Page 119 of The Hanging City


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I touch the lock on my door and blink back tears. I listen to my breathing and hum songs to myself. I leave my bag and slip into the corridor. I have a few goodbyes to attend to before I depart.

I go first to the human enclave. Ritha is unsurprised to hear that I’ll be leaving. I invite her to join me, but she declines. “I have a place here. An important place here,” she explains with an air of sadness. “Sasha is pregnant. Who will help her if I leave?”

I understand, of course. Colson is at work in the mines, but I’m able to greet Wiln and Etewen. We never were very close, so my leaving is easy, for them.

I’m on my way to Nethens housing when I catch Perg in the hallway outside military training. I call out to him, relieved to see him well, and wait for half a dozen trollis to pass before crossing to him.

“Lark! You’re alive!” He grins.

I hug him, which startles him, but he embraces me back, releasing me quickly when a Centra swoops by. “I was going to say the same to you.” I study him. “You seem well.”

He shrugs, then winces. “A few injuries still. Old and new.”

I gesture for him to follow me and guide him into a narrower, less crowded passageway. “Perg, I’m leaving.”

His face falls. “You just got back.”

A draining sensation tugs at my chest. Knitting my hands together, I ignore it. “I ... I have to. I can’t really explain, but there’s a township I want to find. A human township. The one with the half trollis I told you about.”

His features round. “What?”

“Baten, remember?” I place a hand on his. “He’sacceptedthere, Perg. He’s only a few years younger than you.” I squeeze his fingers. “Perg, come with me.”

His mouth opens, closes. His shoulders sag. “Oh, Lark ... if you’d asked me two weeks ago ... I think I would have.”

I release him. “But?”

He offers me a half smile. “I’m a Deccor now.”

“What? How?” The next caste tournament is nearly two months away.

“The war.” He plants his heavy hands on my shoulders. “You should have been there, Lark. It was intense. Madness. Carnage.”

My gut squeezes. The memory of Azmar’s blood spilling onto the dust pushes to the front of my brain. I shove it down. Blink rapidly. That was the last time he loved me.

“I killed one of their generals,” Perg explains. “The council promoted me.”

I stiffen. “You ... what?”

“Guess that fortune-telling thing you did for me was right.” He misreads my shock. “I ... I’m sorry, Lark. I know they’re human but ... it’s war.”

I shake my head. “N-No, it’s just that ...” My thoughts knot around each other. “Wh-What did he look like?”Was it Lythanis or ...?

Perg drops his hands. “Look like? Uh ...” He shrugs. “He looked human. Um.” He taps his foot. “He ... oh, actually ... he had pale hair, kind of like yours.”

My heartbeat skips.

Lythanis had dark hair.

Perg killed my father.

It’s so much to process. Stepping around Perg, I lean against the wall.Ottius Thellele is dead.The man who has haunted me all my life, who pursued me across half of Mavaea, who gave me the nearly healed bruises on my skin. My tormentor, my abuser, my cage.

He’s gone. He is ... gone.

“Lark?” Concern paints Perg’s face. “Did you ... know him?”

I meet his eyes. They look so human.

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