We lock eyes. Until we have our vengeance. Livia and I haven't spoken of it. It was understood the first moment I saw her after that horrible day in the throne room.
My sister brushes out her hair. "You've heard nothing more of Elias?"
I shrug.
"And what of Harper?" Livvy tries again. "Stella Galerius has been angling to meet him."
"You should introduce them."
My sister furrows her brow as she watches me. "How is Dex? You two are so--"
"Dex is a loyal soldier and an excellent lieutenant. Marriage might be a bit more complicated for him. Most of your acquaintances aren't his type. And"--I lift up the mirror--"you can stop now."
"I don't want you to be lonely," Livvy says. "If we had Mother or Father or even Hannah, it would be different. But, Hel--"
"With respect, Empress," I say quietly. "My name is Blood Shrike."
She sighs, and I attach the mirror, straightening it with a touch. "All done."
I catch my reflection. I appear as I did just a few months ago, on the eve of my graduation. Same body. Same face. Only the eyes are different. I look into the pale gaze of the woman in front of me. For a moment, I see Helene Aquilla. The girl who hoped. The girl who thought the world was fair.
But Helene Aquilla is broken. Unmade. Helene Aquilla is dead.
The woman in the mirror is not Helene Aquilla. She is the Blood Shrike. The Blood Shrike is not lonely, for the Empire is her mother and her father, her lover and her best friend. She needs nothing else. She needs no one else.
She stands apart.
LVII: Laia
Marinn rolls out beyond the Forest of Dusk, a vast white carpet dotted with iced-over lakes and patches of forest. I've never seen a sky so clear and blue or breathed air that feels as if it's filling me with life every time I inhale.
The Free Lands. Finally.
Already, I love everything about this place. It is familiar in the way my parents would be familiar, I think, if I could see them again after all these years. For the first time in months, I do not feel the chokehold of the Empire around my throat.
I watch Araj give the final order to the Scholars to move out. Their relief is palpable. Despite Elias's assurances that no spirits would trouble us, the Forest of Dusk weighed heavier and heavier upon us the longer we spent within it. Leave, it seemed to hiss at us. You don't belong here.
Araj finds me beside the once-abandoned cabin I've reclaimed for Darin, myself, and Afya, a few hundred yards from the border of the Forest.
"Are you sure you don't wish to join us? I hear Adisa has healers that even the Empire cannot match."
"Another month in the cold would do him in." I nod to the cabin, sparkling clean within and glowing with the heat of a roaring fire. "He needs rest and warmth. If he is still not well in a few weeks, I will find a healer to come to me." I do not tell Araj my deepest secret fear: that I do not think Darin will wake up. That I think the blow was too much after all he had already suffered.
That I worry my brother is gone forever.
"I am in your debt, Laia of Serra." Araj looks out at the Scholars trickling to a road about a quarter mile distant. Four hundred and twelve, in the end. So few. "I hope I will see you in Adisa one day soon, with your brother at your side. Your people have need of someone like you."
He takes his leave and calls to Tas, who bids goodbye to Elias. A month of food, baths, and clean--if too large--clothes has done wonders for the child. But he's been pensive since killing the Warden. I've heard him moaning and crying out in his sleep. The old man haunts Tas still.
I watch as Elias offers Tas one of the Serric steel blades he stole off a Kauf guard.
Tas throws his arms around Elias's neck, whispering something that makes him grin, and scampers off to join the rest of the Scholars.
As the last of the group moves out, Afya emerges from the cabin. She too is dressed for travel.
"I've already spent too long away from my Tribe," the Zaldara says. "Skies know what Gibran's been up to in my absence. Probably has a half dozen girls with child by now. I'll be paying bribes to silence their angry parents until I'm broke."
"Something tells me Gibran is fine." I smile at her. "Did you say goodbye to Elias?"
She nods. "He's hiding something from me." I look away. I know very well what Elias is hiding. He has confided only to me about his deal with the Soul Catcher. And if the others have noticed that he's gone most of the night and for long stretches during the day, they've not seen fit to mention it.
