An Accident of Stars (35 page)

Still crying, but more quietly now, Viya leaned back from Pix, the other woman's palms braced warmly against her shoulders. She looked at the courtier, really
looked
, and something in the action calmed her as even the long-overdue apology hadn't. Pixeva's eyes were wide, her braided hair dishevelled. Three stray drops of blood sat high on one cheekbone, and her left eye was bloodshot.

“I'm a coward,” Viya said, voice trembling. “I came to fight, but I couldn't.”

Pix's gaze flicked sideways, taking in the dropped knife, then fixed on Viya again. “Listen to me.
Listen
. When Zechalia first brought you to us, I thought… I don't know what I thought. But it wasn't charitable, and I didn't give you even a quarter of the credit you deserved. Yet all you've ever done – all you've ever tried to do – is live up to the honour of being Cuivexa. And after the Envas road, as we travelled here, I always woke you from nightmares. Every morning I woke you, and I never said anything, because you didn't. You talked in your sleep. Sometimes you even cried out. But because you didn't say anything, I told myself you were coping; I let myself believe that you didn't remember them. But of course you did. That doesn't mean you were any less a Cuivexa; but being Cuivexa doesn't mean you're any less wounded either. You're allowed to be both. You're allowed to ask for help.”

Viya trembled. “I am?”

“You are,” said Pix, “but I still need to apologise, because Cuivexa or not, you've been a young woman under my care, and you shouldn't have
had
to ask, or to steel yourself into not-asking, just because I was too busy with politics to see you as a person. But, Iviyat – to walk down here alone, willing to fight, after everything you've been through, for no better reason than that you thought it was the right thing to do, even though you were frightened? That takes more strength, more bravery, than fighting ever could. You are not a coward. You are
magnificent
, and whatever comes of all of this, you have my loyalty.”

And she lifted Viya's fingertips to her lips, and kissed them to show her fealty.

“Pixeva ore Pixeva ki Tahun,” Viya said, too overwhelmed to manage anything else. Which, as it turned out, was fortuitous; at just that moment, Oyako came running up. Viya jerked to her feet, self-consciously wiping the tears from her eyes, but if the dreamseer noticed her disarray, she gave no sign of it. Her face was alight with purpose.

“Word from Yevekshasa!” she panted, coming to a halt. “Kikra reached me just as the last of them fled.”

“What news?” said Pix, standing.

“Zechalia and Safi both live, with the former now counted as a queen of Veksh. The Council meets at tomorrow's dawn, and when they do, not only Zech's ascension to their ranks, but Gwen and Yasha's plea for aid, will be heard and judged.”

Pix's brows shot up. “So soon? We've not much time for planning then.”

“No,” said Oyako, then hesitated, her gaze flicking to Viya. “Which is why we think a conference might be in order.”

“
We
?” said Pix, sharply. “And who, pray tell, is
we
in this situation?”

“The Shavaktiin,” said Oyako, her eyes still fixed on Viya. “Please, Cuivexa. Whether you've always known it or not, the Shavaktiin have been your champions even before we found you by the Envas road. In fact, it was one of our number who helped you escape the palace.”

Viya opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Luy
. In all this time, she'd barely thought of him, let alone truly contemplated the relevance of his being a Shavaktiin – and nor, she realised belatedly, had she ever disclosed his aid to anyone.

“How do you know that?” she asked, more sharply than she'd intended.

Pix stared at her. “You never mentioned any Shavaktiin when we took you in.”

“I didn't trust you then,” said Viya stiffly, not liking to admit it, “and afterwards, it didn't seem important. His name was Luy, and he was Leoden's advisor. In any case, he gave the impression that other Shavaktiin thought badly of him. That he needed to redeem himself. And given that he otherwise stood at my husband's side, I didn't see any reason to doubt it.”

“Luy.” Pix looked thoughtful. “I feel like I've heard the name before, though I can't quite remember…” Her voice trailed off as she stared dreamily into the distance; several seconds passed before she shook her head, abandoning the attempt at recollection. “It doesn't matter.”

