by Sarah Ahiers
Val looked over his shoulder at me then, but his expression remained a mystery behind his mask.
I turned my back and walked away.
I felt, more than saw, Val watching me as I strode toward the safety of Lilyan.
fifteen
MY FEET HURT.
My little silver shoes had been made for dancing across marble or wood flooring, not striding the rough flagstones of the streets.
At least now I’d made it to the safer streets of Lilyan. Once I crossed out of Genoni, the signs on the streetlamps proclaiming the border of the cities, my shoulders relaxed and I was able to find a bench to sit on and sheathe my knives. I used my dress to clean the one I’d bloodied, which was a shame, but the knife came first. It had done its job and saved my life. The dress, though beautiful, had just put me in danger.
Still, I used one of the hidden underlayers. No need to show the blood to everyone.
Then it was back on my sore feet to head deeper into the city.
I could have gone home. I could’ve changed into something more comfortable, but the menagerie, and Nev, were closer, and besides, I wanted him to see me in the dress.
And the sooner I got to Nev, the less I would have to think about the Addamos’ attack and Bellio Da Via’s dismissal of me and what it meant.
I swallowed and pushed forward.
I’d been warned, of course. So many times, by both Lea and Les. And I’d known, objectively, that it could be dangerous in Lovero in ways that were unfamiliar to me. I knew how to handle ghosts in the darkness—run, hide—I knew how to handle suspicious lawmen—lie, bribe—but even though I’d handled the Addamos as best I could, I was the only one to blame for even being in that situation in the first place.
The attack took some of the shine away from Lovero. Made me remember that freedom wasn’t necessarily safe.
It was fine, though. Because I’d rather be free and in danger than safe and suffocating. I’d come out the other side of the attack unharmed. Granted, that was because of the Da Vias, but still.
I turned down another street, avoiding large crowds of drunken revelers.
Thinking about the Da Vias set my stomach twisting again. Bellio had dismissed me without hesitation. And Val, my uncle, had followed suit.
If I wasn’t welcome with the Da Vias, if they didn’t want me, regardless of what Val and Claudia—my mother—had said, and I was forced to return to Yvain and my cage—tighter, now that I knew the truth of things—I would start to scream, and I didn’t think I would ever stop.
But Nev would halt these thoughts twisting in my head. Nev would be a balm to my worries, helping me to cast them aside, if just for a time.
Nev would welcome me, even if no one else would.
The revelers that passed me on the streets gave me a wide berth, many of them bowing as I slipped by. Whether they recognized me as a clipper, or just someone dressed for a party at the palace, didn’t really matter. The space was a luxury I gladly accepted.
By the time I found myself outside the menagerie, my feet begged for me to rest.
A traveler man stood at the entrance, taking payment before letting people inside to see the animals. He had a stick of something in his mouth. The end of it smoldered and every now and then he would exhale and smoke would escape from between his lips and his nose. I stepped beside him. The smoke from his black stick smelled sweetly pleasant. He glanced at me and then held up a single finger for payment.
“I was here before,” I said.
He smirked and the stick slipped from the middle of his lips to the side of his mouth. “Princesses still have to pay.”
“I’m here to see Nev.”
He blinked slowly, showing no sign he even recognized the name. He exhaled a pulse of smoke, and then looked me up and down. Finally, apparently meeting with his approval, he nodded me forward and I slipped into the menagerie once more.
The birds were still beautiful, the horses still elegant, the tiger still ferocious and sad, but I paid them no mind as I weaved past people and made my way back to the corner with the snakes.
Empty. Though the cages were filled with their usual hissing occupants, there were no traveler boys with strange hats and tiny, venomous serpents trailing across their fingers.
I looked around slowly. He had to be here somewhere. The traveler at the entrance wouldn’t have let me in if Nev wasn’t here, or if Nev had really been some strange figment of my imagination.
For some reason that thought made me remember the nightmares I’d suffered back home in Yvain. Since we’d left, I’d gone without a single interruption to my sleep. Nev only gave me sweet dreams.
If Nev was here, but not visible in the menagerie, that meant he had to be behind it somewhere, like where he’d taken me before so we could kiss in private. I headed to the curtained entrance. I heard voices and hesitated.
I didn’t need to be afraid. It wasn’t a band of clippers behind the curtain waiting to ambush me. That had already happened once tonight, and I’d come out unscathed. Surely I could face a group of travelers.
I pushed the curtain aside and stepped into the gloom of their tented area.
Four men sat around a table, smoking more of the black sticks like the traveler at the entrance. The smoke floated above them in a gray haze and before them sat tiny glasses, no bigger than my thumb. In the center of the table stood a tall bottle with a green liquid inside. More oil.
They stared at me, any conversation between them forgotten at my entrance.
Once again I missed the safety of my mask.
One of them stood. Thoughts warred in his eyes. He wanted to tell me to leave, but my dress caught him off guard.
“No animals back here,” he finally said. He pointed at the exit behind me.
“I’m looking for Nev.”
He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the men remaining at the table. They said something in Mornian between them, and then the man faced me again. “So, you are his little lob. He did not mention the dress.”
