Furyborn

“Monsters do not weep for the dead,” Navi said, “and they do not regret.”

But this was no comfort. Eliana shook her head, the room a blur of shadows and shuddering candlelight. “If I am not a monster,” she whispered, “then what excuse do I have for the things I’ve done?”

“Eliana, look at me.”

She obeyed, realizing that she had slid to the carpeted floor and that Navi was now crouched before her, holding her hands.

“We are all of us dark creatures,” Navi said, “but if we linger in those shadows, we’ll be lost. Instead we must seek the light when we can, and that’s just what you’re doing. I see it happening.”

“You believe too easily,” Eliana muttered.

“And you don’t believe enough.”

“Belief doesn’t keep you alive.”

“But, given time, it can win wars.”

Eliana’s breath was running away from her. A hard heat felt ready to burst from her chest. “I don’t agree with you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to. I used to be like you. Like Harkan.” Harkan, God. She scoffed, wiped her eyes. “My fucking hands won’t stop shaking. I can’t stay like this, or I’ll get killed, and then we’ll never find Mother—”

Words failed her. She could hardly breathe past the fear spiraling wildly through her body. She wrapped her arms around her legs, leaned her forehead on her knees.

Then, warmth, and a hand drawing slow circles between her shoulder blades. Like Harkan used to do when she had trouble sleeping. Like her mother had done when Eliana couldn’t eat for missing her father. Together they had sat in the dying candlelight of their quiet house, waiting night after night for the sound of his steps in the hallway.

“Navi,” Eliana whispered, fists clenched. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Do what?”

Seek the light.

Fight a hopeless war.

Believe.

She didn’t answer. After a few moments, Navi shifted, opening her arms, and Eliana moved into her embrace without thinking. She burrowed into Navi’s front and closed her eyes, listened to the steady beat of Navi’s heart and the in and out of Navi’s lungs.

Slowly the tension knitting her muscles into knots began to loosen.

“Tell me about your mother,” Navi said.

Her mother. Eliana closed her eyes.

A memory surfaced, swift and painful: her mother’s arms around her, Eliana nestled in her lap as Rozen guided her tiny fingers across the face of her necklace.

“You’ve always loved this ugly old thing,” Rozen had told her, “ever since the day we found it. You loved it so much you finally stopped screaming at me and let me sleep through the night. As long as you were holding it, you would sleep for hours.”

Eliana had giggled, blushing at the thought. She had traced her fingers across the necklace’s rough surface. “What does it mean?”

“It’s an etching of the Lightbringer. Do you remember that story?”

“He was a great king,” Eliana had whispered, eyes wide as she traced over the sweeping arcs of the horse’s wings and the blacked-out figure on its back. “And this… What was it called?”

Eliana had looked up at her mother, wrinkling her nose.

Rozen had laughed. “A godsbeast. Back when the world was very, very young, such creatures roamed the skies and the waters and the great, green earth. This one was called a—”

“Chavaile,” Eliana had answered, beaming. “I remember now.” She brought the necklace to her lips and kissed the horse on its nose. “That’s my favorite one.”

In Navi’s arms, Eliana shook her head. Grief lanced her through the heart. “I can’t. Not her. I…”

She remembered Linnet’s forlorn cry: Mama?

If she’d only known what would happen, she would have never gone hunting for the Wolf. She would have climbed into her mother’s bed and held her close, every night. She would have moved only to gut the people who dared try to steal Rozen away.

“All right.” Navi stroked her hair. “Tell me about Harkan, then.”

“Well. He wasn’t my only lover, but he was the best. Except for this woman Alys, who worked in the Brightwater red rooms. God, she made me black out a few times—”

“No, Eliana,” Navi chided gently. “Tell me something real.”

For a long time, Eliana didn’t speak. Instead, she let the rhythm of Navi’s fingers caressing her scalp coax her breathing slow and quiet.

“Why are you helping me?” Eliana asked at last.

“Because I have nightmares too,” Navi answered. “And I’m glad for the company.”

Eliana hesitated, then found Navi’s hand and gripped it tight.

“Something real,” she said. “Harkan dreamed of us all someday escaping to Astavar. He was going to teach me how to grow tomatoes and make me wear a straw hat.”

Navi’s laughter shocked Eliana into a smile. She squeezed Navi’s fingers, closed her eyes, and spoke of Harkan until sleep claimed them.

• • •

Morning came. They’d moved to Navi’s bed during the night, and though at first Eliana lay in the soft tangle of Navi’s sleepy limbs with a feeling of rare and utter contentment, that did not last long.

All too soon she remembered: There is still a war. Astavar still may fall. Mother is still missing. And I…

She slipped out of bed, glanced once more at Navi’s still form, then the room.

I am still…whatever I am. Angel? Human? Marque?

Monster?

A dark pocket opened inside her, all doubt and meanness, slowly pushing away the quiet peace the night had brought. She made for the kitchen. She would eat, she decided, and stretch, then find Simon and demand they spend the morning sparring.

Storming down the dimly lit corridor, she grinned to imagine her fists slamming into Simon’s chest. He’d give her a good knock or two, but she’d bounce back. He would dodge her blades; she’d catch him on the arm, make him curse her—

Eliana rounded a corner and ran into Camille.

The woman scowled in greeting. “Dread.”

Eliana pushed past her. “Camille. I was just—”

But Camille stopped her, hand on her wrist.

Eliana’s head snapped around to glare at her. “Unhand me at once.”