16. The Consequences of Actions
The Consequences of Actions
Riss rings the bell for The Bridge hard, shouting for Dezeeves. The door swings open to Dezeeves, standing in the doorway. I can’t see beyond him. But he seems…
Fine.
He raises a white, bushy eyebrow. “Riss? You know better than to disturb The Bridge.”
Riss falters. “We… Ara—”
“We wanted to check on Drake,” I quickly say, stepping beside her. “Make sure there weren’t any problems with his corrective instruction.”
“Why in Cosmos would there be problems?”
My stomach hits the floor.
Because where should my loyalties lie here?
A moment ago, I’d been afraid for the lives of everyone on this ship. But if Dezeeves and the first officers are alive and well, maybe I have nothing to worry about.
Meg said the imprints Drake had left were mild.
Maybe it isn’t a powerful blood magic, but something weaker. Maybe it’s exactly what we need to get us through Integration, and the war – with our loyalties still to Rhavna.
I need to smooth this over.
“I thought I had information that might be useful to you,” I say, carefully. “But actually, now that I think about it, I was wrong.”
Dezeeves’ smile twists.
“Someone aboard my ship possessing information I don’t already have? Now, that would be an interesting moment in time.”
He makes to close the door.
But then I hear it. A cry of pain.
Instantly, I jam my boot in the doorway, stopping the door from closing.
“Ara,” Dezeeves warns.
I ignore him. Search past him.
And I see Drake on a platform behind Dezeeves.
He’s seated in a deep barrel, slumped forward, his head hanging low and dripping wet. Ephraine is standing dangerously close to him, a metal plate on his square fist.
And I’m no longer thinking.
I bolt, swerving around Dezeeves.
“Drake!” I yell. “Drake, what are they doing to you?”
I crouch in front of him, aware I’m now on the platform too, surrounded by officers on all sides. Now I’m closer, I can see a bruise blooming over his cheek and jaw.
“What is this?” Ephraine yells, only feet away from me. He stretches out his massive arms restlessly, like he’s thinking of now taking a swing at me.
“Ephraine,” Dezeeves says tightly. “I can only apologise for this intrusion.”
“Well, get her!”
“Just wait,” Dezeeves says, calmer. “Let’s give them a moment.”
I push my forehead to Drake’s.
“Drake, can you hear me?”
He’s still for a moment, his face shadowed, before his mouth moves, once.
“What, Drake?” I ask, desperate. Watching his lips.
“Go,” he says, louder this time.
I’m shaking my head. “I can’t just leave you like this.”
“No more moments,” Ephraine declares. “Take Ara away, Samson.”
There are hands on my shoulders, pulling me roughly. I struggle against them.
“Stop,” I yell. “I’m not leaving. I’m not—”
I see a flash behind my eyes. Feel pressure, like someone’s partially opened a valve in my skull.
Shooting pains run up my arms.
I blink. But the room is still.
I spin around and see the younger officer named Samson behind me. Just watching us, motionless, his long face lopsided with confusion. As if he’s been suspended in time.
I turn back to Drake. Head still low, he mumbles in Rhavnan, “I have a talent. I can stop Ephraine from making some of the blows he wishes to make and prevent him from keeping me under the water for too long. So you do not need to worry. But you need to leave.”
“He’s speaking Rhavnan!” Ephraine yells. “Dezeeves?”
“I’m afraid I missed what he said. You know I’m hard of hearing at the best of times.”
“Then, Meg. Where is she?”
Meg.
She must have slinked in behind us like a feline. Despite being the only woman, and the only Rhavnan, she somehow fits in among these officers with her perfect posture and piercing gaze. Her uniform matches theirs, and in it she looks untouchable.
And she’s staring right at me.
I stare right back at her. Silently plead with this intimidating female I’ve only just properly met.
Rhavnan to Rhavnan.
Woman to woman.
She speaks slowly, eyes pinned on me.
“He told her she doesn’t need to worry about him, because he can handle it. And he asked her to leave.”
Relief floods through me.
This woman has no loyalty to me. To us.
But she’s just protected Drake’s talent.
I owe her.
If Dezeeves knew the blood magic that he could access through him…
I push my shoulders back. Turn back to the officers.
“Sorry for intruding,” I say, unapologetically.
The officers let me step off the platform.
Ephraine glowers. His silver eye shifts mechanically from side to side.
“She should be punished,” he rasps. “Interrupting such an important procedure.”
Dezeeves is by the platform. He says, dismissively, “The girl has apologised. She was just worried for her friend. They arrived together, after all. And I’m sure we all remember how overriding young love can be.”
Young love?
This earns understanding nods from some of the officers.
