I turned them over in my hands. Her blood was still there, dried along the tops of each barrel in that thin, reddish dark line. Dust from the explosion had settled over them, dulling the color, but the line held.
Unbroken.
I thought about the ritual. Nyomi cutting her palm without flinching. The blood dripping onto the metal. The way she looked at me when she said come back.
I'd walked into a maze built to kill me. Stepped through a pleasure district crawling with my father's men. Stood twenty feet from a mine that erased three men from existence.
And I was still here.
Untouched.
My brother was still breathing beside me. Reo was still standing too.
I ran my thumb along the dried blood on the barrel.
Did you protect us, Tora? Maybe. Either way. . .I’m leaving and coming home.
I pressed the guns to my lips the way I had before we'd descended, closed my eyes, and breathed her blood in.
I can’t wait to see you.
The elevator slowed and then stopped.
I opened my eyes.
The doors slid open.
The two Scales and guards stepped out first with their weapons sweeping the space.
Nothing.
We followed them out into a backstage area.
I could hear music. A full orchestra playing something classical. And beyond that, the sound of an audience. People clapping. Laughter.
There was a heavy curtain on our right separating us from the stage. I could see the glow of stage lights bleeding through the edges.
A couple of stagehands were moving equipment in the background. One of them looked up and saw us.
"Hey," he stared. "Who the hell are you?"
Then he saw the guns.
“Oh. Umm.” His hands went up immediately and he backed away, eyes wide. “Sorry.”
Another stagehand appeared and dropped the white flowers he'd been holding. They scattered across the floor. Some rolled to my feet.
My stomach clenched.
White flowers.
The dream flashed behind my eyes.
Just a fraction of a second.
The grey sky.
The white chrysanthemums.
