Fantasy of Fire (The Tainted Accords #3)(2)

Tracking his murderer became my sole purpose as I struggled to cope with Kedrick’s death and my own past. While attempting to find his assassin, I survived months in the fighting pits of the Outer Rings, only to discover a hidden community of mixed people, tucked away in the highest of the suspended islands of the Oscala. This place was called the Ire.

Now, the Ire folk are my only hope of stopping the army.

One thing binds me to the people here. It took a full sector after Kedrick’s death to discover the truth myself; to understand the cause of my mother’s hatred and the reason she’s made me wear a veil my entire life.

I’d thought I was deformed or ugly for a long time, but my blue-black hair, olive skin tone, and height are all normal for a Solati woman.

My blue eyes are not.

Prior to my discovery of the Ire, there was only one place where you could find people with blue eyes. Unfortunately for me, that place was Glacium. I was the Tatuma of Osolis, but I had the features of an inhabitant of Glacium. I was half Solati and half Bruma, caught between the two worlds, just like the Ire folk. One fleeting glance into a mirror and my hopes and dreams to rule Osolis were crushed and swept away, along with everything else I’d ever known. My people will never stand behind someone who is half Bruma. They wouldn’t even stand behind my mother if they discovered she'd slept with a Bruma, much less had a child with a Bruma. I didn’t have to imagine their disgust. There’s just one certainty in this: My mother’s treatment has left me so scarred, I don’t even know how deeply the scars go. Most days I’m surprised she didn’t just kill me.

Life with the veil on is hard physically, but the loneliness is worse. People don’t feel comfortable talking to a face they cannot see. It took me a long time to understand this sentiment. I know the isolation of my childhood still affects me a great deal. King Jovan and my brother, Olandon, are the only others who have seen the evidence of Mother’s affair: the eyes. But I’ve told too many lies in the last half-revolution. I’ve created too many personas to keep them all straight anymore. The walls are closing in around me. One slip and Mother’s sordid secret, which is now my own, will be unveiled.

“Willow?” Jimmy calls. I'm startled out of my morose thoughts. I flash the red-haired boy a semblance of a smile and correct my veering route.

Willow is one of my personas. In fact, I borrowed the name from my whore friend in the Outer Rings. Here, I couldn’t use Olina, my real name, or even Frost—the name I used in the fighting pits. I feared someone would link the names and out me. Crystal, my friend from Alzona’s barracks, told the Ire I was a pit fighter. Since Frost was the only woman to have ever fought in the arenas, it wouldn’t be hard to find out who Willow really was if they went searching. Hopefully anyone curious enough to investigate would stop there. It’s the reason I gave a different name to the Ire in the first place. Olina was the identity I had to protect at all costs. It’s a traditional Solati name and I couldn’t be sure how many Bruma and Ire folk knew about the Tatuma Olina, the hostage of their king.

I look ahead at Jimmy, who’s drooping with exhaustion. Solis knows how many hours he’s been without sleep. The usually energetic boy has been far too quiet. The last remnants of my smile fade as I recall another problem, almost as big as the impending war.

I groan aloud as I remember the screams and gasps of the assembly as Jimmy flew from the castle ceiling. Jimmy warned us of the army’s presence in the Oscala. Unfortunately, his prompt forewarning came at the expense of the Ire’s secrecy.

Before that moment, the Ire had remained hidden for over five generations. Now the Bruma knew a whole other people existed … somewhere. They knew these people had strap-on wings, too. I don’t know if anyone has the Ire’s general location figured out yet—I wouldn’t be surprised if Jovan has guessed. But even if he hasn’t, it wouldn’t take long for other Bruma to realize the only place dangerous enough to warrant the use of wings are the perilous islands of the Oscala.

Secrets are almost considered a currency on Glacium. The assembly is close-mouthed. But eventually someone will pass on the information.

Word of the ‘flying people’ will get out. A circumstance I’m not eager to relate to the Ire leader, Adox.

*

I touch down onto Adox’s island behind Jimmy. The Ire is quiet.

The low, dusty tents erected on the surrounding islands are still. The occupants within, asleep.

We made good time with Jimmy leading the way—unlike my solo journey not so long ago. My legs threaten to buckle beneath me, weak from the long flight. I wobble behind a bouncing Jimmy. Having grown up flying, he’s experiencing none of my current troubles.

“Jimmy, go wake Adox,” I say. I feel a little bad about waking the Ire leader. He must be pushing twenty-six revolutions, but the situation is dire and his reaction at being woken is the least of my worries. Every moment we wait means the Tatum’s army draws closer.

The boy hesitates for the barest moment. He’s seven years old, and it’s just occurring to him that his angry mother is the least of his problems. Adox will be furious to hear the child has singlehandedly destroyed the Ire’s secrecy.

“I have to tell him,” I explain softly. Jimmy’s breath begins to come short and fast as soon as I utter the words. I hurry to finish. “But I’ll also tell him how brave you are, and that you came because I asked.”