“What does it look like?” Anek smirked when the crowd resumed its verbal attacks.
“Opulent,” the Bridger said wryly.
Sarai watched Noceo’s features pale further when he began barking orders at the spectators to cease obstructing his path. That people felt free to roar at him now was proof that they had smelled weakness. He was visibly sweating, features as strained as Kadra’s had been when he had overexerted himself at the Aequitas. The two were remarkably similar in that sense, pushing past their limits.
Noceo’s men lit the braziers around the square. Fire danced gold and red under the light of the twin moons, spreading long arms to the sky in silent devouring and nuzzling into the wood to sear everything within. She’d give anything for a fraction of that destructive strength.
“You crave security,” Kadra had said. Why was power the only way to ensure it?
“Whatever conversation you’re having with yourself, please do let us join in,” Anek remarked to Sarai’s right.
Sarai grunted. “I hate him.”
“So do I.”
“And I pity him.”
Méherre’s brows jumped high along with Anek’s. “Why bother? He’s done much harm.”
“He wanted me to understand him.” Sarai cursed silently at the memory of what she’d seen in his head. “I did.”
The Bridger went quiet. “That feels unfair,” she said after a moment. “Ahead, we have a man who’s robbed people of free will and murdered them without care, and you’re quick tounderstandhim whenyoudidn’t get half as much compassion from him or from Edessa’s population.”
“I second that,” Anek said with a wince. “Pity’s best reserved for those who can change, Sarai. I’m not interested in finding out if he will.” Theyslung an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s leave him to receive a lovely Edessan chewing out, hmm? Once this all blows over, they’ll be back to swearing up and down that the Tetrarchy is evil incarnate.”
Sarai managed a smile, mulling over their arguments throughout the brief journey back to Méherre’s home.They aren’t wrong. Yet, it was hard to shake off the sense that she had seen more of him that day than he had intended.
Perhaps that was why she walked toward Dalvia’s blond hair upon spotting her.
The other woman drew up her hood before entering a tavern and sat there, staring out of the window for a long moment. Pulling up her own hood, Sarai entered and spoke to the barmaid there. A few moments later, she plunked two bowls of soup before Dalvia and took the seat across from her.
“Dinner.” She smiled. “It isn’t drugged. Would you like to eat with me?”
Dalvia’s empty gaze seemed to look through her before slowly moving to the soup. Something perturbed and resigned crossed her face before she picked up her spoon.
Sarai had never known anyone so utterly broken down. How bitter it was that people could emerge from the same crucible so differently.
They ate in silence, though Sarai noticed that Dalvia was careful not to make too much sound as she gingerly sipped from her soup, as though she feared drawing attention to her existence. Surprisingly, she spoke first.
“If you’re looking for me to betray Noceo, I’m afraid I’ll disappoint you.”
“In truth, I wasn’t. I just—” Sarai sighed. “I wanted to understand you.”
Dalvia raised her head at that, dark eyes inscrutable. “Why bother? I’ve done much harm.”
“You’ve also been seeing to the care of Komis’s injured. I saw how many people struck by plague were being carted by the wagon to the Am Semni Institute for recovery.”
Dalvia looked away with a click of teeth and a hard swallow. “I do nothing. My Clan built that hospital centuries ago. It only made sense to use it once the plague rose.”
Sarai scrutinized the other woman’s almost ethereal frailty. “Have you never wanted to leave?”
Dalvia set down her spoon. “That possibility vanished early on.”
A shudder made a cozy home in Sarai’s already shaking hands at the empty way she said it. “But you’ve had the best chance at escape of all of them. A portal could take you anywhere.”
“Bridgers can only open portals to places they’ve already visited.”
“Was there nowhere that felt safe to you?”
