73

A new pact has been struck.

Awake, Lisitsa…

Sonya’s eyes snapped open, her heart hammering in her chest.

She had lain in her bed for some time now. She wasn’t sure how long. Every once in a while, Lucia, Maria, or Jorge would come and try to get her to eat something. But everything had seemed impossible. She’d told them to leave her alone. She wasn’t worth the effort. Perhaps she wanted to die, but she wasn’t sure the Lady would allow it, and she was more afraid of what she might become if she returned. So she lay there in a state somewhere between consciousness and dreams.

Perhaps it was that liminal state which allowed her to hear the Lady’s words so clearly, like shivering razors that hissed beside her ear. Even now, she could still feel her presence lingering in her spine like a chill wind.

She stood up and scanned the dark room with her fox eyes. It was empty. But outside she could hear a low but steady roar, like thousands of voices. Through the windows she could see the flicker of fire. Something had happened, or was about to happen. Something the Lady didn’t want her to miss?

No, it wasn’t just that. The Lady had said something else to her. Even as Sonya pulled on her black guild vest, trousers, and boots, as she tied her greasy, unwashed black hair back into a ponytail, shouldered her bow, and belted on her knife, she tried to recall what had shocked her awake. It hovered just out of recollection.

Sonya stepped out of her apartment and into the cool evening breeze. But the air was thick with the sound of restless voices and the scent of anger and fear. What was going on?

She climbed the side of the building. With the hot climate of Raíz, windows were plentiful, so she reached the roof quickly and easily. There she was better able to understand.

Below her, the streets were crowded with people chanting, shouting, brandishing weapons and torches. A mob—no, a full-fledged riot. And in the distance, she saw why. A battalion of imperial soldiers had arrived, no doubt in retaliation for her attack on the barracks.

Once again she had made things worse for people.

Maybe she could surrender herself and no one else had to die. But how could she even get close enough speak to someone in order to claim responsibility? No doubt the soldiers would shoot a fox-eyed, pointy-eared, fanged archer on sight.

As she stared at the two groups that moved slowly but inevitably through the streets toward each other, she dimly recalled that Jorge, Maria, and Lucia had come to tell her that this would happen. They had sounded so urgent, but even then she had not been able to muster up the will to join them. And so they had left her. It was tempting to think of her inaction merely as cowardice. But she knew better. It had been despair.

So what had snapped her out of it? She was weak and hungry, dizzy from even the easy climb to the roof, but she forced herself to think through it. What had been the last thing the Lady had said?

Bratishka.

Little brother.

Sebastian was here.

Maybe she could convince him to accept her surrender in lieu of starting a war. Surely he would be glad to punish her for all the trouble she’d caused. All the death and suffering she seemed to leave in her wake. She didn’t know if that was what the Lady would want her to do, and she no longer cared.

Sonya sprinted from roof to roof in the direction of the imperial army. Her stomach twisted with hunger, and she felt far too light-headed to be leaping from building to building. But the army and the riot would soon meet, and once they did, there would be no going back. She had to find Sebastian first. She had to convince him that punishing her alone was sufficient.

Once she drew close to the army, she dropped down to the street. The riots were now behind her, but their sullen roar was still easy to hear, even over the rhythmic footfalls of the marching soldiers. She darted through the alleyways that ran parallel to the main street. The soldiers looked grim and sullen. Exhausted, despite the fact that the fighting had not even commenced.

Sonya’s golden eyes scanned for some sign of her brother. Her ears strained to hear his voice. Her nose…

There he was. She could smell him. That specific scent she’d known most of her life that could only be him. She moved swiftly toward the source of it, keeping to the shadows in the alleys, ducking into doorways whenever a soldier happened to glance in her direction, or a scout clumsily passed by.

Then at last she saw him, riding behind a group of infantry with two other officers. One was the large redheaded Izmorozian who had been with him in Gogoleth, the other was an Aureumian she didn’t recognize.

But then she looked more closely at her little brother, and her heart lurched. He looked like he’d somehow aged decades during the months since she’d last seen him. His hair was shot through with gray, and dark pouches hung beneath his eyes.

