Chapter Thirty-Four The Fourth Lesson
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
THE FOURTH LESSON
T HE IVY-CLAD H OMELY Home was flushed with warm yellow light leaking from its windows and doorways as always, and muted chatter welcomed Lythlet as she knocked on the door. “It’s me, Lythlet!”
The door flung open within seconds, Shunvi looking like he’d raced to be the one to greet her, Ilden peering nervously from behind him.
“Lythlet,” Shunvi said, her name a sigh on his lips, one of both joy and regret. He embraced her without hesitation, his emerald-and-ivory silk robe rubbing pleasantly over her arms.
“So glad to see you again,” Ilden said, dark brows knitted with worry. “You look awful—I mean, you look like you got into a fight or two.”
“Come on, come in,” said Shunvi, leading her through the hall to the dining table. Naya was sitting there, a pillow cradled underneath her head, a cup of iced tea in her hand, condensation dripping onto the table.
“Oh, you poor dear—your poor face!” she cried, beckoning Lythlet to sit next to her. “Ilden, be a peach and pour some of the opalten tea for her.”
“I’m a peach,” Ilden chirped, eagerly grabbing a teacup from a cupboard and pouring out a drink from an iced jug. After he slid it to Lythlet, a grim silence fell, the men exchanging uncomfortable stares.
At last, Shunvi spoke, “I want to apologize about the final match.”
“We both do,” said Ilden.
“You don’t have to,” she said quietly.
“No, we must,” said Shunvi. “We did not want to fight you, but the match-master came to us not long before the match, demanding we reprise our roles as the Poet and the Ruffian.”
“We laughed in his face, of course,” said Ilden. “But then his demand turned into a threat, and he told us we could either repay him for all the success we’ve managed for ourselves, or he’d get the Eza to hound our backs.”
“We didn’t agree then either,” said Shunvi bluntly, gaze turning hard with anger.
“It’d take more than petty threats of violence to bring us back to the arena—to bring us to fight you.
We know how to take care of ourselves, after all.
But then he spoke of getting certain charges stacked against us and my teahouses—charges that would not only have us thrown into gaol, but most certainly ruin the livelihoods of everyone I employ, if not have them join us in a cell, too.
I hope you’ll forgive us, Lythlet, but I could not bear the thought of jeopardizing their lives.
He set his spies upon us for the month leading up to the match, so we couldn’t visit you and tell you what was transpiring without fear of reprisal. ”
“I understand,” she said gently. “You were doing what was best.”
“In any case, we may have capitulated to the match-master’s demands, but we weren’t seeking victory that day, I promise you,” Shunvi said.
“We would have fought just enough to put on a good show for the spectators—you know, exchange a few blows, cut each other up at the non-vitals, spill a non-threatening amount of blood,” said Ilden.
“You and Shunvi could do those showy spear maneuvers you’ve practiced together.
The crowd would go wild for it—and then we’d ease into us giving it up to you in a way that wouldn’t draw suspicion.
We weren’t expecting you to forfeit at the very beginning. ”
A quiet laugh leaked from her. “You’ve known Desil for an entire year, and you thought he’d fight you?”
“We expected a forfeit from him, but not you. We thought you’d read between the lines and force him back into the game.”
“I knew the two of you were willing to throw the battle, but I couldn’t force Desil to fight, especially not those he considers friends,” she grieved.
Would she have chosen differently had she known the truth then, that Desil had done much worse and kept it secret?
Thinking about it only stung fresh wounds.
“What happened to you two once the Coalition’s watchmen arrived? Were you caught in the chaos?”
“Luckily, no. We ran home like our feet were on fire,” Ilden answered.
“It took a while for news of everything that had gone down to reach us,” Shunvi said. “The whole hubbub with Matheranos being the Eza blew us away. We went looking for you and Desil, but we couldn’t find you—what have you been up to?”
She hummed quietly, rubbing her cold teacup. “Perhaps I’ll tell you another time.”
He glanced at her curiously. “You’re not leaving already, are you? You haven’t even finished your tea. Stay longer, won’t you?”
She smiled in appreciation of his kindness. “Thank you, but I really must go. I have some business to settle with my family. But before I do, there’s something I’d like to say—I would like to run together with all of you again.”
Ilden blinked in confusion. “What, now? I’d really rather not work up a sweat.”
“And my brain’s a fine mush at the moment,” Naya added, not lifting her head from the pillow.
“Shunvi, you go run with her,” Ilden said, jabbing his friend in the ribs.
