And we die.
And we die.
If not as children, then the first time we slip up as adults—though my lapse in judgement wasn’t so much a slip as it was a fall, head first, into a death sentence. Such is the fate of a Hue who gets so drunk he phases in public and gets himself caught.
But doesn’t see it coming.The thought is a grotesque joke among the pain, just another case of history repeating. As a Sapphire, my gift allows me to sense the presence of other Shades, trace the coloredtrails they leave in the shadows. It’s not a direct translation of my mother’s power—diluted magic doesn’t manifest in entirely linear ways—but since she was an Indigo—a seer—I was born with a sideward twist on that ability. So if I had been paying attention, I would have noticed the Council’s trackers converging on the inn, waiting for me to phase into the Gray so they’d have all the evidence they need to strike. Hells, they might well have been watching me for hours. Days even. Just as their predecessors had watched my parents in the run up to their attack. I wasn’t paying enough attention that day, either. Maybe if I had been, I could’ve stopped the killing, done more than just flee through the cloying pools of blood.
A lifetime ago, I learned the true cost of not paying attention.
But lately, I’ve been ignoring that lesson, begging the future to drag me into the black.
To reunite me with Eve.
The future sure is taking a while.I hit the concrete with blinding force, my breath rasping out sharp and shallow. I think it’s punishing me for eluding the Council’s justice until now, living so embarrassingly long on borrowed time. Maybe that’s why my captors seem more preoccupied with my age than my execution: twenty-one name days is simply too much life for a Hue, and they’re desperate to learnhowI’ve managed to evade their clutches. Or at least, that’s been the main focus of their beatings.The reason there’s a grimy floor pressed beneath my ribcage and a stern boot crushing my lower back. A man with bruised knuckles pummeling me bloody.
“Who was your scry bonded to?” he asks again, forcing me to my knees by the hair. And fuck, it hurts—the physical part of me is acutely aware of just how loud every inch of me is screaming. But after three full days of questioning, the pain feels oddly removed, as though they’re just layering pain on pain on pain now, and even before they began their interrogation, I was already itching to shed this mortal cage of flesh, sinew, and bone. I’m merely waiting for this game to grow tired.
“What scry?” I spit red across my jailer’s shoes. That’s the one thing I did right when the trackers came for me. I may not havehad the good sense to try and escape them, but I did manage to rip the chain from around my neck and destroy the crystal. They can do their very worst to me all day long, but I’ll be damned if I let them have Novi. This past year, she’s been the only thing that’s kept me from giving up entirely, and the scrys we use to communicate could have led them straight to her door. So when the trackers kicked in mine at the inn, my first instinct was to send a single word down the bonded connection—caught—and then crush the magic underfoot.
Let them spend the rest of my life wondering who received that message.
Let that mystery haunt them relentlessly after I’m gone.
And Gods, just let them end it already. The wish is a balm to the violence their Shade continues to impose. Yesterday, it was a Blue they sent to question me. To speed my heart, and shorten my breath, and spell me to the brink of unconsciousness then back from the edge. The day before that, they’d sent an Orange and a Green. One to snap my bones and the other to heal them, make me whole again so that they could do it over. And though I half expected today’s interrogation to be carried out by a Red, magically compelling truth is an unreliable endeavor at the best of times and the Council has clearly deemed that avenue too gentle a sport. They don’t want to break me with a bloodless ask and answer; the pain is the point. So instead, they sent another Orange. A hulking brute of a Shade with hate in his eyes and malice for teeth, who seems content with inflicting today’s injuries with his fists and seasons his efforts with the same pointless set of questions as the Shades who came before.Who is helping you? How did you survive all these years? Are there any other half breeds in the city?
“If you don’t talk, they’ll kill you,” he says between blows, his words laden with warning.
“They’re going to kill me anyway.” My voice rasps around the cell, reminding him of that foregone conclusion. I can’t stop it, he can’t stop it, and there’s no need to play pretend. We both know where my story is headed.
“Tell us who helped you and we’ll delay your execution.” The Orange changes tack, his threat blunting to a softer drawl. “Get you healed up. A decent meal. Nice bed to sleep on.”
“Yeah . . . neither of us wants that.” I grunt as he lands another kick to my stomach, rending my breath brittle. Because I know, for a fact, that he doesn’t—hecan barely stand to look at me without cringing in disgust, convinced as he is that I’m a blight on the Gray, a plague that needs eradicating. And while this certainly wouldn’t have been the death I’d have picked for myself, there are worse ways for a Hue to go.
Being betrayed is worse.
Having your heart stopped by a Green spell is worse.
Getting shattered by the Gray is worse.
And I allowed every one of those things to happen to Eve.
So no, I don’t want a healing, or a decent meal, or a nice bed to sleep on. I don’t deserve them. And if I’m being honest, I’ve been choosing death since the moment the shadows shattered my heart alongside Eve’s, dying in slow motion. I didn’t want to stay in Isitar and grieve with Novi; I didn’t want to rebuild our lives or try to heal together; and I sure as shit didn’t want to be anywhere near Cemmy and her duplicitous Gold. What I wanted then—and now—is for this misery to end sooner rather than later. And if at all possible, with fewer broken bones.
By the time the Orange grows sick of asking his questions, I’m in no shape to answer them. He leaves me bruised, bloodied, and beaten, lying face down on the floor with the air screaming through my lungs like a curse.
“Fucking half breeds,” he grumbles as the cell slams shut behind him, not bothering to drop his voice before issuing one last command to the Shade guarding my door. “Have this one ready to move in the morning, the execution’s set for the ninth bell.”
Tomorrow, death will finally come for me.
CHAPTER 5
RAYA
I snap out of the future with a vengeance, the ghost of my vision burning hot behind my eyes. The seeing tower comes back into focus in a furious rush of fear, and shock, and sapphire, my heart pounding my ribs bloody as the future’s muddled revelation echoes mercilessly through my mind.
No, no, no, no.Reality hits and it hits me hard, unleashing an avalanche of regret that tastes of acid and bile. A few minutes ago, I was so certain of this course of action, so sure that it was the only way to prove my worth and pass my trials, show Professor Lyons that I can make use of my magic. Whereas now . . .
No, this can’t be right. I run both hands through my hair, twisting the auburn strands so tight they threaten to snap. Asking an open question was supposed to give me invaluable insight, not this useless mix of love and impossibility.
