RYIN
Celena's jaw is rigid as she stalks back from the training ground. She stares vacantly before her, lips quivering like the wings of a hummingbird. Her conversation with the king has left her holding on by a thread, and a new rage swells with me toward the beast. What did he say to her to make her react like this? And more importantly, why do I care?
The desire to rip his throat from his body is stronger than ever, but I tamp it down, gripping my hands into tight fists. The princess stops in the center of the narrow lane leading to the Citadel and looks back over her shoulder to where we came from, eyes filling with tears.
“Are you well, Your Grace?” I ask.
She shakes her head in three sharp movements. “I need…a moment.”
The guards spring into action. The lead man, the eagle shifter, pivots and heads into a two-story building to the right. The interior is a wide room shrouded in shadow, the only light coming in through the large picture window. Empty clothing racks line the walls and the scarred floors have discolored, rectangular indentations indicating large display cases once sat there. No bliss lighting means this structure is currently unused by the Nimali. They must have stripped it of anything they found valuable.
The female guard remains outside as we file in. Celena’s breathing is shaky. She crosses the space, moving toward a closed door in the back.
“I just, I need a minute alone,” she says.
I follow and call my daimon forth; its concern for her matches my own. “If you're not well, Your Grace, I will need to examine you.”
She swallows, her jaw trembling. “Fine.” She grabs my arm and practically drags me through the door before slamming it shut.
We’re in a lavatory. Two stall doors are still intact, but in the gap beneath them, holes in the floor reveal that the toilets were reclaimed. A long counter where a single sink was once embedded now features a gaping hole. The only light is from a small, dirty window near the ceiling.
Once we are inside alone, she releases me and slides down the wall into a crouch, covering her mouth with her hands. My daimon and I scan her body for ailments and find none—at least not the physical kind. Emotional distress is beyond the purview of my power.
Celena kneads her forehead and steadies her breathing. “I'm sorry about that,” she says. “I know I can't just fall apart like this but it's been...a lot.”
I lean against the wall next to her. My ire at the king is still fever-pitched, but expressing it will do neither of us any good. This narrow room is not even as large as the library’s panic shelter, and my concern for her cools my rage. “Is this place too small for you to be comfortable in?”
She looks up. “The mirrors help. They give the illusion of space.”
The mirror above the sink has large cracks running along it but is still intact. It faces another large, cracked mirror on the opposite wall, reflecting the weak light along with the repeating image of the broken countertop.
I slide down the wall to sit next to her, maintaining a healthy distance between us in case one of the guards come in. Yesterday, it helped her anxiety for me to talk, so I do so now.
“We don't have mirrors in the Greenlands. The first time I saw one, I was about twelve, on my first salvage run. The Fai scout for materials in the Independent Zone that we can repurpose and reclaim. This was when it was safer. Before the Nimali raiding parties became so common. I came across a double mirror such as this in an apartment building. I thought the image reflecting into eternity was a glimpse into the Origin.”
“That’s where people go when they die?”
“It’s also the home of the daimons and the bliss. The spirit plane. It seemed to my child’s eyes like a vision of eternity. When I stood between those mirrors and found myself reflected so many times, I became a part of forever. Every move I made was captured in those two pieces of glass and saved. I thought it was recording me in some way.”
I smile at the memory. I'd brought Dove to that place years later to share it with her. The smile drops from my face as pain intrudes.
Celena reaches out to grip my hand, shocking me into stillness. The memory of her touch from last night, her comfort then and now, is enough to rip me in two. The right thing to do is pull away—the guards could come in at any moment to check on their princess. But I didn’t do it last night and I don’t today. Instead, I turn my palm up to hold her hand for a few long moments. Enjoying the softness of her skin, breathing in her fragrance.
Then self-preservation returns and I disengage, resting my palm against my stomach.
“I asked Lyall,” she says.
“It didn't go well, I take it?”
“I don't know how to reconcile the father with the tyrant. I don't know how to be the princess…am I supposed to be okay with this? How could she accept the way things are?” The last part is said in a whisper almost too soft to hear.
I’ve never heard someone without a memory soul disassociate from themselves like this, as if they were a totally different person before losing their memory. But Celena is obviously struggling.
“It is all you've known,” I tell her. “But now you know nothing and find the things that were once normal to be…shocking.”
Her eyes are wide when she turns to me. “Shocking is one way to put it. But I don't know how I can help.”
I have the strong urge to take her into my confidence, trust her with the existence of the GenFi and enlist her aid. If it were just me at risk I might, but I cannot put all of the others into the crosshairs of the Nimali like that. If I’m wrong and we can’t truly trust her, then it would be a disaster. So I keep my mouth shut.
“I wonder if what's inside him is inside of me too?” She stares forward, contemplative, seeming to be talking more to herself than to me now. “I knew my father was cold and difficult, but...” She blows out a frustrated breath.
This I know something about. “We are our parents’ legacies,” I tell her. “But we are not our parents. You were never much like him, and now you have the chance to start over. To differentiate yourself, if you choose to.” Every word out of my mouth is a death sentence for me if another Nimali were to hear, but years of caution are brushed aside because as insane as it seems, I do trust her. And I can see my words are landing. Her gaze on me is steady, urging me to continue.
“We are not born monsters. We learn cruelty. Perhaps all we need to break the cycle is to forget and start over.”
She shakes her head. “But I'm not absolved of what I’ve done before just because I can't remember.”
“No. But you can work to make it right.”
Tears fill her eyes. “I want to. I want to help. I just don't know how.” She clutches her fist to her chest, the earnestness pouring from her.
Two swift raps hammer at the door. “Your Grace? Are you well?”
“Yes, Harshal, I'm coming out.”
The bubble is broken and the moment ends. It’s for the best, because seeing her like this is havoc on my defenses. I rise and offer my hand. More evidence that I’ve taken leave of my senses, but when she takes it and I help her stand, it feels right. She holds onto me when I try to let go, then takes a step closer.
“Thank you,” she whispers. She squeezes my hand in both of hers and brings it to her lips. The kiss she places on the back of my hand is just a breath. A tiny press of her lips.
An earthquake rages inside me.
My daimon drops away and the princess releases me, then pushes through the door back into the empty storefront. When I emerge, seconds later, she's speaking to the guards. “…just overwhelmed. Nothing physical that he could heal, unfortunately.”
The two soldiers don't even look at me, and that's for the best. I need time to wrangle my mask back into place. Time to re-armor myself for my life, once again prepared to exist among my enemy and not shatter or even show signs of cracking.
The hand she kissed stays pressed to my side. I must be imagining that it feels lighter than my other one.
The overcast day greets us and we head back to the Citadel. I maintain the distance of three steps behind the princess, walking without seeing. An entire squadron of Nimali troops could pass and I would miss it. King Lyall could parade my soul on a platter before me and I would have no idea. My entire focus is on the instant her lips touched my skin.
An uncontrollable shiver racks my body. A sinkhole has opened inside me, one that I suspect will be nearly impossible to close. Moreover, I don’t want it gone.
The daughter of my greatest enemy has lodged herself within my heart. And what I’m starting to feel for her could get me killed by both her people and my own.