Chapter 25: Our March To Our Mortality
There was calm, the calm that is called before the storm
When we are compelled to pause and not act but be.
- Mohsin Hamad
Vardi Tayna had dark green streaked on her throat and her collarbone, angling down towards her sternum. Liara tried not to think about how far down the colored marks might go, averting her eyes as the other Selected reached forward across the table to pluck an apple from the basket and said, quite casually, "everyone have a good night?"
The night had barely passed; Liara didn't even think it was bright outside yet. She had slept barely an hour, still fully dressed, in the narrow room she shared with Atiena, when she had heard movement in the room across the hall as someone slipped out the door and down the stairs. She had expected it to be Vardi Tayna, slipping out into the gloom to do whatever strange things occupied her frequent absences from the house. Instead, the rebel was sitting at the kitchen table now, her legs folded up beneath her as though boneless, her face still bearing that slight glow of inebriation. Täj, a bright point in the shadows, looked similarly as he descended the stairs quietly and came into the kitchen. He said, quite tiredly, "my spletnichayem?"
"No," Liara replied, also in Russian. "We are not gossiping."
Täj, clearly, had not expected her to understand, and gave her a look that made Liara feel as though he could see down to her bones. Vardi Tayna stayed where she was, rolling the apple along her arms and shoulders rather than eating it, and Eden, from where she was just about holding herself upright at the kettle, offered a little wave.
"I'm sure we could gossip," Eden said softly, "if we could think of some gossip." An expression that Liara could not read flickered across her face, and was gone again before the girl from the capital could even think of hazarding a guess at what it could mean.
Liara wondered if any of the girls had broken the rules of the Selection during the revels. She wondered if it would matter if they had, given how lax this rebel Selection seemed to be about enforcing the archaic rules of the ritual. She wondered what colour Demetri's lips were, and what colour Täj's had been, before he had showered. She was sure that she had seen – she was sure they had spoken during the night, heads bent together, lips close – and yet she could not recall.
She hoped that neither of them had been green.
Vardi Tayna said, "we could always just make some up," and then swore as Täj reached out and knocked the apple from where she had balanced it on her head. "Dickhead!"
Eden said, thoughtfully, "I haven't seen... I haven't seen Atiena, have you?"
"She was with the twins," Elizabeth said, her voice thick, her lips green, her head set on her arms as though she thought this simple gesture would stop the world from spinning around her. "Good god, what was in those drinks?"
"Ah," Eden said. Her gaze was fixed resolutely on the kettle, as though that would sober her up. "Excellent. That is… excellent."
Vardi Tayna said, with the tone of one who knew she was creating trouble, "did I see some green on Harjo, Tucker?"
Liz shook her head emphatically. "Lots of girls were wearing green, Tayna."
"Lots," Vardi Tayna agreed, "but that particular shade..."
"I gave my drink to the pale man. Maybe you should ask him about it?"
"Wick would never give me a chance," Täj said dryly. "His standards are too high."
Liz cut her gaze across to Täj and seemed inclined to laugh, but cut herself off with a groan as she noticed that Vardi Tayna had produced a bottle of berry liquor from under her jacket and was pouring herself another shot. Liara wasn't sure where the tiny girl put it all away. As though to rebuff criticism that was yet to be given word, Vardi Tayna said, "hair of the dog, darling, it keeps the hangover at bay," and threw it back, leaving her lips silver-and-scarlet. "Don't look at me like that. It's so rarely in season."
Eden said, "you know that's not exactly a good reason, right?"
A shrug was the only answer that the other girl could give. Without raising her head from her arms, Elizabeth Tucker silently pushed her glass across the table so that the rebel could fill her a measure as well. It was like watching self-immolation in slow motion, Liara thought amusedly, and wondered who would be the first one to tap out.
"I understand a congratulations is in order," Eden added, looking at Täj. "Something about you and Atiena and a knife throwing competition?"
