Would Yiran help her? Could Alizhan win her trust in time?
No. She had to act now and that meant acting alone. She crept back to Orosk’s room, thankful that years of ghost stories meant none of the servants came to this part of the house unless they were ordered to. The room was just as she’d left it, bare of everything except the bed in the center, where Orosk was asleep. It was strange to enter a room in Varenx House and not be met with the fragrance of flowers. Iriyat had kept tending the potted plants in Alizhan’s empty bedroom, but she had none to spare for Orosk.
Alizhan approached Orosk so carefully that the pads of her feet made no sound against the tiles. Iriyat hadn’t seen fit to put a carpet in this room, either. “Wake up,” she whispered.
She almost dreaded the moment of his waking. What new insult would he have for her?
He didn’t stir. Not surprising. Coming back to life after twenty years of stillness and silence would tire anyone. But Alizhan couldn’t let him sleep. “Wake up,” she said again, this time paired with a touch of her hand against his.
No movement.
Beneath hers, his hand was cool. Trembling, Alizhan put two fingers to his neck, where there should have been a pulse. She found nothing. Orosk wasn’t asleep. He was dead.
“Fuck,” she said, dropping her hand in disgust. She inhaled a shuddering breath and found herself, by no conscious decision, sitting on the floor next to his bed. He’d been her best chance of replacing Iriyat’s journal. The Council would have remembered him. They would have believed.
And all that work! All that beautiful, powerful work singing through her hands, making her feel like she knew herself at last. It had been for nothing.
Was it her fault? Had she moved too quickly? Was his weakened body unable to handle the consequences of what she’d done?
It wasn’t until she raised her hand to wipe at her face that she realized her eyes were streaming with tears. She wasn’t crying for Orosk. She felt a brief pang of guilt that she hadn’t wanted to wake him a few moments ago, for fear of what he might say, but that was because she knew him too well. She couldn’t cry for him. But she could cry for the lost chance.
What would she do now? How could she right all of Iriyat’s wrongs? Not just Kasrik and the children who’d been tortured in the house in Gold Street. Not just Mar and Vatik who’d had their memories violated. There must be dozens of others she didn’t know about yet—and might never. And there were more to come if Iriyat was left free to continue her experiments in Adappyr. They pressed down on Alizhan like a weight. Her breath caught in her throat, and she choked out a sob. There was so much to do, and she was so alone. How could she fix her family’s terrible legacy?
“Don’t weep. He’s not worth it.”
Iriyat stood over her, having glided silently into the room. Resplendent in light green silk, with her gold hair in a crown braid and her hands on her hips, she looked out of place in the dark, dull room. Had she been there long? How had she known Alizhan was here? A terrible cold filled Alizhan’s insides. Iriyat’s hands were bare.
“You. You killed him.”
“A weak old man died in his sleep after a young criminal disturbed his much-needed rest,” Iriyat said. She removed one hand from her hip and twisted it so her palm faced up and her fingers were open. A philosophical, equivocating gesture. “I didn’t kill him. You meddled with his feeble mind, and now he’s dead.”
Alizhan had suspected as much herself only moments ago. She hadn’t wanted to believe it then and she didn’t want to now, either. A suspicion slithered through her mind: had Iriyat wanted her to come in here and try to restore Orosk? There’d been no locks, no surveillance… it had been remarkably easy to go to and from his room.
“If anything, we could say that you killed him,” Iriyat continued. “That is not, of course, an accusation. I appreciate that you heard the story of how they abused me and you wanted vengeance.”
Iriyat couldn’t possibly believe that, but she’d said something similar at their meal on the terrace. Saying something couldn’t make it true—except Iriyat had been managing to transform words into reality her whole life, through some power that no one else in the world seemed to possess. She wanted the people of Laalvur to see her as a victim, a saint, and a hero, and they did. No scandal, no matter how true, seemed to touch her.
Why hadn’t Alizhan inherited that power?
