“It’s so easy to think that way,” I say, envying the simplicity of her outrage. “I never appreciated what a luxury it was to see things as black or white. I guess it’s harder to do after a Riser has tortured you and branded you and murdered the people you love.”
Skarlet’s scowl deepens. “I made a mistake bringing you here. What you’ve endured has made you prejudiced—”
“No,” I say, setting my jaw. “It’s made me entitled.”
“Entitled to what, exactly?”
“Justice.”
I go around her and grab the bayonet off the bed, and I stab the blade into Corinthe’s arm. Swivelling my neck to look at Skarlet, whose mouth is hanging open, I warn, “Stand back. That’s an order.”
Corinthe’s bloodcurdling scream rings in my ears, and as her blood gushes out, my hand remains on the levlan handle, the blade still buried in her skin. My muscles recoil, and nausea fights its way up my throat, but I don’t move away. Her eyes sear with agony, and I start to lose myself in their greenness. I’ll never again see Stan’s pale irises grow vivid with excitement or shiny with emotion or dark with determination or soft with compassion or—
My head knocks into the wall as Skarlet shoves me back and yanks her bayonet out of Corinthe. Then she holds up the bloody knife in horror and stares at me like I’m the only monster in this cell.
The same horror works its way up from my Center as I stare at Corinthe.
Her smile is large and delirious, her eyes dancing with dark delight. Blood is still streaming down her white-sleeved arm, but she doesn’t seem aware of it.
“I knew you weren’t better than the rest of us,” she rasps, her voice gravelly from lack of use.
Skarlet gasps and spins around at the sound, but Corinthe doesn’t break our stare.
“You’re not so incorruptible after all.”
I step toward the bed. “You’re right,” I say, coming as close to Corinthe as I was before. “Don’t you want to see how dark I go?”
I take her hand in mine again, and I’m pleased to feel her fingers twitching in response to my touch, like she’s fighting the technology immobilizing her. “Lucky for us, you have nine more nails to lose. And that’s just for starters.”
Fear flickers in her eyes, and her smile starts to look fake. “Tell me what your master wants with my best friend,” I demand.
A muscle in her jaw quivers, but she doesn’t answer.
“Why did he recruit Nishi to lead the Tomorrow Party?”
She doesn’t answer again, and I wrap my hand around her next finger in anticipation.
“I don’t know his plans,” she suddenly growls, and I hear Skarlet step closer to us. “But I know they don’t involve your friends. So if he hasn’t killed her yet, he’s keeping her for another reason.”
For me, I realize, and I drop Corinthe’s hand.
He’s holding Nishi as leverage—she’s a prisoner because of me.
“But he doesn’t want me,” I blurt. “Not yet.” He said so at the Cathderal—he needed Mom because he wants to find the Luminaries, but he said I wasn’t ready to join him yet. So why hasn’t he awoken Nishi?
“Where is his full army?” asks Skarlet, coming up beside me.
Corinthe keeps her gaze on me when she answers. “We move somewhere new every month. I don’t know where they’d be by now.”
“So why don’t you tell us what you do know?” I ask, leaning in until our noses are almost touching.
“All I know is the Marad was unleashed to cause as much chaos and death and distrust as we can—to make the Houses pay for their sins. As long as two people never come to harm.”
One side of her mouth hitches up. “But I’ve never cared for rules.”
“Who?” I ask.
Hatred hardens the skin of her face until it looks like she’s wearing a mask. “You, unfortunately . . . and Ophiuchus.”
“Why? What does he want with me?”
“Isn’t that just the question of our time?”
She must sense the violence rising within me, because before I can reach for her hand again, she clarifies, “I doubt anyone actually knows.”
Then her too-familiar eyes light up with deadly intrigue as she adds, “But judging by his methods, I’m guessing it’s the last thing you’re willing to give him.”
10
WHEN I OPEN MY EYES in the morning, Hysan is in my tent again.
He’s clean-shaven and sitting at the end of my bed, wearing an expression too gentle for war. “I came to see how you’re feeling,” he says in his husky voice, “but I couldn’t bring myself to wake you.”
I don’t speak or sit up. I don’t remember falling asleep.
All I remember is staring up through the tent’s star-shaped window at the velvety black sky, imagining what new tortures Nishi must be enduring at nightmare-Corinthe’s hand. And when glints of gold began burning holes in the darkness, a plan came together in my mind.
“Better,” I say, sliding up in my red silk pajamas and propping my back against the bed’s headboard. “Thanks for coming by.”
“Of course, Rho,” says Hysan, his voice fuller now that he knows he’s welcome. “Skar said she missed last night’s meeting because you asked her to stay with you until you fell asleep. She told me you were scared to be alone.”
My jaw instinctively clenches. Of course she would come up with a lie that makes me sound weak.
“I just wish she would have had the forethought to offer you a dreamless sleeping tonic so you could have gotten more rest,” he adds, studying what must be the bags under my eyes.
“Yeah, she’s not the brightest log in the fire,” I say, using a Sagittarian expression Nishi taught me.
Pain pinches my chest at the thought of my best friend, and I fight it down by clearing my throat. “So I guess we should have that meeting now.” I pull off the covers and swing a leg off the bed.
“Not yet.”
I stop moving as I register Hysan’s frown. “Why?”
“There’s something you need to know first.”
Adrenaline burns the drowsiness from my body, and I ask, “What is it?”
His eyes grow bright, making the golden star in his right iris sparkle, and my stomach tenses from the tender way he’s looking at me. “I need you to know I’m truly sorry for lying to you about your mom.”
“You already told me that on Pisces.” I try to infuse my voice with warmth, but his words produce only ice inside me. I haven’t forgiven him yet.
“I know,” he says heavily, “but now there’s something else you need to know. I should have brought it up yesterday, but I thought you deserved a day to recover.”
The same spark of hope I felt when he and I spoke then—that fleeting instant when I thought I might not have to carry this pain alone—flickers in my chest again, threatening to melt my glacial shell of numbness. He’s going to tell me he knows Nishi’s location.
“Go on,” I say eagerly.
“Do you remember that Capricorn girl who walked past us at dinner last night?” he asks.
I nod as I recall the brown-suited girl, and his brow furrows deeper. “She’s a Luminary. I’ve confirmed her identity—she’s come to help us.”
I try to hide my disappointment by keeping completely still.
This isn’t about Nishi.
“Her name is Gamba,” he goes on, somehow oblivious to the light that just went out inside me. “And she’s helping us because of your mom. They were close.”