Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark #1)(108)

He clutched at my sides, pulled my shirt into his fists. His hands were deft from handling carving knives and powders, and he smelled like it, too, like herbs and potions and vapor.

I pressed into him, feeling the rough stairwell wall against my hands, and his quick, hot breaths against my neck. I had wondered, I had wondered what it was like to go through life without feeling pain, but this was not the absence of pain I had always craved, it was the opposite, it was pure sensation. Soft, warm, aching, heavy, everything, everything.

I heard, echoing through the safe house, a kind of commotion. But before I let myself pull away so we could see what it was, I asked him quietly, “What does it mean, ‘zethetet’?”

He looked away, like he was embarrassed. I caught sight of that creeping blush around the collar of his shirt.

“Beloved,” he said softly. He kissed me again, then picked up his armor and led the way toward the renegades.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

The commotion was that someone was landing a floater in our safe house, ripping right through the fabric that shielded us. The band of light around its middle was dark purple, and it was splattered with mud.

I froze, terrified of the dark shape descending, but then I saw unfamiliar words on the underside of the rotund ship: Passenger Craft #6734.

Written in Thuvhesit.





CHAPTER 32: AKOS


THE SHIP THAT HAD busted through the roof covering was a fat passenger floater, only big enough to hold a couple of people. Tattered bits of the fabric it had torn through floated down after it, catching the breeze. The now-visible sky was dark blue, starless, and the currentstream, rippling across it, was purple red.

The renegades surrounded the floater, weapons drawn. The hatch on its side opened, and a woman descended, showing her palms. She was older, with streaks of gray in her hair, and the look in her eye was anything but surrender.

“Mom?” Cisi said.

Cisi ran at her, wrapping her in a hug. Their mom hugged her back, but scanned the renegades over Cisi’s shoulder. Then her stare fixed on Akos.

He felt shifty in his skin. He had thought maybe, if he ever got to see her again, she would make him feel like a kid. But it was just the opposite—he felt old. And huge. Holding his Shotet armor in front of him like it would protect him from her, then wishing, desperately, that he wasn’t holding it, so she wouldn’t know he’d earned it. He didn’t want to shock her, or disappoint her, or be anything other than what she expected, only he didn’t know what that was.

“Who are you?” Teka demanded. “How did you find us?”

His mom let go of Cisi. “I am Sifa Kereseth. I’m sorry to alarm you; I mean no harm.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I knew where to find you because I’m the oracle of Thuvhe,” his mom said, and all at once, like it was rehearsed, the renegades put down their currentblades. Even those Shotet who didn’t worship the current wouldn’t dare to threaten an oracle, their religious history was so strong. Awe of her, of what she could do and see, was practically in their bones, running right alongside the marrow.

“Akos,” his mom said, almost like it was a question. And in Thuvhesit, “Son?”

He had thought about seeing her again dozens of times. What he would say, what he would do, how he would feel. And mostly, now, all he felt was angry. She hadn’t come for him the day of the kidnapping. Hadn’t even warned them about the horror that would come to their doorstep, or said a too-meaningful good-bye that morning when they went to school. Nothing.

She reached for him, putting her rough hands on his shoulders. The worn shirt she wore, patched at the elbows, was one of their dad’s shirts. She smelled like sendes leaf and saltfruit, like home. The last time he’d stood in front of her, he’d only come up to her shoulder; now he was a head taller.

Her eyes sparkled.

“I wish I could explain,” she whispered.

So did he. Wished, more than that, that she could let go of the mad faith that she had in the fates, the convictions she held higher even than her own children. But it wasn’t that simple.

“Have I lost you, then?” Her voice cracked a little over the question, and it was that easy for his anger to break.

He bent, and pulled her into his arms, lifting her to her toes without really noticing.

She felt like bones to him. Had she always been this thin, or had he only thought of her as strong because he was a kid and she was his mom? He felt like it would be too easy to crush her.

She rocked from side to side, a little. She’d always done that, like the hug wasn’t over until she had tested it for stability.

“Hello,” he said, because it was all he could think of.

“You’re grown,” his mom said as she pulled away. “I’ve seen half a dozen versions of this moment and still had no idea you’d be so tall.”

“Never thought I’d see you surprised.”

She laughed a little.

All wasn’t forgiven, not by half. But if this was one of the last times he would get to see her, he wasn’t going to spend it angry. She smoothed a hand over his hair, and he let her, though he knew his hair didn’t need smoothing.

Isae’s voice broke the silence. “Hello, Sifa.”

The oracle bobbed her head at Isae. Akos didn’t need to warn her not to tell the renegades who Isae was; she already knew, as always.