“What?” she said.
“Just,” he began and stopped. “Your hair. I’ve never seen it undone.”
“I didn’t have the strength to braid it,” she said, and it was true.
“You don’t need to,” Yassen said. After a moment, he added, “It still looks beautiful.”
She raised an eyebrow, surprised. And slightly flustered. Yassen seemed to be as well, because he quickly pointed to the map.
“It’s, ah, it’s this tunnel,” he said quickly.
Despite herself, Elena smiled. She drew closer as Yassen highlighted a path.
“We’re here. These tunnels skirt the mines and lead to Samson’s base.” He pointed at the black dot above a crisscross of red lines. “I say we rest for a day, maybe two, and then start heading toward the Black Scales.”
“Why are some of the tunnels marked in red?”
“Samson said these were inaccessible, or just haven’t been explored recently enough to know. But.” Yassen paused, eyebrows crinkling. “I was thinking about what you said. You’re right. I have a feeling Samson wanted me to come here.” He stopped, abruptly. Grief, quick like a spider, skittered across his face.
Elena lightly placed her hand on his. He turned his palm, curling his fingers around hers.
“He said that there were some tunnels Farin knew about, some he didn’t,” Yassen continued after a moment, his voice tight. “I have a feeling Samson marked these red to mislead the metal king.”
“Do you think they lead to the deposit he is so desperate to find?” she asked, voice soft.
Yassen shook his head. “I don’t care to find out.”
There was a brittle edge to his voice. Elena pulled her hand away, remembered his darkened expression in the train.If we carry the burdens of our fathers, we’ll never know what it means to be free.
“Yassen,” she began.
“Did Samson really want me to be free?” he asked, as if reading her thoughts. The edge was gone, replaced by a fragile tremor. “Or did he plan to use me to find the new ore?”
Yes, she wanted to say but could not. Samson Kytuu may have been her fiancé, full of charm and sweet words but also ambition. Anger of his own. She remembered their dance when he had looked at her and asked,Just yours?The unease she had felt. They did not know his secrets, and perhaps they never would. He had taken them to his grave, and they could not hate him for it.
“He loved you, you know,” Elena said. She remembered how Samson had stared at Yassen when he had found them together below the arena. The longing in his eyes. “Sometimes we use the ones we love.”
“For better or for worse, right?” he said, his smile grim.
“Yes,” she said in a hushed voice.
“But that’s love, isn’t it?” Yassen said. “To be willing to be used. Again and again, because we can’t stop. Because it would be torture to be without them.”
He was looking at her, watching her, and Elena felt heat rush through her, as if there was something else he meant beneath his words.
The moment shattered as a sudden drone filled the cabin. She whipped around.
“Easy, easy,” Yassen said, touching her arm. “It’s just the mines. They’re starting work.”
Elena glanced out the window. The cabin quivered, ever so slightly, the windows rattling in their frames.
“Phoenix Above,” she muttered. “And you would hear this all day?”
“All the fucking time,” he muttered.
Elena considered for a moment, looking between Yassen and the map. “Are there tunnels between here and the mines?”
“None,” he said.
