A Torch Against the Night (15 page)

She swoops toward me, and I realize she’s as tall as I am, though I don’t remember when that happened. “I don’t care. I will be Empress. Our son will be heir to the throne. And the fate of Gens Aquilla will forever be secure. Because of
me
.” Her eyes glow with triumph. “Think on that as you hunt down the traitor you call friend.”

Don’t punch her, Helene. Don’t.
My father takes my arm. “Come, Shrike.”

“Where’s Livvy?” I ask.

“Sequestered in her room with a
fever
,” Father says as we ensconce ourselves in his book-stuffed study. “Your mother and I didn’t want to risk Marcus picking her instead.”

“He did this to get at me.” I try to sit but just end up pacing. “The Commandant probably put him up to it.”

“Do not underestimate our Emperor, Helene,” Father says. “Keris wanted you dead. She tried to persuade Marcus to execute you. You know her. She refuses to negotiate. The Emperor came to me without her knowledge. The Illustrians have turned on him. They use the escape of Veturius and the slave-girl to question his legitimacy as Emperor. He knows he needs allies, so he offered your life for Hannah’s hand in marriage—and the full support of Gens Aquilla.”

“Why not throw our weight behind another Gens?” I say. “There must be some who covet the throne.”

“They all covet the throne. The infighting has already begun. Who would you choose? Gens Sissellia is brutal and manipulative. Gens Rufia would empty the Empire’s coffers in a fortnight. All would object to any other Gens ruling. They will tear each other apart vying for the throne. Better a bad Emperor than a civil war.”

“But, Father, he’s a—”

“Daughter.” Father raises his voice—a rare enough occurrence that I fall silent. “Your loyalty is to the Empire. Marcus is Augur-chosen. He
is
the Empire. And he needs a victory badly.” My father leans across his desk. “He needs Elias. He needs a public execution. He needs the Gens to see that he is strong and capable.

“You are Blood Shrike now, daughter. The Empire
must
come first—above your desires, your friendships, your wants. Above, even, your sister and your Gens. We are Aquilla, daughter.
Loyal to the end.
Say it.”

“Loyal,” I whisper.
Even if it means my sister’s destruction. Even if it means a madman running the Empire. Even if it means I have to torture and kill my best friend.
“To the end.”

«««

W
hen I arrive at the empty barracks the next morning, neither Dex nor Harper mentions Hannah’s betrothal. They are also wise enough not to remark on my black mood.

“Faris is at the drum tower,” Dex says. “He heard back about the horse. As for those reports you had me look through …” My friend fidgets, pale eyes on Harper.

Harper almost smiles. “There was something off about the reports,” he says. “The drums gave conflicting orders that night. Martial troops were in disarray because the rebels cracked our codes and scrambled all the communiqués.”

Dex’s mouth drops open. “How did you know?”

“I noticed it a week ago,” Harper said. “It wasn’t relevant until today. Two orders given that night went unobserved in the chaos, Shrike. Both transferred men from the eastern part of the city elsewhere, thereby leaving that entire sector unpatrolled.”

I curse under my breath. “Keris gave those orders,” I say. “She let him go. She
wants
me tied up in the hunt for Veturius. With me gone, she can influence Marcus without interference. And”—I glance at Harper—“you’re going to tell her I figured it out. Aren’t you?”

“She knew that the moment you walked into Villa Veturia with questions.” Harper fixes his cool gaze on me. “She doesn’t underestimate you, Shrike. Nor should she.”

The door bursts open, and Faris lumbers through, ducking his head to avoid the frame. He hands me a slip of paper. “From a guard post just south of Raider’s Roost.”

“What in the bleeding skies was Veturius doing at Raider’s Roost?” I say. “Why go east? The fastest way to escape the Empire is south.”

“Could be a ploy,” Dex says. “He could have traded the horse outside the city and turned south from there.”

Faris shakes his head. “Then how do you explain the beast’s condition and where it was found?”

I let them argue. A chill wind blows through the open barracks door, rifling the reports on the table, bringing in the smell of crushed leaves, cinnamon, and distant sands. A Tribal trader trundles past with his cart. He’s the first Tribesman I’ve seen in Serra in days. The rest have left the city, in part because of the Scholar revolt and in part because of the Fall Gathering in Nur. No Tribesman would miss it.

