The questions sit heavy on my chest as we go, taking root there.
The rest of the city has been covered entirely in scarlet banners and strings of golden lights. Food carts line the streets, the aroma of their sizzling meats and breads sending my stomach grumbling. I look on as children chase one another through the streets, laughing, pointing, and waving at the Premier’s caravan parading toward the central palace. As sundown approaches, pink light casts a warm glow across the entire city. The distinctive glass domes that top so many Karensan buildings catch the warm hues of the light. The angle of the glass is designed in such a way that the tops of these buildings look bathed in bloody light.
It is such a contrast to Mara’s black-and-white architecture or Basea’s lush greenery. My heart trembles at the sight.
By the time the sun sets, we have reached the end of Cardinia’s main thoroughfare, where the central palace looms. General Caitoman rides on horseback in front of his patrols, leading our procession forward. Here, I see the beginnings of a vast sculpture garden with installations taken from every conquered region inside the Federation. The hollowsteel husks of the Early Ones’ ancient flying machines. Bones of old buildings, mangled steel and stone, jutting up into the sky. Pieces of domes and straight white columns taken from some old ruling house.
But then there are the newer pieces: a stone statue of a beautiful woman taken from Danbury; the carved arch of what was once an enormous door, taken from the halls of Saleia’s governor; a collection of matching busts that used to line the front steps leading up to Tanapeg’s Senate Hill, depicting each of that former nation’s leaders before Karensa came.
There must be hundreds of these sculptures, all artfully placed in this garden and surrounded by blooming flowers. The pieces then continue on down the middle of the main thoroughfare leading both ways from the palace, for as far as the eye can see.
Constantine turns to me as I stare at the structures we pass.I preserve beauty when I see it, he tells me casually through our bond, as if this is a valid reason for all the stolen pieces here.
I grit my teeth and look away from him.These are haunted tombs.
But the Premier just shrugs.There are twenty regions in this city, he continues,and every single one of them will soon be adorned with sculptures. Let them remind us of Karensa’s destiny, fulfilled.He gives me a pointed look.Best get used to it, Talin. You will have to oversee Mara’s installations with me.
I look at him, and through our bond, I see a glimmer of his thoughts—his vision of the engraved lintel from the Striker arena and the pieces of the Waterfall that were being unloaded from the train.
He means to waste no time, then. He intends them to take their places here with the rest of the skeletons, as soon as possible.
Relics of Mara’s greatness. Objects that hold a place deep in a nation’s psyche. Soon they will be on display here too, proof of that nation’s collapse. Plate sets and family heirlooms seized from the Maran nobilitywill fill Cardinia’s National Museum. I can see the pillared building from here, its beautiful façade hiding its stolen interiors.
Even though the memory of Mara’s sneering noblemen still lives fresh in my mind, I can’t muster any satisfaction at it. Their wealth and greed will outlive them, put on display behind glass while they lie buried, rotting, in the ground. So what was the use in accumulating it all?
Maybe my sadness is foolish. Mara had been the nation full of people who spat on the ground I walked over, a country that refused to let my mother past its walls and shot refugees who dared to enter its gates.
But it had also been home. It had also birthed Adena and Aramin and Jeran and Corian. It had tried, at least, to hold a greater evil at bay. So I turn my eyes away from the National Museum in the distance and let my breath out, dizzy from the war of emotions in my chest.
I stay behind the Premier as he stands up on the carriage that pulls him down the main thoroughfare toward the palace, waving to the crowds that have gathered to watch him. Dancers in scarlet costumes parade before and behind the carriage, while the one behind us brings his advisors. Even from here, I can hear their laughs and chatter. Some are already drunk, eager for the night’s festivities.
We finally reach the front of the palace. The square wall running along the palace’s perimeter has a gate in the middle of each side, and only the Premier and his immediate procession are allowed to enter through the front. The advisors split off from us here, heading to the side gates, while we continue forward. The gate’s doors, like those I remember from the National Laboratory, are made of black steel, and as we approach it, they slide open on their own without a sound.
Here, Caitoman guides his brother off the carriage and up a set of stone steps leading to the top of the palace gate, where a rampart draped with red-and-black banners and equipped with an ornate chair is waiting for him.
The Chief Architect is already here and waiting for us. Her sleek white coat nearly touches the ground, and her hair is swept up into a simple bun. Her shoulders are hunched up in a familiar, tense gesture that makes her look eternally anxious, and her deep-set eyes are hidden behind the glare of light on her glasses. A gold ring engraved with the sun’s rays flashes blindingly bright on her finger, distracting me. When she notices me looking at it, she smiles briefly at me, then offers me a cool kiss on my cheek. Beside the Premier, General Caitoman nods in smug approval.
“We are guided by light,” she explains of her ring, as if quoting some Karensan scripture, “and fated by the sun. Welcome back to the capital, Skyhunter.”
I shift away from her in disgust.
She startles at the sight of Constantine, as she always seems to do, but then brightens her smile into one so smooth that I almost believe it’s genuine.
“The entire capital has been celebrating for the past week,” she tells Constantine, her eyes darting rapidly between him and General Caitoman as we all follow her. “Word of your return from Mara spread rapidly.”
Constantine smiles at her. “I’ve missed the city. My Skyhunter and I will come to the Laboratory tomorrow, when you can study her progress and make sure she’s doing well.”
“Progress” is code, of course, for asking the Chief Architect to analyze my mind to ensure that my transformation is still on track. It is a sign that I’ll need to return soon to the Laboratory for her to give me more injections, to have my blood drawn for analysis. It is a reminder that eventually, my autonomy will be overtaken by the Premier’s commands.
I don’t react, and the Chief Architect nods her head hurriedly inagreement. There’s a flicker of some emotion on her face, something that confuses me, but then it’s gone.
She approaches me and holds out a small vial of pale, murky liquid. “Drink this, please,” she tells me. “It will help me determine how you’re doing.”
So, my transformation will continue as planned. How can someone be so cordial to me while deforming my body? I have no choice but to do as she says, here, before Constantine. I take the vial from her hands and drain it in one gulp. It tastes sickeningly sweet, like something unnatural.
In spite of everything, my anger toward her has settled into a simmer. She’s done all this to me, but at the end of the day, we’re no different. Hadn’t I turned my back on my friends in order to protect my family? Instead of glaring at her, I hand the vial back and look away.
Eyes follow me as we go. I can only guess at which of them are Constantine’s spies, watching me to make sure I show the proper amount of obedience.
