Chapter 18
Elegy spends the next day shrouded in desert heat and silence, ignoring everything.
She feels the tug of messages in her fingers, messages she’s refusing to read, and she knows there are half a dozen tasks she’s neglecting, including simple things like laundry and clipping her fingernails.
But she gives herself time to sit in the evening shade and watch the sun set behind the rocky hills.
But the day after that, she dares to go to Twentynine to watch the news holograms in the central pavilion.
News pavilions are Cedre institutions, usually located in the center of a well--populated neighborhood or district.
They used to be community spaces, but Twentynine’s is just a glitchy hologram in the middle of town playing national news on a loop.
The news about the “Hope of Cedre” has leaked, and now everyone has an opinion about who she is, where she’s been, and whether this means the Cedrae government should abandon the Sundial program altogether.
After all, they reason, if there’s a prophecy that says Elegy can save Cedre, maybe there’s no need to find a home on another world.
When she steps back into the trailer afterward, she sees Hela at the table with a cup of coffee. Her expression is troubled.
“You saw the news,” Elegy says.
“Parin wrote to me about it,” Hela says. Parin is a friend of theirs, a fellow Scout. If he wrote to Hela about Elegy declaring herself to be the Hope of Cedre, it must be widespread.
“Larke’s been asking me to ‘come out’ for years now. Guess this isn’t quite what she had in mind.”
“She’s not going to be happy about them blaming her for your long absence,” Hela says. “The attendees of Forint’s debriefing apparently observed some tension between you two, and now people are speculating that she kept you away from the public to prevent you from seizing power.”
“That’s absurd.” Elegy pours herself another cup of coffee and sits down across from Hela. “She’s the firstborn. She’s the rightful Sword. Everybody knows it, especially me.”
“Yeah, but you’re chosen by destiny. And they might respect Larke, but no one likes her.”
“What’s to like?”
“Exactly.”
The heat from the coffee warms Elegy’s cheeks. “She’ll hate me more than usual.”
“You did storm in there and make her look like a goddamn idiot. Does this really surprise you?”
Elegy shakes her head. As a child, she spent a month of every summer with Larke on Cedre Station, learning from their mother and her various underlings.
And even then, Larke was cold to Elegy. The reason why isn’t a mystery.
Larke’s entire life was about duty; Elegy’s entire life was about choice.
Their mother had neglected her, but she had controlled every aspect of Larke’s life, and even Elegy could agree that was probably worse.
Then, when the augurs gave someone a huge, important destiny . . . it was Elegy, not Larke. And she didn’t even want it. Didn’t even believe it. The greatest insult.
“Why does she even want me back in the public eye?” Elegy says. “She hasn’t pushed that hard for me to come back before now. In fact, she lied her entire ass off to keep the army from charging me with desertion four years ago. I owe her for that.”
“It’s not like you went on a four--year vacation. You basically turned General Thompson into your pen pal. You’re the only reason she knows Rava’s now cooking up something extra--special for us all.”
It was true: Elegy had spent the last four years earning money as a Scout, but also pursuing leads about Rava Vidar and the movements of the Talusar, which she had then forwarded to General Thompson when they turned out to be valuable. So it wasn’t like she’d been doing nothing.
“I hate politicians.”
“Yeah, they’re gross.” Hela yawns. “Anyway, Losan Stronghold even reached out to me this morning to make sure you know you’re going to be debriefed whether you like it or not. So you’d better head over there before they show up and arrest us both.”
Elegy has no interest in returning to Losan Stronghold, but she knew this was coming. They let her rest for a day, but they need to debrief her while the memories of Valla are still fresh in her mind. She downs the rest of her coffee in one gulp and gets up to find her nicest boots.
As she passes the glowing plant, she reaches out to run a finger down one of the leaves. It’s too bright in the trailer for it to unfurl.
“You still haven’t told that guy you found it?” she says to Hela.
“I put him off for a while, told him I had to delay my trip,” Hela says. “I just want to find out what it is first.”
Elegy raises an eyebrow at her. “You know, it isn’t a pet. It’s a plant. It doesn’t have a brain.”
“Neither do you, but I still keep you around,” Hela replies, and she gets up for another cup of coffee.
Lydia Parekh greets Elegy at the entrance to Losan Stronghold, a proud smile on her face as she introduces herself as “Tertiary.” Lydia and Elegy went through basic training together.
