When morning finally dawns, I am weary and moody. I extend one of my steel wings at the young manservant sent in to assist me in washing and dressing, sending him scurrying from my chamber in fright. Guilt flits through me at the sight of his fleeing figure, but I don’t have time to worry about him. Today, I’m off to see where Constantine has decided to keep my mother currently.
Before long, I’m seated in a carriage that takes me to another district in Cardinia. As we pass through the center of the city, I notice fresh paint splashed and scrawled over some of the stone bases of the sculptures that line the thoroughfares.
They distract me for a moment. As the carriage draws near them, I realize that they are rants of fury smeared against the stone.
PUPPET PREMIER
FREEDOM IS A LIE
CUT KARENSA’S THROAT
I stare at them for as long as I can, until our carriage has passed it all and the damage fades in the distance. No doubt someone will scrub them clean as quickly as they can. I wouldn’t have thought much of it, except the advisor’s words at the train station keep coming back to me.
Independence.
Threats against the Premier, scrawled on his precious sculptures.
The thoughts linger with me as we pull away from the city’s center and into small streets.
One look at the district we drive through tells me what I need to know. This time the path to my mother’s current location is a nice one—the open carriage passes through a Cardinian district shaded with mature oaks, the path paved smooth until we reach a set of ornate wrought-iron gates. The road beyond it is cobblestone studded with shining flecks of mica, leading to an estate of white marble and stone, the sound of trickling fountains sweetening the air.
Behind the walls I’ve put up, the knot of terror in my heart loosens somewhat, and I feel my muscles slack a little, the air flowing a little more easily to my lungs. This is how I know Constantine is pleased with me. I’ve accompanied him to Mara and helped him punish prisoners of war by turning them into Ghosts. I’ve helped defend him and our train from espionage and turned my back on Red. I’ve bled my soul for him. In return, my mother will live here for a short reprieve—on the grandest estate I’ve ever seen in my life.
“Welcome to the home of Mayor Elland of Cardinia,” the driver tells me, bowing his head, as the gates open for us. He glances at me with a half-disgusted, half-frightened look. “Her servants will attend to your every need during your stay today. At dusk, my carriage and I will be waiting for you at the manor entrance.”
He says more, although his Karenese is too rapid for me to understand completely. I just nod at him and turn my attention to the front of the property. Sure enough, I see a line of servants already at attention at the front of the property, their faces turned in our direction. My eyes wander to the rest of the pathway.
Constantine has never broken his promise regarding my mother, but I still worry. My fingers tap restlessly against my leg as I search for her. She’s not here yet.
The servants bow low as I step off the carriage and onto the path. Behind me, my driver doesn’t hesitate to urge his horses onward theinstant I leave. I hear the snap of his reins, and when I look over my shoulder, his back is already turned, hunched as if bracing himself for me to attack him.
I turn to the servants. A part of me wants to extend my wings to their full span and watch these Karensans cower at the sight of the Premier’s Skyhunter, to be the monster they see. But I remind myself that they are servants. Some of them might even be prisoners like my mother, or people from some other conquered land, now forced to serve the mayor. Instead, I bow my head in return at them.
They don’t see me anyway. None of them dare look up at me.
“There she is, right on time!”
The familiar voice of the mayor drifts to me from the stairs, and I glance over to see the woman making her way down the steps toward me, regal in her silver-gray outfit and her thickly piled knot of hair.
“It seems you behaved well enough for the Premier to reward your mother,” she calls to me. Just as I’d seen in Newage, she smirks at the forced subservience on my face. Then she scowls at the servant beside her. “Well, don’t just stand there. Make sure the Skyhunter’s horse is ready and show her to it.”
The servant jumps a little at the command, bowing his head in a rush, then scurries off.
The mayor looks back at me and holds her hand out at the path winding along the side of the manor. “Your mother’s been out riding this morning. She’s stronger than she should be after such a long captivity. Maybe there’s something to be said for that Basean spirit.” She smiles. “Or maybe we’re treating our prisoners right, after all.”
My hands curl into fists at her joke, but she laughs. “Go on, then, Skyhunter,” she says, waving a dismissive hand at me. “I have a full morning of tasks ahead of me, and you’ve already taken up enough of my time.”
I’m surprised by this noblewoman’s small generosity, but I don’t dwell on it. Instead, I give her a quick bow of my head.
“Ah, Constantine and his games,” she says, her voice almost sad. There’s a glint of sympathy in her eyes. “He hasn’t changed since he was a child. All right, then. Off you go.”
I turn down the path and follow in the wake of the young servant that Mayor Elland had sent running. He guides me around the side of the manor. We turn the corner, and there, waiting for me along the stone wall running beside the house, is my mother.
She’s on the back of a white stallion and holding the reins of a second horse at her side. Her silver-white hair falls behind her in a thick braid. To my absolute shock, she’s dressed in what looks like traditional Basean clothes—a loose, billowing white shirt with easy knots twisting down the front, a pair of high-waisted pants with a wide black belt fastened by a gleaming silver buckle in the shape of a crescent moon. It’s finery I’ve never seen her in, not even in Basea.
Everything in me floods with gratitude that today, I’m probably far enough from Constantine for him to have trouble sensing my emotions through our bond. Even if he can, I don’t care right now. The sight of my mother like this brings me to tears. At the same time, a well of anger pools thick in my stomach. Last month, she’d been kept in the prison district. Now she is on the mayor’s estate, indulging in food and leisure. The wounds on her hands from the prison labor have healed, and her gaunt face has rounded, the color having returned to her skin.
Constantine and his games, the mayor had said. And it’s true. This is him toying with his prey, pulling these emotions out of me to train me into obedience. Perhaps even to love him, like one of his citizens.
