An Ember in the Ashes

His eyes cut sharply to me and I think he’s going to say something, but instead he drops his hand awkwardly, brow slightly furrowed, and leads us down the hallway and through a door. Mazen sits at a table in the room beyond, his scarred face lit by a lone candle.

“Well, Laia.” He lifts his gray eyebrows. “What do you have for me?”
“Can you tell me about Darin first?” I ask, finally able to voice the question that has plagued me for a week and a half. “Is he all right?”
“Your brother’s alive, Laia.”
A sigh gusts out of me, and I feel like I can breathe again.
“But I can’t tell you any more until you tell me what you have. We did make a deal.”
“Let her at least sit,” Sana pulls out a chair for me, and almost before I’m in it, Mazen leans forward.
“We have little time,” he says. “Whatever you’ve got, we need.”
“The Trials started about—about a week ago.” I scramble to connect the few scraps of information I do have. I’m not ready to give him the letter—not yet. If he breaks the seal or tears it, I’m done for. “That’s when the Aspirants disappeared. There are four of them. Their names—”
“We know all that.” Mazen dismisses my words with the wave of a hand.
“Where were they taken? When does the Trial end? What’s the next one?”
“We’ve heard that two of the Aspirants returned today,” Keenan says. “Not long ago, in fact. Maybe half an hour.”
I think of the guards talking excitedly at Blackcliff’s gate as two horsemen came up the road. Laia, you fool. If I’d paid closer attention to the auxes’ gossip, I might have learned which Aspirants had survived the Trial. I might have had something useful to tell Mazen.
“I don’t know. It’s been so—so hard,” I say. Even as I speak, I hear how pathetic I sound and hate myself for it. “The Commandant killed my parents. She has this wall with posters of every rebel she’s caught. My parents were up there—their faces—”
Sana’s eyes widen, and even Keenan looks slightly sick, his aloofness falling away for a moment. I wonder why I’m telling Mazen this. Perhaps because some part of me wonders if he knew the Commandant killed my parents—if he knew and sent me to Blackcliff anyway.
“I didn’t know,” Mazen says, sensing my unasked question. “But it’s all the more reason that this mission must succeed.”
“I want to succeed more than anyone, but I can’t get into her office. She never has visitors, so I can’t eavesdrop on her—”
Mazen holds up a hand to stop me. “What do you know, exactly?”
For one frantic moment I consider lying. I’ve read a hundred tales of heroes and the trials they face—what harm if I invent one and pass it off as truth? But I can’t bring myself to do it. Not when the Resistance is placing their trust in me.
“I...nothing.” I stare at the floor, ashamed at the incredulity on Mazen’s face. I reach for the letter but don’t pull it out. Too risky. Maybe he’ll give you another chance, Laia. Maybe you can try again.
“What, exactly, have you been doing all this time?”
“Surviving, from the looks of it,” Keenan says. His dark eyes flash to mine, and I can’t tell if he’s defending or insulting me.
“I was loyal to the Lioness,” Mazen says. “But I can’t waste my time helping someone who won’t help me.”
“Mazen, for skies’ sake,” Sana sounds aghast. “Look at the poor girl—”
“Yes.” Mazen eyes the bruises on my neck. “Look at her. She’s a mess. The mission’s too difficult. I made a mistake, Laia. I thought you’d take risks. I thought you were more like your mother.”
The insult levels me faster than a blow from the Commandant. Of course he’s right. I’m nothing like my mother. She’d have never been in this position to begin with.
“We’ll see about getting you out.” Mazen shrugs and stands. “We’re done here.”
“Wait...” Mazen can’t abandon me now. Darin is lost if he does. Reluctantly, I take out the Commandant’s letter. “I have this. It’s from the Commandant to the Emperor. I thought you could look at it.”
“Why didn’t you say that to begin with?” He takes the envelope, and I want to tell him to be careful. But Sana beats me to it, and Mazen gives her a brief, annoyed look before gently lifting the seal.
Seconds later, my heart sinks again. Mazen tosses the letter to the table.
“Useless,” he says. “Look.”
Your Imperial Majesty,
I will make the arrangements.
Ever your servant,
Commandant Keris Veturia
“Don’t give up on me,” I say when Mazen shakes his head in disgust. “Darin doesn’t have anyone else. You were close to my parents. Think of them—please. They wouldn’t want their only son to die because you refused to help.”
“I’m trying to help.” Mazen is unrelenting, and something about the set of his shoulders and the iron in his eyes reminds me of my mother. I understand now why he’s leader of the Resistance. “But you have to help me. This rescue mission will cost more than just lives. We’ll be putting the Resistance itself on the line. If our fighters are caught, we risk them giving up information under interrogation. I’m gambling everything to help you, Laia.” He crosses his arms. “Make it worth my while.”
“I will. I promise I will. One more chance.”
He stares stonily at me for a moment longer before looking to Sana, who nods, and Keenan, who offers a shrug that could mean any number of things.
“One chance,” Mazen says. “Fail me again and we’re done. Keenan, see her out.”
XVI: Elias, SEVEN DAYS EARLIER
The Great Wastes. That’s where the Augurs have left me, in this salt-white flatness that stretches for hundreds of miles, marked by nothing but angry black cracks and the occasional gnarled Jack tree.
The pale outline of the moon sits above me like something forgotten. It’s more than half-full, as it had been yesterday—which means that somehow the Augurs have moved me three hundred miles from Serra in one night. At this time yesterday, I was in Grandfather’s carriage, on my way to Blackcliff.