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I press my head to the cold floor and offer up a million prayers in the space of a breath, pressing myself into it to prove that it’s really there. A small part of my mind is still convinced I’m falling.
“Get a tub!” Kesta shouts, shaking slime from her hand.
Spreener blood is poisonous. I haven’t swallowed any, thank goodness, but I don’t want to contaminate anything, either.
“Ugh.” Unach stands, examining the wet goo I left across her shirt and harness. She looks at me and says, “Don’t open your mouth.”
Kub runs off the dock to do as bidden. Unach barks at Troff to follow, since we’ll have to strip out of the tainted clothing. Goo clings to everything, scratches from the carnage of the giant spider mar the walls, and Unach’s hair is a mess.
I meet her gaze. And despite everything, I laugh. It’s an awkward laugh. I struggle to keep my mouth shut so I don’t poison myself. But it’s all so ridiculous I can’t help it. Unach stares at me a beat, then guffaws loud enough to echo across the dock. She slaps her thigh and cringes at the mess and laughs. Kub and Troff return with a tub, their features twisted in confusion, unease on their faces.
I feel ... better. Amazing. And I laugh at myself and at Unach and realize how much I love her. She is the sister I never had. She isfamily.And I realize, with that sobering thought, that my people are wrong. I waswrong. It’s not all about war and strength and size. All of that is just a veneer, easily chipped and discarded.
Unach doesn’t value strength more than anything else. She values family and friendship. Azmar values justice, truth, and love. Perg values relationships and sees to the hearts of others. Kesta is merciful. Troff and Kub are accepting and jovial. They’d rather sit telling jokes, their legs dangling from the dock, than lift a hammer or sword in a caste tournament.
They set the tub in front of me. Warmth blooms in my chest.I belong here,I think, fighting against another smile.This is my home.
Grateful and exhausted, I shift to get my legs under me, then wince as something bites my scraped palm.
It’s a bit of stone, no larger than a coin, from the rock the spreener broke. It has a blue sheen to it, purple where my blood touches it. I pick it up and study it. It reminds me of a bloodstone, though its surface is much rougher, its colors darker, than Azmar’s. Yet my pulse spins. Not a bloodstone, but a blood stone. Perhaps for us, it could be enough.
“Take them off.” Unach jerks her thumb, indicating my clothes. Then, to Troff and Kub, “Out.”
I stand, careful where I drip, and set the stone aside. “Thank you, Unach.”
She shrugs, but I detect relief in her stance. And despite the scare, the slime, the cuts, and the absolute chill of the bathwater, I laugh again.
After I’m dressed in the new leather vest I finished studding and the smallest trollis slacks Troff could find, I have to roll up their waist and secure a leather weapons belt around it. But it works, and I’m grateful for clean clothes. The rest get thrown into the canyon.
I’m used to fear, but it takes a while for it to leave my system fully. For my joints to move smoothly, my heart to beat evenly, my muscles to settle. True fear always leaves a deeper mark than the recoil of my strange ability. Unach remains, and Kesta stays around for another hour to chat, then leaves us to man the dock while other slayers go to the lookouts. The rest of the shift flows uneventfully. I imagine that spreener scared off anything else that might bother Cagmar.
New trollis relieve me and Unach at the twenty-first hour, when the sun starts to set. “Just get some rest,” she says when the lift stops at my floor, excusing me from any other duties. “We both need it.”
I thank her and head toward my room, only to pass it and take the ladder down a level, following a new road east. The stone sits in the empty sword holster on my belt; thinking of it renews my energy. I step out of the way for a few trollis and wait several minutes to use the lift that will take me to Centra housing. When I reach it, another trollis busies himself putting out lights, so I take the lift up to Intra housing instead. Fortunately, at the end of the row of tight-knit apartments is a ladder, and when I take that back down to Azmar’s floor, the way is empty. I hurry to his door and knock softly. Wait, listen. But he doesn’t come to the door.
The lift starts moving at the far end of the corridor. Not wanting to be seen, I try the handle—unlocked—and slip inside.
A small candle twinkles, but the wick is almost drowning in its own wax. Candles are costly, even to high castes, and it’s unlike Azmar to leave one unattended. I quickly open drawers and cupboards until I find another and light it. Azmar’s shift should have ended an hour ago. He would be home, unless he had errands, or went to make amends with his sister. But without a note of some sort, I’m not sure when he’ll want to meet me. It wouldn’t be safe for him to be seen escorting me across the cityagain—
The door bursts open, and I choke on a shriek, my instinct to be quiet, not to let any trollis know I’m here, kicking in at the last second.After whirring around, I’m relieved to see Azmar, yet taken aback by the panic written over his features.
Have we been discovered?
But no—Azmar slams the door shut behind him and crosses to me in two strides. His arms swoop around me with nearly unbearable pressure. His breath puffs hot in my hair.
“Gods help me, Lark.” He holds me a beat longer before releasing me and searching my face. “Kesta told me.”
“Spreener. But I’m fine.”
His body brims with tension, brows drawn tight. He runs his hands down my arms, eyes raking my body, pausing on a bandage around my hand. He grasps it, his delicate touch a stark contrast to his crushing embrace.
I pull the hand free and flex it. “Only scrapes,” I assure him, warmed by his concern. I trace one of the nubs on his jaw. “Only scrapes,” I repeat, a whisper. “And you wasted a candle.”
A great breath flows out of him. “Only scrapes,” he manages, and his brows relax.
I frown. “Please don’t tell me you ran around the city in a panic.”
He glowers. “I masked it well.”