"Best be sure he's not hiding anything from you," Afya continues. "Bad way to get into bed with someone."
"Skies, Afya," I sputter, looking behind me and hoping Elias hasn't heard. Thankfully, he's disappeared back into the Forest. "I'm not getting into bed with him, nor do I have any interest--"
"Don't bother, girl." Afya rolls her eyes. "It's embarrassing to listen to." She considers me for a second and then gives me a hug--swift and surprisingly warm.
"Thank you, Afya," I say into her braids. "For everything."
She releases me with an arched brow. "Speak of my honor far and wide, Laia of Serra," she says. "You owe me that. And take care of that brother of yours."
I look in through the cabin's windows at Darin. His dark blond hair is clean and cropped short, his face youthful and handsome again. I've carefully tended all of his wounds, and most are now nothing but scars.
But still, he has not stirred. Perhaps he never will.
A few hours after Afya and the Scholars have disappeared over the horizon, Elias emerges from the Forest. The cabin, so quiet now that everyone has left, suddenly feels less lonely.
He knocks before entering, bringing a burst of cold in with him. Beardless now, and with his hair cropped short and some of his weight back, he looks more like his old self.
Except his eyes. They are different. More thoughtful, perhaps. The weight of the burden he has taken on still astounds me. Though he has explained to me multiple times--that he accepted it with a whole heart, wanted it, even--I still feel angry at the Soul Catcher. There must be some way out of this vow. Some way Elias can live a normal life, travel to the Southern Lands he's always spoken of with such fondness. Some way he can visit his Tribe and be reunited with Mamie Rila.
For now, the Forest holds to him tightly. When he does emerge from the trees, it is never for long. Sometimes the ghosts even follow him out. More than once, I've heard the low timbre of his voice murmuring words of comfort to a wounded soul. Every now and then, he leaves the Forest frowning, his mind on some troublesome spirit. I know he's struggled with one in particular. I think it's a girl, but he doesn't speak about her.
"Dead chicken for your thoughts?"
He holds up the limp animal, and I nod to the basin. "Only if you pluck it."
I slide up onto the counter beside him as he works. "I miss Tas and Afya and Araj," I say. "It's so quiet without them."
"Tas worships you," Elias says with a grin. "I think he's in love, actually."
"Only because I told him stories and fed him," I say. "If only every boy were so easy to win over." I do not mean for the comment to sound so pointed, and I bite my lip as soon as I say it. Elias lifts a dark eyebrow and gives me a fleeting glance of curiosity before looking back down at the half-plucked chicken.
"You know he and all the other Scholars are going to talk about you in Adisa. You're the girl who razed Blackcliff and liberated Kauf. Laia of Serra. The ember waiting to burn down the Empire."
"It's not like I didn't have help," I say. "They'll talk about you too." But Elias shakes his head.
"Not in the same way," he says. "Even if they do, I'm the outsider. You're the Lioness's daughter. I think your people will expect much of you, Laia. Just remember, you don't have to do everything they ask."
I snort. "If they knew about Kee--the Nightbringer, they might change their minds about me."
"He fooled all of us, Laia." Elias gives the chicken a particularly violent chop. "
And one day, he'll pay."
"Maybe he already is paying." I think of the ocean of sadness inside the Nightbringer, the faces of all those he loved and destroyed in his quest to reconstruct the Star.
"I trusted him with my heart, and my brother, and my--my body." I have not spoken much with Elias about what happened between Keenan and me. We never had the privacy to do so. But now, I want to get it out. "The part of him that wasn't manipulating me--that wasn't using the Resistance, or planning the Emperor's death, or helping the Commandant sabotage the Trials--that part of him loved me, Elias. And some part of me, at least, loved him back. His betrayal can't be without cost. He must feel it."
Elias stares out the window at the swiftly darkening sky. "True enough," he says. "From what Shaeva told me, the armlet wouldn't pass to him unless he loved you truly. The magic isn't one-sided."
