by Sarah Ahiers
“Oh,” I said. “Oh, I see the truth now. He wasn’t really one of you. He never belonged because his father wasn’t a traveler.”
“That is not—”
“And because he never belonged,” I continued, “he never learned things that other traveler children learned. And then when he did something that is anathema to you, to your gods, you punish him for it.”
Nev shook his head but he refused to meet my eyes. “It was not my decision.”
“It was someone’s decision. And you were the only one who knew where I got the necklace.”
“If you had just kept it hidden—”
“This is not my fault,” I interrupted. “You can’t blame this on me.”
Nev raised his voice over mine. “If you had just kept it hidden”—he leaned forward and dropped his voice—“I would not have had to tell anyone anything.”
“But you knew about the necklace.”
“I would have kept quiet,” he said. “For you.”
Silence then. Silence thick with tension and spoken words and words that remained hidden between us.
“You would have kept it secret,” I said, “from the others. Even though it belongs to your gods.”
“Yes.”
“But you made me leave.” My voice sounded tiny, beside his sudden conviction.
He sighed. “I made you leave because I was trying to protect you. I knew if anyone else saw you with the necklace, they would kill you.”
“They would have tried.”
“Yes. But even if they failed, someone else would have tried. We would have kept trying until you were dead.”
“But I’m not dead now. I’m here.”
“Someone saw you with the singura when you left. Perrin wanted you dead. I told her no. I told her it was not her decision, that you were a samar and so only the other samars could decide if you live or die. I convinced them to take you instead.” He said this quieter. “We sent a bird to Mornia, to tell them we were returning with you.”
“So it is your fault.”
“I was trying to protect you.”
I snorted, and Nev’s face fell. And my stomach jumped unpleasantly. I looked away from him. “I don’t need your protection.”
“It does not matter anyway. Now that we have returned, I have no protection to offer you. I have no wife or mother. I have no status.”
Above us footsteps sounded on the ground, and a moment later the woman with the curly hair walked down the spiral stairs. Isha.
She carried with her a mattress practically bursting with stuffing. “Oh,” she said when she saw us sitting at the table together.
She stumbled down the remaining stairs, and then stood there, shy, unwilling to make eye contact with me.
“Isha,” Nev said in greeting. “Ahlo kheel?” He held up his glass, offering her the oil.
She shook her head and then spoke so I could understand, her voice quiet like a mouse and her accent so heavy and thick it was hard to understand her. “I remembered you do not have two mattresses so I brought you this.” She pushed the mattress toward him and he gathered it in his arms, grunting.
Isha spun then, seemingly eager to leave. But she paused at the empty wire cage on the shelf.
“Oh,” she said again. This time quieter, like she was saddened. “Oh, Nev.”
“Good night, Isha,” Nev answered roughly.
She nodded without looking at us, then scurried up the stairs, leaving us alone again.
Nev rose. He pushed the mattress into the second niche, adjusting it and tossing pillows around.
“Who is Isha?” I asked.
“Isha is my sister’s . . .” He shook his head. “You do not have a word for it. They are together. Ashka.”
“She’s your sister’s wife?”
Nev gave a halfhearted shrug, punching the lumps out of the new mattress. “There are some similarities. It is not as permanent, I think. Isha stays as long as she wants. If she wants to leave, or Metta wants her to leave, she will. But they love each other. She will not leave. They fit together.”
“But Metta’s pregnant,” I said.
“Yes. The father is Abel. A friend.”
“He was her ashka before Isha?”
Nev laughed, and the amusement eased the lines and bruises on his face. My skin warmed at the sound. I scowled.
“No.” He shook his head. “Metta does not enjoy men. But she needed a child, and Abel agreed to help.” He shrugged once more, then stood and pronounced my bed made.
“Now what?” I asked.
“We sleep.”
“And then?”
He took a deep breath. “We see what happens.”
“Whether the others decide to kill me or not, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“If they don’t, what does that mean?”
“I do not know,” he answered truthfully. “You would stay here.”
“Forever?”
“No one lives forever.”
I knew this probably better than he did. “And if they decide to kill me,” I said, “would you help me flee?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Where would you go that the ghosts would not find you?”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
Nev sighed. “There is no point making decisions for things that have not happened yet. Things will be better in the morning.”
He slipped off his boots and before I could question him further he jumped into his alcove and pulled the curtain shut.
I stared after him. It didn’t matter if he agreed to help me or not. It didn’t matter if the travelers decided to kill me or let me live. None of it mattered. I was leaving this place the first opportunity I found.
I’d take my chances with the ghosts.
twenty-four
THE BED WAS SURPRISINGLY COMFORTABLE, EVEN IF I felt a bit like a mouse, tucked into a tiny hole to nest. But the mattress was stuffed with wool, or some other soft fiber, that enveloped my body. After sleeping in the wagon, the mattress was a moment of brightness in the dark night my life had become.
I rolled onto my side, facing the curtain. Footsteps sounded outside my alcove, soft and quiet. Then a puff of breath and the lamp went dark. It wouldn’t take long for Nev to fall asleep. Maybe I wasn’t fully recovered yet, but stealth wouldn’t require running.
