Chapter Eleven

I follow because I need to see more of the fortress. It would look less suspicious if I didn’t go off on my own.

We wander back toward our sleeping quarters and take a left turn away from everything familiar. We stop at a mahogany door. It looms above us, taller than Dayen with his arms extended to the sky. Many of the rooms I’ve seen in the fortress do not have doors, but those that remain are made of the same polished hardwood carved over with scenes from Arawan. I suspect they are as old as the fortress, and that no one has bothered to replace any that were damaged.

“This is a bad idea. It’s against the rules,” Virian warns. She nervously tucks her hair behind her ear.

“Scared, broken nose?” Nen, the boy with the pinched mouth, scoffs at us. “What do you think is behind it? The Baylan have to be hiding all kinds of secrets in this fortress.”

“Your doom,” I mutter under my breath, but he hears it. Nen sticks out his thumb in insult, but I don’t bite back. This is folly I want no part of, but Dayen seems far too intrigued.

“Prove to us how brave you are.” Nen lifts his chin to Ingo, the chosen one. “That you are worthy and unafraid.”

Ingo narrows his eyes and presses an ear to the wood. He taps his ring-clad fingers against it. After a few moments of utter silence, he lets out a long sigh. “This is childish nonsense. I will not throw away my chance for this.” Ingo lifts his chin and walks away like a prince, but Dayen hesitates. Nen slaps him on the arm, and another boy presses him forward.

Nen produces two small, flat needles between his fingers and waves his hand. “You don’t even have to do the hard part. I’ve already unlocked it for you.”

“Don’t,” I warn, but Dayen’s eyes betray an appetite to forge bonds with these privileged fools. I fight the impulse to drag him away. He should know these rich brats will never see him as one of them, but I could never convince him of it.

“Come on, farm boy. My bet is that you’re stronger than you look. You could push it open before anyone sees,” Nen says, and Dayen fidgets with the strings of his amulets.

My estimation of Nen drops with every passing minute, a record surpassed only by Reshar. I run a fingertip over the doorframe and inspect its surface. The wood is smooth, but the iron of its bolts is rough under my skin, corroded by the fine salt spray of the sea that enters through a nearby window. I breathe in the scent of lavender and lemon. It’s familiar somehow.

“Let’s go, Dayen.” Virian tugs at his arm, but he’s still fixated on the door, brows pressed together. “This isn’t part of the competition. Quickly, before someone sees us.”

“We’re all going to end up either dead or have our minds wiped, because Ingo’s going to win this. We might as well have some fun while we’re here.” Nen shrugs as though he’s already lost. Maybe he believes it, but I don’t. Not yet, anyway.

Dayen hesitates, but his fingers lift.

“No.” Suddenly certain, I shove my shoulder so hard against the door that my joints crack. It flies open with a grunt of effort, revealing a closet full of bedding, towels, and cleaning brushes. Bundles of lavender hang from the shelves to ward off moths, just like in the linen room I saw yesterday.

Nen and his friend fold over, laughing so hard they might lose their breakfasts. I am so relieved I almost fall into the room.

“You sons of goats! Go swallow rocks and jump into the ocean!” Virian shouts and chases them off.

“What if this wasn’t just some childish prank?” I ask Dayen as we walk back to our room. Heavens help me, I am becoming my mother when I’d rather be more like Kuran. My sister would have simply laughed.

Dayen’s shoulders droop, and there is a mix of relief and apology on his face. He leans against his crutch, and I turn away, ashamed.

“How did you know it wasn’t dangerous?” he asks.

“Even Nen wouldn’t risk getting thrown out of the Sundo so soon, unless he’s as foolish as he seems.” I also watched brown-clad initiates carting our dirty dishes down that hallway, so I guessed it was unlikely to hold treasures.

“Kur—”

I flinch away from Virian as she tries to sweep us both into her arms outside our room. Rythians. They like touching. I take a step aside, and a question flickers over her face, but I don’t get a chance to answer it.

“What the Hells? Holy Omu.” Dayen grabs his amulets as he steps inside the doorway. Virian gasps, and I push past her and into the room.

A headless rat lies in the middle of the floor, and written in its blood are two words: Go home.

“Who would do this?” Dayen asks. Someone took a knife to his spare clothes; Virian’s pack lies ripped open; our beds and pillows lie in shreds.

“Any of them,” I say quietly. “We need to be better prepared.”

