by Sarah Ahiers
I wiped the bloodied blade on my thigh and returned it to my belt. Let her see that I did not need it. That I did not fear her. Or the rest of them.
“I serve a dark god faithfully, so do not suppose to know me, Perrin. I understand the ways of gods. And I understand enough of your gods to know that even if you manage to take the singura, it does not mean it will belong to you.”
Perrin glared at me, rage spilling across her features.
Someone spoke loudly in Mornian, and the crowd parted.
An old woman stepped through, her black hair long ago turned to white, her eyes clouding. A singura rested on her chest. A samar, then.
“She is Bedna,” Nev whispered to me as the commotion of the crowd quieted. “She is Perrin’s grandmother,” he added.
Great. The leader of the samars was also related to the woman who wanted me dead.
Bedna looked between me and Perrin.
“What is happening here?” she asked her granddaughter.
Perrin responded in Mornian, so I wouldn’t be able to contradict her story. Nev could, but Perrin held more status than he did, and besides, Bedna would probably side with her granddaughter over Nev.
But whatever Perrin said didn’t go over the way she’d planned, because Bedna began to shake her head and finally held up her hand, halting Perrin’s words.
“You do not choose who is a samar, Perrin.”
“But she is a ghoshka . . .”
Bedna shook her head again. “We were all ghoshka at one time. We were all separate people. Now we are one. It is not up to you to make decisions on behalf of all. The samars will decide the fate of this girl, not Perrin.”
Perrin scowled and dropped her head, but finally nodded.
The crowd began to disperse, though there were some unsettled mumbles, and more than one traveler shot me a suspicious or dirty look.
Bedna turned to me and another samar stepped to her side. “We will sleep off the festival. You will come speak with us tomorrow, Allegra.”
I raised my eyebrows, surprised she even knew my name. “How about right now?” I asked. I needed to speak with Bedna if I wanted to remove the singura from my life.
Bedna simply smiled, and she and her companion walked away.
Perrin glowered at us.
“Go home, Perrin,” Metta said.
Perrin responded in Mornian.
Metta was a small woman. Shorter than Perrin, not as broad shouldered, burdened under the weight of the child she was carrying. But she held her ground, and looking at her, it seemed only the gods would be able to move Metta and even then, only if they asked her.
“I do not think you will be able to take it,” Metta replied to Perrin so I could understand.
I kept silent. It was nice, to have someone else threaten people on my behalf. Even if Metta was still using me as the weight of that threat.
Perrin scowled and left, leaving the four of us alone. I felt strong beside them. We had held our ground, held to one another and prevailed. They spoke so I could understand.
“She will not let it go,” Isha said. She fidgeted, tugging at her dress as if it was ill-fitting.
“Perrin is a bully, always,” Nev said. “Now she feels she has the gods on her side.”
“And the crowd,” I said. “Many seemed to side with her.”
“Bedna did not.” Metta smiled slowly, slyly. “And what matters is what the samars believe. Bedna stopped Perrin. And Allegra helped with the menagerie today. Many saw these things.”
“Metta will keep speaking with everyone,” Isha said, more to Nev than me. “Metta will sway them to us.” She smiled at Metta and took her hand.
I thought of Claudia, hiding in the wagon, my mother waiting for me to return home with her. I thought of Perrin, and knew she would try to take the singura from me again, with more force. I thought of the dead plains, and how I could not cross them.
It all came down to the singura. I had to be rid of it. There had to be a way. If anyone knew, maybe it would be Bedna and the other samars. If they were disciples of their gods, then maybe one knew of some long-ago wisdom, forgotten over the ages, that could free me of this burden without sacrificing my life.
thirty
I STEPPED ONTO THE SPIRAL STAIRS AND SLIPPED INSIDE Nev’s home. It had begun to rain, putting an end to the traveler festivities. Everyone headed to their homes.
It was dark inside and a moment later the light completely disappeared, sinking me into shadows.
“Nev!” I stood my ground, not wanting to trip over the chairs or table.
Something shuffled behind me and a hand cupped my elbow.
“It is only me,” Nev said quietly before I could react. His hand vanished and my elbow was cool in the sudden absence of his skin against mine.
I swallowed.
The lamp flared to life, and Nev set it on the counter in the kitchen, letting its yellow light fill the small space.
Then he reached for my hip. And I let him. Let him place his hand on me, let his breath brush across my throat.
He tugged at my belt and stepped away. In his fingers he held the knife I’d used to defend myself against Perrin. His hands were gentle, holding the knife delicately. It reminded me of how his fingers had stroked my neck, sliding along my jaw, to my throat, before his lips pressed against my skin.
“What is this?” His voice was deep and gruff and spoke of anger and hurt and betrayal, maybe.
“You weren’t supposed to find that.” I reached for the knife but he pulled it away, taking a step back.
“This is my knife,” he said.
“Yes.”
“You stole it from me.”
“Yes. Would not Boamos be pleased?” It was an unfair remark.
His face darkened. “What were you going to do with it?”
“It’s a knife,” I said. “Its uses are pretty clear.”
“You would kill me?”