“Still,” Iriyat said. Alizhan’s participation in the conversation wasn’t required. “I cannot leave you to your own devices when you’re in such a dangerous and unreliable state. What if the person you’d touched had been innocent? A true tragedy. You will have to come with me to Adappyr. I will watch over you until you’re in your right mind.”
What garbage. Alizhan jumped to her feet and stared Iriyat down. Her fingers twitched. It had felt so right to use her hands to heal someone—totally unlike the sickening experience of killing Merat. But there was enough anger coursing through her to try again.
Iriyat smiled. “I see so much of myself in you.”
It was a perfectly aimed blow. Alizhan recoiled.
“I knew you’d been coming to see Orosk,” Iriyat said. She was no longer using her storytelling voice. These words, less polished, were only intended for Alizhan. “I wanted to see what you would do. And you didn’t disappoint. All those years I tried to teach you to be a Lacemaker, and no wonder it never took. You always did like to do things backwards. It’s almost a shame that I’ll have to cure you, now that I know what you can do, but of course I can’t let you run around killing people.”
“Unless those people have wronged you,” Alizhan muttered. She didn’t bother defending herself or objecting. If anything, Iriyat’s smug conviction that Alizhan had killed Orosk meant the opposite. His death had been convenient.
Iriyat smiled again. “Well.”
With that smile, something occurred to Alizhan. It wasn’t just that Iriyat wanted to tell everyone else that Alizhan was avenging her. She wanted to believe it herself. She was smiling now because she’d interpreted Alizhan’s muttering as a sign that Alizhan really had intended to kill Orosk—even though that defied common sense. Iriyat wanted Alizhan on her side. However poorly she’d shown it these past nineteen years, she wanted a daughter who loved her and shared her vision.
Iriyat made her lies seem true because she told people what they wanted to hear. Maybe Alizhan could turn that on her.
Alizhan was angry. She wanted to snarl at Iriyat. But she’d deceived Merat by pretending to be weak and defeated for a moment—a tactic she’d leaned from Iriyat herself—and maybe that was the best move here. Pretend to give Iriyat a chance. Get in close. She needed evidence, and she might find more of it if she went with Iriyat than if she stayed behind. And Iriyat was always a step ahead of her. Alizhan needed to retreat until the whole map could come into focus.
Alizhan gave a resigned shrug. She’d just been visibly angry, so she couldn’t seem too eager now. She’d never be a great actress, but Ev and Thiyo had both told her people see what they want to see.
She met Iriyat’s eyes. “So when do we leave?”
12
Yes or No
“Smoke and fucking fire, Thiyo. I know this is hard for you. I know you’re scared. But scorch it all, would it kill you to try?”
Ev stood up and paced. She’d been holding that outburst in for an hour. She’d spent most of that time trying to get him to say “yes” and “no.” She’d demonstrated through exaggerated smiling and nodding or frowning and shaking her head. He’d been stubbornly silent. Things seemed to go more smoothly in Halelitha’s lessons of late, and Ev could have sworn she’d heard Thiyo participating with a word or two of his own in Hoi. What was Halelitha doing right that Ev was doing wrong?
Thiyo, still seated on the floor at the low table in the center of the room, lifted his chin and turned pointedly aside. So he’d spent an hour not speaking to her, and now he wouldn’t even look at her?
“Fuck you,
” Ev said with feeling. She stopped right in front of him, crossed her arms, and glared down. “It’s not my job to take care of you. I don’t have to make you feel better all the time. You know who else this is hard for, Thiyo? Me. I’m in a place I’ve never been before—a place where strangers are likely to kill me on sight, even if this village is safe—and I don’t know anyone but you. And now you won’t even fucking look at me. But I haven’t given up and you’re not allowed to, either.”
Ev paused. She hadn’t given up. This one-sided conversation reminded her of one they’d had with the medusa looming. It was her fault he’d been there in the first place. He’d argued against boarding Merat’s ship and he’d been right. And then in the water, Thiyo had been ready to die.
“Smoke, is that what you want? Do you blame me for this? Do you wish we’d died in the water?”
She inhaled. She dropped her arms to her sides. It wasn’t until she closed her eyes that she realized they’d filled with tears.
