Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Fate’s Mercy, I hope Idris isn’t at his house today. Let there be some reason he isn’t home.
I went home to quickly wash and change before heading back out.
I can hardly walk around Halice dripping in blood.
But I didn’t have time for a full bath, making do with a basin of chilly water and a scrub cloth – I was presentable enough again within five minutes of getting home.
I pick at my nails in the carriage, scraps of red still embedded around the edges.
My hair is damp after the rough wash and comb, and pulled into my usual low ponytail, the ends dripping into the silk back of my dress as the carriage pulls up outside the familiar Patricelli family home, but I don’t have the time to waste on trivial things.
The damp still hugs my body; my new dress clings to my figure like a silky maroon skin.
I hesitate as the guard opens the carriage door for me.
Barely weeks ago, I would’ve thought nothing of strolling up to that front door. I spent hours and hours here, even a few nights, feeling safe and secure even if this city was under threat. Even though my Soulhate was asleep down the hall.
That feeling has evaporated. Last time I was here, Idris was dying. Something broke then. A cold fissure ruptured through my being. I thought I’d lost him forever. By some miracle of Fate’s Mercy, he lived. But I lost him all the same.
Idris hates me now. True hatred, not just bond deep. That knowledge makes me want to shake. Would he laugh hearing about my attack today? Did he organise it? This place, his house, isn’t a home; it’s hostile enemy territory. With all the unease and familiarity of walking into a trap.
I try not to think of him. Time is slipping through my fingers; I can’t waste even one crucial second. I get out of the carriage and walk up to the front door. I knock, hovering as I try not to fidget. I look down at the gift I brought with me, wrapped in blue muslin with a bright yellow bow.
Goosebumps leap to attention across my flesh. My throat goes scratchy. My mouth dries up, my pulse threatening to explode from my eyes. I sigh and drop my shoulders. What did I expect? Of course he’s home. Fate has no mercy for me.
I force my breathing to be steady as I embrace the searing sensations coursing through my blood. There is a familiarity with the flames, an all-consuming charring that pushes lurking thoughts from the corners of my mind.
The polished door opens with a quiet creak, and standing there is the man I was ardently hoping to avoid. The man who hates me so thoroughly he can barely speak to me. Who would rather glare at my failures than help me succeed.
“Renza.” He says my name in an unwelcome greeting, his voice dripping like acid across my bones.
His deep blue tunic moves slowly as he breathes purposefully, managing his own reaction to the flaring bond.
His eyes make a blistering study of my appearance, no doubt taking in my slightly soggy state.
But he doesn’t say a word. Makes not one sound.
“Is Tahira about?” I ask, forcing myself to keep my tone polite. I avert my gaze from him, the fire eating away at my energy and control. The memory of today, of the mob’s anger, of their joy in my suffering, assaults me over and over. Is that what he wants? Is that what he wishes for me?
Instead, I keep my eyes fixed on the silver door handle, refusing to acknowledge the air that crackles between us.
“Yes.” That’s his only response. I wait for more before sighing.
“I would like to speak with her.”
“I see,” Idris answers, the words falling like a harsh judgement. Eventually he steps back and allows me inside. The silence is awkward, tense and thick as boiling tar as I pass him. I control my eyes, which beg to drift to him like a dark, blistering star in the corner of my vision.
“Where is she?” I ask quietly, our bodies sweeping close to each other for a moment as I pass him. A dark magnetism crackles across the shrinking space, almost painful as I add more distance.
“The orangery,” Idris answers with clipped words before sweeping down the hall in that direction.
Great, I suppose he’s coming with me for this.
I know Tahira, Royah, Alfieri – heck, anyone who knows him at all – is reporting back all I tell them. Fate’s Fury, he probably knows half of the things happening with me before I know them myself these days.
I follow him down the beautiful hallways with their ancient panelling and arched doorways to the orangery.
Idris opens the door for me and I sweep past him, my arm barely brushing against his body.
Sparks explode across my skin, their embers digging like teeth into my curdling flesh.
I almost turn around, almost look him in the face – that silent tether between us suddenly taught and tense and very, very still.
I recoil from the pain of it, my breath strangled as if he had punched me in the gut.
I don’t think I can handle this. The pain, the fire, I’m not strong enough. I’m not—
“Renza!” A childish voice breaks through the frustration. Kaz waves happily from his seat at the table. Tahira sits with him in front of open books, paper and pencils. Tahira flashes me a smile, her dark gaze jumping uncertainly between me and Idris.