But unsurprisingly, not Ephraine.
I walk back to the door. In the doorway, Riss looks as horrified as I feel.
Cosmer… looks unexpectedly angry. Like he’s just watched a bomb detonate over his house, and now he has nothing.
I take a final look behind me. Ephraine’s polished metal eye is settled on me. I think I preferred it when it was twitching.
I’ll probably dream of it in my sleep.
I’m back in my cabin, lying on my bed and facing the wall. I’m aware Cosmer is sitting on the end of his, shining his boots – hard, like he wants to peel the leather right off. The room reeks of polish. Every now and again, he lets out a sigh.
He does it once more, and I snap.
“What?” I hiss, rolling over.
I’d been aware that he was changing his clothes behind me, but this is the first time I’m seeing what he’s wearing now. The red shirt has been swapped for a crisp white one. The black breeches have been swapped for cream. On top, he wears a sort of simple cropped fabric blazer.
“We shouldn’t have gone up there,” he states. “It put us at risk. It put Integration at risk.”
“They were torturing him,” I murmur, soft. As if I still can’t believe it.
Cosmer keeps working at a mark on his boots I can’t see.
“What did you expect to be happening, Ara?” he says, harsh. “Did you think they’d all be sitting around playing cards? Drinking rum?”
I sit upright. “You knew corrective instruction meant torture.” I accuse him, voice raised. “And you didn’t say anything.”
His eyes are still cast down. “Many have gone through it. They’ve all been fine. Including Meg and Rike.”
“They’re probably hiding it, or they’ve been made to forget somehow. They’re probably traumatised—”
Cosmer throws down his rag.
“What do you want me to do, Ara?” he shouts.
“You want me to take you up to the airlock? We can do that right now. Because that’s the only other option you have.
You understand that, right?” His chest moves with his breaths.
After a beat, he says, “I’m not the one who broke the law, remember?
You did – when you helped that asshole get away and hide. ”
I swallow air. Feel it, cold, in my lungs.
“I didn’t know you knew that.”
“Dezeeves told me. On the way to get you from The Dragoness mission.” He pauses. “So, it’s true, then?”
I keep my voice steady. “I did the right thing.”
His gaze turns hard again. “Congratulations! Now you get to face the consequences of your actions. And these,” he says, arms open, “Are the consequences.”
Face the consequences.
Just like Vikemy said.
Is that really the only option left for me? Let this all happen to me? To Drake? Watch as this whole ridiculous war plays out, powerless to have any sway – or even, opinion – over it at all?
I look directly at him. Speak in a voice so quiet it’s barely there.
“The Cosmer I knew would never play a role in enforcing rules he knew were wrong. He always found a way to help people who needed it.”
Something crosses his face.
Maybe I shouldn’t say it.
But I do. The words fall from my mouth thick and fast, like Rhavnan rain in the wet season.
“He would have starved himself for three years, if it meant a girl who came to his country with no Provider skills – and nothing but her child brother and ancient grandmother – could eat.”
He’s silent.
The air has gone out of the room, like the oxygen has stopped working. We could suffocate.
Slowly, he looks back down. Puts on his boots, one a time.
Then, he stands. Turns away from me.
I stare at his back. The fabric is thinner and tighter fighting. Along with the hunched way he’s standing, it means I can see the outlines of his sinewy muscles, but also his protruding shoulder blades.
Eventually, he asks, in a broken voice, “Who told you?”
“Riss.”
He curses, raking a hand through his hair.
I say, “Don’t hate her. She didn’t realise the girl was me.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says. “She had no right.” Exhaling, he heads for the door. “Riss will be here any minute. Wait there.”
I jump to my feet.
“Are we not going to talk about this?”
“I need to pick up Drake. Get him cleaned up. And then it’s the morale booster. So, no.”
“Cosmer.”
He stops.
But he doesn’t turn.
“Why would you do that to yourself? For me?”
He casts a glance over his shoulder at me. His mouth parts, like he’s about to say something.
He closes it.
“Honestly,” he says at last, “Right now, I have no idea.”
He swings on the handle of the door – it opens out onto Riss, who had been about to enter. She has one hand outstretched, while the other is clasping a long piece of white fabric.
“Oh,” she says, furrowed, “Cosmer—”
He pushes past her wordlessly, and is gone.
“What was that about?” she asks, sinking down onto his bed.
I don’t answer her. I don’t have the words to.
Looking at her properly, I see she’s in a simple red frock, which is tight around her lean, athletic frame and striking set against her light skin.
“I brought you this,” she says, lifting the fabric she was holding. “It’s big on me, so should fit you well.”
And I realise where this is going.
“I’m not going to the morale booster,” I state, level.