"So a jinn is in love with me. I far prefer the ten-year-old." I put my hand to the place my armlet once was. Even now, weeks later, I feel the ache of its absence. "What will happen now? The Nightbringer has the armlet. How many more pieces of the Star does he need? What if he finds them and sets his brethren free? What if--"
Elias puts a finger to my lips. Does he let it linger a little longer than it needs to?
"We'll figure it out," he says. "We'll find a way to stop him. But not today. Today, we eat chicken stew and tell stories of our friends. We talk about what you and Darin will do after he wakes up, and about how enraged my bat-crazy mother will be when she learns she didn't kill me. We'll laugh and complain about the cold and enjoy the warmth of this fire. Today, we celebrate the fact that we're still alive."
*
Sometime in the middle of the night, the wooden floor of the cabin creaks. I bolt up from my chair by Darin's bed, where I've fallen asleep wrapped in Elias's old cloak. My brother slumbers on soundly, his face unchanged. I sigh, wondering for the thousandth time if he will ever come back to me.
"Sorry," Elias whispers from behind me. "I didn't mean to wake you. I was at the edge of the Forest. Saw the fire went out and thought I'd bring in more wood."
I wipe the sleep from my eyes and yawn. "What time is it?"
"A few hours before dawn."
Through the window by my bed, the sky is dark and clear. A star shoots across the sky. Then two more.
"We could watch from outside," Elias says. "It will only go on for an hour or so."
I pull on my cloak and join him in the doorway of the little cabin. He stands slightly apart from me, his hands in his pockets. Falling stars streak overhead every few minutes. I catch my breath each time.
"It happens every year." Elias's eyes are fixed on the sky. "You can't see it from Serra. Too much dust."
I shiver in the cold night, and he eyes my cloak critically. "We should get you a new one," he says. "That can't be warm enough."
"You gave this to me. It's my lucky cloak. I'm not giving it up--ever." I pull it closer and catch his eyes as I say it.
I think of Afya's teasing when she left, and I flush. But I meant what I said to her. Elias is bound to the Waiting Place now. He does not have time for anything else in his life. Even if he did, I'm wary about incurring the wrath of the Forest.
At least, that is what I have resigned myself to thinking until this moment. Elias tilts his head, and for a second, the longing in his face is written as clearly as if he'd spelled it out in the stars.
I should say something, though, skies, what do I say, with the heat rising in my face and my skin so alive beneath his gaze? He too looks uncertain, and the tension between us is as heavy as a rain-filled sky.
Then his uncertainty vanishes, replaced by a raw, unfettered desire that sends my pulse into a frenzy. He steps toward me, backing me into the smooth, worn wood of the cabin. His breath goes as ragged as mine, and he brushes his fingers against my wrist, his warm hand trailing sparks up my arm, my neck, and across my lips.
He cups my face in both of his hands, waiting to see what I want, even as his pale eyes burn with need.
I grab the collar of his shirt and pull him to me, exulting at the feel of his lips against mine, at the rightness of finally giving in to each other. I think briefly of our kiss months ago in his room--frantic, born of desperation, desire, and confusion.
This is different--the fire hotter, his hands more certain, his lips less hurried. I slide my arms around his neck and rise to my toes, pressing my body against his. His rain-and-spice scent intoxicates me, and he deepens the kiss. When I run my teeth across his lower lip, savoring its lushness, he growls low in his throat.
Beyond us, deep in the Forest, something stirs. He inhales sharply and pulls away, lifting a hand to his head.
I look to the Forest. Even in the dark, I can see the treetops rustling. "The spirits," I say quietly. "They don't like it?"
"Not in the least. Jealous, probably." He tries to grin but only grimaces, his eyes pained.
I sigh and trace his mouth, letting my fingers drop to his chest and then his hand. I pull him toward the cabin. "Let's not upset them."
We tiptoe into the cabin and settle down beside the fire, arms entwined. At first, I am certain he will leave, called back to his task. But he doesn't, and I soon relax against him, my lids heavier and heavier as sleep beckons. I close my eyes, and I think I dream of clear skies and free air, Izzi's smile, Elias's laughter.
"Laia?" says a voice behind me.
