I AWAKENED IN THE DIM INFIRMARY, ALL BUT ONE noorestone covered for the night. A deep stillness filled the room.
Fragmented memories surfaced: medicine that numbed my pain and my thoughts, doctors removing crystal shards from my back, and scattered conversation about what they’d do with the boy’s feet.
Which meant—though Aaru had been tortured—they’d treated me first. Why? Because I was Mira Minkoba? That name shouldn’t make a difference, especially not here. Aaru had barely been alive when I’d dragged him off the chair; he should have been given priority.
Gerel had once told me that warriors weren’t allowed to murder prisoners; it was against their code of honor. But sometimes there were “accidents,” which accounted for the suspiciously low population of the Fallen Isles’ most infamous prison.
My back ached as I pushed myself into a sitting position and surveyed the infirmary. It was the same one as before—the only one in the Heart of the Great Warrior that accepted inmates—and I knew from experience there would be several uninterrupted hours of peace.
In the deep-blue gloom, I found one other bed occupied.
With a strangled groan, I slid off my bed and tiptoed to his. Aaru was asleep, a gray sheet pulled across his body. He looked better, at least. Not what I’d call healthy, but his skin had been scrubbed clean and the cadence of his breath was long and even. Bandages covered his feet and ankles, so at least a day had gone by; it would have taken several hours to remove all the crystal shards from both my back and Aaru’s feet, clean the wounds, and stitch them shut. Plus, the medication they’d used to numb me was mere dregs now, and I’d felt like I’d been sleeping awhile.
“It’s my fault,” I whispered. The night made my words seem insubstantial. I started to take his hand, like I might convey my regret through physical contact, but hesitated. After what happened, he probably didn’t want me to touch him. So I knelt next to his bed and bent my head in repentance. “What happened to you is my fault.”
His breathing didn’t alter, but his presence shifted from asleep to awake; I’d felt that change often enough as we lay together at night, a wall in between our bodies. But now nothing separated us except a bubble of propriety and uncertainty.
“I thought Altan would do something else to me. Before, when I refused him, he threatened to isolate me again. Worse, though. And I thought . . .” My ragged fingernails dug into my palms. “It never occurred to me that he might hurt you.”
Aaru’s fingers twitched, then slowly moved into the quiet code. ::You’re a kind person. Cruelty does not occur to you.::
My jaw trembled. “How can you forgive so easily?”
Slowly, he turned his head to look at me. Noorestone light limned the curve of his cheek and jaw with pale blue, and the urge to touch that space where illumination met skin overwhelmed me. I pressed my fingers against the mattress instead, feeling the soft vibrations of his tapping. ::Forgiveness is easy when there’s nothing to forgive. He did this. Not you.::
I couldn’t imagine being so clearheaded and merciful if our positions had been reversed.
::The Book of Silence says unwarranted blame is an affront to Idris’s ears. We must take care not to place it at the wrong person’s feet.::
I pressed my mouth into a line. ::The Book of Love says something similar.::
::We are not so different.:: Pain racked his features as he shifted onto his side, but when I offered to help, he shook his head. So I stayed put, my knees digging into the floor, and watched the way he moved. In our darkened little space beneath our beds, I’d never gotten a sense of his size, but now I couldn’t help but notice how much of him there was. Long and lanky, yes, but corded with lean muscle from years of hard work.
“We aren’t the same, Aaru.”
He lifted an eyebrow in question.
“Where do I begin? Our upbringings, stations, and families—those are just a few examples of things that separate us.”
::But not the thing you want to discuss.::
I added his perceptiveness to the list.
::Will answer your question.::
Now I was embarrassed to ask, but he’d offered. “You did something incredible,” I said. “Do you remember? At the end, you made the noorestones stop glowing and smothered all the sound.”
::I didn’t know I could.:: His teeth flashed bright white where he bit his lower lip. ::Idris grants powerful gifts to the worthy, but I am not. I am of the least of his people, not like the Silent Brothers.::
Damyan and Darina gave charm to their people, but there were spectrums of power. Elected officials, theater actors, and people in the public eye had all the charm in the world, while others (like me) made do with the barest scrapes.
::The gift is silence,:: he went on. ::Noorestones make a sound that most cannot hear, but it illuminates the stones. I silenced it.::
“And everything else.”
He nodded.
Most gifts were muted away from our home islands, which meant Aaru was powerful. If he could silence noorestones here, what could he do on Idris? “What about in our cellblock?”
::Not me. Another. Better and stronger. More precise. They silence light without silencing sound.::
And for Aaru, it was all or nothing, but perhaps with more practice, he could be more precise as well. “It’s amazing,” I whispered. I’d always believed the Idrisi divine gift was passive—the ability to move silently or be silent. But making other things silent? That was incredible. Dangerous.
