Chapter 57
Go to the pickup point,” Theren tells Elegy, and though it’s stated as an order, it comes out sounding like a request anyway. He feels Nyx’s eyes on him, probably as she takes in his choice of pronouns and registers their meaning.
And that’s why he feels like it reveals nothing more, to bend his head and touch a kiss to Elegy’s lips in farewell.
She kisses him back, and says, “I will.”
And she’s not quite lying to him, he decides, but she’s not telling him the truth, either. If Elegy reminds him of clear, still water, her deceptions are little ripples on the surface of her.
He opens his mouth to demand an explanation, or a promise. But he hesitates. She’s letting him go, trusting that he knows what he’s doing. The least he can do is extend that same trust to her.
So he turns away from her, and follows Nyx through the monastery.
Nyx leads him down the hallways he already knows, where he left guards unconscious or dead by their posts. Then she takes him into the central hallway, where the moon glows through stained--glass windows.
“You have a knack for getting into the beds of important women,” Nyx says to him as they walk.
He’s too worried about what’s ahead to respond. He looks at the sword in Nyx’s left hand, and considers taking it from her and running—-back toward Elegy, so he can make sure she’s safe. But he forces one foot in front of the other on the color--dappled stones.
He remembers the last time Nyx walked him through these hallways, taking him down to the basement so he could be scrubbed clean—-and drugged—-and then letting him lean on her as she guided him up the stairs.
His memories of that time are hazy, but he recalls her being reassuring.
He clings to that memory now—-of her kindness.
When they walk through the doors to the sanctuary, he remembers that, too.
Round and bare, with a square oculus in the ceiling, letting in moonlight.
All the lanterns are lit, and in the shifting glow he sees two disparate parts of his life spliced together—-people from his time in Valla, and people from his time in Losan, taking up the same space.
Arias and Hela kneel on the stone floor, unarmed and roughened up. Orda is with them, his shirt bloody and ripped, braced against the ground like he can hardly keep himself upright. Standing guard over all three of them are Satka and a soldier he doesn’t recognize. Parekh is nowhere to be found.
On the other side of the room is Fenn Kovek, who meets his eyes with the same fervent relief Theren saw in his recovered memory, as if Theren is the only thing that matters to him.
And standing guard next to Fenn is Kesia.
It’s absurd, really, that Kesia can still disappoint Theren after everything she’s done. Days ago she told him she only ever wanted to help him; now she’s here, guarding the same man Theren came here to rescue.
And in the center of it all, of course, is Rava Vidar, standing in a shaft of moonlight.
She looks like a soldier, and she always has, her shoulders back, her feet apart, her hands behind her, ready to draw the weapon at the small of her back.
There’s a bruise under her jaw, faded and old, likely from sparring.
She’s never bothered to cover bruises or scars, as if she likes the way they look on her.
He’s surprised by how familiar it feels to stand in front of her, despite all that’s happened since the last time he saw her.
He was in her bedroom, then, after Elegy’s interrogation, tense to the point of trembling at the thought of what he was about to do—-what he had already done.
He’d waited, tension humming in his body, for Rava to fall asleep, then got the key to the interrogation room from where it was hidden: inside one of the books on her bookcase.
He doubled back to grab the boots she left by the door, too, remembering Elegy’s bare feet. And then he left.
But now he’s different. Well--rested and well--fed; no longer in constant pain; given respect and purpose. It should feel different to face her now. When her pale eyes lock on his, though, he’s exactly the man he was a few months ago, and exactly as terrified.
Rava steps over Orda’s quivering form as if he’s a stone in her path. Her pale eyes glint as they meet his.
“You’re here,” she says, and he’s struck for the hundredth time by how curious she is—-always interested even in the midst of her cruelty, like a child who pulls the wings off a fly just to see what it will do.
“I knew that you would come,” she says, “but I confess that I thought you would go to the epocha first, and not the augur.”
Fenn looks like he just tumbled out of bed, his feet bare and his linen pants rumpled from sleep, a silk robe askew across his shoulders.
“You don’t know me that well,” Theren says to Rava. Out of habit, he addresses her the same way he used to, as if he’s still a captive and she’s still the master of his fate. Perhaps she is.
“I know you enough.” She smiles a little. “Still so respectful, even though you’ve clearly forgotten our rules of engagement.”
“If I kneel now, will you spare them?”
“If I told you I would spare one of them, which one would you choose?” That curiosity again. “One of the Cedrae soldiers? The Talusar Scout? Your former lover?”
He can’t help the way his eyes widen at that last one.
“I’m amazed you managed to keep the exact nature of your relationship with him from me for so long,” she says. “I might have sent him to a monastery farther away if I’d known.”
“No. You would have killed him.”
She smiles.
“I almost forgot,” she says softly, “how much you know. Tell me . . .” She reaches out, and clamps her hand around his jaw, squeezing so tightly he winces. Then she leans in close to his face. “What’s in my heart now, truthsayer?”
“What did you do with the augur, Rava?” he says, and he doesn’t think he’s referred to her by her name, in her presence, ever before. He flinches a little at the sound of it, expecting retaliation.
She releases him, but doesn’t back away.
“Your little tricks aren’t going to work on me,” she says. “I know what happens when people answer your questions.”
“I don’t need to ask questions. You killed an augur.”
Rava gives him what appears to be an indulgent smile. “That would be sacrilege.”
“You killed an augur,” he says. “And you know that if anyone finds out, not even Ileth will be able to save you; you’ll be burned alive. You told your people the augur was back at the Cenobium. You told the augurs she was here. But she’s dead, isn’t she?”
Rava looks for all the world like she’s just unimpressed with a particularly bad performance. But he can feel the truth, the rabbit heartbeat that tells him he’s getting close to something real.
“That is a ridiculous accusation,” she says evenly, “designed to turn my people against me—-”
He has to push harder. “Did you plan it? Or did you lose control? You never liked the way she talked to you, like she was better than you—-”
“Fortunately my people know better than to take you at your word, Forint—-”
“Maybe she said something to set you off—-”
Rava brings the back of her hand down hard against Theren’s face. His cheek stings. Beside him, Nyx draws a sharp, rattling breath.
Then without a word, she tosses Theren’s sword to him.
He catches it in his right hand and draws with his left. Everything erupts into chaos.