"We came second," Täj said, as Liara quelled whatever part of her wanted to know when he and Atiena had become friends. Why they had become friends. Why every member of the Selected seemed to find the rebellion so easy to fall in with, so natural to find their place. "Hardly worth congratulating."
Vardi Tayna squinted at him. "Who won?"
"Agares and Uzo." A smile ghosted across Täj's face, barely perceptible. "Naturally."
Liz sighed deeply, and raised her head just long enough to tip back some alcohol. "Do you think Agares would adopt me if I asked?"
Liara thought of Raphael's words the night before: having you all in the house... it's a comfort, truly, it is. "If you asked nicely," she said.
"Please and thank you," Täj added.
Liz's voice sounded like she was smiling into her sleeves. "I'm very polite."
"I heard you calling a soldier a scumbering jizzstain earlier," Eden pointed out gently.
"Yes," Liz agreed, "but I said it so politely."
"Where's Yue?" Vardi Tayna said suddenly. Liara wondered if the northern girl's absence had only just occurred to the rebel. On the one hand, it had been some three or four hours since Yue had slipped away from them. On the other, it almost impressed Liara that Vardi Tayna would ever think about someone other than herself.
"She probably went back with Saran," Liara said. "You know how close those two are."
Saran had taken charge of Eden for most of the night to ensure she was integrated into the group, and it was the other traitor Selected, as Liara and Eden were known, who spoke up now. "No, Yue left before Saran did."
The other traitor Selected. Liara had not realised she thought of Eden like that until the phrase materialised, fully formed, at the forefront of her mind. The other traitor Selected, which made Liara the first. She wondered if Eden thought the same. She wondered if Eden watched Liara as coldly as Liara watched Eden. She wondered if any part of Eden had begun to fall for the warm familiarity of Layeni and the fraternal camaraderie of the rebellion.
When Eden looked up, Liara looked away, and Vardi Tayna said, "Yue went to the Martyr's Needle, I think."
Täj said, "I'll go look for her." He set down his cup of tea – Liara had not noticed him making it – and straightened up. "Just to make sure she's okay."
Vardi Tayna glanced at him. "You sure?"
"Of course."
It struck Liara, not for the first time, how quietly protective of the girls that Täj had become over the long weeks here in Raphael's house – not in any manner carrying some lascivious implications, but in the same way that Liara imagined an older brother might be, the same way Demetri had once acted towards her and Mordred. Yue Yukimura was frequently the subject of these instincts, delicate as she seemed, and Liara recalled Täj insisting, quite quietly and quite politely, to accompany Yue to the market the first four mornings that she had walked there to do the shopping. He had not spoken more than ten words to her through the whole process, Yue had told Liara afterwards; he was not concerned about her being lonely, but apparently about her getting lost.
Liara would have put money on him having some younger siblings, now that she thought about it. Not for the first or last time, she wondered how long you would have to know this man to learn everything about him.
"She might be with the king," Vardi Tayna warned.
Liz said, not even bothering to hide the bitterness in her voice, "that would require the king to take an interest in the Selection, don't you think?"
Eden looked down at her teacup and said nothing, her orange-tinted lips turning in a slightly thoughtful smile. "Yes," she agreed, "that doesn't exactly seem his style."
"If she's with the king," Täj said, "I'll leave."
"Or join in." Liz's suggestion was barely audible from her position at the end of the table.
"Or join in," Täj agreed, pulling on the same green sweater he had worn the night before.
"See you at the picnic?" Vardi Tayna said, and the image of the executioner Täj, pale and glowering, at a picnic was almost enough to make Liara laugh.
"Only if Mordred himself drags my corpse there."
Liara said, "I think I can arrange that", quite deadpan, and was rewarded with another of those smiles that were simply, solely, Täj – bright and slight and devastating, gone as soon as it was there, and oddly familiar, familiar enough that a part of Liara ached to know why she knew it.
