Second Age of Storms, 51st Summer, Day 24
“Couriers have used this place for years,” Jin said. “The best place to stash undelivered goods is somewhere no one wants to go.”
She’d led Kadrin into the bowels of the Curing District, past rows of tannery vats redolent of gore and excrement. Jin was used to the smell, but Kadrin clearly had never frequented this part of town. He nodded, his face a bit green, as Jin stepped toward the shack at the end of the alley. With half the roof caved in, the shack looked like it might fall down on their heads, but Jin knew the effect was just for show. After a brief glance down the alley, she opened the shack’s side door to reveal the gleaming form of a magebike hidden within.
Kadrin gaped. “Is that yours?”
“No. I told you, I left mine at the ruins. This one belongs to a knight your sister is courting. She was gracious enough to arrange for me to borrow it.”
Kadrin’s expression was priceless; Jin wished she could bottle it. “You planned this with Elie? But you two only met this morning!”
“Actually, that isn’t true. We’ve met before.” Jin dragged the magebike out of the shed. It was a damned heavy beast, built to seat a knight in full plate. Hopefully that meant the tank would last the journey across the wastes, with Jin and Kadrin riding double.
“But you’ve always avoided meeting my family.” Kadrin sounded completely bewildered. “I thought you wouldn’t get along with Elie in particular. Because she’s—well, so different from you. When? And why didn’t you tell me?”
Jin had hoped this conversation would never take place. Even now, perhaps, she could come up with some explanation for how she’d convinced Eliesen to acquire the bike. But that would be a direct lie, and she’d never told Kadrin one of those before. The only option left was the truth.
“Eliesen and I are different. But that doesn’t always stop people from—from getting along.” She made a helpless gesture with her hands. “Rasvel’s mercy, Kadrin. You must know your sister isn’t shy about pursuing anyone who interests her. I do mean anyone.”
“Oh,” Kadrin said, a flush immediately rising to his cheeks.
Jin dragged a hand over her face and quickly regretted it; her burned palm stung like hellfire. “It wasn’t only my secret to keep.”
She wished she could sink into the mud and never resurface. Part of her wanted to go on explaining, give more context—it had been only one time, and she hadn’t known Eliesen was a noblewoman until later. She’d been a mess over Falka, and Elie had been so kind… but hearing more details was probably the last thing Kadrin wanted. Jin didn’t even want to dwell on the specifics. She hadn’t realized until a long time afterward why she’d been so receptive to Eliesen’s advances: the siblings bore an uncanny resemblance, especially in the dark.
She cleared her throat. “We’ve wasted enough time. Yi-Nereen needs us, remember?”
Kadrin blinked slowly, looking at her like he’d never seen her before. “Ah, yes. Are we—should we ride now?”
“No, the streets are too crowded. We’ll need to take the bike outside the walls.”
They set off toward the gate, with Jin walking the magebike and casting about for a change of topic. The streets of Kerina Sol were full of their usual clamor: merchants hawking wares, children laughing as they kicked balls into gutters, chickens clucking. Yet all Jin could hear was the silence between her and Kadrin. She was about to start a desperate discussion about the weather when Kadrin finally spoke up.
“I’ve been thinking about what happens when we reach Kerina Rut,” he said. “They’ll have Reena under guard, won’t they? You won’t just be able to ride off with her like you did before.”
“No, definitely not.”
“I’ve done a little reading.” Kadrin sounded almost bashful. “Courting in Kerina Rut has its own set of sacred traditions. The oldest law of courtship is the Law of Prior Claim. If a woman—or more likely, her family—spurns her betrothed and selects a new match, the wronged man can challenge her new fiancé to a duel by the sword. The winner gets final claim to the woman’s hand.”
Jin sighed. “I’ve heard of that law. It’s barbaric. How do you expect to get Sou-Zell to issue the challenge?”
“He isn’t the wronged man,” Kadrin said. “I am.”
“Come again?”
“Reena can declare that I was her original betrothed. She never sought her family’s permission for it, but according to the Law of Prior Claim, that doesn’t actually matter. A man is allowed to defend his claim even if it was never made official. A promise from the woman herself is all that’s needed.”
You’ve obviously put a lot of thought into this. Yi-Nereen wasn’t the only one who had planned for their future together, it seemed. Jin felt a flash of bitterness chased by guilt; she had no right to feel betrayed. “There’s one problem with that, Kadrin. I’ve read all of your letters—hell, I put them to paper—and Yi-Nereen never made such a promise.”
“Here’s where it gets tricky.”
Kadrin lifted his hand. Sunlight caught on his ring, a heavy obsidian band studded with silver skulls. Kadrin wore a different assortment of earrings, bangles, and necklaces every time Jin saw him, most of them gold or copper to complement his warm brown skin, but there was only one piece of jewelry he never took off; Jin knew exactly where it had come from. She’d carried it across the wastes in her breast pocket.
