by Sarah Ahiers
Nev pulled the bloodstained towel away from my arm. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “No.”
The slash from Perrin’s knife was only about the length of my forefinger, but it oozed blood. “It will need to be stitched.”
He got up from the table and began to dig through one of the crates on his wall. I took the towel and continued to dab at my wound, feeling the pain as it pulsed through my entire arm.
Nev returned with a needle and thread. He pulled his chair closer. “This will hurt some.”
“This isn’t my first time being stitched,” I said.
I looked away while Nev pierced the needle through my flesh and pulled the thread through to the other side. Stabbings, poisonings, bloody and dead bodies were all things I could handle. But I never did like to watch skin and flesh sewn back together like a piece of cloth.
“What happened your first time?” Nev asked, leaning closer.
“I was seven or eight, and learning about throwing knives. Wasn’t paying attention and one slipped through my fingers. We keep all our knives well honed.”
I held up my ring finger in the lamplight, the thin white scar mostly faded now. “I only made that mistake once.”
Nev grunted in acknowledgment, but then we fell silent while he finished stitching me.
Finally, he tied the thread off and leaned closer for one last inspection of his work. “It will hold.” He looked up at me with a grin.
His stitches were neat, but overlarge, and not very delicate. It made me think of Lea’s skills with a needle and how she could make the tiniest stitches in a wound so it wouldn’t scar. I missed her skills, right about now. Missed her, actually.
I blinked, sat back in my chair.
I missed her. I actually missed her. Missed her clipper words of wisdom, missed her proficiency in dealing with marks and customers in the shops, missed how she would laugh at Les’s jokes.
She had stolen me and betrayed me and lied to me my whole life. And here I was, missing her anyway. Missing my life with my family. Even if I would never belong with them.
Shadows trailed down the stairs, followed by Metta and Isha.
Nev got up from his chair so his sister could take it. She sank down with a soft groan.
“You can really sing the ghosts away,” she stated, confronting me without any preamble.
“I told you I could.” My head and throat ached. I didn’t want to deal with these questions, these doubts. All I really wanted was something to drink and to crawl back into bed.
As if reading my thoughts, Nev set a cup of juice in front of me, and I gulped it down.
“Perrin will not settle for being shamed in front of so many others.” Isha spoke into the quiet, her voice practically a whisper.
“Well,” I said, “she’ll have to learn to live with it. Or improve her knife skills.”
Metta snorted, and her mouth twitched in a small smile.
“It may not be Allegra she attacks next time,” Isha said a little louder. “What if it is Nev? Or you or me, Metta?”
I didn’t have an answer.
“She will not go after you,” Metta said. “Not with your mother and sisters and grandmother’s status.”
“If she killed you,” Isha said to Metta, “there is no one who would stand up against her for it. You have no mother or sisters. You have no status.”
“We will have our status back,” Metta said, and it was clear from her tone that she meant it. That she was willing to do almost anything to raise their status.
“It is not only you and Nev now,” Isha continued. “There is a child. You have brought a clipper into your home. She is a murderer. You throw dice for your status.”
“It is for our status,” Metta said, reaching across the table for Isha’s hand.
“And I’m not the one who started that fight,” I said. “It was Perrin who tried to kill me.”
“She will keep trying,” Isha said.
“Well, if she kills me, everything will still work out for you. I will leave the singura to Metta and you can get back to your merry little lives.”
Metta shook her head. “No.”
“You don’t have a choice,” I said. “And, anyway, the Three will decide if you are worthy or not.” I stood and walked to my alcove, digging through my meager pile of belongings until I found the other clean vest and trousers Isha had loaned me.
I went to the kitchen and pulled out a crate, looking for a bar of soap.
“Where are you going?” Nev pushed up from the counter.
“To the lake. To bathe.”
“I will come with you.”
“No. I’m fine.” I straightened. “You should stay and work things out with your family.”
Isha scrambled out of my way, clearly back to fearing me after witnessing the fight with Perrin. I climbed the stairs, feeling their eyes on me the entire way.
As soon as I was outside, Nev started yelling at either Metta or Isha, or maybe both, his Mornian harsh and clipped.
I headed northeast, the lake sparkling in the afternoon sun. Most everyone was inside, avoiding the heat, so my walk was uninterrupted.
The west shore of the lake was empty, a blessing I didn’t waste. I stripped and waded into the lake, its cold water seeping across my body until I was deep enough to dive under.
It was peaceful under the water. I held my breath until my chest ached and I was forced to kick to the surface.
I scrubbed every inch of my skin, even my toes, only easing my verve around my freshly stitched wound. I used my fingers to rake through my hair and across my scalp. I would have paid good money for a trip to one of Yvain’s bathhouses. But a lake in Mornia was all I had.
My mother had vanished, disappeared. But to leave Mornia altogether, she would need a horse and wagon to protect against the angry ghosts, and surely someone would have seen her leaving in that case.
She hadn’t abandoned me, then. She was still in Mornia, doing . . . something. My mind drifted back toward her suggestion of killing the samars so we could flee, but she didn’t know who they were, how to find them without searching every home, killing anyone that got in her way. And once she started killing people, her presence would no longer be a secret.