"Give him my regards when you're talking to him," Täj said, "won't you?"
"No need for that," Liara replied. "You can tell him yourself when we take Angeles."
"We?" Vardi Tayna's voice was soft, suspicious, suggestive.
"We," Eden agreed, her voice like cracking glass.
This time, Liara looked at her, and it was Eden's turn to look away.
"Oh, no." Yue hadn't realised she was able or willing to disagree with the king, but as Demetri turned to look at her with the expression of a dog that had just been kicked, she found that she could say no to his suggestion not just once, but twice and three times. "Nooooo. Thank you. But no."
"No?" He smiled as he said it, like even he realised that absurdity of verifying what she had said when she had said it over again. "Are you sure?"
"Certain."
"Okay," he said, and Yue blinked to realise that he had no follow-up questions, intended no further interrogation, required no justification. He just shrugged and put his hands in his pockets – and god, what was it about that simple gesture that stripped the years from his face and his build and left him just another young man, sitting beside the river as the sun crept over the horizon, looking at a girl with something soft in his eyes. "We can do something else."
"I'm sorry," she said, "no, really, it was thoughtful and so so sweet and I appreciate it so much, but I just don't…. you know, I don't…."
"Yue," he said. She liked the way he said her name. "You never have to explain."
"But I want to. I'm… you know." She shrugged, a little helplessly. "I'm Yue Yukimura."
"You are."
"I just don't really do it anymore," she said. "Skate, I mean. I haven't done it in ages. And I'm so out of practice. I'd just disappoint you..."
"Yue," he said. She thought there was a slight hint of laughter in his voice. "You could never disappoint me."
Oh. Oh. Yue wished he hadn't said that. Yue wished he hadn't set himself up to be wrong, so obviously wrong, so awfully wrong.
"Okay," she said. "I mean. Sure."
"You didn't like skating?"
Yue surprised even herself. "I loved skating."
He cocked his head, and she elaborated without him asking the obvious question.
"It was… everything else around it."
"I think I understand."
"All the eyes. All the pressure. Everyone watching, and judging."
"Yue," he said, and that was the third time in so many seconds that he had said her name, and maybe she should have been sick of it but she wasn't. "It's just us."
"Just us."
"No one watching."
Yue laughed. "Are you giving me permission to fuck up?"
Shit. Was she allowed to swear in front of the king? She couldn't recall. She couldn't recall having done so before. But after these long hours beside the river, discussing books in person rather than on paper, she could not quite imagine Demetri rebuking her for a curse word. She could not quite imagine Demetri rebuking her, truth be told. He had been exceptionally gentle – in movement and in words – for the whole time that they had watched the fireworks, and watched the stars, and watched the night fade into daylight again.
"I'm mandating it."
"What a strange abuse of royal power," Yue mused, and that pulled a laugh out of him.
"So if you change your mind," he said, "and that's if. You know where I am. I've always wanted to learn."
Yue blinked again. "You've never learned?"
"To ice skate?" Demetri shook his head. "When would I?"
She didn't know. She had just presumed that it was one of those things that little princes and little princesses did, when they were little, wrapped in jewel-toned woollen scarves and accompanied by austere looking nannies. She had never really considered why she thought it such a natural component of any decent childhood. Maybe because it had been such an obnoxiously large part of hers.
But then, Demetri had been a little prince for such a short time.
"It is warm in the Wastelands," she said, and could have throttled herself for what a stupid sentence that was. Yes. It was indeed warm in the Wastelands. It was a warm place.
"Yes," Demetri agreed. He had the faintest trace of orange berry staining the corner of his lip, and Yue focused her gaze upon it. "Not much opportunity to learn."
"You're putting me in a corner here."
"I'm not."
"Of course you are. If I don't volunteer to teach you, I'm the bad guy."
"You said that. Not me." He paused, and went on in a tone that suggested he was on the verge of being playful, using literature to poke at her in a manner that she was likely to accept in good fun. "But you did find it so sad when Koharu refused to teach Hifumi how to fence in Kori no Shinzo."
