Since then, I begged Suyai to use her Ave Mimicry to latch onto any strong projections taking place on palace grounds. It’s her unique manifestation of the Ave’s true power, one even the army hasn’t documented. Suyai avoided using it at all costs, and I tried to hold my tongue when I realized it could be used to our advantage.
I could never help myself, though. And Suyai isn’t in the habit of denying me anything.
Suyai’s chest rises and falls violently as she lurches up and gags. She heaves and expels bile into the grass and wipes away tears and leftover spit from her face with the back of her hand. “Guardians be damned, I hate that,” she says and then pauses for a few seconds. “Ow, Rei!”
She holds her cheek and glares at me.
“Don’t blame me! It was an easy block,” I say.
“Yeah, real easy when I’m choking on cursed mimicry. One of the many messed-up things you’ve begged me to interfere with, in case you forgot,” Suyai says and spits out more saliva onto the ground.
“What did you see?” I immediately ask. So, it was mimicry she was sensing. With her specialty, she must have seen the entire projection.
“The diviners have commanded that the Guardians’ Ceremony take place in three days.”
“What?” I whisper. “That can’t be right.” A shameful sense of excitement fills me.
“That’s what your mother said. Word for word,” Suyai says.
We stand up. This time it’s my turn to hold her as she sways on her feet. Even the smallest amount of mimicry can exhaust an untrained person. I can only handle her weight because of the coca and my greater muscle mass. We walk in the direction of the barracks.
The walls fencing in the palace grounds no longer intimidate me, though they used to make my mouth drop in awe. This is what my mom left me for, and what I left my family for in her footsteps. The Guardian blessed walls, ten-inch tall gold bricks lining them. The jagged and rough stone walls of the barracks.
The promise of becoming something greater than my mother could ever be.
“The Guardians’ Ceremony,” Suyai whispers in disbelief.
“The Guardians’ Ceremony will reveal the hero worthy of wielding the Sun Staff and fighting for the survival of the empire.” I recite, though the words feel like they come from outside of me. “The diviners must believe the calamity is happening sooner than we thought.”
Suyai sucks in a ragged breath. “And your mother won’t even bless us with her presence and gather us for more details. We’ll receive all further communication from–“
“Your Kama. Yes, Suyai, thank you,” a calm voice behind us says.
My mother.
Chapter 2
Suyai turns to face her, but I’m frozen. While Suyai grips me even tighter, my hands let her go and drop to my sides.
“Go home, Suyai. You’re too tired to keep fighting,” my mother says, and I feel her cold hand wrap around my upper arm, right above Suyai’s burning one. My mother’s skin is ice, just like mine always is. We run cold. “And report your specialty to your Kama once your strength is back up. We’ll be needing that.”
Suyai pales, caught red-handed using a power she wanted to keep hidden from the army in order not to rise in rank. I should feel guilty, but a part of me celebrates. This might give Suyai an advantage as well. The army keeps writing off my mimicry as delayed, but it’s only a matter of time before they try to use it as a reason to limit me. At least Suyai won’t have to fight that battle.
Of course, my mother doesn’t think I need rest. I’m her daughter after all. I’m not supposed to be tired and trembling and dependent on Suyai to stay upright.
Suyai doesn’t move an inch.
“Sinchinrei, I need to speak to you,” my mother says, but it doesn’t do a thing to get Suyai to leave. “Without Suyai.”
Suyai ignores her and turns to face me.
“I won’t repeat myself,” my mother says, but I know that’s not what gets Suyai to nod and leave. It’s the pleading in my eyes.
My mother lets go of my arm and turns. I don’t understand how Suyai’s warmth drains from my skin so fast, but my mother’s cold leaves me frozen. When was the last time I felt a mother’s touch? It's the image of her walking away that breaks my paralysis.
When my mother left, I was six, and I knew right there and then that she would never come back. She sent an invitation to test for the Inka’s army when I turned 12, and I wrote her asking for an invitation for Suyai as well. That was that.
The army exam is set up to prove a person’s worth, and at the end, it’s a simple yes or no. Yes, I’m worthy to follow my mother after all these years. No, she was right to leave me behind.
