“But wouldn’t that mean that voids are just a spontaneously occurring thing?” That idea feels like a stretch. “Is that even possible?”
“New Hues spontaneously occur from time to time.” Chase, on the other hand, seems to be considering it. “Or at least, they did before the Council started killing us off. That’s one of the factors that led to the purges—they were afraid of the new magics that could be born.”
“As fascinating as this thought experiment is, what does it have to do with Councilman Denata’s non-existent baby?” Akari is no more in the mood for hypotheticals today than she was yesterday. She’s here because Saleen is—because, right now, the prospect of getting her back is stronger than the need to hand the Hues into the court—but everything from the rod-straight tense of her spine to the rigid set of her jaw tells me that she’s still struggling to accept any ofthis. I don’t know why I’m not, to be honest, other than the fact that the Council’s rules for magic have never worked in my favor and I’m only a month shy of them binding my color, so maybe I was primed to believe where she’s not. In her case, the system is working precisely the way it’s meant to.
“Don’t worry, I’m getting to that, too.” Her rebuke from Saleen is much gentler than mine was. “Ezzo said that he’d—the Meridian—Adriel—whatever we’re calling him—moved his name to a different place on the family tree, so what if that’s because the councilman knows about this rare type of spontaneous power and disowned him or something?”
“Left for dead, is what he wrote on the wall,” Ezzo tells her. “But we didn’t find any other details.”
“And a lot of the details you did find aren’t true,” Akari reminds him. “Like the thing he said about us mistranslating the old language? That’s pure fiction.”
“Actually, that part’s accurate,” Cemmy says, as though she knows some secret we don’t. “We have a friend who speaks the old language. We scried her a message and she confirmed it.”
“I’m sorry—you have a friend who speaks the old language? Theshadows’language?” Akari’s eyes narrow down to danger. “Just like that?”
“Hues befriend other Hues.” Cemmy shrugs, taking a sip from her glass. “Is that really such a surprise?”
“Colors help me, how many of you are there?”
“More than the Council would like.” This time, the snipe comes from Chase. “But since it’s our gifts that got you this information, maybe try complaining a little less.”
It’s only the hand Saleen puts to Akari’s arm that keeps her from lunging at him across the table and sending this mismatched assembly of colors up in flames.
“Look, let’s say, for a minute, that it is true.” I’m quick to cut in and steer us off the ledge. “Let’s say that Adriel’s seven typics will poison the magic instead of destabilizing the Gray—and that he believes he can survive that—why does he want to do it? What does he gain?”
“An entire world, I’m guessing,” Ezzo says. And maybe I’m imagining it, but it feels as though he’s been doing his utmost not to look at me since they returned, even more so than back at the house—which I didn’t think was possible. “There might not be a better reason; his goal could very well just be . . . vengeance. He used to be a cleric, right?” But he has no problem looking at Saleen.
“Grew up in the seminary and everything,” she tells him. “He was one of their orphanage-to-altar stories.”
“Well, then imagine that you’re a forbidden type of power—so rare that no one even knows you exist—and you’re growing up in a Church orphanage, hearing the absolute worst rhetoric about Shades, only to discover that not only are your own parents Shades, but your father—the man who rejected your power—is the Shade responsible for hunting those with illegal magics. That could easily inspire this level of hate.”
As much as I’m loath to admit it, Ezzo’s logic is solid. It’s a little twisted, sure, but it’s also exactly the brand of fanaticism this kind of upbringing might beget—and it would explain why he decided to form his own religion, a version of the Gods where he could keep the bits he wanted and leave the rest.
“If you’re right, then his next step will be to prove that he can transfuse that much blood into a typic.” I shudder as I realize how close Akari came to facilitating that end. “He’ll probably go out looking for another—” A flash of blond hair banishes the remainder of that thought from my head.
“Erm . . . Ray?” Akari gives my shoulder a gentle shake. “Are you okay?”
No, I’m not, actually. In fact, I feel as though my organs have just escaped my flesh. Because standing not ten feet from us is the girl from my vision, the one I solicited all those months ago because I needed an excuse to kill my relationship with Killen dead. Her eyes were closed in that vision, so I didn’t notice her irises, couldn’t see the distinct lack of a spiked rim.A typic? That girl was a typic?It’s a truth I never thought to entertain, and yet, here she is, weaving through thecrowd like a blushing maid.No. . .more like a courtesan, judging by the flirt of her smile and the cut of her dress.
Killen was going to cheat on me with a courtesan?The sudden rush of insecurity almost knocks me off my chair. If we’d stayed together, is this really where our path would have led? To Killen stealing out of the castle to pay for sex—breaking my trust and several laws in the process?
“Raya?” This time, it’s Ezzo’s voice that fills with concern. “What’s wrong? Did you see something?”
“Yeah, I—”In a manner of speaking. Though what I see next is infinitely worse. Because if spotting the girl was a gut punch, then watching the Shade now striding into the tavern is a spear through the chest, an inevitability unfolding right in front of me.
“Shit, Raya, isn’t that your ex?” Saleen spots him a split second after I do. “What the hells is he doing here?”
“I don’t know,” I say, though I don’t think it’s a coincidence. It can’t be a coincidence, can it? That this particular vision is fulfilling itself now, with me as its captive audience?
“He did see us leave the Academy,” Akari replies in my stead. “Maybe he got worried when we didn’t come back? Decided to look for us himself?”
Instead of what he said he’d do?I swear, nothing about Killen makes sense. He was definitely mad enough to go to Professor Lyons; he’s been mad since the day I called us quits.
So then, why didn’t he?
The answer is as obvious as it is soul-wrenching.
He still loves me.
