The Sky Weaver Page 15

  His gaze raked up and down her. “You’re clearly not from these parts. So I’ll be generous with you, girl. If you walk away now, you’ll suffer no consequence.” He nodded for her to go.

  For the briefest moment, hesitation flickered in Safire. Perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps the woman at her feet was responsible for some truly heinous crime. Safire was a guest in Axis, after all. She shouldn’t assume she knew better than the soldiers who lived and worked here. More than this: stirring up trouble would sabotage Dax’s visit. It might prevent him from getting the help he needed for the scrublands.

  She was about to stand down when a terrified voice cut through her thoughts.

  “P-please, miss. . . .”

  With her hand still gripping the Lumina’s club, Safire glanced to the young woman below her. This close, she looked very young. Perhaps as young as Safire. Her arms trembled as she rose to her knees. Her left eye was swollen shut, and Safire could tell her arm was broken. When her right eye met Safire’s, it shone with tears. “Don’t leave,” she whispered. “They’ll kill me.”

  It was what Eris said: That woman’s as good as dead.

  A shiver rushed across her skin. The day Dax made her his commandant, she swore to defend those in need of defending. No matter what this woman’s crime was—if she was indeed guilty of any—the punishment should never be a beating to the death.

  And if Dax were here, he would agree.

  Safire drew herself up to her full height. Wrenching the club free of the soldier’s grip, she said to the young woman at her feet, “Run.”

  In response to her defiance, several blades were drawn at once.

  “Run now.”

  The woman did. The moment one of the soldiers moved to stop her, Safire swung the club, slamming it down between his shoulder blades. The provocation worked. He turned away from his prey and back to her.

  “Stupid girl,” said the Lumina whose club she’d stolen, rolling up his sleeves. “That’s all right. I’m feeling generous today.” He glanced to the others, cracking each of his knuckles. “Let’s show her how we treat enemies of the Skyweaver. . . .”

  Safire flipped the club, catching the base. Ready for him. Ready for all of them. She’d been here a hundred times before. There was nothing they could do to her that hadn’t already been done.

  But before he could even throw the first punch, Eris was there. Free of the rope that bound her a moment ago. Her eyes bright, her hair gleaming. She held the spindle in her hand—retrieved from Safire’s pocket—and was bending down, drawing a glowing silver line across the sandy cobblestones. . . .

  Her hand slid into Safire’s as she rose. Silver mist flooded the alley, engulfing the Lumina, who disappeared first. Then the noise of the distant market. Then the street.

  Safire couldn’t see—not Eris, not anything. But she felt those warm fingers, woven tightly through hers. Pulling her through.

  “Don’t let go,” said Eris.

  She didn’t.

  Twenty-One

  When the mist turned to dark gray fog, Safire looked up. For a single fleeting moment, the sky was deep black and littered with stars. So many stars. Brighter and clearer and closer than ever before. So close, Safire lifted her fingers skyward, convinced she might touch one.

  And then, quite suddenly, the fog dispersed. In its absence came the sounds of the night market they’d left behind. Warm bodies jostled Safire. The smell of sugar and flowers enveloped her. Music played by multiple stringed instruments beat loud and strong in her ears.

  “Hells,” Eris cursed, materializing beside her, their fingers still entwined.

  “What just happened?” Safire asked, looking around them. Skirts twirled and ribbons fluttered as couple after couple spun or stomped past them, lost in the throes of the music. The girls all wore flower wreaths on their heads and their smiles were brighter than stars.

  A tightly packed crowd ringed the dancers, watching and cheering them on.

  “I was so desperate to leave that alley . . . ,” said Eris, looking around, too, the anguish clear on her face. “. . . I was thinking more about it than the place I wanted to go to.” She shook her head. “The crossing got muddled. So now we’re back here.”

  None of that made any sense to Safire.

  “Where is here?” she hissed.

