"A few days ago. You were at the healing chamber, so I couldn't …" She presses a hand to her chest. "I can't stop thinking about it. The way he described it. It sounded like a nightmare dressed up as mercy."
I swallow hard, fighting the urge to reach for her. One of the first things the Sages taught us: empaths cannot comfort other empaths. The word they used was cataclysmic. And I remember the ache in my chest during those early lessons, when we tried anyway. When holding each other only made the pain echo louder.
"When did he go there?" I can't bring myself to call it a pleasure garden. "What exactly did he see?"
"After the last Moon Festival." Her voice wavers. "He said they remove the amulets and just... watch. Watch them cry, laugh, grieve. Feel everything they traded away when they came here." She bites her trembling lip. "And the Council calls it mercy."
The words land like a blow to the center of my chest, right where the dull ache has taken root. I look away, swallowing against the grief climbing my throat. When I speak, the words feel like they're being dragged out of me over broken glass.
"And they just watch. Like they're … " I can't finish. I press a hand to my throat as if I could hold the horror in.
"Like they're entertainment," she whispers. "Like duelers bleeding for a crowd." She turns to me, and I feel the weight of the question before she asks it. "Have the ingredients for the elixir changed?"
I can't look at her. I shake my head.
It's not a lie. The ingredients haven't changed since the treaty was signed.
The only thing that's changed is me. Two years ago, I stopped making them.
And now people are suffering because of it.
Chapter Thirteen
An entire day passes with no word from Jordi. By the time I drag myself home, exhaustion has sunk into my bones like lead. All I want is to bury my face in my pillow and forget the world exists.
Instead, I open my door to find Naima, Kage, and Malachi crowded around my dining table, maps and ancient texts spread between them like the remnants of a war council. They look up in unison. I press my back against the door and study their faces: Naima's furrowed brow, Kage's knowing grin, Malachi's careful blankness. I close my eyes and sigh.
"And here I thought you'd be thrilled to find me waiting for you," Kage says.
A tired laugh escapes me despite everything. I open my eyes to find Malachi and Naima both shaking their heads at him.
"That bad?" Naima asks softly.
I let my head fall back against the door. "The Sages have been gone all day. No news about Jordi. And the interns at the clinic left the atrium door open, so I spent half the morning chasing birds and the other half trying not to strangle anyone."
She winces. "If it helps, one of the forgery interns dropped a hammer on her foot. Had to be carried to the Whispering Ponds."
I sputter a laugh. "How is that supposed to help? That's terrible."
"How long do people intern before they're given permanent positions?" Malachi asks.
"Depends on the trade," I say, pushing off the door and heading toward my room. "Could be months. Could be years."
"It was different for us," Naima adds behind me. "We arrived as children. We interned everywhere before our gifts even manifested."
Their voices blur into background noise as I shed my coat and shoes. My bed calls to me, soft and inviting, but I force myself to turn away and rejoin them at the table.
"Did you eat?" Naima asks as I sink into my usual chair.
"Lenora made coconut fried fish."
Her mouth drops. "Lucky."
"It was the only enjoyable part of my day."
"Do you want to know another thing I find fascinating about this place?" Kage asks.
"You start every sentence with that question," Naima mutters.
