RYIN
My footsteps thunder in my ears as I pound down the stairwell. I race ahead of the other Fai leaving the meeting hall, not wanting to be swamped by their grief over the loss of another of our own. I did not know Silas Minusson well, but he was still a brother. I also need to escape the tears of the Nimali. They weep for their own, not caring about the fate of the Fai.
But the memory of the devastated expression on Celena’s face almost makes me stumble. Her soft gasps and barely withheld sobs. She was truly moved by the plight of both victims tonight. Her presence was a shock—I wouldn’t have expected her to even know about the ceremony. And how she got her hands on a Fai uniform is a mystery. But her reaction to the horrors on display convinces me that Noomi is right. The princess might be able to be turned to our cause.
Anger at the Nimali—and at myself—burns in my veins as I burst through the doors onto the sixteenth floor. Most of the Fai gather on floor thirty-two for prayer and meditation on trammeling nights. Usually I take part, eager to give offerings and fellowship, to support my grieving brethren and give what reassurances I can as part of the GenFi. But not tonight.
Tonight, cold rage disguises the grief and anguish, buries the fear that one day Silas’s fate may befall me. To be stripped of all free will and agency. A passenger in my body, only able to carry out the commands of others. Whatever they may be. I share my body regularly with my daimon, but it never requires obedience. Merely a respect for it and the covenant. But what happens to the daimons of the trammeled?
We don't know. No one has ever been untrammeled and asked.
Perhaps the daimons abandon the hosts. Perhaps they watch helpless through vacant eyes, unable to be called forward because the host has no will of its own. It is truly a fate worse than death and one I've witnessed enacted on my people too often.
The Nimali treat it as their right to capture, enslave, and demean us with the threat of trammeling. Autonomous indenture, the king had said. I halt in the middle of the hallway, seething, then turn and put my fist through the wall.
The pain is clarifying. It brings the world back into focus, organizing my spiraling thoughts.
I punch the wall again and again, my fist passing through the thin material, shredding my skin and leaving dust covering my arm. My daimon longs to rush forward and heal my wounds, but I hold it back. Not yet.
Footsteps marching in lockstep sound behind me. I give the wall a final blow before spinning around to meet the soldiers. Watches are often doubled on trammeling nights. I had not forgotten; I just didn’t care.
“Damaging Nimali property is a punishable offense, drudge,” the soldier on the right says. He's bland and blond, a contrast to his brown-skinned partner.
“My apologies,” I seethe through clenched teeth, obviously not sorry in the least.
The blond beast narrows his eyes at me. “Do you need a night in the locker to cool off?”
I don't answer since it wasn't a real question.
“Where are you supposed to be?” the second soldier asks.
“I'm assigned to the princess. I'm headed back up there now.”
“If you were assigned to her then you should be with her, not here defacing our walls.” The blond prick has an air of superiority around him that I’m certain is unearned. I tighten my fist, unsure if I will be able to hold back from defacing him.
His partner doesn't miss the move and tenses. I sense that he's a second away from detonating into whatever beast form his daimon provides, and that thought excites me. It’s been too long since I’ve sparred; my fists are itching to meet either of their faces.
Two against one doesn’t scare me in the least. They think the Fai chose poorly, not shifting shape, but I would not mind showing him the truth of our power, personally.
However, the partner doesn't shift. Instead, he pulls a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and dangles them at me. They are bliss powered and freezing cold, designed to chill the wrists to the point of pain. The cold weakens our daimons, making them sluggish and nearly impossible to call forward. We hide much of our power from the beasts, but they are not stupid.
I will not be chained, not tonight. Nor will I be taken to the locker, a frigid room on the third floor where both Fai and Nimali are punished. I've spent nights there before, especially when I first arrived and was ungovernable—even the threat of trammeling was not enough to pierce my misery and pain at the loss of my sister and my freedom.
But it was the trammeling of a friend, an older soldier who had been a mentor, for some light infraction that did me in. Seeing him vacant and senseless. Knowing it could be me.
Sometimes they punish you for what you do, sometimes you take the penalty for the sins of others, and sometimes you’re punished for no reason at all, just to reinforce the fact that they can. The plight of my people was more chilling than the frigid locker, and knowing how my deeds could affect others, I slowly began to fall in line.
But now that old defiance is back in such force that I cannot shove it back into its box. Why now? Why tonight?
Is it the princess's tears pushing me over the edge? The feel of her soft hand clinging to mine?
These thoughts of her are not only distracting, but pointless. Tonight was proof of what happens when a Fai and a Nimali fancy feelings for one another. Not as if the princess would ever have such feelings for a drudge. Relationships between Fai and Umbers have occasionally happened, as the lowest caste of Nimali are not treated all that much better than us, and even more rarely, an Azure. But a Cardinal? A royal?