  “It’s a betrothal dance,” Eris said, watching the particular steps of the dancers now. Her grip was getting increasingly tighter by the moment. Safire looked from the rosy-cheeked couples spinning around them to the ring of spectators closing them in. All of them laughing and singing and shouting encouragement.

  It was suddenly familiar. They’d passed this way not long before, she realized. But they’d been outside this dancing circle then. Now they were inside it.

  One by one, the gazes of the crowd fell on the only couple standing still within the circle: Eris and Safire. Their brows furrowed and their lips moved. Someone held a flower wreath out for Eris to take, misunderstanding their reason for being there.

  Safire looked beyond them, farther out in the square, where Lumina soldiers rushed by, stopping revelers to question them, shouting for other soldiers to help in their search for the fugitives.

  Eris must have seen it, too. Because suddenly she was sliding the throwing knife from the knot of hair at the back of Safire’s neck, making her hair fall loose around her face.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered as Eris took the flower wreath, then set the ring of blue forget-me-nots on Safire’s head.

  Eris’s arm slid around her waist. “Pretend you’re hopelessly in love with me,” she murmured, eyeing the soldiers out in the crowd. “And follow my lead.”

  Before Safire could protest, Eris was leading her in the steps of the dance—while the Lumina hunted for them just beyond this dancing ring. Normally, Safire’s uniform would have given her away. But she was still in the unmarked clothes she’d worn to spy on Jemsin in the Thirsty Craw. There was nothing to distinguish her as the visiting dragon king’s commandant.

  Someone gave a whoop of encouragement. Safire looked to find the crowd cheering as she and Eris joined the betrothed couples. Most were pairs of men and women—except for one pair of young men on the far side, beaming at each other, both wearing wreaths on their heads. Eris tipped her head at the man who’d handed her their wreath. But Safire could see her eyes searching the square beyond, keeping her attention on the Lumina—none of whom thought to check the dancing circle. Why would they? They were looking for a dangerous fugitive and a disobedient soldier, not a lovestruck couple.

  Safire should have stopped Eris. Should have dragged her out of that circle and brought her to the searching Lumina. But she’d seen the look in that man’s eyes. He’d wanted to hurt Safire in the same way he’d hurt the one she saved from him.

  She remembered Eris’s account of the night the scrin burned.

  What if she was telling the truth?

  Most of all, though, this wasn’t Firgaard. Safire didn’t know the punishment for directly challenging—worse, attacking—one of the empress’s soldiers. Safire might be the commandant of a visiting king, but she didn’t know how much that would count for.

  Safire had very little power here. And Eris had saved her—how many times now? She’d lost count.

  In a strange turn of events, one thing was certain: she trusted Eris. At least for the moment.

  So, as Eris counted out the rhythm of the steps for her, Safire followed her direction, helping them blend in. At least until she could figure out what to do.

  It was a strange sensation, letting Eris lead. It made her palms sweat and her pulse hum.

  Soon, they were breathing as hard as the other dancers. As the caller shouted directions—ones Eris understood but she didn’t—Safire’s loose hair began to stick to her sweaty skin. Every once in a while, after a rosy-cheeked Eris scanned the perimeter, she would glance back at Safire, catch her gaze, and grin.

  Like a shared secret, that grin made Sa
fire’s heart beat too fast. It made her duck her eyes, trying to crush whatever warm thing was stirring within her.

  Suddenly, the music stopped and Eris caught Safire hard around the waist, keeping her close. Their chests rose and fell with the breaths they took, and for a moment both of them looked beyond the circle. The Lumina were moving on. Only a few soldiers remained behind, speaking quietly with one another near one of the flower stalls.

  Safire heard the crowd rumble around them as the caller—the man who’d handed Eris the wreath—shouted one last instruction. Eris went rigid, snagging Safire’s attention. She looked away from the Lumina and back to the circle.

  Shouts of encouragement rose up around the ring. Safire looked to find the young man next to them reaching for his partner, then kissing her hard on the mouth. Safire glanced to the other pairs of dancers, all of them locked in intimate embraces.