“Actually, it does,” said Oyako. “Not that you've heard his name before, I mean, but Luy himself. It's true, what the Cuivexa said – there are some among the Shavaktiin who believe him to be a traitor, that his interpretation of the Great Story is flawed and his role in steering it a form of sacrilege. But not everyone in our order thinks likewise. The members of our coterie are numbered among his supporters.” She hesitated. “Halaya and he are lovers.”

“Truly?” said Pix. “And here I'd been thinking you were an order of celibates.”

Oyako laughed at that. “Though we wear robes, they yet conceal flesh and blood. The fact remains, however,” and here she turned serious again, “that Luy's actions have become integral to the story. Which is why – assuming you agree to a conference of minds, Cuivexa – Luy will be one of those present.”

“A conference of minds?” asked Viya.

“A meeting in the dreamscape,” Oyako said. “Facilitated by Luy, Kikra and myself, enabling a conversation between yourself, Zechalia a Kadeja, and Safi a Ellen.”

“But not me,” said Pix, “nor Gwen, nor Yasha, nor any other soul? Why?”

“Because the story is theirs,” said Oyako, simply. “We participate in order to guide them, not to be guided by other interests.”

Pix hesitated, then glanced at Viya. “The Cuivexa has my loyalty. I trust her to make the right decision.”

Oyako inclined her head. “As you should.”

“My thanks,” said Viya, finally finding the strength to speak, “but the decision isn't mine alone to make.” And she told them about the pact she'd made with Amenet.

Both women fell silent. Viya became acutely aware of the sweat dripping down her neck.

“A wise decision,” Oyako said eventually – and despite the delay, it sounded as though she meant it. “But even so, she cannot join in the conference; it would drain us too much to include another mind for such a length of time.”

“I understand,” said Viya – and then remembered, with a horrible, guilty lurch, that Amenet was still in the library, waiting for an attack that would never come. “But even so, I should go to her. Now.”

“Of course,” said Pix. “In fact, we all should. If only you are able to attend the conference on this end–” and here she shot Oyako a calculating look, “– then we should at least discuss what might be said, or not said, beforehand.”

“Agreed,” said Viya. Breathing deeply, she forced herself to be calm. “The library is as good a place as any for such a discussion. While I confer with Amenet, Pix, you can gather Kadu and Kisavet, and Oyako, you may bring any other Shavaktiin whose input you feel will be of use during such a discussion. But only one, mind. There's still a need to maintain some privacy.” And she held her breath, hoping neither order would be questioned.

“Of course, Cuivexa,” said Oyako, bowing. “We will meet you there.”

“As will we,” said Pix. “Is there anything else you require?”

The relief that flooded Viya was so powerful, she almost swayed.
Pix was right
.
I can grieve
and
lead. The one doesn't contradict the other.

“No,” she said, feeling stronger and more herself than she had in weeks. “That will be all. For now.”

A
stillness crept
over Saffron once Gwen left. Up until now, the biggest lie she'd ever told her parents – told anyone, in fact – had involved a fictitious sleepover at a friend's house to cover up their sneaking out to a local music festival, and even then, she'd still slept over there afterwards. But this, what they were planning now… it was so much bigger, so inescapably
permanent
, that even the thought of telling it left her numb. Once this lie was told, she'd be living in its aftermath forever. There could be no going back.

She swung her legs over the edge of the mattress. She'd risen only once since waking after the trial, just long enough to piss in a bronze pot, but now she stepped away from the bed, testing her legs. Though her muscles burned from her run through Yevekshasa's tunnels – though her new scars pinched and stung as the fresh skin stretched with motion – she was able to keep upright. She was also naked, something she'd noticed earlier without feeling bothered about, though someone had left a kettha and dou folded neatly on a side table. Both were made of soft red cloth, the hems edged in thick bands of a stiffer gold fabric marked with blocky white-and-black patterns. Doubtless, there was some significance to it, but as Saffron put them on, she found she didn't much care what. She just needed to get out, before the smallness of the room and the largeness of the lie smothered her.

Even so, it could be dangerous. Her proxy status was no guarantee of protection against the violence of Vekshi politics, but Saffron had fought a dragon – had
been
a dragon, even – and what about this unknown, unseen city could frighten her after that? She smiled at the thought, her lips a twisted sickle of black humour, and just for a moment, she fancied she felt the scale she'd swallowed burning in her chest.