The impossibility of it all is laughable. That my thoughts have even veered in this direction is preposterous. The absurdity strikes my funny bone and I cannot hold back the laughter—a bright, bursting guffaw splashes between us. The faces of the guards mottle with anger.
The blond one wrenches me around by my shoulder and pulls my hands behind my back. I call my daimon forward and pull out of his grasp, stronger now than these men in their human forms. Sensing the threat, they both shift with a blinding flash of light, leaving me facing a leopard and a coyote, both snarling and ready to pounce.
I sink into the fighting stance I learned so long ago and prepare for the feel of their teeth on my flesh. The fight I’ve been longing for is finally here, and consequences be damned, I will let out my rage and pain on these creatures.
But both animals freeze, eyes going glassy, growls fading into silence. Then in another pop of light, they shift back into humans and fall to the ground, unconscious.
I look up to find Von and Xipporah standing behind them in the hallway, both with their daimons called. I straighten when they approach, a little disappointed.
Xipporah kneels by the prone men, picking up the discarded cuffs. “When they awaken, they won't remember this at all. Best not to leave any evidence.”
I nod and shake out my limbs, which still feel buzzy from the adrenaline. “Thank you.”
She shrugs and motions to Von. “It was mostly him.”
Air daimons like Von can recharge others’ power and also deplete them, which can include draining them of all energy until they pass out. It’s one of the many talents we've kept hidden from the Nimali for so long. But even with the aid of an amplifier like Xi, what he did is remarkable.
“Are you all right?” I ask, noticing him breathing heavily and leaning against the wall for stability as he takes a moment to gather himself.
“Fine. Doing two at once is difficult.” His hands shake as he signs. Then his breathing slows and his daimon recedes. I release mine and Xi does the same.
“Impressive, though. I’ve seen three Air Fai with three amplifiers struggle to handle two at once.”
“I have been training with the Air Priest,” he signs. “But these two will awaken shortly, so we must go.” We slip away down the hall and back to the stairwell.
“Attacking guards? Now who’s being stupid, brother?” A mocking sneer contorts his face. “What happened to organizing and planning?”
I breathe deeply, still grateful for the assist but not in need of his snark. “It’s been a difficult night.”
“Indeed it has. We all must channel our anger, though. We will be free soon enough. In the coming days, be ready for my signal.” Von gives me a meaningful glance as we climb.
“Signal for what?”
“To subdue and kidnap the princess. Then we will see what the king is willing to sacrifice to get her back.”
His words are a stone sinking into my gut. My lips snap shut and I focus on the stairs underfoot.
They bid me goodbye on the thirty-second floor. I share a glance with Xipporah, who looks both weary and wary. At least she seems to be keeping an eye on Von.
The man’s words haunt my steps as I make my way up flight after flight. They burn away what’s left of my excess rage, leaving it once again at the low simmer I’ve held it to for the past three years. If I tell him of Celena’s reaction to the trammeling, her sincere sorrow and grief, would it matter? Could we convince the Crowns that the Nimali princess could possibly help us, that her heart has changed a great deal due to her memory loss and perhaps whatever she suffered across the wall?
Hope has sprung within me, though I’d prefer to temper it. Just because she mourns the devastation of her enemy doesn’t mean she’ll act on it. And though much about her has changed, she has the same steely determination I remember. Even with her new emotionality, she is not a shrinking violet. Can she be a meaningful ally and not just a victim and pawn?
I finally arrive at her level and let myself into the main suite. Then almost trip over the bundle on the floor in front of the servant’s room. The princess sleeps there, curled into herself, her cheeks still puffy and streaked with dried tears. I kneel before her, unsure of what to do.
Asleep, Celena looks peaceful and young. Innocent, even. Thinking such of a Nimali no longer brings a pang of shame.
I gather her into my arms, sucking in a breath as she curls into me and slings her arm around my neck. In sleep, she trusts me. That trust is new and fragile, and completely unwarranted since I will soon be commanded to betray it.
I swallow that thought down and head into her bedroom, depositing her on the massive bed.
She'll need to remove the drudge uniform she still wears before anyone sees her, but I certainly will not be so bold as to do that. Instead, I tuck her into the covers and she turns, restless, before sinking deeper into sleep.
I find myself unable to leave her. So I sit in the chair next to her bed and watch over her. I tell myself that this is part of the king's instructions—it’s what I should have been doing last night, but that’s so far from the truth it almost makes me laugh again. Watching her sleep, being near her at all, brings me joy and calm.
If I must betray her, then I will allow myself this moment. And tomorrow will bring what it may.