“It’s noon,” Sifa said.
Voa was covered—shielded by what looked like dark clouds. They were only a shade or two lighter than the Ogran sky. My currentshadows had found a home over Voa, sending it into endless night.
I felt better—physically—in the next few days than I had since I was a child. Izit by izit, my strength returned, as I ate food prepared by Sifa, Yma, and Teka in the Zetsyvis kitchen. Yma burned the bottom of almost everything she made, and presented it without apology. Sifa cooked odd-tasting Thuvhesit dishes that were packed with too many spices. Teka made uncommonly good breakfasts. I helped where I could, sitting at the counter with a knife to chop things until my arm got too tired. The weakness was infuriating to me, but the lack of pain more than made up for it.
I would have traded a dozen currentgifts for no more pain.
Sifa had assured me that Akos was alive, but in what condition, I didn’t know. I searched the news out of Thuvhe for any signs of him, and found nothing. Reports of my father’s death didn’t mention him. It was Cisi who finally sent us news, directly from Hessa: She had found Akos at the hospital there, recovering from hypothermia. She was taking him home.
The clouds showed no sign of clearing over Voa. It was likely the entire city would be dark forever. Up here on the cliff, if you looked toward Voa, it appeared to be night. But if you turned away, toward the Divide that separated us from Thuvhe, the sun shone again. It was odd, to be living on the edge of such a thing. And to know that you yourself had created it.
And then, in the middle of the night, almost a week after the attack on Voa, I woke to pain.
At first I didn’t know why I was awake. I checked the clock to be sure it wasn’t time to get up and start on breakfast, since I was finally well enough to take my own turn in the kitchen. Then I felt the dull pounding in my head, with a spark of alarm.
Maybe it’s just a headache, I told myself. No need to panic, no need to—
My fingers stung, like they had fallen asleep and blood was now returning to them. I scrambled to turn on the lamp next to my bed, and I saw it: a line of shadow traveling from wrist to fingertip.
Shaking, I threw the blankets back and looked at my bare legs. Faint shadows wrapped around my ankles, like shackles. My head and heart pounded in the same rhythm. I didn’t realize I was making a noise—a horrible, heaving noise, like a dying animal—until Teka opened the door, her bright hair piled on top of her head.
She spotted the currentshadows immediately, and came to my bedside, pulling the sleeves of her sleep clothes over her hands. She sat on the bed and pulled me against her, pressing my face to her bony shoulder.
I sobbed into her shirt, and she held me in place, in silence.
“I didn’t—I didn’t want them back,” I choked out.
“I know.”
“I don’t care if they’re powerful, I don’t—”
“I know that, too.”
She rocked us back and forth, slowly, for a long time.
“People call them a gift,” she said after a while. “What bullshit.”
A few days later, I stood listening to the patter of rain on the guest-room windows, a bag on the bed in front of me. I had stuffed most of my possessions inside it, and now struggled to think past the pain in my back and legs. My currentgift’s return had not been easy to adjust to.
“Aza asked me to speak with you about her request,” Yma said to me. She was leaning against the doorframe, dressed all in white. “For you to accept a position of power in the new Shotet government.”
“Why would she ask you? You know as well as I do that what’s best for our people is no Noaveks in power, ever again.”
“I know no such thing,” Yma said, pinching the hem of her blouse between her trimmed, clean fingernails. “There are quite a few Noavek loyalists still among us. They might actually cooperate with us if we establish the Noavek bloodline in a high position. And unity is what we need right now.”
“One problem, though,” I said. “I’m not actually part of the Noavek bloodline.”
Yma flapped her hand at me. “No one needs to know that.”
The system of governance Aza had proposed was a blend of elected officials and monarchy, with the monarch—me, if she got her way—appointing a representative who would hold all the actual power, supported by a council. It wouldn’t require me to be a ruler in the sense that my father and Ryzek had been, but I was still wary of it. Bad things happened when my family was in power.
“What about Vakrez?” I said. “He’s a Noavek. A real one, in fact. And he’s an adult.”
“Are you going to make me say it?” Yma said, sighing.
“Say what?”
Yma rolled her eyes. “That I think you are a better option than Vakrez. He allowed himself to be controlled by both Lazmet and Ryzek. He lacks the . . . fortitude.”
I raised both eyebrows.
“Did you just compliment me?” I said.
“Don’t take it too much to heart,” Yma replied.
I smiled a little.
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it.”
“What? Just because I complimented you?”
“No.” I looked out the window, at the water-streaked glass, at the dark currentshadow cloud that covered Voa. “Because I trust your judgment.”
She looked, for a moment, taken aback.
Then she nodded, turned, and left without a word.
She still didn’t like me, but it was possible she didn’t hate me, either. I would take what I could get, for now.
CHAPTER 55: AKOS
AKOS WALKED THE RAISED path that kept the farmers clear of the hushflowers. Half the hushflower crop from that season had been burned by Shotet invaders, but the farmers were still out there, tending what was left with their thick gloves on. It was lucky, they said, that the Shotet had come after the blooms were harvested, since they only needed the roots to survive anyway. Hessa’s crops would bounce back just fine.
The temple, on the other hand . . .
Akos still couldn’t bear to look up at it. Where the red glass dome had once glinted in the moonlight was now a big empty space. The Shotet had smashed it to bits. They had killed most of the oblates in the temple. They had swarmed the streets and filled the alleys. Two weeks later and Hessans were still dealing with the bodies. The dead were mostly soldiers, thanks to a brave oblate who had sounded the alarm, but some civilians, too.
He didn’t dare go into town. They might recognize him, or his sleeve might pull back and show his marks. They might attack him, if they knew what he was. Kill him, even. He wouldn’t blame them. He had let the Shotet in.
Mostly, though, he just couldn’t stand to look at any of it. What flashes he saw on the news were plenty.
So when he walked, it was through the iceflower fields, wrapped up in his warmest clothes, even though it was Thuvhe’s warmest time. The fields were a safe place. White purity blossoms were still popping off their stems and floating through the air, even now. Yellow jealousy dust was thick on the ground. It was desolate, everything gone until the Deadening time came again, but that suited him fine.
He hopped down from the raised path, onto the road. This time of year, when some of the snow went soft, it froze at night, so there was ice everywhere, and he had to be careful. The hooks on the bottom of his boots didn’t always catch, and he was still off balance with his arm in the sling. His careful steps took him as far west as the feathergrass, where his family’s house was nestled, safe and lonely.