  Soon, the gazes of the spectators fell once more on the only couple not doing as instructed: Safire and Eris. The crowd began to chant as the caller repeated his final instruction, this time just for them.

  Safire glanced to Eris, who was staring back at her.

  The chanting grew louder. The Lumina soldiers glanced up from across the square, searching for the source of the increased noise.

  Seeing it, Eris’s warm hands slid across Safire’s jaw, bringing her attention back. Safire looked up into her soft eyes.

  “Ready?” she whispered.

  Safire opened her mouth to say, You can’t be serious.

  But Eris was already tipping Safire’s head back.

  Already kissing her.

  Cheering erupted around them.

  At the touch of her lips, Safire’s nerves sparked. Sensing her panic, Eris’s thumb gently stroked her jaw, her throat. Soothing her. Coaxing her deeper into the kiss.

  “You’re okay,” she murmured. “Just follow my lead.”

  So Safire relaxed, doing just that.

  Eris tasted like a storm. Like thunder and lightning and rain, all mixed into one. Safire reached for her shirt, needing an anchor against the tempest rising in her.

  A tempest woken by Eris.

  Eris smiled, her mouth curving against Safire’s, her hands sliding to her hips, drawing her closer.

  Safire knew right then that if she didn’t pull away now, she might never pull away.

  The thought frightened her.

  She stepped quickly back, breathing hard.

  The moment she opened her eyes, a glint of gold caught her attention. She tore her gaze from a startled Eris. She glanced beyond the circle, and found a young man watching her. His golden tunic bore the crest of a dragon twined round a sword, and his brown eyes were full of shock.

  Dax.

  He’d seen the whole thing.

  Safire suddenly remembered herself. Remembered who she was with and what they were capable of. She’d just kissed the Death Dancer—the girl who’d stolen a jewel out of Dax’s treasury, one meant to assuage those hit worst by the scrubland blight.

  The girl planning to hunt down Asha and deliver her to Jemsin.

  Safire turned quickly back, reaching for Eris—to stop her from leaving. To make this right.

  But Eris was already gone.

  Twenty-Two

  This time when Eris stepped through the gray, she focused hard on her destination. As the mists swirled, she no longer walked Axis’s festive streets, full of color and laughter and dancing. She strode beneath that star-studded sky, the silence sparkling around her as she took the path across.

  When that dark blue door painted with a moon and stars appeared before her, Eris relaxed. She’d successfully escaped. Reaching for its silver knob, she opened it and stepped through, straight into the labyrinth, its stained-glass walls flickering in the eerie floating white lights above.

  Shutting the door behind her, Eris let go of her focus. Looking down, she uncurled her fingers to reveal a pale blue ribbon lying across her palm.

  Unlike the last few items she’d stolen from Safire—taken only to provoke—she had a purpose in mind for this one.

  As Eris strode into the maze, she thought of Safire. Remembering the warmth of her mouth, the softness of her lips . . . and that look of horror on her face as she abruptly pulled away. While Eris smiled like an idiot.

  What an utter fool I am.

  She closed her hand around the ribbon, squeezing it tight.

  “Good evening, Eris.”

  The rasping voice behind her made her spine straighten. Eris whirled, stumbling away from the thing stepping out of the shadows she’d just come through. He had blue-black feathers, hooklike talons, and eyes as red as blood.

  Kadenze.

  Jemsin’s summoner.

  Half man, half monster, Kadenze was the one thing that could follow her through the mists and across: to this in-between place. It was the reason she had never successfully escaped Jemsin—because it could track her anywhere.

  The summoner’s hellish gaze burned into her. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  Eris shoved the ribbon behind her back, swallowing hard. “What does he want?”

  “Jemsin is very concerned.”

  Eris narrowed her eyes at the monster before her. “Yeah? Well you can tell Jemsin that his good mate Kor delayed me considerably.”

  “Jemsin will deal with Kor,” said Kadenze, its bloody gaze moving over her. “You do your job.”

  “I’m on it,” Eris growled. “Just give me some time. Tides.”