I couldn’t work through her plans, her aims. I didn’t know her. Couldn’t figure out how her mind worked or what her likeliest move would be.
If it had been Lea, I would’ve known where to look for her, been able to suss out her plots and go from there. Lea I understood. My mother was a stranger to me. And now that she was acting strange, I was lost in the dark.
Bedna was speaking to the samars about me right now. Telling them what I had done. Hopefully it worked in my favor, but maybe using their magic would simply anger them more, and they would vote to finally kill me and be done with the whole mess. I couldn’t guess at that, either.
Everywhere I looked, shadows greeted me in return, hiding the plots in motion around me.
My stomach churned from the cold water and these dark thoughts. I climbed out of the lake and dressed in the loose-fitting vest and trousers. They were very comfortable, the fabric soft and supple. I tied my hair into a tight braid and headed back to Nev’s. I’d been gone long enough that hopefully everyone else would have left. I needed time without Metta and her schemes, and now Isha and her judgment. My headache had eased some after the bath, but hadn’t vanished completely. And now I was cold from the swim and craved my bed even more than before.
Nev sat at his table, oil waiting for us beside a large dinner.
I should have been starving, but instead the sight of the food just turned my stomach. I sat on the edge of my alcove.
“You are not hungry?” he asked.
I shook my head and then leaned it against the clay wall. The coolness seeped into my skin and I groaned. “When I sang,” I said. “Will that make them stop wanting to kill me?”
Nev sighed and sat back in his chair. He poured himself a sm
all glass of oil and sipped it before he spoke. “There are some who will never accept you. Will never accept you as a samar.”
“People like Perrin. Because I’m a ghoshka,” I said.
He winced. “They do not understand why the Three would choose you over one of us. Seeing you makes them upset and fearful.”
“I’ve always been feared,” I said. “I wear a bone mask and creep through the night. Being feared is nothing new for me.”
“But the people who feared you in Lovero did not want you dead. The fear you create here will cause people to side against you. They will press the samars for your death, even if you can sing the ghosts away.”
“Then I should leave. If I’m not here, then they won’t have to be confronted by their fears.” My head pounded and the light from the lamp only seemed to make it worse.
Nev shook his head. “You cannot. We already tried.”
“Then we need to try again. I can’t stay here, Nev.”
I should have been worried about my mother, but I was too tired to give it more thought. She was capable of taking care of herself. I would look for her again later, after I had rested.
I climbed into my alcove and pulled my blanket over me. Its warmth sank into my skin, easing my shivers.
Nev stood beside my alcove. “You are sure you are not hungry?”
“I’m too tired to eat.” I yawned to make my point.
He studied me suspiciously, but finally nodded. It was late afternoon, but perhaps he was tired, too, because he changed and climbed into the alcove with me, pausing only to blow out the lamp.
“We will speak to Bedna when she is done with the samars,” Nev said quietly. He pulled my curtain shut, sinking my alcove into darkness to help me sleep.
thirty-four
I AWOKE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT DYING OF THIRST.
I crawled out of bed, stumbling from the alcove to where Nev kept a carafe of water. My head pounded and my eyes—sleep blurry though my vision was—burned. I gulped water, not caring as it poured down my chin, my neck, my chest.
I drank until the water sloshed around in my stomach and only then did I stop. My hands shook when I set the carafe back down. My whole body shook. I was so cold.
I tripped over my feet on the way back to the alcove, lacking the strength to pick them up. I shoved past the curtain and crawled under the covers until I reached Nev. He was so warm. I pressed myself against him, shivering.
Sick. I was sick. It was the only thing that made sense. But why? I wasn’t in the dead plains, fleeing from Mornia. I was right here, singura still around my neck.
My thoughts twisted around each other until I couldn’t unravel them.
“We fit together,” Nev said quietly, pressing his face against the back of my neck.
“What?” I said. “What?”
He mumbled and pulled me closer, pressing my body against his.
Sleeping. He was talking in his sleep about how our bodies fit together for sleep. It didn’t mean anything.
I closed my eyes, and clenched my teeth together to try to stop them from chattering. I pulled my knees to my chest and squeezed ever farther under the heat of the blankets.
And at some point I stopped shivering enough to fall asleep again.
“Allegra.”
The whispered calling of my name made me snap my eyes open, sure it was the monsters in the mist, coming for me. But as my vision cleared, I saw Nev, leaning over the bed.
I moaned and turned away. But Nev tugged at the blanket, uncovering me. I gasped at the cold air that poured over me, slapping at Nev’s hand, but he held firm to the blanket.
I sat up. “What are you doing?” I meant it to be a yell, but my voice only emerged as a croak. The light beyond the curtain made my eyes ache and I narrowed them to tiny slits.
“Eat this soup I made, and you can return to bed.”
I scowled, but with my covers removed, the idea of a warm soup heating me from the inside seemed like a good plan.
I crawled out of bed and staggered to the closest stool. I sat down heavily, but then Nev put a spoon and a steaming bowl of soup in front of me and I forgot the call of bed.
