Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark #1)(116)

Now is not the time. I shook myself out of the daze, continuing on. I didn’t think I would encounter any other security; only Yma lived here now.

I had made sure of that, hadn’t I?

The house was modern, recently renovated from the drafty stone castle that had been there before. Large sections of wall had been replaced with glass, and little orbs full of blue-glowing insects were draped across the trees in front, creating a bright canopy that reflected in the windows. Strange plants twisted together in front of the house, some of them creeping up the remaining stone. Some were blooming, too, huge flowers from different worlds in colors I rarely saw on ours: pink as a tongue, rich blue green, black as space.

When I reached the front door, I drew the small currentblade sheathed at my hip, just in case. I was almost afraid to break the silence that surrounded me. But then I pounded, hard, with the handle of the knife, until Yma Zetsyvis answered.

“Miss Noavek,” Yma said. She wasn’t smiling, for once. She was staring at the weapon in my right hand.

“Hello,” I said. “Mind if I come in?”

I didn’t wait for an answer. I stepped into the foyer. The floor was made of wood, likely from the dark trees that surrounded the Zetsyvis estate, the same wood used so liberally in Noavek manor. There were few walls here, the whole first floor bare for me to see, and all the furniture stark white.

Yma wore a robe with a pale sheen, and her hair was loose around her shoulders.

“Have you come to kill me?” she said, her face placid. “I suppose it’s only fitting that you finish what you started. First my husband, then my daughter . . .”

I thought about telling her that I had not wanted to kill either of them, that their deaths still haunted me in my dreams. That I heard Uzul’s heartbeat before I woke, and saw Lety in corners where she had never stood. But there was no reason to say any of those things.

“I just came to talk to you,” I said. “The knife is for my protection.”

“I didn’t think you needed knives,” Yma said.

“Sometimes they’re more efficient,” I said. “Subtle intimidation, and all that.”

“Ah.” Yma turned away. “Come on, then, let’s sit.”

She led the way to the sitting area, which I could see from where I stood, the low couches arranged in a square. She turned on a few lights with a gentle touch, so the couches glowed from beneath, and fenzu swarmed in a lantern on the low glass table. I didn’t sit down until she did, arranging her robe over her legs so they weren’t exposed. She was an elegant woman.

“You’re looking better than you were last time I saw you,” she said. “I can’t say I didn’t enjoy watching you bleed.”

“Yes, I’m sure that was entertaining for quite a few people,” I said tartly. “A little harder for you to claim moral superiority when you’re thirsting for someone else’s blood, though, isn’t it?”

“Your crime came first.”

“I’ve never argued that I’m on some kind of high ground with you,” I said. “Just that you might be on the low ground with me.”

Yma laughed, and she was about to aim another insult at me, I was sure, but I spoke over her.

“I know my brother disgusts you just as much as I do. I’ve known for a long time,” I said. “And I used to feel bad for you, for having to stay close to him to survive. I used to think you were just desperate and doing what you had to.”

Yma’s face twitched. She looked out one of the expansive windows at Voa, the ocean beyond it visible from this height, though it just looked like emptiness, like the edges of space.

“Used to?” she finally replied.

“Today I began to understand that you’re not desperate—at least not in the way I thought. Everything is perfectly in your control, isn’t it?”

She jerked her head back toward me, suddenly stern. I had gotten her attention.

“You’ve lost far more than I realized. You lost them before I ever laid a hand on your husband. Surukta is your name,” I said. “Your sister was Zosita Surukta, who fled the planet after she was caught teaching other languages to her neighbors, and later executed for participating in the revolt. Before she was caught, though, your nephew was killed for her crimes, and your niece, Teka, lost an eye to my brother.”

“The misdeeds of my family are behind me,” Yma said, her voice wavering a little. “You can hardly hold me responsible for them.”

“I’m not,” I said with a short laugh. “I’m telling you how I know that you are part of the revolt, and have been for quite some time.”

“My, you certainly have cooked up a theory, haven’t you?” Yma said, and her strange smile returned. “I am on the verge of marrying your brother and solidifying my place as one of the most powerful people in Shotet. I married Uzul Zetsyvis as a means to an end, this end. Social advancement. I have a skill for it. Something you would not understand, since you were born into privilege.”

“Do you want to know what ultimately gave you away?” I said, ignoring her explanation. “First of all, you were the one who turned Uzul in. You knew what my brother would do to him. People who act out of desperation don’t make calculated moves like that.”

“You—” She tried to interrupt, but I spoke over her.