The smoke from his stick swirled around my face and I waved it away. “I came from the palace.”
The men laughed, shoving one another and smiling. But they kept their comments in Mornian, still. Maybe I would have to ask Les to teach me more of the language.
No. He wouldn’t be able to teach me anything again, not when I joined the Da Vias.
“Is Nev here or not?” I snapped.
They laughed again and the one in front of me grinned. “He is somewhere. Sit down, have a drink. He will come. You play kings and ghosts?” He gestured at a pile of cards stacked on the edge of the table. “We can teach you.”
He reached a hand toward my face and I grabbed his wrist, twisting it sharply.
The man gasped and the other men laughed at their friend’s discomfort. “Did I give you permission to touch me?” I twisted a little more so he grunted in pain. “I don’t believe I did.”
To my left a figure walked into the room from behind another curtain. Nev, adjusting his pants before he looked up and saw me and the other travelers. He glanced at the table and the grinning men there, then looked more closely at me and the man whose arm I still gripped.
He smiled slowly. “I see you have met Mart. But maybe you could let him go before you break his wrist? He needs that to help clean the cages.”
I released Mart’s arm and he gasped in relief. His friends at the table roared in laughter. Even Nev laughed, and I smiled sweetly at Mart, who frowned at me.
“Come.” Nev grabbed my hand and pulled me from the common room and the men. He led me once more behind the curtains to his room.
It was dark inside, almost too dark to see, but it didn’t matter. The space was so small I remembered where everything was. Remembered the feel of Nev’s skin beneath my fingers, the taste of his mouth, the scent of him.
Nev lit a lamp and we sat on his pallet together, side by side. He watched me, a strange expression on his face.
“What?” I
asked.
“Just, your dress.”
“I was at the palace.”
“You were at the palace.”
“I was. There was a ball. All the Families were invited.”
“You were at a ball. Which explains the dress. But now you are here. Still in the dress.”
Something fluttered in my chest. An emotion I couldn’t identify. “Is this a problem?” I asked. “Because I can leave if it’s a problem.”
He shook his head. “No, it is not a problem. You surprised me.”
“The menagerie was closer than going home. And my feet were sore from walking here.” I lifted my leg so he could see my feet.
He leaned forward suddenly and grabbed my leg. “You are bleeding!”
“What?” I saw a streak of blood from when I’d used my dress to clean my knife. “Oh. It’s not mine.”
He looked at me again, another expression I couldn’t begin to untangle. He was a prince of looks tonight.
“Where did it come from?”
I pulled my leg from his grip. “Do you truly want to know?”
I remembered how he’d reacted when he’d found out I was a clipper. But knowing something and really knowing something were two different things. Telling him the details of my night would definitely push him into the second category. And once he was there, everything between us could just fall apart.
“Did you kill someone?” he asked.
“Does it matter if I did?”
He paused and frowned. “I am not sure.”
His honesty was like cold water on a hot summer morning. “Yes, I did.”
“You said you were here for the festival, not as a murderer.”
“Clipper. And I am. But I’ll defend myself, if needed.”
“You were attacked.” This was more of a statement than a question, almost as if he was trying this idea out.
“Yes.” And even though I was sitting in a small room, being questioned by a traveler boy I’d only known for two days, I still felt comfortable with him. And I hadn’t felt this way in, well, never, really. Not even with Denny.
I didn’t know why, though. Nev made me feel welcome beside him, even when questioning me. Questions usually made me want to shut down, to lie. I’d been trained to be evasive when questioned, and I’d learned long ago that it was better to keep quiet or lie when Lea asked questions if I knew she wouldn’t like the answers.
But Nev asked questions and I wanted to be open. Truthful with him. I liked the honesty between us. It settled deep in my chest, warm and comforting. I’d never had that before.
Nev was different. And I was different with him.
“Who attacked you?” Nev finally asked. “And why?”
“Another Family. The Addamos. They said they attacked me because they owe my aunt a blood debt, but I’m sure there’s more to it than that.”
“And you killed them? These other murderers?”
“Clippers. And just one. Then some other clippers intervened, and they ran off. That’s it.”
“Will they try to kill you again?” His eyes flicked to the curtains surrounding us.
“Maybe,” I said. “But they can’t set foot in Lilyan, which means I’m safe as long as I stay here. And after tonight there’s no reason for me to leave Lilyan again.”
Until I went to the Da Vias.
“They can’t come here, Nev.” I shifted on the pallet. “They won’t.”
Nev slid over, to make more room for me, but then it just became easier to lie down on the pallet, side by side, staring at the curtain ceiling.
“So,” he said. “You would kill anyone who threatened you?”
I shrugged. “I do what I need to do.”
“Would you have killed Mart?”
Mart. The man who had tried to touch my face. I looked at Nev then. Really looked at him. He did seem to simply be curious about my lifestyle. “Mart didn’t threaten me. Not seriously. He didn’t mean it.”
“What if someone did mean it?”
“There are plenty of things to stop someone before murder. Sometimes a well-placed knee will drop a man faster than a well-placed knife. I can take care of myself.”
