Burn Bright

Naif found Markes on the balcony of the room she and Charlonge shared in La Galatea. The Liberated were roomed mainly on the north side of the grand old resort to benefit from the morning sun. But for some reason Ruzalia had put Naif and her friends on the south side where the long daytime shadows allowed thick mildew to cover the marble balustrade.

The three of them had dragged a rusted wrought iron table and some broken wicker chairs out there, and used it as their private place to talk. In the days following their arrival, their conversations had been about Ixion; what they’d left behind, what might happen now they’d left. Ruzalia only gave them scant news, and Naif was haunted by not knowing about Suki. Was she alive? Injured? Was she safe with Rollo and Joel and Eve, or were they all in danger?

Recently, though, their talk had shifted to the tensions on the island among the Liberated. They seemed, Naif thought, to be divided into two groups: those who had escaped here by choice, with the help of Dark Eve, Joel and the Cursed League, and those that Ruzalia had abducted from the barge. Somehow, she knew ahead of time that they were over age and would be at risk. Those ones didn’t believe her.

They hadn’t seen what Naif had seen. And none of them knew what about the church of Danskoi; the horror of what was happening there to those who had been withdrawn.

Charlonge looked up and saw her. ‘So what did Ruzalia say?’

Charlonge, the Church of Vank supervisor, who Naif had thought so mature and confident when she first arrived on Ixion, now seemed worn by worry.

Pining after Joel. And my brother does not deserve it.

The thought filled Naif with pain. She’d gone to Ixion to find her beloved brother but, when she had, something had changed between them.

She loved him still. Dearly. More than her life. But she’d learned things about him, and was no longer blind to his nature. Joel wanted the war against the Ripers. He wanted to fight with Dark Eve on the Lesser Paths of Ixion. Ixion had made Joel a hero, and he didn’t want to leave there.

‘She won’t listen,’ answered Naif. ‘I will go without her help.’

‘What do you mean … without her help?’ demanded Markes. The dreamy musician’s expression that inhabited his face most of the time faded and he gave her a sharp look.

Naif flushed. Markes was the first boy to make her heart beat faster. Even though he had chosen Cal as his friend, and had not been as brave as she wished at times, when he looked at her intently, like now, she could barely take a breath.

His hair had grown longer since they’d been on Sanctus, and his skin had gained colour with sunlight. He looked healthier, lovelier than ever, and she often found herself staring at him.

Charlonge teased her gently about it. It was the only time the girl ever used a lighter tone. Like Naif, she was haunted by what they’d left behind.

‘I could take Ruzalia’s boat. She’s expecting bad weather and it’s moored in the cave,’ said Naif.

‘That would be dangerous,’ said Charlonge, automatically cautious and responsible.

‘Ruzalia would be so angry she might kill you for it,’ said Markes.

‘She’s planning a raid tomorrow. The boat will empty tonight while she inducts the newest ones.’

Markes looked out across the island, past the mountain to the sea. ‘Who would sail it? It’s open sea between Sanctus and Grave. And the tides have been high. Leaving the tunnel might be dangerous.’

‘You could steer us safely. You’ve sailed in Lake Deep.’

His gaze alighted on her again, his expression pleased at her confidence in him. Then his forehead creased. ‘If the Elders find us back in Grave we’ll be sent before the court.’

‘What about your friends?’ Naif asked him. ‘They would hide us. My father would only turn us over to the warden, and my mother would be too frightened to help.’

As she said it, Naif had an overwhelming urge to see her mother. It was a hollow desire, she knew, for her mother would likely shun her now.

Then a sharp Ixion memory pierced her – Lottie calling for her mama as she died in Naif’s arms. Lottie had burned brightly and paid the price for her recklessness. The girl’s fear of death without her mother at her side would stay in Naif’s heart forever.

But she wouldn’t get comfort from her own mother. That must not be why she was returning. Grave held the answer to secrets of Ixion. That was why she must go. For Joel and Rollo and Suki on Ixion. For dead Lottie. But mostly, for Krista-Belle.

She felt a tug at her consciousness again, and a flooding sense of disapproval. Lenoir.

‘Stop!’ she cried aloud.

‘Stop what?’ asked Markes.

Naif turned away from him, hiding her face. ‘Nothing, I meant … Charlonge, what is it?’

The older girl had moved to one end of the balcony and was leaning over the balustrade, staring to the south. Beyond the mountain, the sea glinted dully and the horizon was a mist of salt spray; the entrance to the Golden Spiral.

‘I’m not coming with you,’ Charlonge said quietly. ‘I’m not from Grave. What you seek there is not part of me. I’ll stay here and help Ruzalia.’

‘What do you mean help?’ asked Naif.

‘Ruzalia only has Mesree and her men. Too few to manage all the Liberated ones, and I’m experienced with supervising.’

‘Don’t be caught in this just to stay close to my brother, Char.’

Charlonge turned hotly and faced her. ‘It’s not just about Joel. You’re not the only one allowed to be useful, Naif. I have chosen my path. That is all I will say.’

Naif’s heart sank. Unravelling the mysteries of the Golden Spiral and the connection between Grave and Ixion was the only way to help her brother and her friends. Ixion would only become more dangerous. She’d seen the power of the Ripers and the bestial way they tore at each other. She’d been cornered by the Night Creatures and known the sting of their barbed tentacles. Leyste had stalked her. These were not human foe, no matter how they might masquerade.

She looked at Markes.

He shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t want to go back, Naif. Sorry. I-I’ll stay and help Char.’

Naif clenched her fists in frustration. If she had to, she’d go alone. But the thought terrified her.

‘Stay here with us,’ said Charlonge. The girl came to her with arms outstretched.

It was still not natural for Naif to be spontaneous with emotion. Her Seal training had been all about solitude and meditation and isolation. That’s why Joel had run away to Ixion and why she had followed. Life in Grave without him had been unbearable.

She forced herself to step into Char’s embrace, glancing across her shoulder at Markes.

He looked away, guiltily.

‘Let’s go and have dinner in the hall. We don’t want Ruzalia sending someone looking for us.’ Charlonge hugged her and let go, her cheeks wet with tears. ‘You won’t do anything foolish, will you? Promise me.’

Naif smiled but she didn’t answer. She knew exactly what she must do.