  “He wants to remind you,” said Kadenze, moving closer, “of the cost of failure.”

  But Eris had never failed a job, and she wasn’t about to start now. Certainly not with so much at stake. If she handed him the Namsara, Jemsin would let her walk free. If she failed, he would deliver her to her enemies.

  Of course she wouldn’t fail.

  A sudden, sweeping cold rushed in, making her shiver. Feeling it, the summoner looked up over Eris’s shoulder to the stained-glass panels behind her. Eris didn’t look. She knew what it was: the ghost moving in the labyrinth, probably drawn to the sound of their voices.

  “Why does Jemsin want her?” It was a question Eris hadn’t cared to ask before. She asked it now only because, being forced into Safire’s company these past few days, she couldn’t help but notice how the girl worried over her cousin. How protective she was of her.

  “It’s the empress who wants her.”

  Eris’s chin lifted. She hadn’t expected that. “What?”

  The summoner shifted from foot to foot, its feathers ruffling and talons clacking against the ground. As if something had unnerved it. “Leandra made the captain a deal he couldn’t refuse.”

  Eris narrowed her eyes, thinking of Jemsin’s meeting with the empress. It was his sole reason for sending Eris to Firgaard. Leandra must have made her proposition then.

  “What did she offer him?”

  “Full access to her waters—if Jemsin delivers the Namsara.”

  Eris whistled, wishing Safire could hear this. What kind of benevolent ruler gives a pirate permission to wreak havoc all over the Star Isles? It was a trade much further in Jemsin’s favor, and it made Eris wonder: What did Asha have that the empress wanted so badly?

  And why not just invite her along with her brother—who was currently on his way to the citadel now?

  Unless she had and Asha refused the invitation.

  Eris shook her head. All of these questions were starting to give her a headache. What did it matter, anyway? It wasn’t her business. With the ribbon gripped tight in her hand, Eris turned away from the monster.

  “Are we finished?” she asked, walking toward the first turn in the labyrinth.

  “For now.”

  The door creaked open. Eris didn’t wait for it to shut before she continued on. Her feet had long since memorized the way to the heart of this maze. The images on the stained-glass walls were so familiar to her, she often dreamed them in her sleep: seascapes and stormy cliffsides and sleepy litt
le coves. When she arrived at the center, the familiar sight of her loom warmed her just a little.

  Eris sank down into the soft white carpet on the floor. Staring up at her empty loom, an image flickered through her mind: Safire with her hair down and her head crowned with blossoms. She leaned over her basket full of skeins, running her fingers gently over colors. Looking for something that matched the ribbon she stole.

  The door to Kor’s burned ship was useless to her now and needed replacing. She’d woven that door from torn strips of the Sea Mistress’s sails and it had opened onto the ship’s galley. That was the only way the magic would work—using objects from the place she wanted to go. It was Day who told her this. Who taught her how to turn the weavings into doors.

  This place will keep you safe, he’d told her.

  But that was before he died. Before Jemsin found her. Before she realized Kadenze could hunt her down no matter where she was—even across.

  An old sorrow clumped in her throat. She swallowed it down, pushing the memory of Day far away. Where it couldn’t hurt her.

  Right now, Eris needed a door that would take her to a person, not a place. She’d never made such a thing before. She didn’t know if it would work.

  These were the things she did know, though: Asha, the Namsara, was in the Star Isles. And very soon, Safire would make contact with Asha—to warn her about Eris.

  So Eris would make a door that led to Safire. She would keep to the shadows, like she had in Firgaard, waiting and watching. And when Safire made contact, she would unknowingly lead Eris straight to the Namsara.

  Eris picked up a light brown skein of wool for the warp and started to unwind it. As she did, the air grew colder. Eris paused, sensing something watching her through the glass. She knew what it was.

  She kept unwinding the yarn. But the ghost remained. It was common for it to come and go while she was in the labyrinth, but rarely did it linger.

  “What do you think?” Eris asked. “Do these colors match?”