Fevered Star (Between Earth and Sky, #2)(13)

“Maybe he told you.” Tyode sounded defensive now. “But I figured he was just a braggart.”

None of them bothered to respond, the revision such an obvious lie. Maybe Xiala was the only one who had known for a fact, but the siblings had certainly suspected.

“It just didn’t seem possible,” Tyode finally said. “No matter what Uncle claimed he was.”

Xiala did not argue with the Water Strider siblings. They were good people and had taken her in. They had only known Serapio for a few days, only seen him on the barge as a novelty. But she had seen him in his power, had been there when he had slaughtered her crew, and she had said nothing, warned no one what he was capable of. Perhaps she couldn’t quite believe it, either. It was hard to reconcile the killer with the gentle, solicitous man she knew. The one who had saved her life, the one who had not judged her but cared for her. Who whispered sweet nothings to crows as he stroked their feathers. The one she had grown to love.

“What will he do now?” Tyode asked. “Do you think he will come for us?”

They had all turned to Xiala. At that time, she had thought him dead and said so. Only later would the rumors come to their ears of the great crow that had left the Rock with two figures on its back, and that he had survived, and that Carrion Crow sheltered him even now, had been in on it all along. She knew better, knew Serapio had not known anyone in the clan and certainly hadn’t conspired with them. But again, she said nothing. What was there to say? To her new friends, or to anyone?

The four of them had sworn not to speak of it again, and they had held to that promise, as far as Xiala knew. But her instincts told her it was only a matter of time. Four was too many to keep a secret, and eventually one of the brothers, or even Aishe herself, would let slip that they had brought the Odo Sedoh to Tova.

Probably Zash, she thought. She could feel it, in the way he watched her at mealtime but turned away when she tried to meet his gaze. He had never asked about her unusual eyes, never inquired about where she was from, but it would come eventually. And as his suspicions grew and fear gave way to anger, he would be the first to accuse her. It was only a feeling, but it was one she knew well. Soon people like Zash would be looking to blame someone for what had befallen Tova, and experience told her she made an excellent target. She wondered what they did to Teek here. Did they collect their fingers and throat bones? Wear their eyes on rings, as she had once been told? Or would the mob just rip her apart, no time for a delicate filleting when their priests were dead and the sun had somehow ceased to rise and set.

“You can’t stay, you know.”

Aishe’s voice broke her from her reverie, bringing her back to the seat in the window and the hole in her heart. Aishe rested her chin on Xiala’s shoulder, and for a moment, Xiala thought the girl had read her mind. But one glance at Aishe’s morose expression told her the reason she was kicking her out was more mundane than blaming her for the darkness that had enveloped the city.

“I know I said you could, but…”

“You don’t need to explain.” Xiala understood. They had crossed the line from friends to lovers, but Xiala’s heart belonged to someone else, and Aishe was sensible enough to end things before either of them became too entangled to get hurt. In Xiala’s defense, when they did what they did, she had thought Serapio was dead.

“I’ll be out by—” Xiala was going to say nightfall, but there was no day and night in Tova, just this terrifying in between.

“There’s no rush,” Aishe assured her, but Xiala could hear the lie in it. “I know you don’t have anywhere to go, and things are complicated.”

Xiala barked a laugh at that. “Complicated is one way to put it.”

“Look, I want to help you. We’re friends, right? Even if this”— she gestured toward the bed— “didn’t work out.”

“And I appreciate it.”

“Why don’t you go look for him? He’s probably at the Great House in Odo with the rest of his clan.”

“I’ve thought of that.” Since she had heard rumors that Serapio was seen alive, it had been all she could think about. Her brain had turned the impossibility over and over again, looking for the fault in it. She had not dared to hope, but if anyone could survive, she believed it was him. Not because he wanted to; he had seemed at peace with his mission. But because she wanted him to. She had to believe.

She said, “Tyode said Odo’s closed its borders. Shields and armed guards everywhere. Bridges closed, and the only way in is through Kun. And that clan…”

“Winged Serpent.”

“Yes, Winged Serpent. They won’t let anyone through unless they’re Carrion Crow. It’s impossible.”

“Couldn’t you…?” Aishe touched fingers to her throat and opened her mouth to mime singing.

Xiala shuddered. “No.”

Serapio was not the only one with blood on his hands. Xiala had killed innocents, too. Not deliberately, she told herself, but you never do anything deliberately, do you, Xiala? And good intentions make no difference to the dead.

She caught her breath at that, turning away from Aishe so the girl could not see the hot tears of shame that gathered in her eyes.

Images from the Convergence flashed through her memory—a woman in blue silently tumbling from the bridge, lost to the river below. A green-eyed man in new year finery trampled by the crowd, gentled to inaction like an animal led to the slaughter. Gentled by her Song. If she had not used her magic, that man would still be alive. Of that she had no doubt. And he was not the only one. How many people had she robbed of their lives that night because she used her power so recklessly?