::Please tell no one.::
“I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”
He rolled onto his back again, mouth dropped open with a soundless groan.
“Aaru . . .” My knees ached as I stood to help him, but I was too slow. He’d finished rearranging himself and was panting with the effort. “I’m sorry.” I sat on the bed next to him, not quite touching his hip, and hung my head. “I’m so sorry he did this to you, and for my part in it. I should have known better.”
His fingers breezed against a lock of my hair, loose from its twist. The barest heat from his skin touched my cheek.
At once, his face darkened and he withdrew.
I wished he’d do it again, but I wasn’t about to suggest it. Not when I was the cause for his pain. He shouldn’t feel like he had to comfort me.
::Why does Altan hate you?:: Aaru asked. ::Why did he hurt you before? And now me?::
Of all people, Aaru deserved answers. But what could I say without giving away my identity? “I have information.” My voice trembled. “I know things I shouldn’t. That’s why I was sent here.”
::And he wants to know what you know.:: Aaru nodded to himself. ::He won’t stop.::
“Not until he’s satisfied I’ve given him everything.”
::What will you do?::
“What would you do?”
His gaze was steady, not judging, but appraising, and I couldn’t help but wonder what he saw. A scared girl from Damina? Someone who’d never known true fear or hunger until now? Maybe a thoughtless person who caused others pain?
::I would ask Idris for guidance.:: He turned his face to cover a yawn. ::Sorry. Tired.::
“Then go to sleep.” I studied him a moment longer: the sharp lines and full lips and heavy brow. He had a kind face, and eyes filled with deep thoughts and emotion; I wished I could read them.
::Will you do something for me?::
“Of course.” A flurry of impossible requests came to mind as soon as the words were out. He might ask me to get him out of the Pit right now, or give Altan the rest of my information, or even fly. I could do none of those things.
But this was Aaru. He said, ::Tell me about your life before this.:: He lifted his hands toward me like an offering, melting away all lingering doubts about his forgiveness.
He still wanted whatever it was that we’d been growing this last month. Our alliance, or . . . maybe friendship? Our injuries set back our plan at least a decan—neither Aaru nor I could work while we were recovering—but we’d begin again as soon as we were released from the infirmary. We’d keep feeding Gerel and Chenda and all the others (I tried not to think of Hurrok), and we’d find a way out of here. Together.
Heart pounding, I let my fingertips play across the backs of his hands, finding the ridges of bones and tendons and knuckles. His breath caught; he closed his eyes; my name fell soundless from his lips.
This was forward, at least on Idris. On Damina, this might be just the beginning, but Idris was so reserved in the giving and receiving of physical affection.
Still, we’d held hands before.
There’d been a wall between us.
But he’d placed his hands into mine.
An invitation to hold his hands was not an invitation to indulge the fluttery feeling deep in my stomach. I squashed it, and ordered myself to do as he’d asked: tell him about my life.
But as I began to describe Crescent Prominence in stumbling quiet code, Aaru opened his eyes and cocked his head—listening.
Footsteps in the hall.
Before I could scramble away, back to my bed, the door slammed open and bright noorestone light shone in from the hall.
“Mira Minkoba.” Altan stood in the doorway, obscured by my light-induced tears. “I’m happy to see you’re awake.” His tone contradicted his words, though, and as he strode into the room, a pair of white-uniformed men at his sides, he frowned at the sight of me next to Aaru.
Behind me, Aaru’s curiosity at my surname burned, and my mind dutifully counted the letters of my name tapped against the back of my hand, but it was the pair of newcomers who held my attention.
Their clothing was off-white linen that glowed against their brown skin, with seven gold stars embroidered around the deep hoods. Seven buttons down the left side of the jackets gave the illusion of the wrap style that was fashionable in Damina, while medals were pinned right in the middle. They wore matching trousers, boots, and gloves, and both had long daggers at their hips. From one side of the hoods to the other, an off-white mask stretched. It concealed their noses and mouths, leaving only dark eyes to watch me.
I knew those uniforms. I’d seen them all of my life and never truly paid attention—not until the day they’d come to arrest me.
Altan’s glance darted from me to Aaru and back, and a spear-sharp smile grew on his mouth.
“What’s happening?” I spoke the words, but I could hardly hear them under the rush of my pulse through my ears.
Behind me, Aaru pushed himself up and tapped questioningly at my arm, but I couldn’t bear to look at him.
“Your wish has come true,” Altan said as the white-clad guards marched forward. “The Luminary Council has sent for you, Hopebearer.”