It hits me like a lightning bolt.
The Fall Gathering.
Every Tribe attends, including Tribe Saif. In the middle of all those people, animals, wagons, and families, it would be child’s play for Elias to slip past Martial spies and hide among his adoptive family.

“Dex.” I silence the discussion. “Send a message to the garrison at Atella’s Gap. I need a full legion mustered and ready to depart in three days. And saddle our horses.”

Dex lifts his silver brows. “Where are we going?”

“Nur,” I say as I walk out the door for the stables. “He’s heading to Nur.”

E
lias suggests we rest, but sleep won’t find me this night. Keenan is equally agitated; an hour or so after we’ve all bedded down, he gets up and disappears into the woods. I sigh, knowing I owe him an explanation. Delaying it will make the road to Kauf more difficult than it already promises to be. I rise, shivering from the cold and pulling my cloak closer. Elias, on watch, speaks quietly as I pass.

“The poison,” he says. “Don’t tell him or Izzi. Please.”

“I won’t.” I slow, thinking of our almost-kiss, wondering if I should say anything. But when I turn to look at him, he’s studiously staring out at the forest, his broad shoulders taut.

I follow Keenan into the woods and run to catch his arm just as he’s moving out of view.

“You’re still upset,” I say. “I’m sorry—”

He throws off my arm and spins about, his eyes flashing dark fire.

“You’re sorry? Skies, Laia, do you have any idea what I thought when you weren’t on that barge? You know what I’ve lost, and you did it anyway—”

“I had to, Keenan.” I didn’t realize it would hurt him. I thought he would understand. “I couldn’t let Izzi face the Commandant’s wrath. I couldn’t let Elias die.”

“So he didn’t make you do any of this? Izzi said it was your idea, but I didn’t believe her. I assumed he’d—I don’t know—used coercion. A trick. Now I find the two of you together. I thought you and I …”

He crosses his arms, his bright hair falling into his face, and looks away from me.
Skies.
He must have seen Elias and me by the fire. How to explain?
I never thought I’d see you again. I’m a mess. My heart is a mess.

“Elias is my friend,” I say instead. Is it even true? Elias
was
my friend when we left Serra. Now I do not know what he is.

“You’re trusting a Martial, Laia. Do you realize that? Ten bleeding hells, he’s the son of the Commandant. The son of the woman who killed your family—”

“He’s not like that.”

“Of course he’s like that. They’re all like that. You and me, Laia—we can do this without him. Look, I didn’t want to say it in front of him because I don’t trust him, but the Resistance has knowledge of Kauf. Men inside. I can get Darin out of there, alive.”

“Kauf isn’t Central Prison, Keenan. It’s not even Blackcliff. It’s Kauf. No one has ever broken out of there. So please, stop. This is my choice. I choose to trust him. You can come with me if you wish. I would be lucky to have someone like you along. But I’m not leaving Elias. He’s my best chance of saving Darin.”

Keenan looks for a moment as if he wants to say more but then simply nods.

“Your will, then,” he says.

“There’s something else I need to tell you.” I never shared with Keenan
why
my brother was taken. But if rumors of Darin and Teluman have already reached the Roost, then he’s certain to hear about my brother’s skills at some point. He might as well hear it from me.

“Izzi and I heard the rumors while we were traveling,” he says after I finish explaining. “But I’m glad you told me. I’m—I’m glad you trust me.”

When he meets my eyes, a spark jumps between us, heady and powerful. In the mist, his eyes are dark, so dark.
I could disappear there
. The thought pops unbidden into my mind.
And not mind if I never found my way out.

“You must be exhausted.” He lifts a palm to my face, hesitant. His touch is warm, and when his fingers fall away, I feel empty. I think of how he kissed me in Serra. “I’ll be there soon.”

In the clearing, Izzi sleeps. Elias ignores me, his hand laid casually across the scim in his lap. If he’s heard Keenan and me talking, he gives no indication of it.

My bedroll is cold, and I huddle within, shivering. For a long time, I lay awake, waiting for Keenan to return. But the minutes pass, and he stays away.

«««

W
e reach the border of the Serran Mountain Range mid-morning, with the sun high in the east. Elias takes point as we zigzag out of the mountains and down a switchbacking trail to the foothills. The dunes of the Tribal desert roll away beyond those foothills, a sea of molten gold with an island of green a dozen or so miles away: Nur.

