by Penelope, L.
Gerda sat next to Jasminda as she followed Jack giving commands and instructing his men.
“You watch him very closely,” Gerda said. “Do you think he will disappear?”
Jasminda pulled her gaze away. “I’d almost forgotten he was one of them.” Her heart tied itself in a knot. He’d been so different, so kind, but now, standing in a huddle of other Elsirans, it was difficult to pick him out from the group. The idea of finding warmth and comfort from his presence seemed foreign.
What had she expected? She knew that he was on a mission. He’d risked his life to gain information, and now he had to put it to use. Just because she’d grown to think of him as a possibility, perhaps even as a friend, did not mean he felt the same. She was an ally; they had united against a common foe, and now that he was back on home territory, she was on her own again.
One of the settlers, a grizzled barrel of a man, stood and began inspecting the damage to the nearby shacks.
“What are you doing there?” Lyngar asked. He sat a metre away, snacking on the strange jerky the Lagrimari had brought with them.
“There are sound boards here. Much can be salvaged.”
“You’re going to rebuild?” The old man’s voice dripped with condescension.
“Aye,” said the settler.
Rozyl approached from her position nearest the barrier. “Have you any family back home?”
The settler pulled free an unburned length of tin and started a pile at the edge of the road. “I was born in the harems and grew up in the army. No family. This has been home these twenty years. Besides, with so many of you lot coming here, we’ll need to rebuild.”
The man’s tone was matter-of-fact and his logic sound. Where would the refugees live? Jasminda was certain the dilapidated settlements were not the salvation they had in mind when they’d started the journey. She certainly could not see herself living here. She wanted nothing more than to go back to her quiet life, her garden, and her goats and to put this whole desperate experience behind her. But the cabin was nothing but cinders now.
Sitting up straighter, she looked with new eyes at the destruction around her. The first settler had been joined by several others, all picking through the smoking remains to find bits that could be reused. If they could rebuild this place, could she not rebuild her cabin? Papa had built the whole thing by himself. It would take her far longer—she was not as strong physically or with Earthsong—but if she took regular breaks, she could sing the heavier logs into place. It would not be the same, but it would be hers.
The palmsalt would have completely dispersed within a few days, and the mountain storm was over. It would likely be a three-day journey over the mountain and then she could be home again.
She looked at the forlorn people gathered around her. “What will you do now that you’re here?” she asked Gerda.
“We are here only by Her guidance. There is a plan in place that we must follow.”
Jasminda frowned. She hadn’t known the Lagrimari were religious. “You follow the Queen? Is that . . . allowed in Lagrimar?”
“Oh no. The only religion allowed is reverence of the True Father. But She graces the dreams of some, and there are many who believe in secret.”
Jasminda nodded. “What is the plan?”
Gerda’s gaze was sharp and clear. It felt like the woman was peering deep into her soul. “It unfolds daily.”
Jasminda sat back and exhaled. The woman preferred to speak in riddles. Offering her valley to the refugees had crossed her mind, but she doubted that was a part of the Queen's plan. Jasminda was still an outsider, even among people who looked like her.
She turned again to Jack. He sat in the smaller of the vehicles staring out into space. His face was drawn and troubled. She wanted to go to him, ask what was wrong, offer comfort, but she had no idea if it would be welcome.
Another vehicle rumbled down the road, a sort of motorized covered wagon. Larger than both the auto she’d seen in town and the army vehicle, it pulled to a stop and seven women emerged. Each wore identical blue robes trimmed in gold with her hair tied in a topknot.
“Who are they?” Gerda asked.
“The Sisterhood,” Jasminda said. “Devotees of the Queen. They feed the poor and aid the settlers.”
The Sisters unloaded crates from the back of their wagon. Several soldiers came to assist.
Jasminda was torn. Jack had exited the vehicle and rallied somewhat, his back was straight, shoulders back, but she could still tell something was wrong. She started to reach out to him with Earthsong, but then thought better of it. If she was leaving, best that she break the ties now. Her imagination had run wild before; there had never been any possibility of something between the two of them. Especially not with him an important soldier and her— What was she? Just a goat farmer. An outcast. It would be better if he didn’t know her.
She stood and stretched her legs. Most of the others were now helping in the salvage project. She didn’t want to have to explain herself or say any good-byes. Especially not to Jack. It was cowardly, she knew, but whatever hopes she’d harbored were best buried deep and never acknowledged again. She could slip away and, very soon, no one would remember she’d been there at all.
Jasminda took a few steps back, away from the others. Everyone’s focus was either on the salvage or the newcomers, the Sisters, approaching with crates of food. Turning to head back toward the mountain, she nearly bumped into Osar. He looked up at her with disapproval, his lips pressed tight. She faltered.
Crouching next to him, she took his little hand in hers. “You’ll be all right. Somehow.” He continued to glare at her. “I don’t belong here. I know you can’t understand that, but it’s true.” He shook his head. “It’s not true?” He shook his head again, and Jasminda chuckled. “Why don’t you talk, Osar? You seem to have a lot of opinions.”
The vibration of Earthsong hit her like the clanging of a bell.
