And there was only one way that dead souls returned to the land of the living: like Paris.
That boy she had fought on the rooftops was alive. So he was not Romeo: he was a Catresou boy who certainly wanted Juliet dead, and who probably would have been happy to help kill Arajo’s nurse if he’d been given the chance.
“Teach me how to fight,” said Arajo, startling her out of her thoughts.
“You have teachers already,” said Juliet. “I’ve seen you practice.”
“I know the sword forms,” said Arajo. “But you’ve killed people. You know how it’s done.” Her voice wasn’t wavering now; it was soft and dry and viciously determined. “The Catresou won’t stop trying to kill us. I want to be ready next time.”
“I’ll protect you,” said Juliet.
“I don’t want to be protected! I want to kill them back. I want to be like you.”
You shouldn’t, thought Juliet. Arajo had a chance to be free, to be a girl instead of a weapon. She was absolutely guaranteed never to be enslaved to her enemies and forced to kill for them.
But the Mahyanai gave their women swords. Juliet supposed that, as their Juliet, she couldn’t try to stop them.
She couldn’t tell Arajo not to want vengeance either, not when her own heart pounded with the need to kill every time Mahyanai blood was shed.
“I’ll try,” she said, and that seemed to satisfy Arajo.
So they sat together in silence for hours. The sun rose closer to noon, and more people came to sit brief vigils, and many of them stared at Juliet and whispered.
Juliet didn’t listen. She stared at the dead woman, and thought of all the blood that had been shed, and dreaded what was still to come.
You live in a charnel house. You’re all guilty and dripping red.
10
“YOU HAVE A PLAN TO hunt down the rest of the Catresou?” Runajo asked, once Juliet had gone.
Lord Ineo gave her a look of weary patience. “You don’t need to pretend. I’m well aware of what your friend Sunjai must have told you.”
Runajo’s heart thudded. But there was no reason to hide what she knew.
“The sacrifice,” she said. “You’re really doing it?”
“I’d rather prefer the city not to fall five days from now,” said Lord Ineo. “So yes. In three days, there will be a Great Offering the like of which this city has never seen.”
Twenty lives, their blood running across the white stone dais in the grand court. The thought made Runajo feel sick, but what could she do? Lord Ineo would never listen to her if she said it was wrong. And if he did listen to her . . . everyone in Viyara would die. Because she had failed to find another way.
“You’re not planning to tell the city how close we are to destruction, are you?” she said.
He shook his head. “Of course not. The people are already near enough to panicking, especially in the Lower City. We’ll tell them the sacrifice protects them from the revenants, and they’ll be grateful.”
Runajo nodded. “And once it’s done . . . then you’ll hunt down the Catresou?”
She didn’t want them to fall into his hands. She knew what Juliet would think of her urging him forward. But the living dead girl was her last hope. The sacrifice surely would not protect the city for long; Runajo had to find a way to talk with Death if she wanted the city to live. If she wanted Juliet to live.
“Oh, you’ve finally started to want justice for their crimes?” Lord Ineo half smiled. “Then rejoice. They’re going to supply the victims for the sacrifice.”
Runajo stared at him. “But . . . they won’t volunteer,” she said numbly.
The Great Offering that held up the walls of Viyara was meant to be a free offering. The three high houses had a duty to take turns providing victims, but those victims were supposed to be willing. True, it was an open secret that the Catresou sacrifice was usually somebody the clan didn’t want, who had been told that “volunteering” was better than what life would become. But they at least followed the form of the law. The thought of anyone dragging out a prisoner in chains was . . . until now, it had been unthinkable.
The gods had offered their blood freely, and just as freely, men must pour out theirs. This was the ancient, sacred law of Viyara. Even when Runajo had come to believe that the offering was wrong, she still trusted in that.
Lord Ineo snorted. “No Catresou has ever been brave enough to volunteer,” he said. “It’s why they always sent a criminal to die. Now they’re all criminals.”
Her heart was pounding. “Simply because they are your enemies—”
“Our enemies.”
Lord Ineo’s voice was soft, and the look he gave her was mild. But ice slid down the length of Runajo’s spine.
She hadn’t come to Lord Ineo out of loyalty to her clan. She’d offered to serve him so that he would protect Juliet, when the Sisterhood had wanted to sacrifice her.
Juliet stayed safe only so long as Lord Ineo stayed pleased.
Runajo dropped her gaze and let her shoulders relax. “They attempted necromancy,” she said, in the same meek voice she’d used when humoring her dying parents. “But we never proved that they managed to raise even a single person.”
“They attempted more than simple necromancy, though, didn’t they?” said Lord Ineo.
The cold at the pit of her stomach got worse. Because it was true: the ceremony that the City Guard had interrupted at the Catresou sepulcher had been necromantic in nature, that was certain. But there had been no body or bones they were trying to raise. And while those who’d known the full plan had died that night or the next day—like Lord Catresou—there were still some left who had repeated confused rumors about opening the gates of death.
“And a month later, the dead began to rise faster,” Lord Ineo went on. “I’d say it’s clear they succeeded in tampering with death. After last night, it’s clear that none of them will ever consent to obey our laws. Somebody must die, or else we all will; and I won’t ask good Mahyanai to sacrifice themselves so that Catresou necromancers can continue to live.”
The world is ending, Runajo wanted to say. Why do you care if they defy you?
But she already knew the answer, and it wasn’t just his pride. The stronger the Ruining grew, the greater the danger of revenants and chaos and the walls collapsing, the less he could afford the risks of conflict in the city.
All her life, Runajo had argued and disagreed with everyone. Nobody had ever been able to persuade her.
She couldn’t think of a single argument to use against Lord Ineo now.
“Why are you telling me this?” she asked.
“Because you’re the Juliet’s Guardian,” said Lord Ineo. “I’m sure the renegade Catresou will try to stop the sacrifice. I mean to have her guard them. You’re going to make sure that she succeeds at her duty.” His mouth slanted. “I’m not fool enough to believe she failed last night by accident.”
Runajo’s body felt numb and dazed, but her mind was working perfectly and very fast.
If she didn’t obey him, Juliet would die. Nobody else could protect them from the Sisterhood, and there was nowhere to run, because outside the city walls lay only death.
If she found a way to stop him, everyone would die. There was no more calculating risks; the equations had become unbearably simple. They must make this offering, or the city would fall.
She knew what Juliet would say: that it was better for them to die innocent than live as murderers. But Runajo had already become a murderer. Nobody in the city was innocent, because its very foundations were built on blood.
And she couldn’t let Juliet die.
Runajo looked up into his eyes. “I would be honored to serve my clan,” she said.