I needed to escape. I needed to steal a horse and head west. Or south to the sea, which would lead me to Lovero eventually. I needed to get out of here.
Nev had told me the travelers would simply come for me again, but if I reached my Family, they would protect me. Lea would—
No.
I wasn’t going back to Yvain. To Lea. I was going back to Lovero. To the Da Vias and where I fit. They would protect me as well as Lea would, I was sure of it.
Claudia Da Via . . . my mother . . . had screamed at Lea, told her she couldn’t keep me. Would she look for me in Yvain? And what would she do if she didn’t find me?
Of course I didn’t know what anyone was doing.
I tried not to think about what had been happening the last time I’d seen them. Les’s blood everywhere. Kuch’s venom could have killed him. Removing his arm could have killed him. Infection could kill him.
I closed my eyes, but it wasn’t any darker. When I’d been younger, sometimes I’d catch Lea and Les having whispered conversations and I would hide and listen in. I’d heard them talking about death, what it meant for them.
There had been no children for them, and Lea was convinced this was because they had died, once, and been resurrected by Safraella. She had offered Lea a new life, but Lea had chosen to return to her old one instead, to return to being Lea Saldana instead of being born as someone new.
And Lea and Les spoke quietly, thinking they were alone, about what would happen if they died again. Would Safraella offer them a new life then? Or had they given it away, to stop the Da Vias, to do Her bidding? To save Emile and me?
But of course, all that had been a lie. I hadn�
��t needed saving.
Maybe they had given up any chance at a new life, sacrificed it to return as they were.
I pressed my face into the pillow, letting my body relax as I waited for Nev to fall asleep. I couldn’t waste any more time here. The sooner I left, the sooner I returned and my new life with the Da Vias could begin.
I would have freedom with them. I would belong.
I fell asleep.
I dreamed of monsters.
The same monsters. Over and over again. Hidden behind the gray mists, watching me, whispering.
“Allegra . . .” one of them called to me. I peered at the shadows behind the mists. “Allegra . . .”
I woke with a start. My heart pounded. My surroundings were strange, foreign. I felt around in the darkness for anything familiar and found smooth stone above me.
It came back to me then. Mornia, with their homes buried beneath their colorful curtains. The alcove in the wall Nev had given me. The taste of the oil on my lips.
I felt for the necklace, the singura, on my chest, squeezing its familiar weight as I slowed my breathing.
I twisted, pushing aside the curtain that covered my alcove. Nev’s little house was so dark, it reminded me of home, our hidden space below the shop, and how dark it would be when the fire in the hearth had burned down. How dark it had been when I’d crept through its silence on my birthday, trying to reach the table with my gifts.
It was late. Nev was surely asleep by now.
I crossed my legs and held the singura in my hands. It didn’t seem special, no more than a pretty stone necklace, but I had seen the traveler magic with my own eyes. And Nev said I had become a samar just by wearing it, so surely that meant the magic would work for me.
I sang the song quietly, the lyrics and tune barely more than a whisper. If I woke Nev, if he saw what I was doing, he would know immediately why. He would try to stop me. Tell his sister, maybe. And then they would lock me up.
It was what I would do, anyway.
I finished the song and nothing happened. The singura rested in my palms. There was no flash of light, no sign that anything at all had happened.
I leaned closer to the singura and started again, my words and breath brushing across the surface. I needed this to work. I needed to get home. I needed to travel safely across the dead plains.
I needed . . .
The necklace flashed, the light filling my alcove so suddenly that I gasped and dropped the singura. The light vanished, plunging me into darkness again.
Only the knowledge that Nev still slept soundly stopped me from cheering at my success. I felt around my covers until I found the singura and slipped it over my head once more.
Time to go.
I slid out of my alcove quietly. I curled my toes at the cold stone beneath my bare feet. I had slept in my dress. Not because I didn’t trust Nev, but because I didn’t want to waste any opportunity for escape by having to find my clothing.
I slipped my boots on. The darkness was not as heavy in the upper left corner of Nev’s home, where the stairs led outside. I walked to the opposite wall and felt around the shelves until something sharp slid against my fingertips. I paused and carefully removed the knife. I tucked it into my pocket and then headed toward the exit, walking softly. The stairs were steep and seemed treacherous, blind as I was, but then my head was through the hole and the rest of me followed.
It was no longer night.
Outside, the sun had risen hours ago and travelers went about their errands and chores in the early afternoon sun, blocked by Nev’s curtain. I’d greatly overslept, and my stomach dropped at my missed opportunity.
I’d never slept so long before, through the night and through the morning as well. It had to be due to the remnants of the drugs in my system and the trip through the dead plains.
Behind me, hurried footsteps erupted from the stairs and I turned to find Nev, scrambling up the stairs in a panic, until he spotted me and stopped his mad rush.
“Allegra.” He glanced around, as if he was looking for something, or expecting to find someone. He was barefoot and shirtless and I watched his chest heave up and down, breathless. I wasn’t the only one who had overslept. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t sleep well.”
He stood beside me, his breath returning to normal.