Words lie. Songs don’t.
His Song was so sure and strong, she’d nearly forgotten how powerful he was. She could hear his thoughts in her head as clearly as if he’d spoken them aloud.
Look up.
The same words as after the avalanche, when Osar had saved Jack. Again she obeyed, squinting into the sun until it was blocked by a figure standing over them. One of the Sisters held out two paper sacks.
“Food,” the woman said in Elsiran, miming eating with one of her hands.
Jasminda stood and took the offered sack, unable to pull her gaze away. The woman before her was the spitting image of Mama. Golden auburn hair, topaz-colored eyes, a straight nose peppered with freckles. The only thing that kept Jasminda from crying out and running into the woman’s arms were the burn scars across her left cheek and jaw.
At Jasminda’s continued stare, the Sister touched her face briefly and ducked her head. She bowed slightly then hurried away.
“Oh, no, I wasn’t—” Jasminda said to her retreating back. With a glance at Osar, who was excitedly investigating the contents of the bag, Jasminda took off after the Sister. The woman was already retrieving more sacks from a crate and passing them out.
“This one’s empty,” she called out. Her voice was higher than Mama’s, lighter and breathier. Jasminda almost didn’t trust her memories. There was no way two people could look so similar.
“Sister Vanesse, could you lend a hand?” another Sister called from near the vehicles. The scarred Sister hurried off, leaving Jasminda gaping after her.
Vanesse. She knew that name. Her mother had spoken it often enough. Jasminda had even tried addressing her letters to Vanesse Zinadeel when those to her grandmother kept being returned unopened. But her mother’s sister had not responded, either.
Aunt Vanesse.
Her only proof was a first name and a face nearly identical to her mother’s.
“Are you going to eat that?” a young girl asked, looking hungrily at the forgotten lunch in Jasminda’s hand.
“No, go ahead
,” she said, handing it off, unable to take her eyes off a face she never thought she’d see again.
She didn’t know how long she stood there, staring blindly, but the approach of more army-brown vehicles, a bus, and several trucks brought her back to the present. Soldiers rounded up the refugees and settlers, and directed them toward the bus.
“They wish us to sleep at the Eastern Base tonight,” she overheard a settler telling the others. “The Sisterhood has set up a place for the refugees near Rosira. We will travel there tomorrow.”
The settlers grumbled among themselves about whether or not to leave, in the end deciding to accompany the women and children and ensure their safety. Jasminda too was torn. Home beckoned, but curiosity and anger warred within her. Only metres away stood a blood relative, one she’d never met and who’d shown no interest in her. And in Rosira, lived her mother’s mother. A woman Jasminda had begged for help when she’d been left alone at seventeen. This was her chance to get answers. To meet her grandmother, look in her eye, and ask how she could be so callous to her own kin, how she could ignore her daughter and granddaughter for years.
Jasminda was tired of being ignored and being looked at with scorn and derision. She wanted both of these women to know who she was, to know what kind of man her father had been, how strong and smart her brothers had been. She would stand up and give a reckoning of her family. It was the least she could do for their memories.
Jasminda scanned the area. The Sisters were packing their supplies back into their wagon. There was still some small chance this Sister wasn’t her aunt, and even if she was, if she approached now, Vanesse may warn her grandmother and she’d never get the chance to confront the woman as her heart now demanded. Jasminda would wait for the right moment.
A soldier waved Jasminda toward the queue forming to board the bus. Staying meant she was little more than a settler or refugee. She searched the area for Jack but he was nowhere to be found. An emptiness took hold inside her, but she stepped onto the bus warily when it was her turn. A clean break was best, wasn't it? The engine thundered to life, and she chose an open seat at the back. Just before the driver closed the doors, Jack slipped aboard, his brow furrowed.
She held her breath as his gaze searched the seats until he found her. “What are you doing?”
She searched for words, but her mouth was too dry to speak.
He moved down the aisle toward her and extended his arm. “Come.” Her hand found his of its own accord. She could not control her longing for his touch, for his nearness. No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, her hand in his caused a riot of sensation to shoot through her entire body. The fact that he'd sought her out dissolved the emptiness. Perhaps she needn't make a clean break after all. Perhaps Jack could help. She took his proffered hand, allowing him to lead her off the bus and over to the group of men standing near the other vehicles.
“Captain,” he said, though he pitched his voice loud enough for all the soldiers to hear. “This woman is a citizen, born in Elsira, and shall be treated as such. She is not a refugee.”
The man before him stood at attention. “Yes, sir. I apologize, sir. I did not realize.”
Jack nodded once, then led Jasminda to an armored truck, helping her into the rear seat. She darted a glance back to the bus.
“Are we going to the base, as well?” she asked.
He leaned his forehead against the doorframe and sighed heavily. “Yes.” His whole demeanor had changed. Gone were even the hints of the man she’d once confused for an artist. He was all warrior now . . . and a weary one.
“You are in charge of these men?” She didn't know much about military ranks, but High Commander sounded awfully important.
“Yes,” he said simply.