The soup was a meat broth, salty and thickened with something that had a slight spice to it. Not that it mattered. I barely tasted it as I scooped it into my mouth as fast as I could. Nev watched, frowning.
When I’d finished the soup I pushed the bowl away. My stomach felt full and warm, but my limbs still shook from cold and my entire body ached.
I climbed back into the alcove, dragging the blankets with me.
“Thank you for the soup,” I managed to mumble.
If Nev responded, I didn’t hear him, but I thought I felt a hand resting on top of me over the blankets before I fell asleep again.
Nev left me alone after that, only waking me once, accidentally, when he climbed into bed with me, whispering an apology as he jostled me awake. It was the only reason I knew I’d slept through the entire day.
When he left the bed again in the morning, I didn’t even wake.
“All day yesterday,” a familiar voice murmured, its quiet words scraping over me until I cracked my eyes open.
The shadows were talking about me. One leaned closer.
“Allegra,” it said. And then I knew them for what they were. The monsters in the mist that called my name, that wouldn’t let me sleep, that poured a maelstrom of fog and sand over me, drowning me.
“No.” I pushed away from the shadows.
But one grabbed me. Its hand pressed against my forehead, cold like ice, and all at once I realized how hot I was. I was burning up. The maelstrom was burning me up.
“She has a fever,” the shadow said.
“I’ll go into the market, buy some medicine.”
“We’ll go to Bedna.”
“Someone should stay here.”
“She’ll be fine by herself for now.”
Then the shadows left, disappearing into the gray mist surrounding me.
I slipped back into the darkness until once more a shadow appeared. This one silent. It leaned over me, all quiet breaths and soft movements.
I whimpered, trying to press myself away from it, but I was too weak.
“Shhh,” the shadow said. Something cold and wet pressed against my forehead.
I tried to force my eyes open, to see the shadow monster for what it truly was, but a light blinded me. The scent of tullie blossoms wafted over me.
Home. Somehow I’d made it home.
“Lea?” I mumbled, closing my eyes once more. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“You’re safe,” the shadow said. “I’m here for you. I’ll always be here for you, now.”
The shadow held my hand, familiar calluses rough against my skin, and I tumbled once more into the darkness.
I was lost. Lost in the gray mist. Lost away from home, where no one could find me.
Not even the shadow monsters were here. Not even the maelstrom.
Something tugged my arms. I was moving, sliding for a moment before I was flying. Soaring through the air like a bird, like a ghost in the night, maybe.
But I couldn’t stay a bird forever. I turned into a canal boat, rocking back and forth, bumping up against another boat that was warm and solid and pressed me close to its hull.
I tried to shove myself away from the other boat, groaning. It only pulled me in tighter.
“I have you,” the boat said. But it wasn’t a boat voice.
My eyes fluttered open. Sunlight poured into them, sending spikes of pain through my head. Footfalls sounded below me. Maybe I was walking.
I forced my eyes open again, prepared for the sun. And found a shadow. I was always surrounded by shadows now. This one carried me, pressed against his skin, his chest rising and falling with heavy breath. Other shadows paced on either side of us.
Something splashed around me, and then I was sinking into water, getting deeper and deeper, until the water covered me completely. I ha
d turned into a boat again, but I was sunk, drifting to the bottom of the canal.
No. I had never been a boat. I had always just been me, Allegra.
My eyes snapped open.
I was underwater, completely submerged. I thrashed, kicking my legs until I was jerked up, breaking through the surface of the water. I took a deep breath, water streaming across my eyes, into my mouth.
I was pressed against someone. Nev. Nev held me in his arms, shirtless, just as soaked as me.
“What?” I said.
“We are at the lake.” He turned and carried me back toward shore where Metta and Isha waited. “We had to bring your fever down.”
He had walked into the water with me, pushing us both under the surface until my mind had returned to me.
I remembered the shadows, the voices. They were Nev all along. Metta and Isha, too. “I’ve been sick.”
“You still are sick,” he said.
And when he said it, I realized he was right. Maybe my mind was clear again for the first time in . . . I wasn’t sure how long, but my breath wheezed in my chest and I shivered in Nev’s arms.
Back on shore Isha draped a blanket over us, but Nev didn’t stop walking, carrying me north while Metta and Isha paced us.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“To Bedna,” Nev said. “She will help.”
I leaned my head against his chest. I was just so tired.
“Where did you find the tullie blossoms?” I mumbled.
Nev looked at me in concern, but I closed my eyes and let him carry me away.
Nev set me carefully on a bed. A real bed, too, made of wood, not an alcove dug into the wall of an underground house.
We were in a building, with windows and doors. New Mornia.
Bedna hovered over me, looking closely at one eye, then the other. She held her warm palm against my throat and pursed her lips as she counted the beats of my heart. Then she leaned back and covered me with a blanket.
She faced Nev. “How long has she been like this?”
“Three days,” he said. “It came on suddenly.”
“From her arm wound perhaps?” Bedna suggested, but Nev shook his head.
“It’s not infected. It’s clean and healing. This is something else. The fever hasn’t broken. Not with rest or medicine. Not with cold water.”