“What happened to you, Bastuchka…?” she whispered, and stepped out of the shadows.

As if somehow able to hear her over the tread of his soldiers, or perhaps sense her presence, his head turned just as she stepped into view. His eyes went wide in recognition. He saw her. Now what would he do?

He tapped his chest, then nodded to her. He was coming to her? That was surprising. He said something to the officers beside him. The Aureumian looked confused, and the Izmorozian merely shrugged.

Then Sebastian pulled his horse out of the line. But instead of heading directly down her alley, he led it down the next alley, as though he didn’t want to give her exact position away to his fellow soldiers. What was going on with him?

She moved back into the shadows, watching carefully as the two officers he’d spoken to continued to march along with the army. She heard her brother’s horse and decided to meet him there where they’d be out of direct view. If that’s what he wanted, she was happy to comply, even if she still didn’t understand what his intention was.

He climbed off his horse and looked around, his eyes squinting in the dark. Even a normal human should have been able to see her in such darkness. Whatever had happened to age him prematurely had also taken a toll on his senses.

“Sebastian?” she said quietly.

He gave a start, then turned and looked at her with an unfamiliar intensity. Not the righteous anger she’d seen before but something raw and vulnerable.

“Yasha…,” he whispered and took a step toward her.

Without meaning to, she reached out her hand toward his face, her voice aching. “What happened to you, little brother?”

He gave her a smile sadder than any she’d ever seen. “It’s the magic. The more I use it, the faster I age.”

“Then don’t use it, dummy!” she snapped, forgetting in her frustration that she was here not to argue but broker peace.

But he didn’t seem mad. In fact, he let out a soft, bitter chuckle.

“It’s not funny, Bastuchka!” she said. “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

“Me? What about you?” Now he looked irritated. He gestured to her face. “Why are you giving away pieces of yourself, huh?”

“Because I don’t know why!” she snapped.

“Well, me either!” he retorted.

They stood there and glared at each other.

Then, perhaps it was merely dizziness from hunger, but for a moment she could see herself from the outside. Here they were, after all their struggle and suffering, acting like children while the city around them was poised on the edge of chaos. It was absurd.

A hiccup of laughter escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Sebastian looked taken aback, then he too laughed. Before she knew it, the two of them were laughing without restraint, something they’d also done as children. Sometimes they’d get into such fits of laughter that by the time they subsided, neither could remember how it had begun.

Except they were not children anymore. Soon Sebastian’s laughter took on a hysterical edge. Tears began to course down his cheeks and his increasingly convulsive laughter changed to sobs.

“Sebastian?”

She put her hands on his shoulders, but was not at all prepared for his sudden fierce hug.

“Yasha,” he wept into her shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Yasha. It’s all my fault. I’ve ruined everything.”

She stiffened, taken aback by his sudden embrace, or perhaps by his sudden honesty. But after a moment she relaxed into the hug and stroked his gray-streaked hair soothingly. “Bastuchka, it’s okay…”

“It’s not. I’ve done terrible things.”

“So have I,” she said.

“I’ve done worse.”

“Do you really want to turn this into another sibling rivalry?” she asked dryly.

Laughter mixed back in with his tears and he gave her a weary look.

“I’ve missed you, Yasha.”

“I’ve missed you, too, little brother.”

He released her and took a step back, his expression abruptly grave and determined.

“Will you help me?”

“With what?” she asked carefully.

“You know the leaders of this Raízian revolt, right?”

“Well…”

“Surely they have a list of grievances. Perhaps if you and I worked together, we could bring both sides to a negotiating table to address the problems and avoid this unnecessary bloodshed.”

Her golden eyes widened in surprise. “Your superiors are open to that?”

“I’m… not sure,” he admitted. “Maybe. I hope so. Perhaps if we’ve already worked out the Raízian side and present it to him in the right light, he would at least consider the idea.”

“That does not sound very encouraging, little brother,” she said.