“What? No! Nev, I—”
He clenched his jaw, knife still in his hand, though he dropped it to his side. “I welcomed you into my home.”
“The knife was for protection,” I said. “And welcomed is a bit of a stretch. You took me from my home and family. Your sister made me stay with you while the rest of your people decide whether or not I should die.”
“You kill too easily,” he said.
His anger was contagious and it spread to me now, coursing through my veins. “Killing is easy! People are fragile. And obtuse. And too in love with themselves to see their deaths shadowing them. Our deaths walk beside us from the moment we are born. We are lucky if we reach old age.”
“You are a murderer who speaks of death and deals in death but you do not respect it! I said I would help you and yet you keep this knife on you for any opportunity to use it. Life has value!”
“You think I don’t know that?” I stepped toward him and it was either a testament to his bravery or his anger that he didn’t step back. “You, who sent a snake to kill my uncle instead of facing him yourself?”
“That was not—”
“I cut off his arm, Nev! I cut off his arm to save his life and while I raced to find a doctor, I was taken by travelers, all because I wear a pretty pendant.” I flicked the singura. “You took me from my family when they needed me most.”
“But—”
“Just because the lives and life I value are not the same as yours doesn’t mean I don’t value life.”
The shouting had left me breathless.
Nev turned his back on me. He walked calmly to the shelves and slipped the knife back in its place.
“I am sorry about what you had to do to your uncle. And I would like for you not to kill me. Or Metta or Isha.”
“I haven’t killed you yet, have I?” I snapped. By the drop of his shoulders it wasn’t the response he was looking for.
“Nev . . .” I sighed, trying to curb my anger. “The knife was only for protection. I promise. I would not hurt Metta and Isha. I would not hur
t you.”
“Because it would not help you,” he said bitterly. “Killing us would make your escape harder.”
“It would,” I answered truthfully. “But that is not why I wouldn’t kill you.”
I stepped closer to him. “I’m rash,” I said.
He turned, confusion on his face.
“What?”
“I’m rash. I do things without thinking about them first. I react. I lead with my emotions. It gets me in trouble, sometimes.”
He blinked, waiting for me to continue. “I took that knife because I didn’t think about it. I escaped into the dead plains because I didn’t think about it. I ran into Ravenna without considering the possible consequences. That one . . .” I paused. “That one was really dumb. Even if it led to answers. It led to a lot of things.”
Nev stepped closer, eyes on his feet. “You . . .” he started, then swallowed. “You went with a traveler boy behind the cages in a menagerie,” he said.
“Yes.”
He looked at me, eyes on mine. “You went with him to his bed.”
I stepped closer to him. “Yes, again. That one also led to some unexpected consequences.”
He laughed, a quick bark of surprise that faded to a smile.
He was so close. His bruises were fading fast. And his smile was so much like the smile I’d first seen on him that I didn’t even question, didn’t even hesitate. I just leaned forward and kissed him.
It was nothing like the kiss in the dead plains. That had been wild and passionate and full of built-up emotions. This one was soft and sweet and quiet and when our lips pulled apart I realized my eyes were closed.
I hadn’t been kissed like that in a long time.
“See?” I said. “Rash. I’m sure it makes me hard to be around.”
“I do not mind,” he said, leaning in for another kiss while above us the rain poured down, blanketing the land, trying to erase us all.
I waited for Nev to fall asleep, listening for soft snores from his alcove, before I slipped outside.
The heavy rain had passed, but it still drizzled, and I walked through the damp and wet night, heading east to where the traveler wagon was stored.
I missed being in Yvain, where night meant people went inside to spend time with their families and to sleep. Where I could spend hours on the top of a roof and trace the constellations, or count the lonely ghosts as they wandered about the streets, making up tragic stories of how they had met their ends.
I’d always thought they’d been boring, the quiet Yvain nights. And I supposed they were, compared to Mornia, and definitely compared to Lovero. But I had spent enough time with them that they had seeped into me, until the absence of them made my bones ache.
I shook my head. I didn’t know what I wanted.
Nev’s wagon appeared unremarkable. No one would look at it and think someone was hiding inside.
I pushed the curtain aside. And found a knife pointed at my face.
“It’s me,” I said.
“Allegra.” My mother lowered the knife.
I slid inside with her, leaving the curtain open for some fresh air and the hints of moonlight that peeked through the shuffling clouds.
My mother. I was here, alone, with my mother. And for the first time no one was threatening us, or forcing her to hide, or flee.
My eyes watered, and I cleared my throat, trying to control my emotions.
I had so many questions for her. So much I wanted to learn, years of knowledge and mothering and love to make up and it could all start right now, here, together.
“Are you ready to go now?” my mother asked.
I leaned back against the wagon. It seemed Claudia liked to get straight to the point. One new thing I’d learned about her.
Claudia had set her mask, cloak, and most of her weapons at the front of the wagon, but she still wore a few knives to keep them close. Her plaited blond hair was messy, with strands pulled free to hang around her face. She brushed these aside. “Are we leaving?”
I remembered the fear in Nev’s eyes when he’d told me how I’d had a seizure as we’d tried to leave Mornia. Remembered the weakness, the hallucinations, the pain. I shook my head. “No, I can’t leave.”
