by Lam, Laura
Another shot echoed in the atrium like lightning, and Timur screamed, a fresh wound in his leg. Lily Verre, still lying on the floor, held a gun in a shaking hand, but dropped it, her eyes closing. Cyan assured me she wasn’t dead as my panicked thoughts wondered what Frey would do if she were, but she’d lost a lot of blood and desperately needed a hospital.
Yet despite the new wound in his side, Timur fired again. Not towards Lily, but at Frey. Time froze for a moment. Anisa wailed, her powers too weak now to deflect the shot; Cyan tried to mentally push, but it was too late. I couldn’t breathe. And then Pozzi threw himself forwards between Frey and Timur, taking the bullet directly in the chest. His weapon fell from his clockwork hand. Blood bloomed on his shirt. His eyes met mine as he fell to the Observatory floor.
One day, I hope you will forgive me. My walls had fallen completely, and all of his pain entered me. So much agony and so much regret.
In the roiling sky, the wind chased away the clouds. A beam of moonlight fell through the hole in the ceiling onto the Penglass dome that had held Frey and the Princess, illuminating Pozzi as he died. The angry red of the globe glowed brighter. The only way to survive was to clamp down on all my emotions. I would grieve later, if I survived.
Frey used his powers to lift Timur. Our enemy screamed at the movement, but still moved closer, his toes dragging along the ground.
What should we do with him? the Princess asked, and she cocked her head to the side. The thought of killing him did not upset her. Yet they were so young. Too young for blood on their hands. The rest of the fighting had stopped. The remaining two soldiers had subdued or killed the rest of the Kashura. Maske was tending to Lily.
I moved forward and bound Timur as he sagged against me. He’d pay for his crimes in public with a proper trial. With the powers we possessed, we couldn’t afford to be judge, jury, and executioner; otherwise, we’d have turned into the very thing that Timur wanted the world to think of us. ‘All this pain, all this death. For nothing,’ I told Timur. ‘You failed.’
Timur’s face went slack. At the protests, he’d always appeared so large and powerful, but now he had collapsed upon himself. I could lift him with ease, but Anisa came and helped me.
I understand your sentiments, little Kedi, Anisa said. But, while we will not kill him, he must not be permitted to go out into the world again. He is too much of a threat. Place him in the red globe.
I wondered why Anisa would ask that of me. Timur thrashed weakly as we dragged him closer to the globe. He had lost a lot of blood. We pushed him through the small opening, and it closed immediately, swallowing him. He smashed his fists against the glass pitifully, and I stumbled back.
Close your eyes and turn away, Anisa commanded us. Drystan threw his arms around me, and I buried my face in his neck, closing my eyes tight. Even behind my eyelids, the bright red light was almost too much. Our screams tore from our throats, our ears ringing. The floor shook so violently I feared the roof of the old Observatory would cave in on us.
Eventually the light dimmed, the shaking stopped. Drystan’s breathing was ragged in my ear. We broke apart, peering at the wreckage.
The red dome had sunk into the stone of the atrium, only the very top peeking out of the grey. It no longer glowed, and the dark red surface was pocked and bubbled, as if partly melted. Around us, the blue Penglass domes had shattered, small pieces of dark blue glass scattered across the floor of the atrium. I picked one up in wonder, and it did not glow beneath my touch despite the faint moonlight.
‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ I asked. ‘Anisa . . .’
‘I lied, yes. You may not have wanted to kill him, but I had no such hesitations. That is on me. I take responsibility, I take that death.’ Her gaze was as distant and ancient as I remembered. Turning from her, I threw up the contents of my stomach. She may have claimed responsibility, but I had still put him within that globe. I was the one that trusted her.
When I’d finished, my mouth sour, I checked the others. Focusing on actions was the only way to keep myself together. Drystan was all right, with only a few scratches and bruises. The same for Cyan, though she’d re-injured her ankle. Anisa had been knifed in the arm, and it bled worryingly. Lily was fully unconscious, her heartbeat erratic. Kai’s jacket was splattered in blood that was not his own. At some point, he had either attacked or defended himself.
