Representative of the Inka?
“I’m your hero–”
“You were not told to speak,” she interrupts, but it only makes me want to quiet her instead of the other way around.
It’s my right.
My swirling emotions make me dizzy, and it reminds me of the wind that threatened to deafen me right outside this room. Every thought in my head contradicts the other. The Inka means nothing to me. The Inka is my whole purpose. The Inka is the strongest force in our empire. The princess will put her to shame, just as I will to my mother.
I am here to serve them better than my mother has.You are here to serve something else.The foreign thought startles me.
I take a deep breath, and my vision refocuses.
I focus on the ceramic tile wall depicting the rising sun to avoid facing her and doing something stupid. I have never seen such a deep red as the one where land meets sky on the tiles. I stare and stare and the world drops into place tile by tile.
I’m the hero, and nothing can change that. I fulfilled the fated action. The diviners all saw it. I’m responsible for the safety of our empire, and guardians be damned, I want to hear them say it.
I tear my eyes away and glare with the intensity of the sun.
The Inka is ready for me when I face her full on. Or, she is the perfect depiction of readiness, divinity, and strength, but she also wears the same expression my mother often does. I don’t pretend to know the Inka, or my mother really, but I know that look.
Eyes that are both cool and on fire. They are my mother's eyes the day the diviners declared the calamity.
So why are they looking at me like I’m the harbinger of their end?
“I’m the Guardians–”
A foot hits the back of my knees, and my bones make a dull thud as they hit the floor. It doesn’t hurt as much as the jagged stone ripping into my tunic and cutting my knees. I don’t know when she did it, but the Inka must have motioned forward guards I never noticed were in the room. The shock of pain ignites something far worse in my blood, spreading through my body like liquid barbed wire.
I had half an hour before the pain hit, and I don’t need a clock to know my time is running out.
“You are not in a position to be speaking over the Inka, Sinchinrei,” a cool voice says. The wave of pain that erupts beneath my ribs almost distracts me from the voice, but of course, I can’t miss it. Despite not noticing her in the room, I could never ignore my mother’s voice.
Which is why I catch the barely there whisper at the end. “Don’t mention your mimicry.”
I know what she really means. Don’t mention your lack of mimicry.
Her hand lifts my head by the back of my hair. That, plus the unrelenting pressure holding my hands behind my back to lean me forward, strains my neck enough to make it hard to breathe.
It isn’t enough for me to keep my mouth shut, though.
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to kneel for anyone anymore?” I can’t help myself. I never could.
“That is enough,” my mother says.
But is it?
“I did not come here to speak to the Apukispay. I’m here to–” Another wave of pain, and damn do I fight it. I hope the Inkasees the fire in my eyes that’s so infamous for showing up when I’m in pain.
“I’m here to speak with the Inka,” I continue with the taste of iron in my mouth. “And get confirmation for what we all know.” I bite down deeper into my cheek and focus on the metallic taste and lightning frenzy of frayed nerves. I don’t realize the world is blurry until I attempt to focus my eyes. The Inka wears the same expression. Ice and fire.
“That fire and ice. Your worry is melting out of you,” I slur.
My mother yanks my head further back, and I wheeze for air.
In my head, I hear a crack. It’s a phantom sound. I know this. I’ve heard it many times after a Serpent mimic heals one of my broken bones. It’s the body processing all the memories of the accelerated healing process. I’ve had at least two bones healed at once, and the combined effect of the phantom noise popped my ears. Now, there is thunder jostling my brain.
Through my distorted gaze, I see the Inka open her mouth, but all I hear is my ears ringing. My mother nods her head and lifts me against my will, every muscle in my legs protesting. It’s my abdomen that really fights, however, feeling so tight and bruised that she has to push to straighten my back out of a hunch.