I pull open cabinet drawers and find a brush and some ink. Virian and Dayen watch as I attempt to recreate the orasyon of protection I saw on Yirin’s fence on the wood of our lintel. I frown at it, and after a moment of consideration, I add a little extra that Kuran taught me. I seal it with spit and hope it is enough to keep us safe.

I make each of them spit and press their thumbs to the wood of the doorframe. “I don’t know if the magic will work. I’ve never tried something like this before.”

“It looks decent, but I have another idea.” Virian pulls a short hairpin from the braid in her hair and dips it in the ink. “This spell is a family secret.” She pulls down the neck of her tunic and shows us a small black tattoo. “Tap the mark three times fast if you are in trouble, and we will know where you are.”

Dayen doesn’t hesitate. He pulls off his tunic. He’s so bony that I wonder if his parents are poor or if everything he eats goes directly into growing.

“Wait.” My heart stutters at this impulse decision, but I’d rather they knew. How can I trust them if they can’t trust me? I swallow, and my voice comes out all air. “I take my vows seriously, but I have a secret. Tell no one, and I swear by my lives that I am with you until the end, even if you are not with me.” I balance on the edge of my ruined bed, scarf in my hand. I avert my eyes, because I’ve already imagined how this will go, but to my surprise, Virian simply laughs when I unwind my blue scarf. It is a broken sound.

“Do you know how many unwanted children fill the halls of the fortress? Sometimes I think those old superstitions are the only way the Baylan fill their ranks.” Her voice is all salt and hard edges. “Just look at Arisa! She has marks, and she doesn’t bother to hide them.”

But she’s the Astar reborn, so she doesn’t need to hide them. I frown.

Dayen stares, and I recognize the fear that creeps around the edges of his expression at the sight of my marks. I am disappointed but not surprised. Teloh, Arisa, and Reshar, on the other hand, seem to despise me for utterly unknown reasons, so I know it’s not just my marks. Perhaps I am not easy to like. I rub at my heart and try not to show how much every rejection hurts.

“What do you think the curse does?” He tries to keep his voice light.

I remain still as a statue, wishing I were stone. I try to keep my voice even, but it comes out all wobbly. “I don’t really know—only that Manay Halna would blame me for everything that ever displeased her: the rain on one day, or the heat on another, or her babies refusing to nap. My mother never believed it was dangerous.”

“A sensible woman,” Virian says. “You Tigangi are so superstitious. No one thinks twice of those things in Rythia, and I’m quite sure birthmarks are not catchable like the pox. Blemished skin is the least of your worries.” Her expression is the painting of a Demon come to life—twisted lips, broken nose, brows raised, and eyes burning hot. “I am a bigger problem. You will need to beat me to survive the Sundo intact. Remember that, Kuran Jal. That will not be an easy feat.” Virian thrusts out her fist. “But by my lives I swear I am with you until the end.”

Dayen doesn’t look happy. He hesitates a moment longer but reaches out, palm up. “I also swear by my lives. I am with you both.”

We seal the deal with spit, and to his credit, he resists pulling his hand away too quickly.

Virian draws a small diagram over Dayen’s heart and makes a matching one beneath my collarbone. A brief heat pulses against my skin, like I snuffed out a candle with my fingers and nothing more.

When we are done, our fingers are blue and sticky: Dayen from touching the paint before it’s dry, and both Virian and I from working with it.

We hardly know one another, but our fates are twined together now. I rewrap my scarf in awkward silence.

“Hello?”

We all jump at the voice.

When I pull the doorway curtain aside, I catch Tanu shoving a pair of spectacles into a pocket, and a hint of a blush spots his cheeks. So, the boy has some vanity after all, and it almost amuses me to discover something new about him after so long. His blue eyes go wide at the mess in our room. “What happened?”

“Someone’s just trying to scare us.” I smile and try not to sound worried. He’s the only familiar thing in the whole fortress, and I feel guilty for asking more of him, but he’s the only one who could ever change my sister’s mind. “I wanted to find you because my sister is probably going sick with worry. Can you send word that I’m fine and not to come get me? This is my choice. I hope she can respect that.”

“I will.” He puts a hand on my shoulder. It’s as warm and solid as he always is. “But I came here to summon you for the second test. Go, and I’ll clean this up.”

I nod. The sooner this is over with, the sooner I can start looking for my mother.