Only one of the soldiers survived. I made sure to ask his name: Noel. The ones outside had taken out the rest of the sentries, at the cost of their own lives. The Kashura had perished, their hoods pulled back to show faces frozen in fear and pain. I looked away. Though they had wanted to destroy me and those I held dear, it was hard to relish the death of others.
Pozzi was cold. I reached down and unpinned the bumblebee from his cravat, putting it in my pocket.
‘I don’t forgive you,’ I whispered to him. ‘But I understand why you did it, even if your methods were horrifically wrong.’
Our diminished number limped from the broken atrium of the Royal Observatory, bundling ourselves into the small craft. Kai carried Frey, and Maske carried Lily. Drystan and Noel worked the oars until we were far enough from the strange red Penglass to call for help on Noel’s Vestige communicator. The engine hummed back to life and Drystan and Noel set aside their oars. Hopefully the Steward had actually sent backup to the docks, as he’d promised.
‘What was that red globe?’ I asked Anisa.
‘The Alder lived in red Penglass, or Venglass as we called it back then. The Chimaera lived in blue. Most of the Penglass disappeared along with the Chimaera, all those years ago, but a few of the smaller domes remain. The secret of Penglass is only that they were our homes. Smooth castles of glass that glowed under the moon. Some were mausoleums, housing the bodies and Alephs of our ancestors. Still others were grand meeting places, filled with gardens and light. The old world was a beautiful place.’ She gazed out towards Imachara. Her voice was faint and her skin was too pale. The bleeding on her arm had slowed, but she needed stitches and rest.
‘Where did the red Penglass go?’ Drystan asked.
‘They took it with them.’ She tilted her head back, gazing up. ‘To the stars.’
All of us lay back in the boat. Drystan put his arm around my shoulders, and Cyan lay nestled against my other side. Maske had Lily’s head in his lap, and her eyes were closed. He stroked her hair. Frey lay propped against Maske’s other side, his hand still linked with Princess Nicolette’s. Of all of us, they were the least tired. Noel kept to himself, mourning for his fallen friends. Kai was hunched underneath his jacket, his hands shaking. Anisa sat in the centre of the boat, her head still tilted towards the sky, and the rest of us watched the stars with her as we moved back to land.
26
THE AFTERMATH
We have no fairy stories starring the Alder. Though they were the inspiration for many, they still remain too far away from our understanding to feature in our tales. They created us, perhaps, they watched us for aeons, yet they never let us know their secrets. And then they left – they were too powerful to ever be destroyed. They’ve been gone long enough for history’s wheel to turn again.
Any clear night, I look up at the stars. And I always think:
The Alder left. I think they will return one day, too curious about what they created.
And sometimes, I swear, one of the stars brightens in response to my thought, or my wish. Whichever it is.
— From the unpublished notes of PROFESSOR SHAWN ARBUTUS, Royal Snakewood University
My mother called my name.
I tried to respond to her, and though my voice echoed in the mist, I couldn’t find her.
She called again. I saw her figure, a dim shadow in the grey. I could tell she would be dressed as perfectly as always. Tightly corseted, pert bustle, black crinoline and silk. The perfect coiffure, the jet-black beads. I never knew what she was perpetually mourning, but she always wore black except for the white of her gloves.
�
�Mother!’
She turned. ‘Iphigenia.’
‘That’s not my name any longer.’
‘Is it not?’ Her brow drew down in confusion.
She drifted away.
I called out after her. There was no answer.
I woke up in the hospital.
We’d gone there late in the night, after we’d returned. Soldiers had been waiting on the shoreline, as promised, and escorted us to the Royal Snakewood Hospital. The hospital had been busy with injuries from the riots, but no large-scale violence had broken out, though it had been a very near thing.
One of the nurses told us what had happened. Lorna Elderberry, the new leader of the Foresters, had stood up and pleaded for patience and peaceful protest. She reminded them of the Chimaera, who had asked for nothing more than the same desire to be heard. That they must stand for what was right without resorting to the same base violence as the Kashura. Her speech had worked, and people had stood silent in front of the palace, and the Steward himself had come out towards the gates. Lorna Elderberry reached the entrance, and they let her in. As soon as she’d passed through, the rest of the crowd stayed in a silent vigil while the sun rose before dispersing. Oh, plenty were still angry and others thirsted for a fight, but most were tired and wanted actual change.
