Chapter 21
Nina stomped away from Kasik without looking back. Her hands shook by her sides, not from anger, but from the force of her
disappointment. It was too much to expect Kasik to understand. She knew he was bound by duty and loyal to a fault, that he
wouldn’t abandon his word for her.
And yet, Nina had foolishly hoped. He had said he was loyal to her, but what he had meant was that he was loyal to her fate.
Now she knew too much of the truth to go against it. If staying meant that she was consigning all these people to death, she
would have no other choice than to leave, to follow the path set out before her, even if she wanted nothing more than to carve
her own.
Shayim was speaking to a woman with shoulder-length hair, the green of her tunic darker than Nina’s, and longer, more like
a dress. The same flowers and birds that Nina had seen on Mika decorated the edges of the woman’s tunic, and instead of a
cinch at her waist, her belly swelled with child.
Nina remembered when her mamay was expectant with Lali. She had come early, just days after Samaq was taken, and Nina, only
seven at the time, had been awestruck by the strength of her mamay. Together, they had dug a hole deep into the earth and
planted the afterbirth, right next to where Nina’s, Sacha’s, and Samaq’s had been planted.
In that place, four trees had grown tall and thick with leaves. They stood sentinel over Nina’s small limestone house, and
provided shade for play and afternoon meals. They had been a source of pride for her mamay and tayta. A sign that said, Look how blessed we are.
Nina wondered if they now served as a reminder of everything they had lost.
“I have to begin preparations for Jana’s birthing,” Shayim said to Nina. She pointed at a small tent. “There is where you
will find Mika. She’ll tell you more.”
About what? Nina wanted to ask, but Shayim was already guiding Jana away, leaving Nina to stand among the bustle of a world she didn’t
recognize. Rocks skittered underfoot as she rushed to the tent Shayim had pointed to and stopped at the entrance, deliberating
whether to announce herself or just walk in or leave altogether.
“I can see your shadow,” a voice called from inside. “If you don’t come in now, I’ll be offended.”
Nina winced and inhaled deeply. She pushed aside the flap to find Mika sitting cross-legged in the middle of the tent surrounded
by rocks and unfamiliar tools. In one corner was a narrow bed and in the other, a small table, similarly covered in items
Nina couldn’t name.
“Don’t mind the mess,” Mika said, then she pointed to the spot next to her. “Sit here. I need to measure your wrist.”
Nina did as she was told. Mika took her wrist and wrapped a string around it, then used a small knife to cut it. It was done
before Nina could think to be concerned about a knife so close to her pulse point. “You’re very demanding,” Nina said.
“I’ve been told,” Mika said with a sigh. She plucked a yellow rock from a collection at her side and turned it this way and
that. “Good enough.” She closed it in a fist that she extended to Nina. “Did you know that every creation on this land has
a thread of life, and that it is only the Ikara who can see those threads and tug at them? We can create and shape and bend
to our will.”
Nina fought the urge to flinch back as the small rock in Mika’s hand began to shift from something jagged and misshapen to something first flat and smooth, then long and thin.
Mika’s fingers were soft as they grabbed Nina’s wrist again and bent the gold into place. When she was done, Nina wore a band
identical to Mika’s. “The difference between our attay is that while I can only see the threads of life, you can see the threads
of life and will.”
“How do you know?” Nina whispered, her heart beating hard enough to make her ears ring. The golden band was cold against her
skin. It caught a spark of light from the hole in the ceiling of the tent and mirthfully winked.
“Shayim Saw in my threads that one with your power would come,” she said with a mischievous glint. “Though she wasn’t sure
when or how. Apparently, I somehow convince you to practice your attay on me and we become fast friends because it is clear
that I trust you with my life, and you want a friend more than you want to keep your secret.”
A laugh burst out of Nina’s mouth. She covered it quickly with both hands, embarrassed at the force of it, but Mika was smiling
wide, a red flush blooming over her cheeks and neck.
“I think you should try it and see what happens.”
“You aren’t injured,” Nina said, but she was already reaching for the girl’s threads, eager to feel the power of healing once
again. Like a compulsion she wasn’t sure she could control.
“I don’t need to be injured for you to use your attay.” Nina snapped her eyes back to Mika’s. The girl smiled wide. “You can
do much more then heal.” Mika grabbed her hand and pulled it close. “You are more powerful than you know. Trust me.”
Perhaps Nina was a fool, just as Kasik had accused, because she wanted to believe this girl’s words.
So much so that she closed her eyes and reached for Mika’s will.
It was difficult to believe that nobody else could see what she saw, how the strands of gold slithered and danced in the air, waiting for her to wrap them around her fingers and command them where to go.
Nina could feel how with one tug, she could stop Mika’s breath. Stop her throat from swallowing, her chest from inhaling,
her blood from flowing.
The story Kasik had told her echoed in her thoughts, about the Ikara gone mad with power. She could understand. Mika’s threads
were luring her in, inviting her to take and bend till they broke. This power was more than just healing. It was devastation,
and it was terrifying.
Nina wondered if she was alone in the strength of this power. If there were more like her, and if so, were they all capable
of such destruction?
“Mika,” Nina whispered, her eyes closed, the map of Mika’s will burned to the back of her eyelids. “If you ever find yourself
in possession of an achilla, make sure you wear it and never take it off.” And then she, very carefully, healed a small cut
on Mika’s finger that took nothing more than a stitch of thought.
