Chapter 11
No Lords And Ladies In Here
“Blind girl.”
Eiko and Rion both paused at the gravelly voice.
Vana skipped ahead, like she didn’t even notice that the other two women had halted.
The royal attendant had only seen them as far as the first gate separating the Godsguard grounds from the Brightfort grounds, leaving them to find their way back to the stone courtyard on their own.
“I said blind girl,” the stranger gruffed out, now annoyed, “not blind girl and friend.”
“I’ll … see you later,” Rion whispered, releasing Eiko reluctantly. She walked away with an exaggerated trudge, dragging her feet as slowly as possible.
“Cairn Torven.” The man moved closer, apparently introducing himself. He knocked his cane against hers, forcing her to stumble, as she had been leaning all of her weight on it. “Stand up straight when I talk to you, blind girl.”
She quickly straightened out her shoulders and dropped into a short curtsey. “Sorry, my lord.”
“None of that.” He made a disgusted sound. “No lords and ladies in here. You gave all that up when you joined the Godsguard. Come with me.”
He strode off quickly, and she hastened to follow, shadowing him through the barracks.
“Recruits are claimed by a section leader when they manifest,” he said, once the chatter of nearby people died off. He had a very succinct, grunting quality to his speech, like he wanted to squeeze out his point in as few words as possible.
“Nobody wanted you,” he said. Wow, so unnecessary. He continued, “The barracks are divided into three sections. One for each banner. There’s no place for bannerless to sleep, but the commander wants you under watch.”
Just in case her monster tore free to menace the barracks, and—sun forbid—the castle grounds.
He led her up, and up, and up, until she was sure the barracks couldn’t be any taller, and then he opened a door, making an impatient sound that she assumed meant he was waiting for her to enter. So she did.
“This’ll be your room,” he said. “For now, anyway. I can keep an eye on you here.”
He could keep an eye on her because … this was his section. Which meant it was the Eclipse section.
Which meant it was Chasin’s section.
I don’t want to be near him, Hymn whispered.
Don’t worry, I’ll keep you safe, she promised, with absolutely no authority or confidence whatsoever.
The truth was, if the royal commander decided to stop restraining his monster and give in to the urge to hurt her for harbouring Hymn, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
Cairn wasn’t moving.
She realised she hadn’t said a word to him since the courtyard. “Uh—thank you.”
He scoffed. “I wouldn’t. Getting stuck with me won’t be good for you. Eclipse training is brutal, but at least under the banner, you can convince yourself you’re doing it for glory.”
“The banners train separately?” She swallowed down a spike of anxiety, wracking her brain to remember who had claimed her friends and brother. Alessandra. Crescent banner. At least they were all together.
“The banners are entirely different organisations.” Cairn somehow spoke like she had asked this exact question a hundred times before, and he was this close to knocking her onto her ass instead of repeating his answers for the hundredth time.
“They have nothing to do with each other, and they’re highly competitive. You’d best remember that.”
“Could I … maybe … train with Crescent instead?”
Cairn laughed, the sound a hacking huff.
“This isn’t little soldiers camp. You’re a recruit.
This is what you chose. And so far, even the dead have been more successful than you.
I’ll be training you the Eclipse way, but you won’t be joining any of the banners.
You’re not welcome. Recruits are divided up between Half-Moon and Crescent.
The commander sometimes handpicks from the existing pool to join Eclipse, but only after an observation period.
So if Half-Moon and Crescent don’t want you, you’re bannerless. ”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” he mocked, in a very poor imitation of a high-pitched, Stonesigh accent. “Best get some sleep. It won’t get easier from here.”
He slammed her door, and she waited, listening for a turning key or a clicking lock.
When it didn’t come, she felt her way around the room, mapping out a double bed between two narrow windows, the panes giving way with a stiff squeak to allow the outside breeze to claw its way in.
There was a desk beside a dresser, a tall armoire, and an extra chest at the end of the bed for storage.
There was also a lock on the inside of the door, which she quickly turned before dragging herself back to the bed.
She should venture out again.
She should find Kaito. Check in on Ky. Make sure Ren isn’t beating himself up too badly before beating him up badly.
She should make sure Rion isn’t panicking about being traded off to a golden prince.
