Chapter 5 | Sephania #2
I march cautiously, on edge once I reach the main North Pass that slithers down the face of the mountain to the valley floor below.
It was this very path where two assassins once tried to kill me, and would have succeeded had Vallan not shown up out of the darkness like an oversized phantom and taken care of them.
I take the wide, gravelly road for an hour before diverting to one of the less-traveled paths that spiderwebs out from the main artery. Eventually I see the gentle smoke of the North Mines.
The clinking of hammers and sharp scent of burning metals reaches my nose before I can see the silver mines slanted across the mountainside.
From my bird’s-eye vantage, there are small specks of people running around, moving to and from their tents, the silver cave in the side of the peaks, the spiraling ladder down into the black hole, and the oval-shaped refinery building in the distance.
I smile as I make my way down, reaching somewhat level ground and letting out a deep breath. My heart’s been racing ever since I left the Chained Sisters, not from fear of being attacked but because I don’t know what I’ll do when I see my vampire alone for the first time in months.
Would be nice to have Friend Jinneth right about now, cheering me on, rather than Mother Jinneth.
I walk past a line of interfolk workers, their wiry arms rising and falling with picks and hammers as they open up a new vein to search for silver. Some of them are bulkier and more masculine looking than others, while many seem to be struggling to even lift their heavy tools.
My face sinks when I see one long-haired blonde girl, smaller in stature than the rest. Her back is to me and her arms tremble as she lifts her hammer and smashes it against a stone, letting out a small yelp of frustration.
I resist the urge to say something to her. Maybe I could show her how to hold the hammer better?
Shaking my head, I continue on, catching a glimpse of their profile—
And freeze with a double take. My eyes bulge.
“Palacia?” I cry out against the cloud of dust and incessant ringing of hammers on stone. I must be mistaken.
The interfolk girl stops, arms lifted, and slowly turns at the sound of my voice. Sure enough, it’s the pretty face of someone I knew years ago with the Grimsons. One of six interfolk members who were part of the sixty-strong underground fighting gang.
Palacia drops her hammer. She smears her dusty forehead with the back of her forearm, sweat lining her brow. “By the True, is that you, Sephania?” Her voice is high and lilting—a welcome sound for sore ears.
I smile wide and approach, wrapping the small person in a bear hug that lets me know just how frail and bony she really is.
Palacia stands as tall as my chest, chin tilted back to stare wondrously at my face. “Spirits and deities, you’re a sight!” she squeals happily, earning some glowers from her fellow workers.
“What are you doing here, Pala?” I ask, baffled at this chance encounter. What’s someone who’s only known the Nuhavian Floorboards doing a world away in Olhav?
“What’s it look like?” There’s no animosity in her tone as she flings her arms out wide. “Working.”
“But . . . here?” I lean forward and my brow lifts. “What about the Grimsons?”
She flaps a hand at me. “Left there a few months ago once Master Antones gave us the option. Not many followed, I admit.”
I rub the back of my neck, curious yet also wanting to respect Palacia’s privacy if she’s keen on staying mum. “And Imis? Did she follow?”
The girl’s face sinks. I know I’ve made a mistake. Imis was the resident letter-writer of the Firehold—the big-eyed girl who once obsessed over me before finding Palacia and . . . obsessing over the thin, quaint interfolk girl’s other assets to anyone who would listen.
With my current need aching at the back of my mind, just thinking about Imis and the way she always gushed about Palacia makes me tilt my head and shamelessly glance down where, even in her baggy work pants, I can see she’s smuggled something disproportional and bulging against her narrow thighs.
Seems it wasn’t a tall tale after all, Imis.
Impressive, especially for one so small and dainty—
I reel back, clearing my throat. Luckily, if Palacia noticed my spying, she says nothing of it. That doesn’t stop my cheeks from burning. “Erm, what was that?” I ask, seeing Palacia’s lips move, then waving a hand. “It’s noisy in this mess.”
Palacia smiles sadly. “I said Imis was taken as broodstock, Seph. Went kicking and screaming.”
With a sharp inhale, I seethe. “No. Antones has allowed that barbaric practice to continue, even with Lukain’s death?”
She winces. “Had to make room for the new recruits. Ant took in a lot of guttergirls and sewerboys from the Diplomats.”
At my urging. Shit.
“When I left, things were chaotic, Seph. Factions had formed. I didn’t like it. Rirth changed and took on a leadership role after Culiar’s death.”
Also caused by me. Fuck.
“It was Rirth who resumed the shadowgalas, not Antones. Rirth saw it as the only way for people to find freedom. He said leaving the Grimsons to wallow in Nuhav wasn’t freedom at all. I disagreed.”
“By the True, Palacia, I’m so sorry.” I reach out and put a hand on her bony shoulder. “That sounds trying.”
“I loved them, you know? Rirth, Culiar, Imis, Helget—all of them. I guess the gang had to split up at some point. Helget was chosen, then Imis. I don’t think Im knew what she was getting into when she agreed to follow Rirth.
” Palacia scoffs disgustedly, clearly trapped in her memories.
“Foolish tart. We girls trained for years in the Firehold, just for such a thing! How could she not know what awaited her as broodstock?!”
The girl is starting to get hysterical, and wish I could do something. Her dreams must haunt her. Like me, wishing she could have done things differently.
“Alas,” Pala finishes with a sigh. She sweeps her arm out at the dusty workers behind us, lined up among the sloping rocks. “I’m better suited to my own kind. So I came here.”
My brow furrows. “Your own kind?” I fumble with my words, choking back a sound. “But you’re a human, Pala. Humans belong in Nuhav.”
Her tiny nose twitches and she shakes her head firmly, staring into my face with her turquoise eyes. “No, Sephania. I am interfolk. There’s a difference.”
My heart twists, a claw of agony ripping into me.
Feeling warmth flood my cheeks, I find my palms growing clammy and my face growing cold.
All I can do is offer the resilient interfolk woman a kind smile, which I know looks sad and piteous.
She’s so different from others . . . she feels like she doesn’t even belong with her own people. Humans.
Anger rocks me, flaring to an unfathomable fire. I’m not even sure where it sprouts from or how it comes on so fast. Humans. The fucking trash heap I call my own—the people I’m trying to rescue from the tyranny of the vampires.
And this is how they treat their own?
“What are you doing here, Seph?”
I grind my teeth, trying not to let the anger out in front of Palacia.
She doesn’t deserve it. She’s found her place, she says, among the hardworking, toiling interfolk servants who work these silver mines.
I have to respect that. “I’m here to see the foreman,” I say, tossing a thumb over my shoulder. “He’s an, erm, acquaintance of mine.”
“Foreman Stellos? Wow. Well, if he’s a friend, I guess we’ll be seeing more of each other!”
“That we will, Pala.” I smile and give Palacia a final hug. It’s all I can do, with the girl burrowing in my enclosed arms. When I look down past my chest, her face brightens as she tilts her head back to stare up at me.
For all she’s been through, all she’s seen, I notice just as much resilience in her thin, small body as I have in my much larger, taller frame.
These people are ripe for change.
The thing that kept me with Skartovius, Vallan, and Garroway to begin with—the luminous, obscure “cause” they’re spearheading—burgeons with new life inside me.
It invigorates me, filling me with fire, desire, and hope.
My hands clench at my sides as I leave Palacia to her work, storming toward the large foreman’s tent in the distance.
Oh, sweet fire, how I’ve missed your warm embrace.