Chapter 3
As the Ironstorm rebellion spread, fueled by unforgiving taxes and food shortages caused by Annihilation-related extreme weather, the king’s grip tightened.
His crackdowns got harsher by the day, and everyone was forced to the Arena to witness the so-called trials.
I remembered watching from my seat high in the Arena as the rebels and convicts were thrown, unarmed, before the king’s tygers, in a mockery of justice.
The giant tygers circled the prisoners, their claws sharp enough to slice through leather like silk. Convenient for the king, since their killings counted as divine will. One by one, the prisoners fell. Their screams tore through the Arena as flesh split and bones cracked.
A terrified Azure shifted into an overlarge hare just before a tyger pounced on him, sinking its teeth into his fur.
Shifters healed completely if they could change before they were killed.
But no. He was dead. A woman shrieked as another tyger raked its claws down her back.
My stomach turned. The tygers weren’t even trying to kill cleanly.
They were predators, toying with their prey.
Then the gate to the sand pit opened. A lone figure stepped into the blood-soaked Arena, tall and cloaked in gray. Ambush Master Blake Axefire.
There was something moving around him. The swarm glinted in the sunlight, a cluster of knives circling above his head, propelled through the air by his power.
Every single person in the immense coliseum fell silent, the screams of the victims echoing through the sudden quiet.
Magic users, yin or yang, made up only a small part of the population.
The Silver metal mages I’d seen could help shoe a horse or stir a pot with a floating spoon.
At the low end were Lessers, with no magic at all.
At the top were Zeniths. Most mages fell somewhere in between, ranked from one to nine.
Anyone ranked five or higher could live well enough.
But someone who could throw knives with offensive yang magic would be at least a seven, and they’d have the aristocracy knocking at their door for their services, offering wealth and training, not to mention sex and Pairing.
The truly powerful ones, ranked an eight or nine, were rare and often became marriage candidates for the noble families, even the Octagon, the eight most elite families, with the highest average magical ranking.
But this—this level of power and control? I’d never seen anything like it.
From the way the knives flying above Blake’s head glowed green, I knew they were no ordinary metal. They were thundervein, a rare unbreakable metal exclusively forged by only a few families, crafted from magic and thunder called down from the sky.
Blake sent his knives to slaughter the prisoners, slitting their throats with lightning speed. Blood poured over the sand. The crowd exploded into thunderous applause at the powerful display of precision and brutality.
The Ambush Master’s face had stayed utterly impassive even as his cloak turned crimson.
I’d had the fortune of not being anywhere near Blake Axefire since, had lain low when his Tyger Warriors swept through to check up on Azures, looking for Ironstorm dissenters or hidden strongholds. Now I’d managed to not only garner his unwanted attention but also piss him off.
My only hope was that seeing my weak magic markings would make him lose interest and he’d forget about me.
The cold night air cut through my cloak as I stepped into the woods. Frost clung to the ground, sharp beneath my boots. The moonlight was thin and scattered, and I hated how exposed I felt.
The woods were too quiet. No birds, no branches creaking, no wind.
Just the sound of my own breathing and the blood pounding in my ears.
My fingers were stiff, but I didn’t loosen my grip on the dagger.
Less because of my encounter with the Ambush Master and more because of my recently growing awareness that something much worse could lurk in the shadows.
A demon.
Some said that a refugee village in the Silver Tyger Dominion had been completely decimated.
Every living creature, human or animal, had been drained.
All Azures, which meant there had been no uproar at the loss of life, no protection offered to those of us who lived here still. Barely a burial or remembrance.
This dominion belonged to the Silvers, and metal magic ruled. Azures like me worked their farms, cleaned their stables, broke our backs for them, and were still considered nothing better than a necessary evil.
The trees finally broke, and I stepped into the clearing where our little hut stood. Beams of light peeked through the gaps in the walls.
When I pushed open the warped wooden door, the scent of our usual gruel hit me first. I was grateful for the scallion pancakes Quinn had shared, and the extra I had taken for Edith.
Then the softer scent of incense, faint and floral, drifted through the air.
The smoke curled toward the ceiling in pale threads.
I stepped inside, and the tight grip on my chest started to loosen.
The fire crackled low, and the flicker of candlelight cast gentle shadows across the walls, wrapping the room in the quiet hush of night. Our cat, Couscous, was curled up by the fire, fast asleep.
Edith was balanced on a rickety stool in front of the red altar set high against the back wall. It was the only color in the room. The small figure of Kuan Yin sat draped in gold, calm and kind, hands lifted in blessing on her lotus throne.
For the first time that night, I felt calm wash over me.
Edith was my safe place. She’d held my hand when I awoke on the boat, lost and scared. And she’d never let go of it since.
Her cheeks were warm from whatever tea she had on the fire.
I suspected from smell alone it was one of her brews for Quinn’s father.
He’d been ill when they’d left the Azure Dominion, and Edith had helped him on the boat.
She continued to care for his chronic pain—and in return, Quinn brought us food and hand-me-down clothing. He watched over us.
Edith pressed her palms together, lips moving in a silent prayer.
The scent of sandalwood stirred something deep in me that I couldn’t name.
With a soft breath, she blew out the incense.