The ward I was in was empty but for my friends. Lily lay in the bed across from me, her head turned to the side towards Frey’s bed. He did not wear a Glamour. He was awake and raised a scaled hand in greeting. I returned it. Noel, the guard, was gone. The Princess was also not there. I gathered she was back at the palace, yet she would not be looked over by the Royal Physician. Don’t think of Pozzi, I told myself. Not yet.
Drystan, Cyan, Anisa, Kai, and Maske weren’t there, but they had not been as badly injured, so they must have returned home. I wanted Drystan with a physical ache. The last time I’d woken up like this, he had been the first person I’d seen.
Every part of me hurt, and a headache lurked just within reach. I tried to sit up but my muscles did not obey. A nurse passing by in the hallway spied my laboured movements. She came in and forced me to drink two large glasses of water, taking my temperature, looking at the whites of my eyes.
‘Where are the others?’ I asked her, but the clicking of her retreating footsteps was my only answer.
She had put something in the water. I drifted in and out of consciousness.
When I woke up the next time, a warm hand held my own.
My eyelids fluttered open, and I turned to see Drystan. I let out a strangled sob. He did not look healthy. His skin was pale, dark circles under his eyes.
‘Are you all right?’ I managed to ask.
‘I fared better than you.’ He smiled at me, and I could sense the relief washing over him. But it was . . . dampened from how it’d felt while I was on Elixir. I reached for his mind, but sensed nothing. It was more like my powers had been before this all began – weak, unreliable. The drug must have worked its way through my system faster than usual.
‘How long was I out?’
‘Just a night. It’s early afternoon, now.’
‘What happened after we came here?’
The Steward’s guards had taken Noel and the Princess, wearing her Glamour, back to the palace. Drystan, Maske, and the other uninjured went with them. The Kashura were all gone, or at least all that had been present at the Observatory. Snakewood intelligence suggested the fringe group was not large, so hopefully any other members would scatter rather than regroup.
‘We don’t seem to be under arrest,’ I said, holding up my unshackled hands.
‘No. Rescuing the Princess means we’re in the Steward’s good books.’ He gave me his first smile. ‘She could not stop singing our praises, and demanded we all have medals.’
‘No public ceremonies.’
‘I requested that, so we’ll see if she listens. She’s also demanded Frey comes to live with her at the palace, along with his mother. The Steward agreed to that, too, surprisingly.’
‘They should.’ They fitted together. I’d seen the friendship between them. If there was one thing the two extraordinary, lonely children needed, it was each other.
‘On the way out, I ran into my father,’ he continued.
‘Oh,’ I said.
‘Yes. Oh.’ He gave me a rueful look. ‘I was covered in soot and dust and not a little blood, but he recognized me right away.’
‘Did you two . . . talk?’
‘Yes. It went all right, amazingly. There were no tearful hugs and falling to our knees, overcome with emotion. But he asked me to come home for a visit, and I accepted. It’ll be awkward as all Styx, but I’ll go.’
‘What if they ask you to return to the Hornbeam family?’ I asked. I imagined him taking up his place as first-born son, and it struck fear into me. If he went back to that world, would I have a place with him there?
He shook his head. ‘I have no interest in that life. But they all know I’m all right now. And if we stay in Imachara, I probably won’t be able to avoid my mother and sisters forever.’
‘And you wanted to?’
‘I thought I did.’
I took his hand and squeezed. ‘I’m glad. Really. That was a wound that had never healed. Maybe now it can start to.’
Drystan shrugged. ‘Perhaps.’
My head fell back against the pillow. ‘When can I leave here?’
‘Tomorrow, the doctors say. I’ll be here to take you back to the Kymri Theatre. It’s all fixed now. We can go home.’
