Chapter 2 #2
My mother looks down at me, and I swear I’ve never seen anything so grand before, not the statues of the Guardians, not the Inka addressing the empire.
I nod from below her. She leaves me on the ground without a word.
For the first time, I don’t tell Suyai all the details. I don’t repeat the words of my Kama or the hits from my mother. I tell her the bare minimum, and it feels like a necessary betrayal.
“I don’t understand. Can she even do that? The unit age limits are laws set by the Inka herself,” Suyai says. Suyai’s first question gets straight to the point. It was mine too. It was the first thing out of my mouth when I spoke to my Kama.
“She’s not inducting me into her unit, so she’s not challenging any laws. I’m coming in as supplemental help. Three of us were chosen, but I’m the only one below the age limit,” I reply. That means I’ll be the only one under 25 in the Apukispay’s unit, and, with that, will come the questions.
“She’s never shown favoritism before. Guardians know, I would say she’s shown the opposite all these years, other than getting you a stupid invitation for something you would’ve entered on your own.
” Suyai’s voice grows louder with each word.
I don’t bother to correct her like I always do, that my mother’s invitation let us pass the preliminary screenings and go straight to the palace exams.
Every word out of her mouth in my chest is a strike to my chest.
My mother has never responded to people calling me her daughter, despite it being obvious to everyone. After enough years passed, people stopped mentioning it anyway.
“I can’t turn this down,” I whisper, once again not feeling like myself. I’m meant to be loud, always the strongest voice in the room.
“Of course you can’t. It’s basically a direct command from the Apukispay. Turning it down might as well be treason.”
I want to tell Suyai everything my Kama said, but I stay quiet. She’s stressed enough as it is.
“You don’t need to feel guilty about not giving me the details, Sinchinrei,” Suyai says my full name, and I don’t miss the message.
I’m spiraling in my own head, and she uses my name to pull me out of the whirlpool.
“I wouldn’t be able to do anything useful anyway.
This is way beyond my realm of knowledge. ”
“Yet you always know the right thing to say,” I admit.
Suyai punches me in the arm, right below my fresh bruise.
We’re shoulder to shoulder on my bed, our feet swinging below us.
She always comes to my quarters since I have a slightly nicer setup because of my rank.
My bed is big enough to fit both of us comfortably, not that we can fall asleep together like we used to when we were kids.
Our ranks keep us apart more often than not.
Curfew is coming up.
“Tell me about your day. I can’t talk about mine anymore,” I say and lean my head on her shoulder.
It’s just the two of us in the dorm. Most of my unit spend their time outside before curfew, Suyai and I included.
Outside of this bed feels like another world, like our feet are swinging above the land of monsters.
Outside, my mother continues to drill her unit.
Outside, soldiers are unwinding with some chicha, tension loosening if only because of the effects of the fermented corn turned alcohol.
Here and now, Suyai is in a worn tank and shorts that flow around her body. They might be mine, but too much time has passed for either of us to lay claim on it. She’s long since showered while I’m still in uniform. I’ll shower when she’s gone.
As Suyai talks about her day, how she avoided her Kama and any talk about her specialty, about her normal training and upcoming schedule, my mind drifts. She won’t mind.
My Kama explained that I’m no longer in charge of the duties my unit is assigned, which, from the few conversations I was able to catch, is standing guard in front of the space reserved for common citizens of the empire.
Now, I will be standing next to the Inka and her family, the Panaka.
The two other temporary additions and I will be littered within the Apukispay’s permanent unit.
I’m expected to go to every meeting detailing our responsibilities and strategies for assuring the Inka’s safety in the next two days alongside my regular training. I have to be aware of any threats, mimicry or not, to the ceremony showcasing the princess’s power.
Which means I’ll have a front row seat to see that power unleashed.
“I won’t be anywhere close to the action. We’re basically glorified greeters. They keep telling us we’re the first line of defense, but we won’t be searching or screening any of the guests. They’ll have Ave mimics for that,” Suyai continues.
I nod to let Suyai know a part of me is still listening to her.
“And the ceremony could last the whole day too,” she huffs and shakes her head. “We have no idea when the princess will fulfill the prophecy, if it happens that day at all.”
I’m halfway through drilling the stats of every soldier in my mother’s unit, mimicry domain, height, weight, and age, when Suyai’s words startle me back to reality.
“What do you mean if it happens? Of course it will,” I say, rising from Suyai’s shoulder and sitting up straight.
Impatience is one of my worst traits, or so I’ve been told…
many times and by almost everyone who’s met me.
I can’t curb the annoyance at Suyai’s implication that the process might be delayed.
“I mean, we know the Guardians’ Hero has always been someone from the Inka’s family, the Panaka, in the past, but they’re so sure it’ll be her, they’re giving her this entire day to fulfill the Guardians’ desired action.
Maybe it’s one of her other four siblings who needs to do it, and we’re wasting time on an assumption.
The diviners won’t reveal what the Guardians are looking for, not even to the Inka, so she could be out there showing off her feats of strength for hours with no results,” Suyai goes off.
“That can’t happen,” I interrupt. Who knows if my mother would let me join her again if the hero isn’t revealed during the ceremony?
I don’t want proof of how replaceable I am.
“The hero has to appear that day. Yeah, the diviners might be keeping everything a secret, but they know for certain what action the Guardians are looking for their hero to fulfill, and all of them will be at the ceremony watching the princess. They wouldn’t waste their time if they knew the hero wouldn’t be there. ”
Suyai shakes her head with closed eyes, like she’s trying to rid herself of her thoughts.
“Sorry, I’m on edge, I guess. It just sucks that I’ll be stuck outside with nothing to do until some veiled legendary princess that no one has even seen triggers some so-called fated event that will decide our futures. ”
She always makes sense, but now I don’t understand her jump in logic. I don’t like what she’s implying.
“We’ve trained every day for threats like this, and I don’t care which prince or princess is the hero because I know it’ll still be us fighting. It’ll be us the stories are about. Whoever is the Guardians’ Hero might be known as the savior of the empire, but they won’t be our personal savior.”
Suyai laughs and turns to face me. Her hazel eyes shine as if they’re lit by the sun, despite the only light source being a few candles and the moonlight streaming through our offering windows. “Of course not, that’s your job.”
“Of course it is,” I say without thinking, unable to verbalize what her faith in me, even if it's teasing, truly means.
“You’re impossible,” Suyai says.
Lasta comes into the room and waves at us with a strained smile. It’s par for the course for the tension infecting every inch of the palace grounds. “Sorry for interrupting,” she says, her voice raw. She’s been crying.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say as Suyai says, “I was just heading out,” at the same time.
I catch her eyes, and we smile at each other.
Maybe Suyai is right, and I am impossible. That doesn’t matter to me, though. I keep my gaze steady on her back as she walks away.