When she opened her eyes, Mika was gazing at her finger with something akin to awe. “I didn’t even know it was there.” She
looked at Nina. “Is it difficult for you?”
Nina shook her head. “It’s almost too easy. I wonder if it is so for all Ikara like me.”
“That’s the thing,” Mika said. The girl leaned closer. “Shayim has said there are no others like you. That your attay is singular
in its ability and strength.”
It should have made Nina feel better, but all she felt was alone and unknown. Already, she was being dragged to Vira to become
the emperor’s wife, set apart from her family and her ayllu and other girls her age. A commodity in every way, even in this.
Mika must have sensed her spiraling thoughts, because she squeezed Nina’s hand between both of hers. “You are exactly where you should be. Your power—you—will change the world.”
“I don’t want to change the world.” Nina pulled her hand back and stood. The band shifted down her wrist. She was suddenly
too aware of the clothing against her skin, the hairs on her head, the power thrumming in her blood. “That’s too much responsibility.”
“This power was given to you because the gods believed you worthy of it. It doesn’t—”
“The gods are selfish,” Nina hissed. “They gave no thought to how these abilities might have us hunted and killed and used against us.”
“Abilities?” Understanding dawned over Mika’s face and she smiled. “You’ve only heard the walla’s version of the Ikara. You
don’t know the full story.” Mika patted the ground next to her and after a moment of stubborn hesitance, Nina sat. “It’s not
his fault. We can only know what we’ve been told until we are ready to seek what we haven’t. I will tell you the truth of it. The Ikara that Killa and Pachamama created was named Yuri.”
Mika shifted onto her bottom and crossed her long legs beneath her like a child settling in for a fireside story. “It is said
that Yuri was violent, a bringer of destruction and devastation, and that was why the achilla and her counterpart, Dimas,
were created. To quell her power and bring about peace.
“But Yuri was created to protect those that were powerless against the gods. Dimas was only a shell of a man, a vessel for
the gods’ will. He had none of his own. Inti and Viracocha took Yuri’s righteous rage and twisted it to evil, and it was her
that became the enemy. When Dimas found her and fell in love, because he saw that she was strong and good, the gods were threatened.
Their power crumbled in the face of love, and so they whispered into his ear and convinced him that his love for her was a
lie, that she had tricked him. They were afraid of her power, and they knew that he was weak enough to fall under their thrall again.
He had found free will when he chose love, and he lost it again when he chose betrayal.
The gods’ will filled him once again, and he killed Yuri as she slept next to him.
“Stories have always reduced women to madness and devastation, fear and defeat,” Mika continued. “But we are so much more
than that. We are renewal and reward. Hope and destiny. It is only women who are Ikara, who give and nurture life in all ways,
and it is women who will always prevail.”
Mika reached forward and adjusted the golden band on Nina’s wrist. It was no longer cold against her skin.
“We are all connected. Remember that when you feel alone.”
That evening, the fire Nina had seen burning continuously in the center of camp was surrounded by people both young and old.
Children danced to the beat of drums. Adults drank celebratory chicha from wooden cups made by a young Ikara with deft fingers
and a melodic laugh. Shayim watched it all from a stool nearby, her eyes alight with the flames and what Nina suspected was
pride.
The woman had left the emperor’s side. She had veered off the path set before her and carved out her own. More than that,
she had created a world in which others were safe to do the same. Nina wondered how much Shayim had lost along the way, and
if it had been worth it in the end.
Kasik thought the trees around them were a cage, but at least they had chosen it for themselves. It was all Nina wanted.
The emperor wanted a wife, but the kunay had made a mistake in accepting Nina in exchange for Sacha, who spoke kindly and
supported generously and obeyed willingly. Not like Nina, who was filled with resentment and discontent, who was willing to
find a way to keep her sister safe and fight the emperor’s plans for her.
Despite her words to Kasik, obligation was obligation, whether done in love or otherwise, and she had been a fool to believe it made a difference.
Nina wanted to protect her family, but she also wanted to be free.
The memory of Mika’s threads glowed in her mind.
How easy it would have been to take them and crush them in one hand.
If she could learn to better wield her attay, then she could use it against the empire. She could take the path they had given
her and bend it to her will, and it started with the emperor.
Nina now knew exactly what she had to do. She only wondered if she was capable of it.
A hand squeezed her shoulder, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned to find Mika, a smile in her eyes and a flower between
two fingers. “Come dance,” she pleaded, tucking the stem behind Nina’s ear.
Nina took Mika’s hand, and she twirled underneath the stars of a cloudless night, the warmth of the fire igniting her resolve.
Despite the heat, a shiver crawled up her spine, and she knew without looking that Kasik was watching her. She was always
aware of him and the weight of his gaze.
When she looked, he didn’t look away. She raised her hands above her head and swayed back and forth, her eyes pinned to him
in challenge. Everywhere his attention touched felt like invisible fingers trailing across her skin, an unfamiliar burn of
want left behind.
Nina was filled with desire, with hunger, with the insatiable urge to draw her power forward. Perhaps her mamay had tried
to convince her that strength laid in calm and control because she knew just how capable of destruction Nina was.
Perhaps it was time she stopped hiding. She was in possession of a different kind of power now. One that had the potential
to change everything, if only she was brave enough to embrace it.