“I know, I know, but what else can we do?”

She shrugged. “I was just going to throw myself on your mercy and beg you to punish me and leave everyone else alone.”

He frowned. “Why would that work?”

“I mean, I’m not proud of it, but I was the one who killed all those soldiers.”

“By yourself?”

“Not exactly,” she admitted. “The Viajero had them all under some kind of trance spell.”

“So who’s the more dangerous in that scenario, the person who stabbed some helpless people, or the group who magically turned trained soldiers into helpless people?”

“Okay, I see your point.”

“And besides, it wouldn’t solve anything. If you and the Viajero were punished, it might appease the empress’s wrath, but the underlying problems in Raíz that began the conflict would still exist.”

“True.” Her eyes narrowed. “You’ve maybe matured just a little since we last saw each other, Bastuchka.”

He gave her a sour look. “You’re still a wiseass, though.”

“It’s part of my charm,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “Is that why the Uaine kicked you out of Izmoroz?”

Her expression hardened. “That’s a whole different matter and something we’ll need to talk about later, once we’ve brought the Raízians and Aureumians to the negotiation table.”

“Agreed.”

“Now, I think I can find the leader of the Viajero, but it’s going to be—”

She froze.

“Yasha?” Sebastian asked.

“Someone’s coming.”

She pulled him back into a doorway just as the Aureumian and Izmorozian officers from before led their horses around the corner into the alleyway.

“Marcello! Rykov!” Sebastian stepped out of the shadows and turned back to her. “It’s okay, Sonya. These are my friends.”

Sonya hesitated for a moment. She might trust Sebastian more now, but she wasn’t sure about the other two. Yet he was looking back at her with hope in his bleary eyes.

She sighed and stepped into the moonlight.

“My God, she really does have fox eyes!” gasped the Aureumian who, judging by the sound of the names, was probably Marcello.

“You.” Rykov immediately reached for his sword.

“Rykov, stop!” Sebastian’s eyes were imploring, but his hand was now on the massive diamond that hung from his neck.

Rykov looked at Sonya, then back at Sebastian.

“What are you doing?” he asked bluntly.

“I told you, we have to try to prevent this conflict from escalating. If the army kills these rioters, it’s going to provoke civil war.”

He seemed to mull that over for a moment. “So you’re joining with her?”

“My sister? Yes.”

“It is a complicated issue, Rykov,” said Marcello. “Surely you can see that.”

“Shut up,” Rykov told him. Then he turned back to Sebastian. “So you changed sides?”

“Don’t you see, Rykov?” pleaded Sebastian as he moved closer to the hulking Izmorozian. “Aureum, Izmoroz, Raíz… There are no sides. Not really. It’s just people. People who don’t need to die. And we can save them. Together.”

Sebastian reached out toward Rykov, as though beseeching this stoic man to reconsider his views. Sonya was actually impressed with her brother in that moment.

“Okay,” said Rykov.

Sebastian’s whole body relaxed, and he let go of his diamond. “Thank you, Sasha.”

“Sure.”

But Sonya heard the quiet hiss of a small blade leaving its sheath.

She shoved Sebastian aside just as Rykov thrust with his knife and the blade pierced her chest.

While blood poured into her lung, Sonya grabbed Rykov’s knife hand and twisted it, breaking his wrist. Then, even as her legs gave out from under her, she yanked the knife from her own chest and stabbed his thigh, slicing downward as she fell so that it cut straight down the side of his leg all the way to mid-calf. He bellowed in pain as his trousers quickly soaked with blood, then fell to the cobblestones beside her.

But that was it for Sonya. She couldn’t finish the job. Instead she lay on the ground, her chest gurgling and blood spilling from her mouth. Sebastian dropped to his knees beside her, tears streaming down his face as he shouted her name. He kept saying he was sorry over and over. She tried to tell him that there was nothing to forgive. She was happy she could do this for him. That she could finally save her little brother. But the only thing that came out of her mouth was more blood. So she merely touched his sagging cheek and smiled, then closed her eyes and drifted away.