“Yes.” His fingers traced lines on my arms. I shivered.
“I have never been to Rennes,” he said.
“It’s pleasant,” I said. “Well, I can only speak for Yvain. But there are flowers everywhere. And canals that make travel easy. No need to shove past crowds of people like Lovero. But there are ghosts at night.”
“There are ghosts everywhere at night.”
“Not here.”
“They sacrifice people to be free of them.”
I scrunched my nose. “It’s not like that. Safraella is a god of murder, yes, but also death and resurrection. She comes for all of us in the end, and gives a better life for those who follow Her.”
Nev slapped at a bug.
“Travelers have three gods, right?” I asked.
“Meska, Culda, Boamos.”
“Tell me about them.”
He exhaled. “We have a song. Let me think.”
He hummed a bit under his breath. Then began to sing.
“We sing a song about the Three, of Meska, Culda, and Boamos. Boamos gives us wealth and thievery, while Culda sings us safely home. And great Meska with her animals, wraps us in our mother’s warmth.”
It was a nursery rhyme of sorts, something to help children remember when they were very young. “It didn’t exactly rhyme,” I teased.
Nev laughed. “It does in Mornian.”
“What does ‘mother’s warmth’ mean?” I asked.
“She is a god of motherhood.”
“So of mothers? Like fertility?” The Da Vias had turned to Daedara, a god of light and fertility, when they hoped to increase their numbers. And it had worked until Lea had led ghosts into their home, killing many of them and forcing the rest to return to Safraella.
“Yes and no,” Nev said. “I will tell you the story of Nula. She is the first to have worshipped Meska.”
I snuggled against him, prepared for the story.
“Nula was a mother. Her daughter was named Bema. One day they were on a boat together, fishing. But a storm came and their boat sank, leaving Nula and Bema stranded in the water.
“And Nula knew they would drown. They could not return to shore without a boat. But Nula could not stand to see her daughter die. So she held Bema above the water, using all her strength as long as she could to keep her daughter from drowning.
“And then Nula drowned. Her body sank below the waves until it finally came to rest on the bottom.
“Bema wailed long and hard, for even though she knew that she, too, would drown, she did not fear her own death. Instead, she wailed out of grief and sorrow and loss for her mother.
“And then Bema drowned. Her body sank below the waves until it, too, finally came to rest on the bottom, settled in her dead mother’s embrace.
“And Meska looked down at them, together even in death, and felt the depth of their love for each other. Meska had been a child, once, and She knew what it was to love a mother. And Meska had been a mother, once, too, and She knew what it was to love a child.
“And because Meska is a god of mercy, She sank to the bottom of the water, gathered Nula and Bema in Her great arms, and breathed life back into them, returning them to the shore.
“And for the rest of her days, Nula thanked Meska for saving the life of her daughter. And Bema thanked Meska for saving the life of her mother. And one day Bema became a mother, too, and passed her love for Meska on to her children.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said.
“Yes,” Nev agreed.
“All our stories about Safraella have a lot of death in them, too. Just not as much resurrection.” Though Lea’s story did.
He pulled me closer and I let him.
“Is it hard, worshipping three gods instead of just one?”
He pressed his lips to my throat. His hands fidd
led with the ties on my bodice. “It is our way. Is it hard to kill people for your god?”
“Yes,” I answered. “Sometimes. But who said faith was supposed to be easy?”
He chuckled at that, and the sound traveled across my skin, sinking lower in my body.
“Nothing is easy in life,” he murmured. “Not faith. Not family.”
A flash of Les and Lea appeared in my mind. My whole body tightened, thinking about their lies, thinking about my life, thinking about the coming confrontation when I would reveal to them that I knew the truth.
My breath sped up, but then Nev’s lips trailed lower, anchoring me in this moment again.
I rolled on top of him, kissing him over and over.
“What is wrong?” Nev asked when I paused for breath.
“Nothing,” I said. “Everything. I don’t want to talk about it.”
I slipped my hands down his pants and he gasped in surprise, but he wasn’t unwilling.
“Are you sure?” he asked. But whether he was asking if I was willing or if I really didn’t want to talk about it, I didn’t know. Either way, the answer was the same.
“Yes,” I said.
He pulled his shirt over his head and I yanked the ties on my bodice until it had loosened enough for me to wriggle free. I threw my shoes, knives, and jewelry on the floor but I wanted to touch him so badly that I forgot the rest of my clothes and instead reached for him, pulling his mouth back to mine, running my hands along his skin, his flesh, touching every inch of him.
This was what I wanted, what I needed.
The weight of him on top of me didn’t feel like a trap; it felt like freedom, a freedom I could never seem to find.
And even though Nev was warm and willing and good, I still couldn’t help but think about everything, about my family, both of them, wondering which one deserved my love and which one deserved nothing.
Tears rolled down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop them.
Nev paused. “Am I hurting you?”
I shook my head, jarring the tears free from my cheeks. “Don’t stop,” I said, and clung to him, wishing this moment would last, so I wouldn’t have to face the people who thought they loved me but instead had hurt me, so I could stay here forever, with him, in the safety of the dark.