Chapter 47 #2
“Um . . . what? He’s a fucking priest of the Fever, and you want to just let him go?”
Elegy closes her eyes, briefly. Just to gather herself.
“Yes,” she says.
Hela looks confused. She glances at Nisov, at the bright green shoelaces he wears and the tattoo on his skin and the smug expression on his face. And then at Theren, tense but unsurprised.
“After you, Your Grace,” she says to Elegy.
They go through the maintenance tunnels to avoid the crowds of frantic people trying to obey the quarantine orders by returning home.
In the tunnels, maintenance staff are still working to keep the station’s systems running, masked and sweating.
Everyone is too busy to pay attention to them, despite Elegy’s famous face and Theren’s bloody arms.
The shortsword is against the small of Elegy’s back, the handle tucked beneath her belt. Theren got rid of his—-too flashy. Elegy hopes they won’t need a weapon at all.
Nisov’s now--unbound hair covers the mark on his neck.
Not many -Cedrae know the Talusar custom of marking priests of the Fever, but she didn’t want to risk panicking anyone, so she told him to cover it.
The filtration mask is now sealed over his mouth, shimmering as it catches the orange emergency lights.
Most civilians don’t know about the shuttles at the Tundra Dock, so when their party emerges from the tunnels, they’re surrounded by soldiers. This part of the station is dark and cold, the ceiling full of ducts and pipes.
Elegy looks back at Theren, alarmed by the crowd; they need to move Nisov through this space as quickly as possible. Theren turns to Nisov.
“May I take your arm?” He says it with such disdain, Elegy almost expects Nisov to refuse.
Nisov smiles, instead. “Who could say no to such a request?”
Theren takes Nisov’s arm without meeting his eyes. It would have looked like a guard escorting a prisoner if Nisov hadn’t bent his elbow and covered Theren’s hand with his own, so instead it appears as if they’re on some kind of lovers’ stroll. Elegy has the sudden urge to slap Nisov’s hand away.
They make it a long way unnoticed—-everyone on Cedre Station has a job to do, and they each seem to be intent on doing it. But the closer they get to the shuttles that can take them to Earth, the sparser the crowd, and soldiers’ eyes start to linger on her.
She opens the door to the docking bay, and on the other side of it is Frederick Green, his shaved head reflecting the fluorescent light.
Frederick Green was her mother’s Knight before the exiles’ children came of age to swear their oaths, but she only ever knew him as the captain of the Army of the Sword, where he still serves.
Gathered around him are four others, wearing identical black uniforms. Over their shoulders she can see the lines of spacefaring Finches behind the glass barrier, waiting for emergency takeoff.
They’re small, and preprogrammed to go only to Losan, Austra, and Nusanta without having to be operated by a pilot.
Lights flash around the docking bay doors as they open to let another row of crafts escape the station.
“Freddie,” Elegy says, with a tentative smile.
She saw Frederick every summer when she visited her mother and Larke for lessons. He taught her the right forks to use when she was a child, and when she was a teenager, he helped her sneak back in after a night of harmless adventure in Cedre Station. She’s hoping those fond memories help her now.
“Your Grace,” Green says, with obvious relief. “I’m so glad to see you alive and well. I’m sure the Sword will feel the same.”
“She’s all right?”
“Yes, she’s currently under quarantine nearby. There are a lot of people looking for you, Your Grace. I was ordered to escort you directly to the Sword if I found you.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Elegy says. “I have to get back to Losan. Now.”
Theren’s fingers brush her elbow.
“He’s not going to let you,” Theren says, in Talusar, in her ear.
Elegy feels like she should have anticipated that. Of course Larke doesn’t want to let her go. She wants Elegy right here, so she can present her to the public and declare that she personally ensured the safety of the Hope of Cedre. She wants Elegy as a political pawn, as usual.
Theren steps closer to her, a solid wall of heat at her back. His fingers brush against her spine as he wraps his hand around the hilt of the short-sword at her back. He draws it, but holds it low, where Frederick can see it.
All at once, Frederick and the four soldiers behind him draw their own weapons. She can see Hela in her periphery. All around them, people have stopped to watch.
Elegy’s heart races. This isn’t good.
“Your Grace,” Frederick says. “Tell your Knight to stand down.”
Theren doesn’t move.
“Only one card left to play, El,” Hela says to her.
Elegy knows it, even as she resists it. She reaches back and touches Theren’s wrist. His response is automatic, as she knew it would be—-he shifts his grip on the sword so that he’s offering her the hilt.
She takes it from him, and sets it on the ground in front of her. Frederick relaxes by a fraction.
“Freddie,” Elegy says. “I’m the Hope of Cedre. What I need to do is very important. And if you help me now, I won’t forget it.”
General Thompson told her to make use of her status even if she had no faith in it.
But she can’t lie to herself anymore: she’s starting to believe it.
She has ever since she felt a flutter in her stomach at the sight of Theren Forint.
She wonders if she did from the start, standing under the skylight in the Cenobium as an augur told her there was hope for Cedre.
The memory is so vivid now, the broken reflections in the mirror, the feeling of destiny strangling her.
Claiming her fate now means asking Frederick Green, captain of the Army of the Sword, to defy Larke. He could be fired for this. He could be arrested for it. So she’s a little surprised when Theren steps back, just an instant before Green moves aside. All around him, the other guards follow suit.
“Your Grace,” Frederick says, inclining his head to her.
Elegy feels like a boulder rolling downhill. She knows what she’ll find at the bottom, and she can’t stop now until she reaches it. She just refused an offering of peace from Nisov, acting as an envoy of Rava Vidar, and then commanded a member of Larke’s personal guard.
She’s doing exactly what she told Theren she had no interest in doing: seizing power from the Sword of Cedre.