She heard Thiyo stand and walk over to her. When she opened her eyes, his face overwhelmed her view. She hadn’t expected him to be so close. Why? He wasn’t going to kiss her, was he? Her heart leapt into her throat, propelled by panic or anger or—something. How could he think this was the right moment? No, there couldn’t be a right moment. What was she thinking?
He’d backed away a little in the last few moments. He raised his left hand, index finger extended, and wiped a tear from her cheek. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it. Ev waited. He brushed another stray tear from her face and then, decisively but with great care, said, “No.”
Ev wasn’t a fool. He couldn’t have understood her question. But he was answering it all the same.
“So you do pay attention,” she said, and her throat was thick with an unreleased sob.
Thiyo grabbed her by the hand and led her out of the house. She didn’t protest or ask any questions. He’d said a word. Granted, only one, and a short one at that. But Ev didn’t care about that. The past few hours, he’d been radiating despair. Now he wasn’t. She would go anywhere he wanted.
Eventually, Thiyo split off from the wide, well-trodden path and clambered up a narrow, rocky trail. He stayed on his feet, but he had to use his good hand to brace himself once or twice. Ev waited at the bottom, giving him space, and he paused in the middle of his climb to look over his shoulder and motion for her to follow.
“Oh, now you care,” Ev said, but he’d already turned away. She grabbed a rocky ledge and found footholds so she could climb up after him.
Thiyo reached down to offer her a hand up when she’d nearly reached the ledge. She grasped it and pulled herself up after him. There was a trail on the ledge, although it was almost overgrown. There were a few snapped branches, indicating someone had recently passed this way. As they walked, Thiyo plucked a flower—a big, showy one that seemed to have been reversed, since it had a purple stem and bright green petals—and stopped to offer it to her.
“Is this an apology?” Ev asked. Thiyo didn’t say anything, but he kept holding the flower out until she took it. She waved it at his face like she was scolding him, and he had the grace to look abashed. “You know what hurts me the most? You’re home. You know that’s the only thing I want, right? To go home and find Alizhan and maybe somehow start to set things right?”
He didn’t answer. Two words in one shift was asking too much.
She sighed. “It feels impossible. How will I ever get back there? How will you ever learn to talk again? But we’re trying. That’s all we can do.”
He nodded. He was probably responding to the change in her tone more than anything she’d said, but it felt good to get a response of any kind.
“Let’s try one more time. Since you’re not dead-set on being a smoking goddamn asshole right now, I have to seize my moment.” Ev looked him in the eye. “Is this—” she waved the flower in a circle “—an apology?” She tipped her head forward and looked contrite.
Thiyo started to nod.
“No,” Ev interjected, stopping him. “Say it.”
Thiyo stood frozen.
“You don’t have to get it right, Thiyo. You just have to try. Say ‘no,’ if you want to. You did that one already! Or say ‘yes.’ Say anything at all. Make a sound. Please. Is this an apology?” She held the flower out. His fingers closed around the stem, but he didn’t take it back.
“Yes.”
He pushed it toward her and she smiled. “Thank you, Thiyo. Apology accepted.”
Ev gestured for him to keep leading her into the woods and he took off. The trail faded into the foliage and soon they were pushing through a thicket of leaves. When they stopped rustling and stomping and snapping branches, Ev thought she heard the sound of water. Thiyo forged ahead, weaving through the trees, and when he pushed aside some branches, they were on the banks of a river.
Thiyo picked his way along the river bank, his sandaled feet dodging sharp rocks and places where the mud looked too slick. The waters of the Ohi rushed down the mountain, clear and chilly, wearing down the stones beneath. He’d thought he’d never see this again, one of his favorite places, and here he was.
He’d thought it would make him happier. He’d been wrong.
Ev’s tears from earlier weighed on him. He had to stop upsetting her. He didn’t mean to, it was just… she’d come out of the water still herself. He hadn’t. How could he live like this, unable to communicate, cut off from everything that had brought him joy?