“Kaz,” I say warmly as I stride over to the boy. “It’s good to see you again. How are you doing?”
“Not great.” He pouts, rolling a pencil between his fingers unhappily. “I did badly on my geography test.”
“So we’re studying,” Tahira encourages, her words a little tired as she turns to me. “How are you? Royah told us about your … unwelcome visit last night.”
Idris goes still behind me, which makes me wonder how dramatic Royah’s retelling was.
“Simply highlighted an area for improvement, which has been done. But Kaz, I have a gift for you.” I turn my attention to the boy, and away from Tahira’s keen, dark gaze.
I take it she hasn’t heard what happened to me not an hour ago.
Those stories haven’t reached this house yet. Thank Fate for his small mercies.
“A gift?” Kaz asks, instantly perked up by the idea. I set the present in front of him as he quickly pulls away the fabric coverings. The book is pulled free. Kaz opens it, frowning immediately.
“What is it?” Kaz asks.
“It’s a book of puzzles,” I answer, pointing to the page he’s looking at. “See, this one is a number puzzle. You need to find out which one is the odd one out, and why.”
Kaz’s face lights up as he realises what I’ve given him.
“Cool!”
“Some involve numbers, some involve words, some involve facts about history and geography,” I say, giving a pointed look to Tahira. She turns her face away to hide her smirk, instantly seeing my ulterior motive.
“I know this one!” Kaz says excitedly, pointing to a number pattern. “I know it!”
“Well then write it down,” Tahira encourages. “What do we say when we receive a gift?”
“Thank you, Renza!” Kaz grins brightly, honouring me with a quick hug before becoming enraptured by his book again. I chuckle, grateful for his jubilation. I need it. There are still some things I can do right.
“What brings you?” Tahira asks.
“I need to speak with you about something urgent. It’s really important,” I answer quietly. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure. Kaz, you have ten minutes to look at that puzzle book before we get back to geography,” Tahira tells him before following me away from the table.
I walk with her towards the patio door. Unfortunately, Idris follows.
Each footfall casts a bolt of fire through my veins, like a poison stealing my thoughts away.
It demands the scraps of my energy and ire in a venomous way.
I force myself not to shudder or turn or acknowledge him in any way.
He doesn’t deserve it. I won’t let him think I’m rattled, that his plan is working.
Even if it is.
I face Tahira and drop my voice.
“We’ve heard rumours of an attack happening in the city.”
“What kind of attack?” Idris almost barks. I ignore him and keep my attention on Tahira.
“Apparently some disillusioned members of the public have managed to get their hands on a store of explosives and are in the midst of choosing their target, either one of the bridges or targeting some of the food stores – conflicting reports there. Perhaps even the refugees. I haven’t been able to nail down exactly where or when, but I know that it’s imminent—”
“Great rivers!” Tahira’s eyes go wide. “That’s horrendous.” I swallow tightly, remembering the carnage of the Grand Temple.
“Can you find them?” I ask her. Fate’s Fury, I’m not asking.
I’m begging her as a crack of panic leaks into my words.
“We can’t have another explosion like that in this city, not after the Grand Temple and all the awful things that followed.
We can’t. The pandemonium and lives lost would be a catalyst that would—”
“Tear this city apart. And make it ripe for conquer. I get it.” Tahira nods to cut me off before my rambling can start. “I recommend a curfew at night. City Guards on patrol in spots of significant infrastructure.”
“I was hoping to avoid panic and fear. The idea that we have traitors amongst our own people, who can be turned against us—”
“It’s unsettling,” agrees Tahira. Her eyes fly over my shoulder to the scowling, grumpy Electi behind me.
He burns like a forest fire, roaring and climbing out of control.
I force myself not to tremble, summoning the dregs of my strength to hold my composure.
Only a few more moments and I can flee. I can retreat to safety.
“If we can’t find these people by sunset, that’s what I’ll do,” I tell Tahira, “but I would rather not have to.”
“I’ll get on it straight away.” Tahira firms her jaw and nods shortly, the curls of her onyx hair bouncing with the sharp motion.
“Good, I’ll coordinate with Savino in case you don’t find the perpetrators in time for the curfew.”
“Got a starting point for me?”