My mother made a sort of exasperated groan and leaned back against the wall of the wagon. “What is your delay? Do you enjoy it here? This place that stinks of animals? With these people and their incessant singing to keep the ghosts away? Yes, I saw how that works. It’s a clever little trick.”
“I told you I can’t leave. Not until I find a way to get rid of the singura.” I tapped the necklace hanging from my neck.
My mother leaned closer, examining it in the dark. “Just give it to me, then.”
I jerked back. “No. I can’t give it away. I would die. That’s the problem. If I give it away, I die. If I try to leave with it, I die. And anyway, they need these necklaces to sing the ghosts away. There are only twenty-four of them. If I left with it, they would never stop looking for me.”
“Then what’s the solution?” she snapped. I couldn’t blame her for the exasperation she was feeling. She was hiding in a tiny wagon in Mornia. She was probably miserable.
“I’m going to speak to a woman tomorrow. She’s . . . I don’t know. A priest mixed with a Family head, maybe. She might know of a way to free me.”
“Why don’t we just speak to her now? We can sneak into her house, the two of us, and persuade her to set you free.” She tapped the tip of her knife when she spoke, clearly displaying what kind of persuading she would use on Bedna.
And maybe that was actually the solution. Maybe I was being too soft, here in Mornia. One of Lea’s favorite sayings was, “Murder is the solution.” But even she would admit that sometimes, it just wasn’t true. And I felt that in my bones, here in Mornia. That if I killed someone, it would only make things worse for me.
“I don’t know where she lives.”
“Then we’ll kill them all, Allegra!” my mother shouted.
I scoffed. “All the travelers? That’s not even possible.”
“We’ll take a page from that damned Lea. We’ll kill all the people with their idiotic necklaces and let the ghosts kill the rest of them. No one will stop us then.”
“There are innocent people here. Children.”
She snorted. “They’re not innocents, Allegra. They’re the enemy. They took you from me. Don’t tell me Lea has made you soft.”
“I’m not soft,” I snapped.
She leaned back once more, arms crossed over her chest as she stared at me. “I won’t wait here forever,” she said quietly.
I blinked. I couldn’t untangle what she meant. It seemed a subtle threat, but I wasn’t sure if it was for me, or the travelers. Either way, it made my skin crawl.
“I have to go,” I said, and slid to the back of the wagon.
“Why? Because someone’s waiting for you? That traveler boy you spend your time with?”
I didn’t answer.
“Boys come and go, Allegra,” she said. “There will be new ones in Lovero. Clippers. Not travelers. The people you belong with.”
Belong. She spoke of belonging as if she knew my heart, could see its chambers and how they echoed for me to fit. But she didn’t know me. Know who I was. She was my mother, yes, but that didn’t mean she knew where I belonged any more than Lea had.
My stomach churned at these uneasy thoughts and I stepped outside. The rain had passed and the night air was cool.
“Next time you come,” she said, “bring me some food. And wine.”
“They don’t drink wine,” I said. “Only juice and oil.”
“Of course they don’t,” she sneered.
She closed the curtain, hiding herself from view, and I headed back to Nev’s.
thirty-one
I CREPT SILENTLY INTO NEV’S HOME.
He was still asleep when I returned, and I sighed in relief. I didn’t relish trying to explain where I had been if he had been awake.<
br />
I slipped off my boots and climbed back into my warm alcove, chilled from the night air. My blankets were tangled and I shoved them around, trying to get them back in order. My elbow slammed into the wall of the alcove with a thump, and I hissed in pain, holding it to my chest as waves of numbness worked down to my fingers.
Sounds erupted outside my alcove, thumps and shuffling and all at once Nev was ripping my curtain open, knife in hand, searching for whatever had threatened me.
Cool air pooled inside and I took a deep breath, shaking my arm.
“What is it?” Nev asked me.
“A dream,” I said. “Nothing but a dream.”
He relaxed, knife dropping to his side as he closed his eyes.
“Sorry,” I said.
“It is fine.” He placed the knife on the table. He wore only a pair of night pants and gooseflesh had erupted on his skin.
My thoughts were unsettled after the conversation with my mother, but the sight of Nev brushed them aside as usual.
“You’re letting all the warmth out.” I tugged him into the alcove with me and shut the curtain once more.
It was so dark, but my night vision had always been excellent and I could see the rise and fall of his chest as his pulse returned to normal.
I shivered in the chill air and tugged on my covers. “You’re sitting on my blanket.”
Nev shifted, crawling to sit beside me. I covered us both with the blanket, and the heat that rolled off his body put my own shivering skin at ease.
“Did you think it was Perrin?” I asked. “Come to murder me in my sleep?”
“Maybe.” We spoke quietly, as if louder words had no place in this moment. “I would not put it past her.”
“I would hear her coming,” I said. “I would kill her first.”
He nodded and I laughed.
“What?”
“Nothing, really,” I said. “We’ve come so far.”
“What do you mean?” He looked at me then, mostly in silhouette, but his eyes glimmered a touch in the dark.
“When I first met you and you discovered I was a clipper, you were frightened of me.”
He scoffed. “I was not.”