Chapter 22 #2
“You don’t make royalty repeat themselves,” I say into Mare’s ear and hear my voice projected back to me from the sky. My voice echoes, and I sound like a god.
“Well,” the figure says, not directed at us. She kicks the Inka’s back, and the Inka falls onto her front. When she’s lifted again, there’s blood on her face when there wasn’t before.
I see vague motions in the sky, but nothing as concrete as a nod or affirmation. Then, the gag is ripped out of the Inka’s mouth. I see. The Inka wants to use this moment to validate us and speak to the empire.
“My daughter is no coward,” she starts. I hear Yanami fail to hold back a gasp, but I don’t understand why until the Inka finishes her statement through broken teeth. “She would not hide when her family needs her.”
“What?” I whisper, not knowing or caring if it’s loud enough to project.
I turn away from Mare. “What is happening?” My breathing starts to stutter. The princess is crying, quietly now, inwardly, as if she’s trying to fold into herself and disappear.
“No games, Inka,” the figure sneers. “Stop obscuring your mind. Is this your daughter?”
The Inka stays quiet, but we don’t have time for this.
I’m not the only one who feels the ticking clock.
Out of the entrance to Korikancha comes a hulking figure, a woman, dragging my mother behind her.
The commotion is too much for any concrete words to come out in the audio.
It’s chaos. The Inka is kicked to the ground again, then kicked and kicked again.
My mother is held up by her throat. There’s fighting between the members, made obvious by the pointing fingers and cacophony of voices.
“Sinchinrei,” my mother says clearly. “We’ve lost enough. Bring the girl here, and I’ll take care of it. I promise.”
We? I haven’t lost. I’m the Guardians’ Chosen. Just as the empire is fated to be in danger, I’m fated to save it. Me. Not the Inka. Not the princess. And especially not my mother.
I won’t let her take this from me. The hero saves the Inka. That’s what the legends tell. That’s what people celebrate, venerate, that’s what brings an empire to its knees. The hero saves the Inka, and all I’ve been trying to do is prove that I’m the hero.
But maybe Suyai was right. Maybe Muna was. I’ve spent so much time trying to prove myself to my mother, not seeing that for the limitation it is.
Who are you so desperate to prove yourself to?
Everyone.
My mother is at the side of the Inka who wants me dead.
I’m at the side of the one who will be named Inka.
The realization is a dagger to my back. My body is on fire.
My lungs fan the flames. This Inka has been humiliated.
This Inka is covered in the blood of innocents.
I save this Inka and my mother, the Apukispay, is the hero.
Again. Because this Inka will find a way to erase me.
I told Suyai I just needed more time to figure things out, but I’m out of time now. I told Suyai I needed to prove myself to everyone, but there are two people here who have shown time and time again that I can’t do anything to prove I’m worthy to them.
I don’t need my mother or Yanami’s mother to prove myself. Because we’re going to do it without them.
I hug Mare into my body and gently shake him awake.
“Sinchinrei– champion, what did you just do?” the princess whispers. Her eyes are wide, and her lips are parted in disbelief. “He won’t have the samay to project again. We’ll have to go to Korikancha, and I can’t. I can’t do that. I can’t go there.”
I smash her into me, holding Mare with my left arm and her with my right. They’re both shaking.
“You said you weren’t going to show your face, so you won’t show your face,” I say, simple as that.
She’s babbling questions into my burning shoulder, so I let out gentle shhhs and run my fingers through her hair, like Suyai did so many nights ago.
Mare is falling asleep standing up, and I’m holding more and more of his weight every second.
“Let’s get you both some rest,” I whisper.
“But–” the princess is cut off by the projection.
“Just wait–” that’s the Inka.
“No more mimicry can be detected. They’re gone.” That's my mother. That’s my mother with disbelief on her poison tongue.
“We’ve gotten everything we can out of them.”
“Will they wait until sundown?”
“I’m sick of waiting.”
“She’s gone.” That’s my mother again. I could single her voice out of any chaos.
The figure’s hand goes up.
“He’s dying. He’s dying, and she knows it, and she’s playing games.”
She? Is she referring to me?
“I’m not waiting. We have what we need.”
The group all nods as if that communication said it all. I suppose for them it did. Because in the next second, the Inka is dead, a dagger to the throat.
The second after that, my mother follows.
The princess is sobbing. Or maybe that’s Mare, or the entirety of the empire. I can’t tell with the ringing in my ears.
All I can process, all I can think of, is my mother’s final words.
She’s gone.
I’m crying. I can’t breathe. My extremities go numb, my heart races, my body acts on its own accord. I did that. I did that.
And something has my lips curving up. Because I did that. I was finally strong enough to leave her first.