They were approaching the bend where the water from the hot spring tumbled down the bank and mingled with the river. Ev didn’t know yet where he was taking her, and he couldn’t explain, so before they turned, he crouched down and stuck his hand in the river. He cupped his hand and lifted it, letting the water run through it. He glanced at Ev, hoping she’d understand and do the same. But she only watched. He flicked a droplet of water at her, and she rolled her eyes.
When he turned away, she reached down and splashed the side of the face. He looked over his shoulder, dripping, and tried to muster as much dignified disappointment as he could. Ev smiled.
Maybe he wasn’t cut off from everything that brought him joy. He grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the hot springs.
When they rounded the bend, he froze.
Sprawled on the bank of the river was a blond man, leaning back on one hand and holding a bottle of translucent green wai in the other. His hair was mussed, his eyes were red, and his clothes were filthy. But it would take more than some sweat and grime for Thiyo not to recognize Ilyr.
Ev didn’t understand why Thiyo had stopped until she heard a voice. It was a man speaking Hoi. She came around Thiyo’s side and saw a barefoot drunk sneering at both of them. He was blond. Ilyr.
Poor Thiyo. He’d just started to cheer up. This would humiliate him and Ev would never get him to talk again.
“Could you repeat that in a language I understand?” Ev asked.
“I said, this must be where you bring all your conquests.” Ilyr switched to Laalvuri. He pushed himself upright and dipped two fingers into the pool that abutted the river. The gesture shouldn’t have felt as obscene as it did. “Also, you’re alive. Congrats on that. I feel thoroughly betrayed.”
“You didn’t really think he was dead,” Ev said.
“On the contrary,” Ilyr said. He raised the bottle of wai as proof.
“But we spoke to you when we escaped the palace in Nalitzva—oh God, Merat. She made you forget that. Then Thiyo was gone, so when she told you Lady Lan was dead…”
“I believed it, yes. I’m sure you find it hilarious.”
Ev should have known this wasn’t going to be pleasant from his tone. She did her best to ignore him. “What are you doing in Hoi?” Alizhan wouldn’t have needed to ask—one more out of thousands of tiny reminders of her absence.
“Do you speak for him now? It’s unlike Thiyo to be so quiet.”
“He’s injured,” Ev said. “Answer my question.”
“He doesn’t look injured. And I could ask you the same—what are you doing here? Why hasn’t anyone killed you?”
“I’m glad to know you’re so concerned for my wellbeing,” Ev said dryly. “I… accompanied Thiyo. I’m not staying.”
“I came to deliver Lady Lan’s ashes.”
What kind of response could she possibly give to that? She continued staring and said nothing. Her silence often unnerved people, which could be useful. She looked him over again. His once-white shirt hung open at the neck, its fabric now greyish brown. His breeches were muddy. His shoes sat beside him, as did a leather bag with a book in it. The bottle of wai was still in his hand, more precious than anything else he carried with him. But what was he doing in the woods with a book?
“You’ve delivered them. Why are you still here?”
“Perhaps Thiyo could tell you.” Even red-rimmed, Ilyr’s eyes were still piercing blue. Next to her, Thiyo didn’t move. “Couldn’t you, Thiyo? Would you like to tell your friend—what’s her name again?—what we did together, last time we were in this pool?”
Ev could be silent for herself, but Thiyo’s silence was painful to her. “I told you, he’s not well. He lost his voice.”
Ilyr squinted at her, then swigged from the bottle. “Perhaps you’d like to tell her about the time before that, Thiyo. Or all those times in your bed. In your mother’s house. Up against every tree from Sunslope to Summit. But this place was particularly special, wasn’t it? The first time you fucked me. I recall you wrote a poem about it—how did it start? ‘The river slips between its banks—’”
“Stop,” Ev said.
“Oh, that’s not how it went at all. There was no stopping. Something about sunlight sliding over the surface, maybe.” Ilyr waved his hand. “Or maybe that was another one. We wrote so many.” He glared at Thiyo. “It is gods-damned strange to have an argument with you when you won’t even react. What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Shadebloom Page 10