“But for what reason?” Chase asks, running his hand along the damning text. “Why does he need to drain an entire Shade into one typic? Wouldn’t it make better sense to spread the blood around? Send a whole group of them into the Gray?”
“Not according to this.” I finally find the crux of Adriel’s plan.
Seven is the important number. Seven Shades, seven colors, seven tributes. A one-for-one trade. Enough poison to wither the magic from the well.
“So, he really is mad, then?” Chase stares at the words as though they might suddenly up and change. “He really doesn’t realize that doing that would kill the shadows, as well?”
“I guess not.” Hells, based on some of his other assertions, he believes the exact opposite—that the shadows willrejoiceat this turn of events, that he’s flat-out saving them. “I don’t suppose you’ve found anything else on him? On voids, I mean? Their power?” I ask, since all I’ve been able to discern is that they’re rare and possibly killed as infants.
“Nothing yet.” Chase’s sigh is a frustrated breath. And though we keep combing the walls for that answer, we’re still none the wiser when our scrys warm with the warning that Adriel’s sermon is fast approaching its end.
“We should go before he gets here,” I say, since the last thing either of us wants is to run into him in the Gray. “Maybe Raya managed to coax the future into helping back in Saleen’s library.”
“Tell me you remember what she is, Ezzo.” Chase grabs hold of my arm before we phase. “How dangerous she could be.”
“Yes, thank you, I’m fully aware.” I break out of his grip. “Do I have to remind you that Saleen is the same thing?”
“Saleen isnotthe same thing—and you thinking that is what has us worried.”
Usnotme. I don’t miss the fact that, clearly, he and Cemmy have been talking.
“Saleen has had years to unlearn the hate the Academy teaches—and parents who’ve helped her unlearn it. Raya hasn’t, and don’t even get me started on Akari. They might be swept up in the mystery of it all right now, but they are not on our side, and they never will be. So whatever bond you think you have going—”
“Gods, there is no bond, okay?” I tell him. There’s only a guilty truth and some stunningly bad decisions. “None of this has even been about Raya, not really.” Except for a few sparks of curiosity that ignited along the way. “It’s just that I’ve—I’ve thought about her less today,” I say, and byher, we both know that I mean Eve. “It helps to have something different to focus on. To feel like
I’m . . . part of something again, like the future sees me as part of something.” Asworthyof being part of something. “And whether we like it or not, we’ve stumbled into something big.” Something important.
“You’re right, we have, and I’m not saying that we should leave, or that we could even do this without them.” Chase’s expression thaws as we make our way back to the nave. “Just . . . don’t forget what they’re capable of, okay? WhatRayais capable of. Because when this is all over, she’s going to remember that Hues and Shades don’t mix.”
CHAPTER 23
RAYA
“I’m sorry, but . . . you actually expect us to believe that the Divine Meridian is Councilman Denata’s son?” I don’t mean to turn Ezzo’s claim into a question, but the charge is so laughably ludicrous that I can’t keep my voice from rising in pitch.
“What you believe doesn’t matter. What matters is thathebelieves it,” Ezzo says, leaning back in his chair. The tavern we reconvened in is a packed but private affair, closer to the Meridian’s church than Saleen’s house, but far enough away that the streets are only lined with a tolerable amount of iron. As safe a place as we could find for such a treasonous conversation, where the bustle of the crowd keeps our voices drowned beneath the boisterous din.
“Then clearly, he’s even madder than we thought.” Akari throws both arms up in the air. “Since Councilman Denata doesn’t have a son.”
“How sure are you about that?” Cemmy asks, though not in a combative way; it feels as though she’s really asking.
“A hundred percent. His wifewaspregnant back when they were first married, but it was a stillbirth and she took her own life a few weeks later. You can ask anyone; the story’s been public for years.”
“She’s right,” I say. Because she is. “He’s been pretty open about it.”
“People lie,” Chase reminds us, glancing up from his drink. “Especially when it comes to their sins.”
“They don’t usually lie about having kids, though,” Akari tells him. “I mean, what would be the point? There’s either a baby or there isn’t.”
“Or there’s a babyuntilthere isn’t.” Saleen’s eyes turn thoughtful. “While you were gone, I did find something in my parents’ library. Not about voids—I think that’s why the charms didn’t work—but about how a small number of Shade-born children don’t immediately register a specialization. Apparently, it can take up to an hour for their affinity to settle, especially if their parents married across color and are both equally powerful.”
“Okay . . . but how is that relevant if theydoultimately register a specialization?” I ask. “Doesn’t that just make them regular Shades?”
“I was getting to the relevant part, Raya,” Saleen says, fixing me with a glare. “The book I found it in was an old medical guide, for the midwives that perform the test, and there was a note at the end of the passage that said if the child continues not to show an affinity, they should immediately contact the Council. I assumed it was because that would make the kid a Hue—your colors don’t show up on the test, right?”
“No, they don’t,” Ezzo confirms.
“Right—which is why the note struck me as odd, because most Shades know if they fell into bed with a typic and they don’t tend to get their illegal kids tested, so what if this was about something else? What if this is how they identify voids?”