Parekh was fast, but had trouble climbing in the obstacle course, and never did figure out how to make her bed correctly.
Parekh’s entire left leg is in a brace. “I’ll be back on active duty in a month or so. Gotta let elixir rebuild the bones in my leg first.”
Elegy gives a low whistle. “What happened?”
“Got shot out of the sky by a twelve--year--old Talusar pilot,” Parekh says, wrinkling her nose a little. “Everybody survived, but I cushioned my Primary’s fall with my femur.”
“Good of you.”
Losan Stronghold is painfully familiar, a place she walked with Shir at her side.
It’s a cluster of stark concrete buildings, each of them artfully geometric but intimidating.
All around them are plants—-tall cypresses and sprawling bougainvillea in pink, orange, and red; groves of lemon trees and pomegranates and guava; agave plants and prickly--pear cacti.
Parekh leads her to the administration building, which has a polished wood floor and ornate, delicate light fixtures that contrast the relentless concrete, and drops her off at General Thompson’s office for her debriefing with a lazy salute.
“Good seeing you,” she says. “Primary.”
“Not anymore,” Elegy points out.
“Sure, sure.”
Elegy is nervous when she steps into the general’s office. He seemed happy enough to see her at the “debriefing,” and he was the one who had granted her an early discharge four years ago, but that didn’t mean he forgave her for abandoning her post.
The general comes to his feet when she walks in, and offers her his hand to shake.
His smile seems warm enough. He’s an older man, his brown skin lined, but only at the corners of his eyes and mouth, the kind of age that comes from too much laughter.
His face is the same as the last time she looked at it—-across Shir’s urn as it was lowered into the ground.
“Miss Ahn,” he says. “You look better.”
“That healing elixir does good work. Barely a twinge in this shoulder anymore.”
“I meant you look better than four years ago, but I’m glad to hear our medical treatments are still effective.” He sits down, and gestures to the chair across from him.
She swallows hard. She doesn’t remember what she looked like four years ago, after the attack. Just that things like brushing her hair or washing her face had felt impossible.
“I thought I would conduct your debrief, since the information you’ll provide about Rava Vidar is highly sensitive,” he says.
“But first I wanted to ask you why you’ve tasked one of my Primaries—-Arias, obviously—-with babysitting your Knight.
” He folds his hands on the desk in front of him.
“Something that you don’t actually have the authority to do.
The Hope of Cedre is a political role, not a military one, isn’t it? ”
“Right.” Elegy winces a little. “I was concerned about how Larke would handle Forint’s . . . reintegration. He’s a valuable asset.”
“Is he.”
Elegy leans forward. “He was Rava Vidar’s truthsayer, sir. Think about what he must know about this big attack she’s planning, even if he’s not aware of it yet. We need to be securing his loyalty, not potentially compromising it with harsh methods.”
General Thompson looks thoughtful. He taps his desk with his fingertips.
“As it happens, I share your concerns, which is why I also told Arias to keep an eye on him,” General Thompson says.
“Forint was pulled into questioning the morning after that ‘hearing,’ the second the anesthesia was out of his system, and he’s already back again this morning.
It’s not how we usually do things, particularly when someone is healing the old--fashioned way from a significant injury. ”
Elegy shakes her head. “Putting too much pressure on him could backfire.”
“I’m aware.” General Thompson clears his throat. “But Miss Ahn, you are no longer an officer in this army. You can’t continue to order around my soldiers.”
Elegy’s cheeks burn. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry about that, sir.”
“Unless.” And here he raises an eyebrow at her. “Unless you negotiate with your sister to give the role of Hope of Cedre some authority that it doesn’t presently carry.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“You have a choice, Miss Ahn.” His voice is gentle.
She’s always liked that about him—-he never needed to shout to get his point across, not even in basic training.
“You’ve agreed to enter the public eye, but you can do so as a political pawn of the Sword, or you can use your status to bargain for more authority. It’s up to you.”
She meets his eyes. They’re warm brown, and more calculating than one would expect, based on how calm and kind the general is otherwise.
“I’m not sure I believe in the prophecy,” she says.
If he’s troubled by that confession, he doesn’t let on.
“You don’t need to believe in something in order to make use of it,” he replies. “Prophecy or not, you do good work, Elegy.”
He clears his throat.