"Yes," she said. "Because Koharu was sabotaging her chances with him." She paused. "And because I don't usually model my behaviour after the conduct of fictional characters in romance novels."
"I imagine it would be much more fun," Demetri said softly. "Much more dramatic."
Yue's leg, hanging over the ice, barely traced the surface. It looked thick enough to support them, she noted, and hated herself for noting it, because it meant that her resolve was wavering. But Demetri was right. There was no one else around.
Some juvenile part of her whispered that she hadn't got her date with Demetri yet. Was she really turning down her chance to get to know him better? To have him pay her some small bit of attention and time? To stay in the competition, and take advantage of her new position of Elite?
"I didn't think you needed more drama in your life," she said, and he nodded in agreement. His hair looked like dark gold in the red light spilling over the horizon, askew after a whole night outside, though Yue thought his habit of running his hands through his hair was more to blame for the disarray than the wind was. His eyes were such a dark green, they looked almost black. She hadn't noticed until now that he had the shadow of stubble on his jaw, and she hadn't noticed until now how much it suited him, how much less severe he seemed with the slight trace of relaxation marking his face.
"I don't think so either." And, again, almost like she had manifested it, he ran his hands through his hair and shook his head. "Well. A little more never hurt anyone. Or so everyone keeps telling me."
She laughed. "You're too boring for their taste?"
"Too indecisive." He had the same expression as the night before, when he had told her that he was at risk of melancholy – a kind of peaceable expression, like he knew precisely what his flaws were and was at peace with them. Of course, indecision seemed like quite the flaw for the king, for the leader of the rebellion.
"They say," she said cautiously. "A good relationship…" She paused. "Or friendship. Is built on balancing out each other's flaws."
"Do they say that?" Demetri smiled. "Are you very decisive, Yue Yukimura?"
"I'm working on it." She got to her feet, a little less gracefully than she would have liked, a little more clambering involved than was strictly elegant, and hoped he hadn't noticed. "So, if you're free this afternoon…" She gestured towards the ice, all her bravery evaporating even quicker than she could have imagined.
"This afternoon?"
"Would you rather do it now?"
Demetri looked thoughtful. "I don't have any skates with me. This afternoon, then."
He jumped to his feet. Yue had seen a few of the rebels do this, but it always surprised her, especially when it was a man as bulky as Uzokuwa, who seemed too large, hewn from stone, to move with such grace. On Demetri, of course, the motion looked utterly natural.
"Okay," Yue said, and smiled. "Okay. This afternoon."
"I'm really looking forward to it," Demetri said, and Yue smiled again.
"Yeah," she said. They had been sitting closely together, and that had seemed quite natural, but now they were standing closely together and that seemed rather less so, rather more dangerous, rather more rich with potential or risk or something. "Yeah."
Demetri smiled and she thought he was going to say something else, but then she realised he was not looking at her but was looking past her, at something beyond them, and when she turned to smile, she saw that there was a figure on the nearest bridge, watching them, a figure that had not been there before.
Demetri said, "I'll walk you back to Raphael's."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course." He smiled. "I'm a gentleman before I am anything else."
"Before a king?"
He answered quietly. "If I had any say in it."
"Jori!"
It was instinct. At the sound of her name, Marjorie turned. She was half-expecting, half-hoping, that it would be one of the girls she had been close with at the safe house. Soledad, maybe, or Elizabeth, or even Eden Lahela. Instead, it was, to her total surprise, the dagger-shape and sard-coloured skin of one Ekaitza Jones, the girl from the northern wastes. She had shaved her hair at some point since her elimination, Marjorie noted. She returned the former Selected's four-fingered wave, and went to meet her, kicking up little clouds of sand as she did so.
