Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(66)

And there was a warm yellow light at the far end. For one second, wind gusted through the hall.

Outside.

Sunlight.

Anticipation made my heart thrum in my ears. When I walked faster, the Luminary Guards kept up.

Fifty steps.

Seventy-three.

One hundred and four.

That was how many steps I’d taken from seeing the exit to reaching it. I stopped moving right in front of the huge, thrown-open doors.

The guards stopped, too.

Great, golden light poured across me. I lifted my face to the outside and breathed in the scents of sun and sky and a wide-open world. Tears poured down my cheeks. Fresh air curled around me.

For one moment, everything else was forgotten: the Pit, the torture, all the reasons for this nightmare. A sense of triumph stirred inside me; all I had to do was lift my hand into the brilliant light of freedom.

A silhouette formed against the shine, resolving into a familiar shape.

“Congratulations, Fancy.” Altan strode toward me wearing a dark smirk.

Suddenly, the trance brought on by this unexpected look at the open world snapped and vanished, replaced by yawning despair. This wasn’t freedom. Nor was it triumph. Whatever waited for me out there was worse than all I left behind.

“Do as you’re bidden, but don’t tell our secret.” Warning entered his tone as he paused and asked, “Do I have to explain what happens if you betray me?”

In my mind, all I could see was Aaru strapped to the chair, noorestones pressing at his feet. All I could hear were the desperate cries.

“No,” I whispered. “You don’t have to explain.”

“Very good.” Then he brushed past me and was gone, only the echo of his threat settling in me like a phantom. I could not unhear the words. And I could not ignore them.

I took three steadying breaths.

And one step outside.





BEFORE





Seven Years Ago


KRASIMIR WAS THE MOST BEAUTIFUL PERSON I’D EVER seen.

She was ageless, with luminous brown skin, high cheekbones, and deep-set eyes that reminded me of a cat. She had this confident way of moving and speaking that I envied.

The first time we met, I waited until my mother was out of the dressing room before I told Krasimir what I thought. She laughed and took a cloth from her kit, splashed a citrus-smelling solution onto it, and wiped it over her face.

The cosmetics came off. Beneath the powders and creams, there was just a woman. Same strong features, but less pronounced. Her eyes were not cat eyes. She was mortal after all.

And there, on her right cheek, a drop of white marked her polished-amber skin. Only one spot, but I shuddered.

Krasimir’s expression remained blank. “Do you think it’s ugly?”

“No,” I whispered. “It looks like a rose about to bloom.”

She smiled and the tip of the rose expanded across the apple of her cheek. “I’ve always thought so, too.”

“But you hide it.”

“Yes.” She pulled a few items from her kit. “What would your mother say about it?”

Mother would say it was ugly. A mark of shame. That no mistress of beauty should have something that imperfect.

“Now you’re one of the few people who’ve seen my real face,” Krasimir said as she applied a tinted cream to her skin. The white rose vanished. Then the rest of her face became a flawless jewel, like before. “The only other person who’s seen the mark is my wife. Besides my parents, but they died years ago.”

“Why show me?”

As she pressed dark powder onto her eyelids, I began to understand. She drew attention to her best features: the shape of her eyes, the lines of her jaw, and the fullness of her mouth. “I showed you,” she said, “because you’re hiding something too.”

“You told Mother my face is perfect.”

“It is.” She glanced at me in the mirror. “But you’re not hiding something on your face.”

The counting. She knew about the counting. “I’m trying to stop.”

Krasimir smiled. “Only stop if that’s what you want. Personally, I think the counting is one of the things that makes you beautiful.”

“Your rose is beautiful.”

She finished lining her eyes, a cat once more, and looked at me. “Imperfections reveal true beauty.”

I wanted to be grateful for permission to count, but I banished those thoughts. Mother would never accept it.

Still, I was always happy to see Krasimir, not only because she brought new soaps and creams and combs, but because she gave me hope that I, too, could hide the thing that made me different.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE




SUNLIGHT BLINDED ME AS I STEPPED OUT OF THE Heart of the Great Warrior.

And the sounds. I could hardly sort through the cacophony of life up here. It was overwhelming, disorienting.

I blinked, resisting the urge to duck my face; I wouldn’t show even more weakness in front of the guards.

When my vision finally adjusted and the burning daylight eased, I could finally see the world that had been denied to me for more than a month.

Thirty-three days of darkness. Thirty-three days of ceiling water. Thirty-three days of slowly being smothered underground.