All my senses were focused on him, on the smoothness of his bare skin beside me. My fingers twitched, begging me to run them over his flesh.
I crossed my arms, keeping them to myself. He wouldn’t be able to watch me every moment. As soon as he took his eyes off me, I would disappear.
“How long have you been up here?” he asked conversationally.
I didn’t bother to respond.
To the south, the animals set up a racket. Loud hoots and hollers came from one of the pens far to the southeast. Perhaps it was so far away because it was so noisy. Birds began to sing and squawk and other animals made strange sounds I’d never heard before. I strained my ears, wondering what they could be.
“Everyone is excited to be fed,” Nev said beside me, his breath brushing across my neck and ear. I gasped, startled by his presence. I’d been so focused on the animals I hadn’t noticed him move closer.
Nev smiled, and I tried not to remember that same smile when we’d hidden behind the cages and kissed the night away in Lovero.
Beneath the blue curtain to the left of Nev’s, Metta and Isha climbed up their stairs. Isha wore a plain brown-and-gray dress that draped to her ankles, her arms bare. Metta wore a vest and loose trousers, her round belly stretching them outward.
Lea would have found their garments too plain, but to me they looked comfortable and cool. The sun was high, and I could already feel its heat spilling over everything.
My own dress felt tight and hot in comparison.
Metta strode to Nev and me, Isha following behind, avoiding my eyes. I wondered briefly if her shyness was just because of my presence, or if she was like this with other travelers.
Nev muttered something under his breath, and scratched the back of his head.
“Nev.” Metta’s greeting was sharp and staccato.
She looked at me, her gaze trailing from my feet to my head. Whatever she found, her expression kept it hidden.
“You slept so long”—she spoke so I could understand—“I thought maybe you were dead. But it seems she has not killed you.”
I smirked. “Yet.”
She blinked, but didn’t respond, turning instead to Nev once more. She spoke to him in Mornian, rapidly and sharp, like her greeting. Nev responded, but she cut him off. Nev dropped his gaze and nodded.
“We will speak to Bedna soon,” Metta said to both of us. “She will be the best one to help. If she joins us, we will hold the singura. If she is against us, you will die,” she said to me, “and the singura will go to someone else.”
“Metta,” Nev said, but she held up her hand, stopping him from speaking.
He closed his mouth and I could practically hear him grinding his teeth.
“Keep her close,” Metta said to Nev, nodding at me. I narrowed my eyes. Did she know about my plans to escape? Or was she referring to something else? “She is my chance for status. I need her.”
And with that said, Metta left and Isha followed quickly behind.
I watched Nev as he watched Metta and Isha walk away. He was different, here in Mornia. Weighed down.
At least the bruises I’d left on his face would fade.
I cleared my throat. “What was she talking about?”
Nev rubbed the back of his neck. “It is too much on an empty stomach. Come.”
I followed him down the stairs into his home. He lit the lamp. I sat at the little table, watching him in his kitchen. He spread a loaf of bread on the table, followed by nuts and fruit and a tiny jar of golden honey. He brought out two small glasses and more oil.
“We had some last night.”
“This is different.” He poured us each a
glass and then sipped his. I did the same. This oil had a sweetness to it, lighter than the earthier oil he’d served me last night.
I spread my bread with honey, then topped it with the nuts and fruit. The food we’d eaten in the wagon had been dried biscuits and meat for traveling. I hadn’t realized how much I missed fresh, good fare until my teeth sank into the soft bread. The bite of the honey was smoothed over by the fruit, and the nuts added contrast.
“Our status is very low,” Nev said suddenly, sipping from his oil again. “Metta. Me. Isha now. Since our mother died. Even before that, but mostly since our mother died. I am lucky I have Metta.”
But the way he said this made me think he didn’t actually feel lucky. “Are you sure about that?” I asked.
“Things would be much worse without her,” he stated.
I thought about Lea. Her lies. How she had stolen me. How I had never fit as a Saldana and had felt my whole life that it was my fault. How it turned out that it wasn’t. That it had been her fault, and she had known why, all along, and hid it from me.
“That doesn’t mean things are good with her,” I said.
Nev gave a small nod and then poured more honey on another piece of bread. “Metta holds the status for our family. If she was not here, I would have none.”
“What about those?” I pointed at the tiger scars on his forearm.
“They are old, from before my mother died. The tiger is not enough. Any wealth from traveling is not enough. We need mothers, daughters. Meska holds the most status of the Three. It is why Metta needs the child. Even if it is a boy, she will still be a mother then. Isha helps, too. Though her mother was not happy when she joined with Metta. Metta had little to offer her.”
“But they love each other.”
“Yes. People tell Isha all the time it was a bad decision. Her mother and grandmother and sisters try to get her to go home. But she does not. She will not. Not unless Metta asks her. She would do anything for Metta, I think.”
His eyes flicked to mine for the briefest moment.
“And what does this have to do with me?”
“The families that have the singura”—he pointed at my chest and the necklace—“have much status. Right now, Metta has your singura. But if you die, then someone else will have it. Probably not Metta. Their status will rise, not hers.”