They were at a refugee camp in Labrador, just north of the front line in Hansport, where the Crown was trying to seize back land from the Kingdom of Dust and everyone with sense had fled to one territory or the other. The ground had been churned up into dust and mud, and everywhere you looked, there were more people, people upon people, thronged together into dense crowds. Thiago had disappeared amongst them quite expertly, and Marjorie had been left behind in the milieu. Not that she minded all that much – a good journalist knew when to observe, and observe she had.
Ekaitza had a large scar under her right eye, red and angry, raised into a thick, knotted ridge. It hadn't been there before. Marjorie remembered whispers amongst the lower castes in the safe house that the Jones girl was involved in smuggling in the north. Had she returned to crime, even after her time in the Selection? Or was this some souvenir of the rebellion?
"Ekaitza," she said, and the two girls shook hands. It seemed most natural, Marjorie thought, because Ekaitza had never looked like the hugging kind. There was a sinewy strength in her grip; Marjorie resisted the urge to shake out her hand when they separated. "Didn't expect to see you here."
"You either." The northern girl's chin jerked in the direction of the medical camp. "Here with my… with a medical team. Wasn't expecting the Selection to be here."
"It isn't. Just me."
"Ah. I'm sorry to hear about that."
"Not at all," Marjorie replied. "Working with a humanitarian organisation now, international oversight for the refugees. I'm seeing more of the rebellion than I ever would have at the safehouse..."
"Isn't that the truth." Ekaitza moved her head slightly, her wolfish eyes darting back and forth as though considering who might be listening in. "Do you keep in contact with any of the others? The Selection?"
Marjorie considered lying. "Not really, but I get some things through the grapevine. They're the Elite now, so they're kept under quite tight security."
"No kidding? Corvina Rouen made the Elite?"
Marjorie almost hesitated, and she could tell that Ekaitza had seen this, and she could tell that both girls were highly aware of the lie implicit lying beneath the surface when Marjorie said, "when have you known Cor not to get what she wanted?"
Ekaitza's smile was more like the baring of teeth. "She's a stubborn one, alright. How are the others? Saran, Yue, Lissa?"
Marjorie didn't remember Ekaitza being close to Lissa. She had always got the impression that the blonde girl rather irritated the dark-haired one, with her ditziness and flights of fancy. She had always thought Elizabeth Tucker was the only one who got along with Lissa Dove. "Fine, I think. Last elimination I heard about was, uh, Atiena Morris."
Not really a surprise for either of them, she could tell.
"Pity." There was something cold about Ekaitza's eyes. Marjorie remembered that now. "So that's those four and Liara Lee..."
"Vardi, Eden and Liz. I think."
"And Nina?" Ekaitza's gaze was almost a physical weight on Marjorie's skin.
Marjorie controlled her expression. "Eliminated a while back. Same time as Sol."
"Huh. I would have put money on her as the One. Only girl Dunin seemed able to tolerate."
"Same here. Nina or Liara Lee."
"Well," Ekaitza said. "We'll have a queen before long. And when we do, we'll still have to shit and eat breakfast. Life won't change all that much."
"No," Marjorie agreed. The war would not cease whatever day the One was chosen. The world would keep turning. The woman Demetri called wife would not, ultimately, make much of a difference.
It was easier to see that clearly, once you were out of the Selection.
Ekaitza clapped Marjorie on the shoulder. "Look after yourself, Jori. We're going to have a big party in Angeles once this is all over, and I expect to see you there."
"Don't jinx us, Jones."
"Never." Ekaitza had the shadow of something moving behind her eyes. "If you see the girls before me, give them my love, won't you?"
"Of course."
She didn't mean the Selection. Marjorie knew that without asking. She meant the girls she had been friends with – Yue, and Saran, and Corvina. Rouen's little clique, the northerners plus the enigma from the south.
Marjorie did not tell Ekaitza that it was unlikely she would ever see Cor again.
And Ekaitza did not tell Marjorie that she was on her way to do just that.