‘That’ll be nice. Though I’ve grown a bit fond of the creaky old apartment in the Penny Rookeries.’
‘The hot water broke yet again. Fancy an ice-cold shower?’
‘Not a bit. Goodbye, mould-stained walls and sagging beds.’ I sighed. ‘We still have plenty of other messes to sort through, though, don’t we?’
His lips brushed my forehead with a kiss. ‘Aye, but we’ll get through it.’
When I woke up the morning I was meant to leave, Drystan wasn’t there. But Cyril was.
It took me a moment to come to myself. I thought I must have dreamed of my mother again, but I couldn’t remember the details.
‘Hello,’ I said softly, jolting him from his reverie.
‘Micah,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m so glad you’re all right.’
‘Just battered and bruised,’ I said with a smile, though in truth, those had already healed. ‘I take it they told you everything that happened?’
He looked down at his hands. ‘Yes, they did. And, well, something else occurred. That’s why I’m here instead of Drystan. I don’t think you should go home right away.’
I frowned. ‘What? Why? Is someone hurt?’
‘Because . . . Mother woke up. And she’s here. Just a few floors above us.’
I stared at him, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Then I gazed upwards, as if I could stare through the ceiling and see her.
‘I . . .’ My words trailed off. ‘When did she wake up?’
‘The night of the Penmoon. But she only started speaking this morning.’
I said nothing.
‘You need to see her, Micah. You owe it to her, and to yourself. Despite everything.’
‘You mean despite what she almost did to me. Her and Father deciding my life, with me having no say in the matter.’ I breathed out loudly, staring at his open features. ‘Are you forcing me to see her?’
‘That’s tempting. I could probably pick you up and drag you up there, you scrawny thing. But I won’t. It’s up to you in the end, whether or not you want to talk to her.’
‘Styx.’
‘I know.’ He stood up and held out his hand to me. ‘I’ll come with you, if you want.’
‘No. No. I’ll do this on my own.’ I swung my legs over the side of the hospital bed and stood. The world wobbled. ‘Though maybe you can help me to the door?’
Cyril waited for me while I changed out of the hospital gown into the spare clothes he had bro
ught. Changing made me nervous. No one had bathed me, except to sponge off the worst of the blood and dust. My Lindean binder was undisturbed and my medical chart had no mention of anything except my injuries.
‘They don’t seem to know,’ Cyril said, noting my unease.
I leaned against him as we made our way out of the ward, and halfway up the stairs I had to rest. By the time I reached the door I was stronger, at least physically.
I didn’t want to open the door. I didn’t want to have to face her. Would I feel like Gene again in front of her? An unhappy girl, stuck in a life she didn’t want?
Cyril squeezed my shoulder. ‘Thank you. This will be good for both of you.’
Cyril left me, walking back down the corridor.
Over his shoulder, he called, ‘I’ll be back by your bed. Come see me when you’re done and I’ll take you back to the theatre. Take as long as you need.’
Then he was gone.
Staring at the door, I debated leaving, going down to the canteen for a drink, then finding Cyril and pretending I had gone to visit my mother. That was useless. He would know in an instant that I lied.
Drystan had taken the step to heal his past. The least I could do was try for the same.
I pushed open the door.
My mother was in one of the beds by the window, awake, propped up against pillows, looking out over the buildings to the thin, blue strip of sea. She was much changed from that woman who was never seen without pristine white gloves, like in my dream. The woman before me now wore no cosmetics, and the light through the window illuminated every line on her face, every grey hair showing at the roots, the dark smudges beneath her eyes. Her skin was slightly jaundiced, and her form diminished. She didn’t look like the mother I’d once feared.
At the sound of my footsteps, she turned. Her eyes almost slid over me, and then they fixed on me like a magnet to a pole. She jerked back in her bed. I slowed my steps. I didn’t say anything. What could I say?
What she must see before her – a boy in trousers, a buttoned shirt, a waistcoat and jacket. Brogues. Auburn hair grown long for a boy’s, curling about his ears. Hands that fluttered nervously before settling in the trouser pockets. A boy in every respect, except that he had the face of her lost daughter.