Fine. “Then explain the tiers to me. It’s been… a long time.”
And I’ll need whatever knowledge I can gather before setting foot in Asteria again. Edgeborn was right about that, at least. It will not be the home I once knew.
He waits for Esme’s nod before continuing. “So we have the vis. Then we have the peristi.”
“Transmutation.” I keep my eyes from Esme’s face. “Violet eyes. They can change physical things from their base state into something else.”
“I feel like I’m in one of Merrick’s lessons,” Esme mutters. But she humors me. “Yes. We create things.”
I glance at the eight, bright against her skin. Powerful. But I don’t ask. “And then there are the gerent.”
“You realize that you essentially wasted your own question by answering it yourself, you know.” Rio takes a swig of water. “Gods, it’s hot. Yes. Gerents are transporters. They’re the rarest. Anything stronger than a three is even rarer.”
Telekinesis. I don’t look behind me. “And they have green eyes.”
Three tiers. Scarlet eyes, violet eyes, green eyes.
I wonder which class shimmering, swirling bronze fits into.
“They do.” Rio’s voice cools, as if he can sense where my thoughts are heading. “I answered your question. The numbers on our faces are rankings of where we sit in the Caelumnai power structure. I’m a tier six vis. Sol is a tier eight vis. And Smee here is a tier eight peristi.”
I have a hundred more questions—why they wear numbers now when they didn’t before, what maegis class a certain bronze-eyed ship captain fits into—but I bite down on them. “I see. Ask your question.”
I can see the same battle of thoughts on his face that’s probably reflected on my own, but Rio blurts his question out. “Is it true that you don’t feel any emotion?”
There’s a smacking noise, and he grunts. “Ow,Es.What? Don’t tell me you’re not curious either.”
Staring down at the now dry deck, I twist the rock between my fingers. “Is that what people say about us? That we do not feel?”
“People say a lot of things about faeytes,” Esme murmurs. “It’s hard to discern rumor from truth when something no longer exists.”
But I exist.The unspoken words taste bitter on my tongue.
I wonder if telling themselves we felt nothing made it easier to cut us down. Is it easier to murder when the eyes looking back at you are empty? Is it still murder if there’s nothing on the other side?
My silence stretches out, but neither of them push. I sit silently while they continue working on either side of me.
When they come, my words are heavy. “I wish that were true.”
Riordan’s hands pause on the deck. “You can feel, then.”
“Yes.” I keep my eyes lowered, my response abrupt. “Ask another question if you wish.”
I have no desire to dwell on that one.
“Fair is fair.” He nudges me lightly. “Your turn.”
I choose something simpler. “Why do you wear a copper band?”
His brows fly up. “You don’t know?”
“If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.”
At my crisp words, he holds up his hands. “Right. Sorry. It’s because of the—”
“Riordan.”
The three of us twist to look up at the shadow that falls across the deck. Solomon scowls as he looks between us. “The rigging needs to be checked. It doesn’t take three of you to clean a damn floor.”
