Empress of a Thousand Skies(36)

Rhee stopped counting the turns, but squinted as light began to permeate the woven threads of the cloth covering her face. Natural light. They’d brought her above ground. Finally, they stopped, and a door opened before her. Rhee was pushed through a threshold as someone yanked off her hood.

She was blinded by the sunlight that reflected off every surface. The room was all white, full of white furniture and white tasseled pillows and white curtains that blew in the breeze. Someone in the center of the room came for her now, a dark silhouette moving swiftly. Rhee fumbled toward a nearby table and snatched up the first thing she could get her hands on.

“Stay back!” she yelled.

“Ancestors, ahn ouck, what do you plan to do with that?” A woman’s voice, deep and familiar. Tai Reyanna. It had always sounded to Rhee as if her voice were full of smoke. It lingered in a room even after she was done speaking.

Only then did Rhee realize she was holding a hairbrush.

“You,” Rhee said, face-to-face with Tai Reyanna. She had hated being called ahn ouck. It meant child, and felt especially patronizing since she no longer was one. It was a tactic—a way to remind Rhee of the girl she’d been when her family died. “You had me kidnapped?”

“It was that or have you imprisoned,” she said. Rhee realized it was the first time she’d ever seen her Tai’s hair. Rather than tucked up under an elaborately arranged scarf, it fell around her face in black waves, threaded with streaks of silver. “I feared you were moving toward the latter option by shoving your way through the crowd like a maniac. I told the guards you were merely a young girl, and you might need some guidance. Which you do.”

“Why did you blindfold me?”

Tai Reyanna shook her head. “So you couldn’t run away before we spoke.”

Her adviser had been lettering—Rhee could see the uniform lines of cursive across a scroll of brown paper behind her. Watching her Tai practice the ancient art used to relax her. It required a certain stillness and patience that reminded her of Veyron. He and Tai Reyanna had never seemed friendly, but the two had been alike in so many ways.

Rhee studied Tai Reyanna’s face. She was her adviser, her mentor, her teacher, and her guide. Could the woman who’d taught her history and languages, fled with her to the safety of the desert moon, watched over her for the past nine years, have conspired to have her killed? Rhee didn’t want to believe that was possible.

But Veyron had looked after her too.

“Where are we?” Rhee asked cautiously. But one look out the window and she already knew; the Tinoppa crystals in the distance. That meant Dahlen was close by.

“I will ask the questions,” Tai Reyanna said in a raised voice. Her face had turned stony, rough—like the hard-packed sand that was left once the foam of a wave receded. “Where have you been?”

Rhee looked down. It was unusual for Tai Reyanna to show emotion; she’d been rigid and focused during those years on Nau Fruma. But now organic memories bubbled to the surface of Rhee’s mind. Tai Reyanna, younger, helping her dress and teaching her to read. Her laugh—how forceful it was, a loud exhale. HA! just once before she began to snicker. How could Rhee have forgotten those moments? But she knew the answer: because she hadn’t saved them, replayed them. They’d been archived from disuse so long ago.

“Answer me!” Tai Reyanna demanded.

Now Rhee’s tongue felt fat and clumsy, and she couldn’t find the words. It was as if they’d been transported back to Nau Fruma, to the dusty palace and the daily lessons. What could she say?

Tai Reyanna strode across the room, back straight, with purpose. Rhee tensed. She glanced outside and quickly counted three stories down; there was a small tree to break her fall if she needed to jump.

But Tai Reyanna only swept her into an unexpected hug. Rhee was not used to their touching; in fact, the last time the Tai had held her, she was six and had just learned of her parents’ death—another memory she’d archived, hidden deep within her cube so she wouldn’t ever have to remember it again.

Rhee felt herself succumbing, becoming that little girl all over again. The Tai was skin and bones—had she always been this tiny?—but the familiar smell of incense that clung to her robes was bold and fragrant. Rhee inhaled deeply, feeling her eyes well, feeling at last that she was holding on to a piece of home.

For a second, she forgot all of it: Veyron, the Eliedio exploding, the riots and the martial law, Seotra here on this very asteroid.

“How did you escape?” Tai Reyanna said into Rhee’s hair. “How did you survive?”

The question brought Rhee back to herself. She pushed out of the Tai’s embrace.

“How did you survive?” Rhee asked, not unkindly—but she took a step back just the same. “I saw the Eliedio explode.”

“We were evacuated. I went to find you, but the Tasinn forced us onto the escape pods, and I trusted Veyron would . . .” She trailed off at the mention of his name, as if it deserved the respect of their ancestors.

“Did everyone manage to escape?”

“No,” Tai Reyanna said, straightening the folds at the front of her robes. She’d always demanded perfection, though Rhee couldn’t help but wonder if it was an excuse to look away. “There weren’t enough pods for everyone.” Rhee felt a twist of new guilt: They’d used a pod for Veyron’s body. “It wasn’t until I was grounded that I realized you hadn’t made it out. I heard that Veyron died trying to save you from an attacker—a Wraetan boy,” Tai Reyanna said, and even she, who was supposed to be neutral, couldn’t help but show her distaste.