We’re nearing the top of the stairs, and Relucia brings me to a halt before we get close to the door. Keeps her voice to a whisper. “I meant what I said about following your contact’s instructions, Diago. Whatever he asks. To the letter.”
I issue a curt, irritated nod.
We are let out by the still displeased-looking guard—apparently having beaten any response by Military to our presence—into the early morning light of Caten. Already the city is bustling. Will-powered carts move smoothly along cobbled streets. Weary-looking Octavii trudge to work. This prison—there are several, in the Republic’s capital—is a distance from the harbour, but I can see water sparkling, the slope falling away to provide an intimidating view of the thousands upon thousands of buildings between. I’ve been living here for more than a week. The size and scope of the place still dismays me.
Relucia parts ways almost immediately, embracing me enthusiastically and murmuring all the excited and heartfelt things she’d say if she was really my mother. She’s so proud of me. So glad I’m alright. She cannot wait to see how I perform during Placement. There aren’t too many people around, but she puts on the show anyway.
I take it all with good grace. Play the part too. I don’t have a plan, yet—too much has happened too fast, and I need time to get my bearings—but I’ll need the Anguis’s trust before all of this is over.
I watch as she walks off, then sigh and face southward, in the direction of the harbour. I’m already getting glances from passersby. This gods-damned arm is much more than just a physical impediment.
I’m so lost in thought that I almost don’t register the figure that rises from its seated position, detaches from the shadows across the street from the prison. When I do, I stop short. Heart clenching. Suddenly, painfully unsure what to do.
“Hail, Vis,” says Emissa with a nervous smile.
XVI
I STARE AT EMISSA. SURPRISED. DELIGHTED. FURIOUS.Panicked. So tangled up in myself that I don’t respond for several seconds. The dark-haired girl in the middle of the street just watches me. Lit by the dawn. Smile painfully uncertain.
“Emissa.” I finally get the name out. “What are you doing here?”
It comes out harsher than I mean it to, and Emissa winces. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to ambush you like this. We can talk another time. Or not,” she adds with hesitant insecurity. “But I know you have a carriage just around the corner. Could I ride with you? Just give me until you get home.”
It’s less than ten minutes to my apartments. “Alright.” It’s not alright, not entirely, but I can’t avoid her forever. I don’t want to avoid her forever. I think.
And while I don’t believe she’s still intent on killing me, it doesn’t hurt that the driver will be a witness to her company.
“How did you know I was here?”
“I’ve been trying to contact you since the Columnae attack. Even Veridius couldn’t get you a message.” She fidgets with her clothing. “I knew you’d come to see Lanistia eventually, though.”
Of course. Given both her father’s position and her sway as Military’s top graduate, it wouldn’t have been hard to arrange word of my visit. “Veridius sent you?”
“Not exactly.”
We pass a clump of grim-looking Octavii. They glance at us sourly before one of them brightens, whispering something to her companions; suddenly they’re all nodding and murmuring “Stronger together” to me as they pass. I force a smile back in acknowledgement. A common occurrence. “Meaning?”
“Meaning I wanted to see you, and Veridius wanted me to pass along a message. But mostly, I wanted to see you.” Sincerity in the emphasis.
We reach the carriage and I just grunt as we get in, the driver eyeing Emissa but making no objection. I’m still too disoriented, too twisted up, to know what emotion I want to display. Brusqueness is a convenient shield at the moment.
There are only the sounds of waking Caten around us as the Will-carriagebegins to roll. So much that needs to be said, to be explained, but I don’t think either of us know where to begin.
Eventually, Emissa speaks into the awkwardness.
“I thought you were already dead. That you’d died and been replaced by something very dangerous.” She doesn’t look at me. Her brow is furrowed, long brown hair falling over her face. Her calm façade vanished. Or perhaps this is the façade. But I have never heard her sound so vulnerable or small or sad as when she makes the admission. “When I stabbed you, that night. I really thought …” She trails off.
“What?” I whisper it. Shake my head. Spread my hands to show my utter confusion. “Whywould you think that?”
“It was your blood. Veridius said you’ve been to the ruins near the Academy—been underground?” She takes a breath. Steadies. Meets my gaze long enough to see me confirm it. “Then you saw those bodies in there. The ones with the swords through their chests, but that can talk.”
I shudder. “Yes.”
“I thought you were one of those. ‘Iunctii,’ Veridius calls them. Already dead, but … not. He warned me that there are more of them out there, and they’re not always like that. Not always obvious. They can move around. Even pretend to be the people they once were.”
I think of the husks chasing me from the dome.Complete the journey, warrior.
Vek. My stomach twists as more connections come. “Gods. Lanistia …”
