Creators.
I shove my tongue to the right side of my mouth, feeling around said cap. “Let’s file that under Things Raeve Doesn’t Need To Know,” I mutter, making for the cabinet where I pull out a mug.
Ever.
“Noted. I, ahh …” I glance back to see her shuffling in her seat, scratching at the back of her head. “Given Rekk’s renowned accolades, I was hoping to get it attached …”
“There’s no rush.” With this new, rather revolting information, the least amount of rush ever.
“What if he targets you?”
I lift the jug of filtered water from our icebox, filling my mug. “I’ve been instructed to lie low, and we both know Rekk can’t get me here. The only way we’ll clash is if I accidentally run into him on my way to pick up my handsaw and accidentally slit his throat, accidentally going against Sereme’s direct orders and accidentally saving the life of one of my comrades.”
The only upside to being indispensable? I’m almost certain Sereme won’t fatally maim me for the transgression. Just rough me up until she feels like she’s got control again.
The usual shit.
Essi’s chair grinds against the floor as I gulp my belly full of water, draining the mug before I place it in the basin and grab a band off the counter, using it to pull my heavy hair back into a high updo.
The silence grows prickly and needles me from behind.
I turn.
Essi’s no longer facing her project. She’s facing me, hands on her knees, eyes wide and brimming with worry. A look that impales me through the chest so hard I feel it poke out the other side.
“Stop,” I growl. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Why is she looking at me like that?
Her eyes gloss over with a sheen of sadness that’s so much worse. “Raeve, I can’t lose you—”
“We don’t do this, Essi. We work just fine the way we are. Don’t break something that’s not broken.”
Her brows pinch together as she opens her mouth, but nothing comes out. Like the words are too big to wrestle free.
Good. They should stay in. I don’t want her to tell me she’s worried. That she cares. I don’t want to say those same words back to her.
The folk I care about die.
“The point is moot, anyway.” I spin, rinsing my mug and plate in the basin, eyes firmly cast on the task. “I can’t go to the Undercity until I receive a lark signaling the all clear.” I dry both bits of crockery, put them away, then move to the trough and gather my things. “I’m exhausted. I’ll get these stupid feathers off my lashes, catch some rest, then collect your spangle shit once I receive a lark from Sereme. Deal?”
She doesn’t answer.
When the stretch of silence grows too loud, I spin, looking into her big, tear-filled eyes.
Shit.
“Deal, Essi?”
Lips pinched into a thin line, she nods—the slow beat of a reluctant agreement.
I make for the trapdoor that leads to my suite and lift the hatch, stilling halfway down the steps when Essi’s words impale me like a blade thrown between my ribs, wedging deep. “I don’t like Sereme any more than you do, but for once, I think you should listen to her. Please, Raeve. I ne—” She sighs, pausing before she throws another verbal dagger, this one knocking the breath right out of me. “You’re the only family I have.”
I squeeze my lips so tight together I’m surprised they don’t fuse.
Essi’s broken. Actually, this entire cycle’s broken. I need to close the cover on it and flip a new one—a normal one—where folk stop voicing their concerns for my well-being and calling me family. I don’t get nice things like that without a price tag too heavy for me to pay.
“Please don’t go to the Undercity without me. You know I hate it when you go down there alone.” I step out of her line of sight, swinging the trapdoor back into place with a heavy clunk.
My suite is sparse compared to the rest of our living space, the only decoration aside from a single piece of wall art being the moons I’ve drawn upon my otherwise unpainted ceiling with bits of coal. Essi’s never asked why, though by the way this dae is going, it wouldn’t surprise me if she charged down here and dumped the question at my feet like a steaming pile of spangle shit.
“Dammit,” I mutter, lumping my stuff on the ground. I release a heavy sigh, casting my low-lidded stare on my twill pallet stretched across the ground by the large window that dominates my southern wall.
No stuffy blankets or pillows. Just a comfortable space to curl up and pass out. Something I want to do right now, but if I don’t pick these feathers off, I’ll wake up looking like a scraggly Moltenmaw midmolt, missing sprigs of my lashes.
Been there. Done that.
“Don’t be lazy, Raeve. Deal with your shit.”
I scoop my things off the floor again and move through to my dressing space tucked behind the back wall, hanging my gown, pulling my daggers free from all the hidden compartments like plucking a bird of its plumage. I shelve them all except the one I keep strapped to my thigh, checking my skinsuit for blood. Finding none, I decide it’s fine to sleep in and hone the dregs of my energy into scrubbing my boots, removing the damn feathers and taking care of my business, battling through a yawn as I step back into my sleepsuite.
I pause before a flat piece of stone hanging on the wall, carved to look like a nesting Moonplume. Easing it aside, I reach into the hole behind, retrieve a small wooden box that I carry to my pallet, placing it beside the window.
The pane of glass is stretched from floor to ceiling, offering a view of The Fade’s gradual smudge into the distant Shade, framed by frosty runes that make the window look like stone from the other side. Another one of Essi’s clever adaptations.
Seeking that wonky moon in the distance, I see the rising aurora tangled around it like the frayed threads of a silver gown unraveled by the handsy wind.
A soft smile fills my cheeks despite this weight settling in my chest, like something’s sitting on me. Something that feels a bit like … regret.
My smile falls.
Essi called me family and I walked away. After everything she’s been through, I walked away.
What the fuck is wrong with me?
How can I look at that moon with so much love in my heart—love that ricochets off my ribs every time I look at Essi?
Stupid question. I know exactly what’s wrong with me.
Loving that moon feels safe. Moonfalls are so rare it’ll likely always be there, accepting my quiet adoration.
Loving Essi … it makes me feel like I’m handling something fragile that’ll break apart in my hands if I tighten my grip even the slightest bit.
Sighing, I lift the lid on my small box.
Nee bats her plain parchment wings and rises from the hollow, fluttering around me in a churn of giddy motion, nuzzling my face, shoulder, neck. She tries to wiggle into my ear, making it impossible not to smile.
“Careful not to hurt yourself,” I murmur, gently nudging her away from my face and easing her toward the rest of the room so she can stretch her little wings. She does a few lofty loops, then tucks her head and plummets—too fast.
Too far away.
She collides with the floor beak-first, and I flinch.
Fuck.
I scramble up and dash to her, swooping her into my palm. “Nee, I really wish you’d stop doing this …”
She jerks, flipping onto her back, baring the three beautifully scrawled letters visible on her abdomen, the rest of her message tucked within the darts of her streamlined body.
I cut her an incredulous glare, unimpressed by the not-so-subtle nudge for me to unfold her. “You know, of all the tricks you use to get me to read you, this is my least favorite,” I mutter, waiting for her to move again. To dart back into the air and burn off all the energy she’s built up while I’ve been out.
Nothing.
“I’m serious.” I jiggle my hand. “You look dead. Stop it.”
Still, she doesn’t move.
I blow on her. Again.
Again.
My heart crimps. “Nee—”