Her hands were steady as she placed the joss sticks in the holder.
She always did this: no matter how cold the nights were, no matter how empty our pantry, no matter how much her joints throbbed. She prayed. She gave thanks.
The stool gave a sharp creak, and my whole body went tense. “Edith, get down from there before you break your neck.”
She turned and smiled at me. “Oh, hush. I’m fine. I’m the one who trains you every morning, remember?”
“Stubborn, too.” I helped her down, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. Edith might have taught me the moves I used on Axefire, but it didn’t stop me worrying about her. “You shouldn’t have waited for me.”
“I was just lighting some incense to pray for a safe passage home for you.” Despite a few gray strands threaded through her navy hair, her face held a gentle beauty: cheekbones high, mouth soft, her dark brown eyes steady and warm. “How did it go?”
A flash of angry ice blue eyes, bronze hair, and a whispered threat lingered in my mind.
“Fine,” I said, keeping my voice steady as I offered a calm smile. I tugged at the patched dress wrapped around her thin frame. “This isn’t warm enough for you.”
“Stop fussing,” she said with a soft laugh.
She carried the pot of gruel to our crooked table. Without a word, she ladled some into my bowl, then reached for the jar of pickled radish we’d been saving, adding a few pieces to my bowl, not hers.
I waited until she sat down before I ladled gruel into her bowl. Then I placed the scallion pancake I’d gotten from Quinn beside it.
“I stuffed myself at the tavern,” I lied.
She gave me a tired smile as she tucked her legs under the bench and we began to eat.
She started telling me about one of our chickens. “Oh, Rainbow is going to be the death of me. I almost tripped over her when I was repairing the fence. She kept trying to go through solid wood.”
“I’m not sure Rainbow’s the brightest light in the lantern,” I muttered, licking my spoon.
“It is hard for her to understand what walls are.” She held up both hands and reenacted Rainbow running headfirst into a board. “Thunk. Every time.” She chuckled; then her smile faded, her hand rubbing at her temple.
“You okay?” I asked, worry tightening my throat. Edith gave me a sudden bright smile.
“Fine, my dearest one.” As we cleaned up our empty bowls, she asked, “How was the tavern tonight?”
I gave her a grin. “Good. Quinn was there keeping an eye out. And I made double my coin from last week—lowest-rank magic and all.” I set the small coin purse on the table. “Dancing suits me just fine.”
I could hear the defensiveness in my words. If I had more magic, I might have been able to do more to help Edith, help us. If I knew who I was, maybe I’d…I didn’t know what.
Edith reached out and laid her hand, long-fingered and delicate despite its calluses, on the jade bracelet that I’d been wearing when she found me. The bracelet was now too small to remove. “You know I love you because of who you are, not for what you can do. I love you no matter what, Rubi.”
I gave her hand a squeeze. “I wish I could remember.”
The words were whispered, broken and painful, wrenched from my mouth without warning.
Edith looked stricken. “Just because you don’t have your memories doesn’t mean you don’t have a past, Rubi. It’s in your bones. It’s part of your soul.”
“I’m sorry. Thank you.”
Her eyes were filled with quiet understanding. “It is your nature. To ask you not to question, not to desire your past, is to ask the fire to stop burning.”
Couscous bumped her head against my leg, purring. She was orange and cream, with a white snout tipped in apricot, as if she’d been caught stealing jam. Her fur was soft and dense, and she seemed to glow brighter than any other cat on the street. A foreigner, just like us.
I picked the cat up, and she settled in my lap.
“It was hell on earth, you were running for your life, and you tucked a kitten in your bag?”
Edith smiled softly and reached over to pet her warm fur. “She was very small then. Barely weighed anything, so she was easy to carry in my satchel.”
“Why did you pick her?”
She was the runt of the litter. The other cats would have been mean to her. And she led me right to you on that boat.” Her eyes were gentle. She was too tactful to remind me how I’d clutched Couscous to my chest, tears running down my cheeks.
I smiled back and leaned to kiss Edith’s cheek, embracing her as a pang of longing hit.
I’d asked Edith before if she knew anything of me or where I might’ve come from. But she’d never seen me before she drew me into her arms.
For a moment, I let myself imagine it. A life that had never been torn apart.
A past unbroken. A dominion where the air was warm, where a tropical paradise stretched beneath a bright blue sky.
Where I was not an orphan, nor outcast, nor a girl with too little magic to matter.
I was a daughter, a sister, a piece of something whole.
I leaned back and shivered, glancing at the low fire.
“We don’t have enough wood. I’ll get more. ”
Edith nodded.
I stepped into my boots, strapped on my belt, and grabbed the lantern, its dim light throwing pale rings across the floor. The night air bit at my skin as I pushed open the door. Couscous followed me out into the snow.
My arms were full of firewood as I turned, the lantern swinging from my elbow to light the way back inside, when Couscous hissed.
I stalled. Couscous never hissed. Her amber eyes were enormous. Her ears pricked. Her back arched. Then she darted away, her long striped tail tucked low.
I looked down at my feet and froze.
There was a paw print in the snow. Similar to my cat’s small ones. Only much, much bigger.
I was still staring at the deep indentation when a low growl slid through the air. I blinked up to see a monster standing paces away, between me and the door.