She opened the door and would've stepped through, if not for the fact that Yena was on the other side of it, hand raised for a knock that never came. Eyes widening, she lowering her hand, and Saffron's mouth went dry.

“I was going to ask if I could come in,” said Yena, “but I'm not sure that's the right question anymore.”

“No,” said Saffron. “It's not. I mean, I was going for a walk, but… you could come with me? If you wanted, that is. If that's, um, if it's allowed.” She ran a rueful hand over her head. “I'm not really sure how things work here.”

“Nor am I,” said Yena, smiling. “But however much you've irked the queens, you're still a proxy, and that means you have power, of a sort. No one will challenge you outside – no one you can't afford to ignore, anyway – and if I'm with you, then no one can send me away either. Except perhaps you, if you tire of me.”

The lilt in her voice, though utterly lacking in affectation, produced in Saffron the same bodily effect as if Yena had whispered the words in her ear while trailing a finger down her spine. She shivered pleasantly, remembering in a sudden flash the way the other girl had touched her cheek on the Envas road, and felt her heart speed up.

“That's… unlikely,” she managed. “Do you know the way out?”

Yena looked surprised. “Don't you?”

“I wasn't exactly conscious when they brought me here,” Saffron said, dryly.“Oh. Right.” Yena blushed, but didn't lose her self-possession for long. Stepping back from the door, she waved Saffron forward. “This way, then. Where do you want to go?”

“Somewhere I can see the sky,” said Saffron, thinking of the place where she'd emerged from the caves. “Not just overhead, but from a distance. Is that all right?”

Yena laughed. “This is Yevekshasa. I think we can manage it.”

As Yena led on down the hall, Saffron felt a momentary twinge of uncertainty. Should she be looking for Zech instead, or Yasha or Halaya? She didn't have so much time left before the Council met that she could afford to squander it; but when Yena, sensing her hesitation, beckoned her onwards, Saffron had a feeling that, when she looked back on their excursion,
squandered
would be the very last thing she'd think.

As they walked, they passed priestesses robed in Ashasan red and a handful of brown-clad women Saffron assumed were servants, but not a single queen. If her own appearance raised some pale Vekshi brows, none of their owners so much as spoke to her, let alone told her to stop.

And then, just like that, she was outside again, the sudden drench of afternoon sunlight flooding her body with warmth. Some of the tension she'd been carrying left her. She came to a halt, savouring the sensation, and noticed that though the exit had been unguarded on the inside, the exterior wall was patrolled by no fewer than six armed women, and – Saffron blinked – two men. This last intrigued her, and she turned to Yena for answers.

“Can men serve Ashasa, then?”

“That depends on two things,” Yena said. “Namely, what you mean by
men
, and how you define service. Bodies are bodies, and hearts are hearts. The priestesshood admits women only, though flesh plays no role in such determinations; but those we just passed were guards, not acolytes, which means they could be anyone.” She paused, glancing sideways at Saffron, and when she spoke again, her voice was ever-so-subtly softer. “After everything you've learned – after Ruyun a Ketra denied me, on the steps of Ashasa's Knives – am I right in thinking that alikrevaya has meaning for you?”

“It does,” Saffron said, pulse fluttering in her wrists. “Zech explained it to me. After what Ruyun said, she had to.”

Yena laughed. “You're blushing, Safi a Ellen,” she teased, and quick as a darting fish, she brushed a kiss on Saffron's neck. The touch was electrifying. Saffron gasped and came to a halt, hand flying up of its own accord to graze where Yena's lips had been. “It's really very sweet,” Yena continued, putting herself in front of Saffron, arms crossed and smiling. They were in a stone courtyard, Saffron noted distantly, with a slice of sky in the background, but her eyes were all for Yena. “Now, tell me truthfully: what has you walking on eggshells? You must remember, I've known Gwen Vere since childhood, and she's told me many things about your world, including some of its… uglier aspects.” Her smile vanished, then reappeared just as quickly, a sun briefly hidden by scudding clouds. “Not to scare me, you understand, but in answer to my very persistent questions. And so, I ask: does my nature, if I can call it that, disquiet you?”