My eyes fly open. It is a dream, Laia. You are dreaming. I must be. For I have wanted to hear that voice for months, since the day he screamed at me to run. I have heard that voice in my head, spurring me on during my weakest moments and giving me strength in my darkest.
Elias rises to his feet, joy etched onto his features. My legs don't seem to work, so he takes my hands to pull me standing.
I turn to look into my brother's eyes. For a long moment, all we can do is take in each other's faces.
"Look at you, little sister," Darin finally whispers. His smile is the sun rising after the longest, darkest night. "Look at you."
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
To Emberlings everywhere: the book bloggers who unlock worlds for readers, the artists who spent hours on drawings that bring Ember to life, the fans who laugh, yell, and cry with Laia, Elias, and Helene, and who pass their story on to others--none of this would exist without you. Thank you, thank you, with all my heart.
To Kashi--thank you for unconditional love, midnight grilled cheeses, ice cream runs, and endless encouragement. For making me laugh every day and for all the times you calmly took the helm while I wrote. You are the finest of dragon caretakers.
To my beloved boys--thank you for your patience with Mama when she was working. You make me brave. All of this is for you.
Immense thanks to my father, whose steady presence is a balm when everything else is topsy-turvy, and to my mother, who recently climbed a mountain of her own and still cheered as I climbed mine. You are the bravest person I know.
Mer and Boon, thank you for the calls, the conversations in British accents, the advice, the inappropriate jokes, and all the support you give without even realizing it.
Ben Schrank, thank you for seeing from the beginning what I hoped this book would be and having the wisdom and patience to help me get it right. I am so very lucky to have you as a publisher and friend.
Alexandra Machinist--your advice, gentle humor, and honesty kept me sane and on track. I don't know what I'd do without you.
Cathy Yardley--you pulled me out of the dark, listened, laughed with me, and said the words I needed to hear: "You can do this." Thank you.
My great appreciation to Jen Loja, who leads all of us with grace and whose belief in this series has been such a gift. Major thanks to the bad-asses at Razorbill: Marissa Grossman, Anthony Elder, Theresa Evangelista, Casey McIntyre, and Vivian Kirklin. Thank you to Felicia Frazier and the incomparable Penguin sales team; Emily Romero, Erin Berger, Rachel Lodi, Rachel Cone-Gorham, and the marketing team; Shanta Newlin, Lindsay Boggs, and the
publicity team; and Carmela Iaria, Alexis Watts, Venessa Carson, and the school and library team. I have no words for how fantastic you all are.
Renee Ahdieh, soul sister and fellow lover of 7s, bless you for the laughter, love, sob sessions, and the things I have no name for, all of which make you you. Adam Silvera, the trenches were less lonely because we were in them together--thank you for everything. Nicola Yoon--my thoughtful friend, I am so grateful for you. Lauren DeStefano, thank you for the all-hours chats, cat pictures, advice, and encouragement.
Much appreciation to Heelah S. for her wonderful sense of humor, Armo and Maani for their cuteness, and Auntie and Uncle for their unflagging support and belief in me.
Thank you to Abigail Wen (one day, we'll have our Sundays), Kathleen Miller, Stacey Lee, Kelly Loy Gilbert, Tala Abbasi, Marie Lu (we did it!), Margaret Stohl, Angela Mann, Roxane Edouard, Stephanie Koven, Josie Freedman, Rich Green, Kate Frentzel, Phyllis DeBlanche, Shari Beck, and Jonathan Roberts. A great big thank-you to all my foreign publishers, cover artists, editors, and translators for the incredible work you do.
Music is my home and that was made clear in the writing of this book. All my admiration to Lupe Fiasco for "Prisoner 1 & 2," Sia and The Weeknd for "Elastic Heart," Bring Me the Horizon for "Sleepwalking," George Ezra for "Did You Hear the Rain?," Julian Casablancas + the Voidz for "Where No Eagles Fly," Misterwives for "Vagabond," and M83 for "Wait." This book would not be what it is without these songs.
Final thanks to the one who is First and Last. I drifted this time. But you know my heart, and you know I'll return.
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