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“You know what, human,” he started, lighting it with a match, “if it weren’t for this war, and the very existence of you and your kind didn’t threaten the extinction of mine, I might have liked you.” He took a drag, smoke curling around his lips and nose, then flipped the ash-stick over and extended his arm, offering it to her.

Soraya searched his face, and when she found no shadows there, her gaze dropped to the smoking stick he still held out to her, this temporary truce between them.

It changed nothing. She was still going to escape tomorrow when the Vordellians came for her, and he was undoubtedly going to do everything within his power to stop her. They were like a sun and moon, slowly circling each other, each fighting for their chance to eclipse the other.

For tonight, though, perhaps just for this brief blink in the world before all hell broke loose tomorrow, maybe they could both just exist. Could just orbit each other without all the guns and magic.

So, perhaps for the first time ever in his presence, she smiled, her fingers grazing his in the briefest of touches, and plucked the ash-stick from his hand. “In another life, Ikarus.”

When she eventually peeled herself off the floor some time later and crawled back into bed, exhaustion finally setting in, sleep was a dream she couldn’t quite grasp. She stared at the thorny veins in the ceiling, thinking of the fairy who looked so much like Emelda, then of Ikarus’s father. She thought about the Bane and all those bodies Ikarus had lifted onto pyres as a child. How many more had fallen to the same fate afterward. What her own people would do if the roles were reversed and they were trapped in a prison that was steadily poisoning them.

She’d thought she’d had the Dar’rak and this place all figured out, put everything down here into their separate boxes all labeled Monster and that was that.

Then she’d learned about the Bane. Then she met Golla. Then she’d caught glimpses into Ikarus’s past, seen the scars left behind. She was trying not to, but each day she learned something new that peeled away the paint of the portrait she’d built of this place.

She had no idea how much time had passed before she gave up on the idea of sleep and sat up. Her eyes met Ikarus’s where he was sitting in the chair, his gaze already locked on hers like he’d been watching her all this time, and as she stared at him, that slice of gold rippling like a streak of sunlight peeking through a cloud, she looked at that scar across his throat again, and wondered if he and every other awful creature down here had been born monsters, or carved into them.

41

Ikarus was acting strange the next day.

He’d still been in their room when the crystals in the wall brightened signaling the start of a new day, which was strange in itself, but then he’d stayed for breakfast as well. He hadn’t said a word when Golla had appeared, little specks of dust tumbling down his face where he was rubbing his eyes, and set down two silver trays full of scrambled eggs and bread and potatoes before settling beside Soraya on the balcony with a yawn.

Ikarus had eaten breakfast with her, another oddity, then stayed silently staring out at the burrows while she’d freshened up before searching her memories.

The strangeness had carried into her mind as well, where he’d been distracted and quiet. Like his heart was no longer in this oh-so-important task that’d consumed him for weeks now. Even the initial intrusion into her mind had felt different. Less of a needle prick and more of a cushioned push.

Soraya tried not to think about what it all meant—she had bigger concerns today.

It’d been five days since she’d received the message from Ma’varea. In the absence of a go time, Soraya stuck to her usual routine, partly to try and force the hours to slide by marginally quicker, but also to stop herself from staring at the Astro Temple and draw any unwanted attention.

She was getting out today.

While she was doing her calisthenics on the balcony, she watched a group of adolescent fairies uproot a small tree and throw it at the temple, the protections around it barely glimmering. Any time now, the reserves within would run dry and the entire shield would come down. And when it did …

One problem at a time. She had to trust that if Ma’varea had a plan to get her out of here, he had one for the Arch too.

It bothered Soraya that she hadn’t been able to learn anything about this weapon Ikarus was building but she tried not to dwell on it for too long. She was going home today—and she’d managed to steer him away from any memory that was too damning. It wasn’t the result she’d have liked, but it’d have to be enough.

Her exercises took her until around lunchtime, and when Ikarus didn’t return to search her memories, she ate the tray of chicken, a warm bread roll, and several slices of cheese Golla brought her alone, then took a long shower. She washed her hair, scrubbed every inch of her body with the flower-infused soaps in the alcove, then wrapped a towel around herself and washed her uniform.

Things showed no signs of changing as the early afternoon approached, and fed, washed, and fully clothed, there wasn’t anything else left for Soraya to do but sit on the bed and wait.

It must’ve been just before nightfall when there was a knock on the door.

Frowning, Soraya rose from the bed and turned to face it. Surely her rescue team weren’t so stupid as to knock when they came for her.

Emelda was on the other side of the door. She was dressed in a beautiful crimson gown with long sleeves, intricate details around her small waist, and enough red jewels sewn into the plunging neckline it looked as though blood was dripping down her chest.

“Hello, human.” Emelda smiled softly, angling her hip to show the satchel at her side. “Ikarus sent me to check there’s no lingering infection, and then you’ll be free of me.”

Really? Now?

“I assume you’ll want me restrained again?” Soraya asked, doing an incredible job of keeping her voice even.

Emelda examined her from the other side of the protective enchantments. “Do you have any immediate plans to murder me?”

Soraya’s mouth pressed into a tight line. “Not right now.”