“Gladly,” said Shunvi with a laugh, “but I believe she’s speaking metaphorically.”
Lythlet nodded, relieved she made sense to at least one person.
“One of the happiest moments of recent times for me was working with all of you to help the unregistered take down the riverside flats. Because of you, I was able to help my father get the justice he deserved. I even got an apology from a man who’d terrorized me for months in the process.
I doubt we’ve seen the last case of an unregistered or slumdog being taken advantage of in this city, so when it happens again, I would like it if we could all run together. ”
Shunvi smiled brightly. “Of course, Lythlet. And I’m glad we could’ve helped your parents.”
“Me, too,” added Ilden.
“Send our regards to Uncle and Aunty when you see them again,” Naya finished, beaming.
“Honestly, I’m relieved,” Shunvi admitted. “Ilden and I were worried you wouldn’t even want to speak to us again after that final match, let alone continue our friendship.”
Lythlet froze, the teacup slipping from her fingers to land on the table with a heavy thunk . She stared at him, then Ilden, then Naya.
“What?” Shunvi said, alarmed.
“Are we all—” she hesitated, a tentative lilt entering her voice “—friends?”
Silence met her question, the other three exchanging puzzled looks.
“I mean,” she continued nervously, “I knew you were all friends with Desil, but I didn’t know I was included in that equation.”
“What did you think we were?” said Ilden, baffled.
“Acquaintances,” she said. “Co-workers, of a sort. Co-conspirators.”
“As fond as I am of ‘co-conspirator,’ we are friends, and we have been since the first time we met,” Shunvi said with a gentle laugh.
“Honestly, if it’s taken you a whole year to cotton on to this, I don’t think I want to be friends with you anymore,” Ilden added.
“I’m sorry,” she said, winded from this brand-new information. “It just never occurred to me that I’d ever have another friend besides Desil. This is a very novel concept for me.”
“Oh, you poor, poor emotionally undeveloped woman,” Naya said, pulling her in for a hug.
“I’m feeling very rich at the moment, actually,” said Lythlet, lips turning upwards. “I really must go now—but thank you for, well, I suppose everything, including your friendship.”
At the sight of her enormous smile, they laughed, waving goodbye to her. Shunvi escorted her to the door, and as he waved her off, he shouted, “Take care, Lythlet! I’ll come visit you one of these days. We still have a Phantom to unmask!”
“That we do! Bring your journal next we meet,” she answered, waving back. Her smile did not fade as she made for Hemharrow Corinthos’s estate.
· · ·
“T ODAY ?” L YTHLET WHISPERED , knocking on the open attic door.
Father looked up from the little locked-box puzzle he played with, about to answer, but his jaw fell slack at the sight of her. She self-consciously touched her cheek, remembering the bruises and bandages covering her swollen face.
“I’m fine,” she said quickly.
It took him a moment to gather his words. “What happened?”
“I wound up in a...fight, of sorts. But I am fine. Today?”
The door swung open wider, revealing Mother standing by it. “Today,” she said. She said nothing further, turning aghast at the sight of Lythlet.
“Please ignore my face for now,” Lythlet said hurriedly, already feeling the premonition of a barrage of questions raining down upon her.
She edged toward them, hands clasped behind her back, posture becoming unnaturally rigid as she stood before them.
“I have something more important to tell you. Would you sit down?”
Father and Mother waited on the mattress with bated breath.
“I’ve come to inform you that I will be unable to fulfill my promise,” she said, ashamed.
“What promise?”
“I swore to save you from here. To return you to a life aboveground with a proper house. But my purse strings have been cut, and I can no longer keep my word. You were right to tell me not to make a promise I couldn’t keep, Father.
” She did not mean to, but she ended on a bitter note, the sting of her own failure like the bite of winter’s frost. There was little elegance to her words to begin with, but the way she rushed through her sentences and hunched her shoulders made them even feebler.
They gave no response, in neither twitch nor words, silently ruminating. She sat there, petrified as they receded into their thoughts without her.
Lythlet’s eyes fell upon the slight bulge beneath Father’s sock, that she knew was the silver chain with the neira charm, the birthday gift she’d given him. The first generous gift she had ever given him, the last she could foresee for a long time.
She lowered her head, ashamed. She despised having them see her like this, bruised, battered, defeated by life. She had taken pride in being relied on, in having them smile quietly at her presence, and now their disappointment would be a heavy shroud over her shoulders on the long walk home.