“Kerina Sol has its own traditions around jewelry,” Kadrin said. “After all the letters we’ve exchanged—proof of courtship—the ring she sent me was tantamount to a marriage proposal.”
Now Jin couldn’t help but smile, though her fondness was fighting a pitched battle with the beast of longing inside her. “Yi-Nereen is cleverer than both of us combined. Do you think she realized what she was doing?”
“I—I considered that.” Kadrin looked down at the cobblestone road, blushing. “I hardly dared hope, but I considered it.”
How she hated to cut his dreams short. But now wasn’t the time for fantasies. “I don’t think it will work, Kadrin. Her fiancé could simply laugh in your face and shut the door—and there wouldn’t be anything we could do to stop him.”
“A last resort, then. If subterfuge fails.”
Jin frowned as another thought occurred to her. “What makes you so sure you would win the duel?”
“You said Yi-Nereen’s fiancé is a mindreader.” Kadrin grinned. “It’s a huge advantage in swordplay—knowing where your opponent’s next strike will land, whether they’ve anticipated yours. Well, his Talent won’t work on me. He’ll have lost his greatest asset.”
How did he sound so sure, so unafraid? And why did Jin feel almost the same? Like she could just ride out there, rescue a princess, and take on the world.
They met no trouble at the gate; the guards merely glanced over Jin’s bike and waved them through. Jin didn’t miss Kadrin’s quiet intake of breath as they stepped out from the shadow of the Wall. Beneath their feet lay the cracked asphalt of the highway; before them stretched the wild wastes.
“We’re going out there.” Kadrin’s eyes were fixed on the horizon.
Jin straddled her magebike. “Last chance to turn back.”
Kadrin’s response was to climb onto the bike behind her. “Where am I supposed to hold on?”
Jin swallowed. She hadn’t felt nearly this awkward when she’d ridden with Yi-Nereen. Of course, there had been plenty to distract her then, like guards shooting at them or a violent storm chasing them down. I could use a distraction or two now.
“You’ll have to hold on to me.” She touched her waist. “Hands here.”
Kadrin hesitated, then tentatively put his arms around Jin. “Like this?”
Jin forgot how to breathe. Rasvel’s mercy, but he was warm. Her chest was tight and fluttering. His embrace was torture, and it was frightening how much she wanted to sink into it and never resurface.
Why not enjoy yourself? a traitorous voice asked. This won’t last. Once they’re reunited, you’ll have all the time in the world to be alone. Just like you deserve.
“Closer.” Jin’s voice was strained. She cleared her throat. “The closer you are, the easier it will be to balance.” Kadrin shifted until his front was pressed against Jin’s back and she felt his breath on her neck. It’s going to be a long ride. “Ready?”
“Yes,” Kadrin said. “Jin, I wanted to say—thank you. For letting me come with you. I promise I won’t let you or Reena down.” She heard his smile in his voice, warm and golden.
Jin restrained a shiver. She didn’t want or deserve his thanks—not when she’d been helpless to make any decision other than to help him and Yi-Nereen, for reasons both simple and painfully complicated. They had to do with her father’s mistakes; promises she’d whispered into Falka’s hair long ago; Jin’s own secret wishes, too fragile to exist in reality; and always, the undeserved gift of her sparktalent.
She loved too easily, and promises were hard to keep.
They’d been on the road for a few hours when Jin saw a plume of smoke and dust in the distance, chrome flashing under the sun. Another rider, approaching from the opposite direction—alone. Jin relaxed. Raiders never traveled alone.
The unspoken custom of the wastes dictated she slow down and pull alongside the other rider to exchange tidings. It was always useful to hear news of nearby chandru herds, or sightings of territorial rovex. Some couriers used these road meetings to shorten a journey by exchanging goods.
Jin didn’t want to stop. Every moment mattered. But what if the rider had news of Kerina Rut? Yi-Nereen’s return to the city in disgrace would have caused a stir. Any information could be worth spending a few minutes.
She raised her hand in the sign of meeting, and the other rider mirrored the gesture. Kadrin’s weight pressed into her as the bike slowed. If he wondered why they were stopping, he didn’t ask.
Finally the two bikes pulled side by side and Jin hit the brakes. The other rider was slim, clad in full leather and a pteropter bonehelm. Dark glass shone in the bonehelm’s orbital openings, obscuring the rider’s eyes from view. Disquiet stirred in Jin’s stomach. There was something familiar about the set of those shoulders, the crisp lines of the bone-plated vest.
“Hail, sparkrider,” she said cautiously.
In response, the rider raised his gloved hands to remove his helm. Off came the saurian skull, and Jin found herself staring into the slanted, dark eyes of a man who had once offered to light her mana-cig in a shaded gazebo by the spring.
Yi-Nereen’s betrothed, Sou-Zell.