Long wagon trains snake their way toward the city for the Fall Gathering. Miles of desert stretch past the oasis, littered with striated plateaus that rise into the sky like enormous rock sentinels. A wind races along the desert floor and up through the foothills, bringing with it the scents of oil and horse and roasting meat.

The air nips at us—autumn has come early to the mountains. But it might as well be the depths of a Serran summer, the way Elias sweats. This morning, he quietly told me that the Tellis extract ran out yesterday. His gold skin, so hale before, is worryingly pale.

Keenan, who has been frowning at Elias since the moment we set out, falls into stride with him now.

“Are you going to tell us how we’re going to find a caravan that will take us to Kauf?”

Elias looks at the rebel askance but doesn’t respond.

“Tribesmen aren’t exactly known for being accepting to outsiders,” Keenan presses. “Though your adopted family is Tribal, right? I hope you’re not planning to seek their aid. The Martials will be watching them.”

Elias’s expression transforms from
what do you want
to
go away
.

“No, I don’t plan on seeing my family while I’m in Nur. As for getting north, I have a … friend who owes me a favor.”

“A friend,” Keenan says. “Who—”

“Don’t take offense, Red,” Elias says, “but I don’t know you. So you’ll forgive me if I don’t trust you.”

“I know the feeling.” Keenan clenches his jaw. “I only wanted to suggest that instead of using Nur, we use Resistance safe houses. We could bypass Nur and the Martial soldiers who no doubt patrol it.”

“With the Scholar revolt, rebels are probably being rounded up and interrogated. Unless you’re the only fighter who knew about the safe houses, they’re compromised.”

Elias speeds his gait, and Keenan drops back, taking a position far enough behind me that I think it best to leave him be. I catch up with Izzi, and she leans toward me.

“They’ve avoided ripping each other’s faces off,” she says. “That’s a start, right?”

I choke back a laugh. “How long until they kill each other, d’you think? And who strikes first?”

“Two days before all-out war,” Izzi says. “My money’s on Keenan striking first. He’s got a temper, that one. But Elias will win, being a Mask and all. Though”—she tilts her head—“he doesn’t look so good, Laia.”

Izzi always sees more than anyone gives her credit for. I’m certain she’ll notice me dancing around the question, so I try to keep my response simple.

“We should reach Nur tonight,” I say. “Once he rests, he’ll be fine.”

But by late afternoon, a powerful wind blows in from the east, and our progress slows as we enter the foothills. By the time we reach the stretch of dunes that lead to Nur, the moon is high, the galaxy a blaze of silver above. But we are all exhausted from fighting the wind. Izzi’s walk has deteriorated to a stumble, and both Keenan and I pant in tiredness. Even Elias struggles, stopping short enough times that I begin to worry for him.

“I don’t like this wind,” he says. “The desert sandstorms don’t start until late fall. But the weather since Serra has been odd—rain instead of sun, fog instead of clear skies.” We exchange a glance. I wonder if he’s thinking what I am: that it feels as if something doesn’t
want
us to reach Nur … or Kauf or Darin.

The oil lamps of Nur glow like a beacon only a few miles to the east, and we head straight for them. But a mile or so into the dunes, a deep hum thrums out across the sands, echoing in our bones.

“What in the skies is that?” I ask.

“The sand is shifting,” Elias says. “A lot of it. A sandstorm is coming. Quickly now!”

The sands swirl restlessly, rising in taunting clouds before gusting away. After another half mile, the wind grows so frenzied that we can hardly make out the lights of Nur.

“This is insane!” Keenan shouts. “We should turn back for the foothills. Find shelter for the night.”

“Elias.” I raise my voice over the wind. “How much would that delay us?”

“If we wait, we miss the gathering. We need those crowds if we want to pass unnoticed.”
And he needs the Tellis.
We cannot predict the Soul Catcher. If Elias starts convulsing again and loses consciousness, who knows how long that creature will keep him in the Waiting Place? Hours if he’s lucky. Days if he’s not.

A shudder rolls through Elias, sudden and violent, and his body jerks—too sharply for anyone with eyes to miss it. I am beside him instantly.