She should start panicking about being traded off to a golden prince.
She should …
Just …
Close her eyes for just …
The fist pounding at her door had her jolting upright in shock, clawing up from a deep, disorienting sleep, her vision fuzzy—
Her vision?
Colour exploded through the room in a lucid, saturated splay.
A muddled stain dripped down her hands as she raised them to her face.
It hinted at an apricot disorientation and confusion.
Beneath it, darkness flickered. She quickly shrugged out of her wrinkled uniform jacket, glancing further up her arms to where the orange was melting into the mellow, shimmering gold of awe.
Before the second sight could burn her out again, she tried to gently reel it back, winding it in an inch at a time.
What are you doing? Hymn asked in sleepy confusion.
Trying to make this sustainable, she said distractedly.
The world coloured by emotion was far too vivid and confusing, the details attacking her out of nowhere, but as she tried to dull the power, she found that the world wasn’t quite …
right. She couldn’t see her hand until she raised it, and as soon as she stopped moving it again, it became a dark blur.
She couldn’t make out the corners of the room, only the two slanting patches of light from the windows on either side of her bed.
I don’t understand, she told Hymn. Without the colours, everything looks so …
It’s a second sight, he told her gently. It’s a magic that interacts with the living world. It needs something to interact with.
She moved her hand again, marvelling as it came back into focus.
Movement. She stood, watching as her boots moved across the floorboards.
With the second sight reeled in, she could make out all the duller details she might have missed.
The floor had been scratched and scuffed and polished and oiled, again and again.
Her boots weren’t brand new, but they were clean and showed very little use.
The laces were tangled and lopsided. Her uniform pants were tight and wrinkled, tucked haphazardly into the tops of her boots, one leg bunched a few inches above, having ridden up in her sleep.
She stepped into the shaft of sunlight and pulled her hand up again, and then held very still, marvelling at the visible texture of her skin.
Light.
The second sight needed light or movement to work—if she took away the colours.
How long can I use it like this? she asked Hymn. There was no headache building, no throb of pain or panicked sensation of overwhelm.
She could see. As long as everything or everyone stayed in constant motion or direct sunlight.
I’ve never tried it like this, he admitted—of course he hadn’t—he could already see. Didn’t someone knock on the door? he added after a moment.
Oh, shit. She scrambled to the door and pulled it open, coming face-to-face with an older man with tightly curled black-and-grey hair and a short beard. Cairn leaned on a cane, his free hand holding a timepiece up before his face.
“Not fucking good enough,” he grouched, shoving his timepiece away.
Eiko quickly averted her eyes, fixing them over his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I was … trying to find the door.”
“You missed breakfast.”
“That’s okay. I think I still have bread in my pocket.”
“What?”
“Nothing.”
He was pinching the bridge of his crooked nose. She could see it clearly in her periphery. Because she had a periphery now. It helped that he kept shifting to ease his leg, and that sunlight was slanting into the hallway.
“The lace ceremony is about to start,” Cairn told her. “You have ten minutes to do whatever you need to do and get your ass to the courtyard. The royal family have decided to attend this year, for whatever dark-forsaken reason.”
They’re determining the least useless of three possible brides for their eldest sons.
“I’ll be right there. I just need to pee.”
Cairn was staring at her. She allowed her eyes to wander across his scarred face, taking in the perplexed, annoyed expression in his crinkled, oakmoss eyes, and the dark scowl twitching beneath his speckled moustache before letting her gaze rest along his collarbone.
He wore the same black leather-and-mesh uniform as the day before, and despite his age and discomfort, he appeared to be almost terrifyingly fit.
It seemed painful for him to just stand there, so how was he maintaining his form?
She had a feeling she was about to find out, and she did not like it. Not one bit. The Godsguard were already the most elite soldiers in Lyra, but it seemed like the Eclipse were the elite within the elite.
Eiko didn’t exactly scream elite.
“Right.” He said the word stiffly, shaking his head. “Ten minutes.” He strode off without another word.
Ten minutes. That seemed like a generous amount of time to have a complete nervous breakdown. Instead, Eiko shut the door, flicked the lock, and sagged back against it, palms pressed to the wood.
You can see, Hymn reminded her quietly. That’s good.