Her heart grew heavy. Though he stood next to her, suddenly he seemed very far away. “You are very young.”
“I started early. Practically at birth. And my family is very… well connected.” There was no pride in his voice.
“The men respect you. It isn’t false regard in their eyes. You must be very good.”
He shrugged and looked away as though uncomfortable with this topic of conversation. She changed tacks.
“What happened earlier? You seemed distressed. Is it the breach?”
He looked over his shoulder. The captain and another man stood nearby. Jack switched to Lagrimari. “No, but I will tell you later.”
She eyed the other soldiers and nodded.
“Later then,” she said, placing a hand on his. Gasping at the thoughtless familiarity, she immediately tried to pull her hand back, but he kept hold and squeezed her fingers before letting go. His eyes crinkled in a tired smile, then he turned and walked off.
Voices carried from the other side of the truck. “Looks like the commander has himself a new pet.”
Someone snorted. “A grol bitch to fetch the paper and eat the table scraps.”
The soldiers cackled, their voices fading as they walked away. She clenched her hand into a fist and settled back against the truck’s hard seat.
The thin, army-issued cot was almost comfortable. After arriving at the base, Jasminda had been given a space in a corner of a small supply building where she could sleep. The Lagrimari had been assigned a barracks building for the night, but Jack insisted she be kept separate. She appreciated his efforts to continually remind his men of her citizenship, but she felt uneasy alone in a strange place. Jack had showed her the space and then been called away again. She’d sat there for the past half hour reading the various labels on the boxes and listening to the sounds of the base beyond the walls.
The door creaked open. Jasminda scrambled to the edge of the cot and retrieved her knife from her thigh. She reached for Earthsong, but the energy slipped from her grasp. Agitation wormed its way into every part of her. She would have to be far calmer in order to control her Song.
“Jasminda. It’s me.”
She relaxed as Jack’s head came into view from behind a stack of boxes. His eyes lingered on her legs as she set her skirt back into place. Her face grew hot.
He pulled a box close to her cot and sat, looking around the tiny space. “How do you like the accommodations?”
“It’s no cave floor, but it will serve.”
Exhaustion tarnished his face, but she couldn’t keep her eyes from him. He was so beautiful. She struggled to push the thought away, but then he reached for her hand, interlocking their fingers, and she lost the battle. Her breath caught in her chest as she delighted in the feel of his skin.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
“I’ve been worse.”
“And you’ve been better?”
He seemed enraptured by their joined hands. He stroked her skin with his thumb. “How is it that your skin is so soft?”
“It’s the balm.” She shrugged as a shiver raced through her. “Will you tell me what happened?”
“My brother . . . is dead.” His voice was even and measured. He spoke the words like they were just another fact of the day. The sun rose. The rain fell. His brother died. Jasminda’s heart seized.
Her mouth hung open as she struggled to find the words to say. “I-I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Jack.”
He stared off into the distance. “He was piloting his airship and ran into a thunderstorm. The craft crashed. He was thrown through the window.” With a shake of his head, he turned to her. She trembled at the intensity in his eyes. “I haven’t told you all you need to know about me.”
In fact, she knew very little. He’d proven himself kind and honorable. He protected her and cared for others more than himself. In this strange place, he was the only thing that made her feel safe, no matter how hard she tried to deny it. But he obviously came from a rich and influential family. His brother owned an airship. She wanted to know him better, if such a thing were possible. Wanted to so much it hurt.
“Will you tell me?”
“I want to, but let us wait until tomorrow, if that is all rig
ht. It is not something I want to think about now. Worries on top of worries.”
She smiled sadly, a tendril of unease creeping its way through her. “Of course.”
They sat in silence for a while as she tried not to allow her fears to get the better of her. What exactly did she expect of him? No matter what his secrets were, he was a high-ranking Elsiran military leader and she a grol witch. What else did she need to know?
But there he was in front of her, his pain so clear. She longed to be able to soothe him.
“Was he your only family?” she asked softly.
He shook his head. “My mother lives in Fremia now.”
“Has she been told?”
“She’s in seclusion. But we are half brothers. Were . . . His mother is long passed. He and I were never close. We didn’t see eye to eye, but . . .”
“But he was kin.”
Jack nodded. “Kin. And now it falls to me.”
He stroked each of her knuckles and massaged the delicate skin between her fingers.
“What falls to you?”
“I—” He dropped his head. Shook it. “It is late. You should rest.”
“Tomorrow then.” She let her hand slip from his.
Neither of them moved.
“Jack, what do you see when you look at me?”
He gazed at her questioningly.
“Your men . . . they see me as the enemy. How is it you don’t?”
“You’re not the enemy. Did someone say something to you?” Anger sparked behind his eyes, and she grasped his arm.
“No, no. Just . . . they think it.”
“Does Earthsong tell you that?”
She shook her head. “I can just tell.”
“You’re safe here, I promise.”
She wanted to believe him, but she’d never let her guard down. Elsira may be a beloved homeland to him, but for her, it was just as foreign as Lagrimar. She lay down on the cot, pulling the thin blanket up over her. He slid off the box and onto the ground, stretching out beside her.