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“You’re always sweating,” Camina said.
“It’s just the sun,” April said. “We’re in a metal car. Roll down the windows.”
The cars pulled up near a rectangular building with pillars framing the entrance, just behind a wide plaza with a raised wooden scaffold, like an outdoor theater. Bundles of thick yellow curtains covered up half a dozen concealed objects on stage. It started to sprinkle rain, so we were ushered into a covered market. I grabbed Loralie’s hand and ran for cover. Inside we were handed raincoats.
The stalls were full of colorful artwork on large frames. A few were still in progress. One of the artists handed Loralie a wet brush and let her write her name across a blank canvas.
“She could stay here, you know,” Damien said, as he buttoned up my raincoat. “They have the best art schools.”
“I’ll ask her later,” I said. “She’s still a bit insecure about her eye.” She was dressed in quality clothes from the citadel, with a pair of dark, round spectacles that covered the scars over her eyes. In Algrave, it could have attracted teasing, but with us, as part of a royal envoy, Loralie looked like an eccentric princess. And the styles of Gostras, with colorful fabric and unique accessories, almost made her fit in as a trendsetter.
“It’s weird,” I murmured. “Almost like the gloves I used to wear, to hide my marks. It was always something to be embarrassed about. Now it’s just who I am.”
“The blemished huntress who seduced the prince,” Damien smiled. “The distinguished beauty. Sorry, I’ve been listening to Tobias practice his speeches.”
“Put in that context, I like ‘marked rebel’ better.”
Tobias wasn’t the new king. But he was something. Chief of political relations, or some bullshit title. People mostly just wanted to see an elite face, and trust that somebody knew what they were doing in the citadel.
We took a small tour of the studios and a museum of preserved art from the Before, then sat in an outdoor restaurant with large umbrellas and flickering lanterns as the sun began to fade. The food was surprisingly good, tender and well-seasoned. Some kind of cheesy, layered pasta and large bowls of leafy greens and vegetables.
An orchestra played background music and we watched a few dance routines while we ate. I barely noticed when the sun went down. It was still cloudy, but the moon peeked out behind the clouds and the rain slowed to a misty drizzle.
A half-hour later, Penelope arrived with Jamie. He was half her height, in a fine suit, with a quiet, sullen expression. But after having been around so many elite, I knew he was just being careful. With his new speed and strength, not to mention the constant thirst, being around this many humans would be difficult. I was a little worried about him joining us, but Penelope placed a hand on his shoulder and gave me a wink. She’d keep an eye on him, which is more than I could do.
Finally the mayor began some kind of welcoming speech, and a line of local artists and administrators lined up to the sides of the stage, while a trumpet and a cello played a rousing jazz duet. Tobias sat next to me, pushing back his long blonde curls. The scent of so much elixir, so close, was distracting. An ache I could never fill.
“So before the unveiling,” he said, “keep in mind, statues take a while to produce, so I sent over the commission a little premature.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Just act surprised, and pretend you like them.”
The mayor cut a ribbon and a dozen assistants pulled the yellow curtains away from central figures; three large marble statues, so tall they blocked out some of the sky. Floodlights came on an instant later, highlighting their smooth features. I heard Camina suck in a breath beside me, and realized I’d already gotten to my feet. I took a few steps closer.
Loralie came to hold my hand, and Damien and Tobias stood on either side of us.
“I don’t want a statue,” I said, looking up at the central figure. The likeness was close enough, with my wide eyes and a fierce expression.
“I know,” Damien said. “But you’re at the center of this.”
My stone palms and wrists were stained with bright red, geometric marks, in a neat symmetrical pattern. A large carved slagpaw curled around my legs, its long teeth revealed in a vicious snarl. I was stepping forward, with a half-drawn bow and arrow.
“It’s about the best story,” Tobias said. “A story worth telling, and worth remembering. The real history, that can be written about in books, with detailed lists of all your allies and accomplices. In plays or speeches, we need fewer names and faces; and more dramatic conflict. You and Damien, thrilling, but not the best story. Three chosen from different compounds, who united in sisterhood, to fight injustice and conquer a kingdom… that’s a story I’d like to hear.”
The statue on the right was of Camina, with an axe and furry cape, in Iklebot warrior clothes with a pistol on her hip. And on the right, Jazmine. Shorter but terrifying, with large eyes and dark hair shielded under a hooded cloak, and wielding two daggers in an action pose, about to strike.
“I’m not sure that’s how she’d like to be remembered,” I said quietly.
“It’s perfect,” Camina said, coming up behind me. “She talked about fancy dresses, but in her heart, she was always a feather.”
I turned around to give her a hug.
“Mine however,” she continued. “I have some notes.”
“Sure,” Tobias said. “But it would be rude to send them back now. Want me to compulse the whole compound into forgetting all about this, and we can revisit next week?”
“Not even a little,” I said. “And that’s not funny.”
