Chapter Twenty-Six. Gin
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
GIN
Luwalhati gives us some time to decide if we’re ready to face the trials.
We take the remainder of the day to explore the market district of the strange city while we consider our options.
Though, in my opinion, the options are few.
“What choice do we have?” I whisper to Eban as we peruse the wares at one of the city’s delectable bakeries.
We haven’t discussed the trials since we left Luwalhati behind, but I don’t have to preface the question.
It’s hanging over us. He knows exactly what I’m referring to.
“You heard her. It’s a huge risk,” he replies, his tone curt. He doesn’t meet my eyes, keeping his gaze focused steadily on the endless spread of breads and pastries and towering cakes.
His reluctance confuses me. When has that ever stopped him before?
“Doing nothing is an even bigger risk,” I insist. “Can you truly tell me you’re fine with returning to the Sleeve?
Continuing on with the way things are? Or worse?
” I for one would rather take my chances with death than go back to my old life, if it can even be called that.
Nothing about it was sustainable. Or worth trying.
He doesn’t respond, only frowns slightly. “I’d like to try one of these, please,” he tells the man behind the counter, pointing to one of the fluffy creations, piled high with some kind of frosting or meringue.
“I’d like one as well,” I add. I know he’s avoiding my questions, but in Eban’s defense, the treats are distracting.
I haven’t seen anything quite like them since I left House Eternal, and the sight of them makes my mouth water.
And for all his bravado, in my heart I know Eban is just scared of facing the trials and trying to process everything that’s happened to us in such a short time.
I am, too—Luwalhati’s warning echoes repeatedly in my mind.
The trials are quite dangerous.… One must have a clear conscience to pass the test. Few survive it.
The man hands us the pastries. It’s strange to get such things without payment, but we’re guests of Luwalhati, and everyone in the city seems to know who we are, or at least, that we are strangers.
Or rather, guests from another realm. On our way out of the shop, we get a lot of stares, largely from curious children with their mouths agape, and many others who try to watch us surreptitiously, following us out of the corner of their eyes.
Neither of us comments on it. Eban bites into the treat. “You have to try this,” he says, mouth full, a smear of white frosting on his nose. I laugh and reach out to wipe it off. His cheeks flush.
I pretend not to notice his reaction to my touch and try mine. Whatever I expected, it’s better. Buttery and sweet and perfectly flaky. “Wow,” I manage.
Eban looks at me and returns the favor, brushing his finger gently against the side of my lip. “You had a little something there,” he says.
It’s my turn to blush. “Thanks.” I can’t look directly at him.
We walk in silence for a bit, passing by a series of dreamy shops, some featuring gowns similar to the one I’m wearing, others with elaborate accessories on display, little flickers of light bouncing around inside.
When we get closer, I notice they’re not artificial lights at all, but some kind of small creature.
The buildings are all made of the same shimmering, otherworldly material, with bay windows that look like they’re made of iridescent crystal rather than standard glass, and twirling columns flanking each side.
Residents of the city glide in and out of them.
What freedom they have, to come and go, secure in the knowledge they have everything they need.
It hits me, again, that these are not some other people, but my people. Living the way we all once did, long ago. And that we can again, so long as Eban and I succeed.
We come to an elaborate fountain in the heart of the city, similar to the one we saw earlier, except this one features huge water dragons made of a sparkly marble.
Even the water is different here, clearer, with a crisp fresh scent.
We take a seat on the edge to finish the pastries.
I can’t help but touch the water. There’s a faint effervescence, almost a fizz, not unpleasant, against my finger.
“We need to talk about this,” I say finally.
Eban nods.
“I know Luwalhati said it’s dangerous. But—”
“It’s not that.” Eban cuts me off. “It’s…” He trails off.
I wait for him to finish, afraid that if I interject or offer my own opinion, he’ll retract back into himself again.
“My conscience isn’t clear,” he finally spits out.
“Is that all?” I say, perplexed. “We’ve all done things we’re not proud of, Eban. But we did what we needed to do to survive. Luwalhati must be aware of that. It’s hardly disqualifying—”
He shakes his head, his eyes flat and black. “You don’t understand.”
I put my hand on top of his. “Help me to, then.”
Eban looks down at our hands as if the sight of them together is more than he can bear. He starts to speak but stops. His eyes meet mine then look away, restless, haunted. I can feel the storm of words gathering behind his silence and see the tension in his jaw.
I pull back, suddenly self-conscious about the gesture, and he sighs.
For a moment, I almost demand the truth from him, to reveal the dark secret of his past. But the way he sits there—shoulders drawn, hands clenched tight in his lap as if he’s holding himself together by force—keeps me from pushing.
“Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad,” I tell him. “I know you.”
He shakes his head once more. His mouth twists, and he stares at the ground as though wishing it would open up and let him fall. The silence between us grows taut, humming with what he won’t confess.
At last, I let it go and squeeze his shoulder. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
Relief flickers across his face, and he nods.
“Let’s take a walk,” I say, partly to defuse the awkwardness I feel between us and partly because I hope that will help him open up. I can’t imagine what he’s holding inside that could possibly be disqualifying, when all Ophir in the Sleeve have resorted to tactics we aren’t proud of.
Something in the stone beneath our feet evokes a memory, of when I was a child. Walking hand in hand with someone, watching my tiny feet as I step around shards of broken glass.
I stop in my tracks. Eban looks at me quizzically. I focus on the design in the stone, a border of curvy lines. Waves. The same from my childhood memory, when there was only a bit of wavy edge left, worn down but visible in the cracked old stone.
My stomach seizes. This place becomes real in that moment. A tangible link between the magical city and what remains of the Ophir.
I realize without any reservation that I’ll do whatever I have to do to help us regain what we once had, with or without Eban. I can still do my part.
As if summoned, when I look up, Luwalhati appears before us. I startle and step backward.
“The time has come to make your decision. I cannot keep you here any longer,” she tells us. “I’ve been made aware of developments in your world. Forces in motion demand a response.”
“I’ll do it,” I say, straightening my shoulders and lifting my chin. “I’m ready.” I know this is what I’m meant to do. After all, what is there to live for if not this? Back to my pitiful existence in the Sleeve, waiting for Lacon to unleash our own magic against us?
“I will take the trial as well,” Eban adds abruptly.
I can hardly control the surprise from registering on my face.
He squares his shoulders—an attempt, I can tell, to appear more confident than he actually feels.
The slight, almost undetectable grimace on his face gives away his true feelings about the situation, though.
I reach out and squeeze his hand in mine. He squeezes back, and gently caresses the top of my hand with his thumb. That touch alone makes the risk worth it.