Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(67)

But now, I stood under a sweeping blue sky, rich with orange and pink and purple clouds that huddled on the horizon. It was just after dawn and daylight had been reborn.

A huge red-and-gold carriage waited four paces from the door, blocking most of my view, but I caught the impression of a busy street that curled into a circular drive. Four enormous columns stood on either side of the door, with crossed maces carved into the marble.

“Let’s go.” A Luminary Guard prodded me to the carriage. Seven horses were harnessed to the front, their ears flicking and hooves stamping while they waited.

Then there were the guards. Seven, at least that I could see. Two with me. Three at the carriage. Two more near the warriors standing at attention by the entryway.

Once, I’d believed anyone with Luminary anything in their title was an ally. Now I knew better. Anyone could be an enemy.

The carriage door swung open to reveal another enemy.

Elbena Krasteba sat on a padded bench.

“Get in,” she said.

“Where are my parents?”

“Not here.”

Hadn’t they orchestrated my release, though? Maybe that had been nothing more than a wild, unfounded assumption. A hope that my removal from the Pit meant something good.

There was nothing good about this.

A wild urge to run overtook me, but the Luminary Guards would be fast. The warriors would be faster. I couldn’t see much beyond the carriage and columns—just the suggestion of a crowded street and tall buildings—but even if I could run past all the guards, I’d soon become lost in a tangle of streets.

This was Khul-tah, the City of the Warrior, and I would not survive here on my own. I was not capable of such heroics.

I took the four steps from one prison and climbed into another.

Two benches facing each other, a small mahogany table (bearing two covered plates, two glasses, and one covered pitcher), and curtains pulled tight against the view: these were the contents of the carriage.

The door closed after me, choking off all the light but that of three noorestones.

I rocked back in my seat, disoriented. For a moment, I was in the interrogation room again, cradling Aaru’s feverish body, whispering apology after apology, wishing I could strip away all his pain.

Elbena motioned to the pitcher. “Water?”

“No.” A desperate thirst stirred inside me, but I wanted nothing from her.

“Very well.” She smoothed back stray hairs that had escaped her long braid. “I’m here as your friend, you know.”

Doubtful.

Some people said Elbena had won the position because of her youth and beauty. And it was true that she was both young and beautiful, with smooth skin the shade of umber, wide brown eyes, and a smile that dazzled. But I’d voted for her because she’d always seemed to care so much for the Daminan people. I’d liked the way she encouraged everyone to think of more than just themselves, to always look out for their neighbors.

Hristo had never liked her; he’d noted that she never mentioned Harta in all her speeches. He hadn’t been permitted a vote, though, because he wasn’t a natural-born citizen of Damina. Now, I wished he had been allowed; he could have negated my (clearly wrong) vote.

“How was your time in the Pit?” she asked.

“You don’t want to hear about that,” I said. “Unless you’ve been longing for stories about bathing in filth, relieving oneself over a hole in the ground, and never getting a good night’s sleep because someone down the hall is afraid of the dark.”

She folded her hands on her lap. “That sounds positively miserable.”

Thumps sounded on the carriage, but Elbena didn’t react. It was probably the guards climbing onto their riding platforms. Though there was enough space for four more people to fit comfortably in here, it seemed the councilor wanted privacy.

In case I started talking about dragons, perhaps.

“I’m sorry we had to do that to you,” Elbena said. “I didn’t think you’d be there for quite so long.”

“The Pit is a life sentence.”

“Not for girls like you.”

“Does that mean I’m not going back?” Hope and guilt crashed inside me.

“I didn’t say that.” Her smile was dazzling. It was the sort that won elections because people wanted to trust her. She could appear so genuine—but that was Damina’s charm at work.

“What do you want from me?”

“I want to give you an opportunity.”

“What sort?” I asked.

As the carriage started to move, Elbena leaned across the table and pried open the curtains, though the tops and bottoms were pinned together, so she revealed only a small sliver of the outside.

Still, even this glimpse drew me.

This was Warrior’s Circle, one of the oldest sections of Khul-tah. In the center of the drive stood an immense golden statue of Khulan with his maces lifted in victory; he had to be three times my height, though I couldn’t see all of him right now.

Paintings always showed the Khulan statue from one of two angles: from the great doorway, to show the height of the city that had grown around the warrior god; or facing the doors (sometimes open, sometimes closed), to show him guarding his temple, the most sacred place of all his island.

“The Fallen Isles are experiencing some . . . difficulties. Therefore, the council wants to show the world that you’re still present. Reassuring the people is a very important duty. It’s what keeps the peace.” Elbena gazed out the sliver between the curtains as she spoke, as though she could possibly need to see the outside world nearly as much as I did.