tried to find the right words. ‘Things change. People change. I’m not the boy who used to worship you.’
‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘No, I know you’re not. But I hoped –’
He held up a hand to stop her, his heart aching with renewed anguish. ‘And I really don’t think this is the right time for this to happen.’
‘Oh.’ There was pain in her eyes; seeing it, he stumbled on.
‘I mean, I’m leaving for the border. Today. I was just packing …’
Her gaze settled briefly on his bag, then returned to his face. ‘And if I ask you to stay? If I ask you please to stay with me?’
‘It would be wrong of me to agree.’ Caraway forced himself to say it, though the appeal was hard to resist when all he really wanted to do was take her in his arms and never let go. ‘You’ve been through so much, your father and now your brother – I don’t want you to cling to me because you feel I’m all you’ve got left. And I don’t want you to feel you owe me anything, either …’
The hurt had gone from her expression; he could no longer tell what she was thinking. ‘I see,’ she said, drawing every word out with deliberate emphasis. ‘So you think I’m here – that I offered myself to you – because I’m scared, or remorseful, or because I feel grateful towards you?’
‘Well –’
‘Tomas Caraway,’ she said, smiling now, ‘you really are a complete idiot.’ And then she wound her arms around his neck and kissed him.
To begin with it was gentle, an awkward touching of the lips. But then he drew her body closer to his, and she tilted her head and allowed the kiss to deepen, and after that he wasn’t aware of anything else for a long time.
When they finally drew apart, Caraway looked down into Ayla’s face and felt a weight he hadn’t even realised he was carrying fall away. Suddenly light-hearted, he grinned at her; a little breathless, she smiled back.
‘I wasn’t expecting that.’ She made a credible attempt to sound nonchalant, but her wide eyes gave her away. ‘When I think of all those wasted nights we spent sleeping in the same room without even touching …’
‘Plenty more nights to come,’ Caraway said cheerfully. ‘That is, on one condition.’
A hint of the old constraint returned to her face. ‘Which is?’
‘You let me see your other form.’ Then, as she hesitated, ‘If this is to work between us, Ayla, I need to know both sides of you.’
‘You won’t judge me?’
‘What?’ He frowned at her in confusion; then realisation struck. ‘Oh … love, I wouldn’t know one of the correct Changer forms if it flew past my nose. If you hadn’t just reminded me, I wouldn’t even have remembered that your creature-self is different. And besides –’ he took one of her hands in his – ‘we’re making a new future, remember?’
‘Yes …’ She looked down at their interlinked fingers, biting her lip. Then the smile returned to her face, and she gave him a decisive nod. ‘All right. Let’s go home. And Tomas …’ With her free hand, she gestured towards the hilt of the broken sword at his belt. ‘I think you can probably leave that behind. Don’t you?’
Epilogue
One month later
She really should leave. Sorrow knew it, yet still she stayed.
Trouble was, there was always a reason to put off her departure for another day. First there’d been finding Elisse and the baby a cottage on the outskirts of a small village, and reassuring Elisse that the Kardise language wasn’t that different from Mirrorvalese once you got used to a few basic twists. Then there’d been preparing the little vegetable garden and a couple of chickens so Elisse could be self-sufficient, and long discussions about how best to trade for other necessary supplies. And after that Corus had taken ill for a few days and needed constant attention. Before Sorrow knew what had happened, several weeks had passed. She’d told herself she couldn’t go back to Arkannen and so this place was as good as any. Yet she knew that wasn’t true. She couldn’t stay out here in the middle of nowhere. Her kind of work needed people, and for people she needed a city. The sooner she started building up her reputation again, the better. She had money, but it wouldn’t last forever.
Now she stood at the front window of the cottage and watched the sun as it crept down the sky, thinking again about leaving. And suddenly she knew that if she didn’t leave now, she never would. She’d stay here: growing vegetables, taking care of Corus, and hoping that one day
Elisse would feel more for her than just friendship. Yet that wasn’t her style. She had never been satisfied with less than enough, and she didn’t intend to start now.
She turned away from the window, to find Elisse standing in the doorway with the baby in her arms, watching her.
‘I have to go,’ Sorrow said. The words came out in a rush. ‘You’ve got everything you need, and I have to start sorting my own life out.’
‘I understand.’ Elisse moved further into the room, her eyes searching Sorrow’s face. ‘But I wish ya’d stay.’
‘Why?’ Frustration made Sorrow’s voice sharp. ‘I can’t always be here to dig your garden and fetch your firewood and –’
She stopped as Elisse took another step closer and leaned towards her. Their lips touched for a brief, heart-stopping moment, a kiss as fleeting as summer and as light as a butterfly’s wings. Then Elisse stepped back, her cheeks flushed but her eyes bright with certainty.
‘Naeve,’ she whispered. ‘Corus and me … we need ya.’
Need. Sorrow smiled wryly to herself. It wasn’t love, but maybe it was enough for now.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll stay a few more weeks. Just until you’re properly settled in.’ She reached out for the baby, and Elisse relinquished him into her arms. ‘Now, how about we put this little bruiser to bed?’
Serenna sat in her chair by the window, gazing without really seeing at the pink-streaked evening sky beyond. A flame sunset, the other priestesses called it: a time when the sun’s power spilled over into the heavens, setting the very sky on fire. A perfect time for meditation. Yet although she knew she should fetch the appropriate tools, she remained seated and motionless, her hands folded in her lap. Her whole body resonated with an emptiness that was more terrible than pain.
It will pass, the high priestess had told her once she’d poured out her confession. Once she’d admitted how seriously she’d considered taking up Myrren’s offer to remain in Darkhaven; how deeply she mourned him, even though their lives had been entwined for no longer than the flicker of a candle flame. You will come through it, and your commitment to our life here will be stronger than ever. In the meantime, let your current suffering serve as penance for your transgression.
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