Aurora Burning (The Aurora Cycle #2)(78)

“ ‘There is no love in violence, Kaliis,’ she would tell me, pressing a cool cloth to my wounds. ‘There is no love in violence.’ ”

“That’s awful,” Aurora whispers. “I’m sorry, Kal.”

I shake my head, feeling the old familiar sting.

“The battle lines our parents drew became mine and Saedii’s. Saedii sought only our father’s praise, cared little for my mother’s wisdom.” I touch the three blades at my brow. “We were living aboard my father’s ship at the time. He wished us close, I think. The better to control my mother, to mold Saedii and me into what he wanted us to be. I grew older. Taller. Stronger. When Saedii could no longer best me in practice, she sought to punish me in other ways. For my eighth nameday, my mother had given me a siif—a stringed instrument, not unlike your Terran violins. It was a gift from her mother before her. And one day, when I was twelve, after I had bested her in practice again, Saedii went to my room and smashed it in retaliation.

“Though I always tried to take my mother’s teaching to heart, I was still my father’s son. And this was the first time I truly felt the Enemy Within take control. I tasted the hatred on my tongue, Aurora. And I liked it. And so I hunted my sister down. I found her in the sparring courts with her friends. I showed her the broken pieces of my siif and she laughed. And so I hit her with it.”

I hang my head in shame. My tongue tastes bitter, dry as ashes. Aurora looks at my reflection, and I can see the question in her eyes. But she can see the guilt in mine clearly, and instead of judgment, she finds compassion. Squeezes my hand, gentle as a whisper.

“You were just a boy, Kal,” she says. “You’re not the person you were back then. I know you. You’d never do something like that now.”

“That does not excuse it,” I say. “It has been seven years, and still, the contempt I feel for myself has not lessened a drop. She was my sister, Aurora. And I did not hit her for any reason, save to hurt her. When she fell, I hit her again. And again. I could feel my father at my shoulder in that moment. Hear his words in my ear. Cursing weakness. Pity. Remorse. ‘Mercy is the province of cowards.’ ”

I look out into the Fold, at the cosmic ballet beyond the viewport.

“I expected punishment. Instead, Father praised me. He told me that when he heard what I had done, he had never been more proud I was his son.”

“Kal,” Aurora says softly. “Your father sounds …”

“Monstrous,” I say. “He was monstrous, Aurora. And my mother saw the monsters he was making of Saedii and me, and finally, she decided to leave him. To break the lifebond and flee back to Syldra. Father told her that he would kill her if she ever left him. In abandoning him, she was leaving behind everything. Her home. What few friends he’d allowed her to have. All of it. Saedii refused to leave, to be parted from our father. So in the end, my mother gave up her whole life for my sake alone. It was the most difficult thing she ever did. But she did it anyway.

“ ‘Mai tu sarie amn, tu hae’si, tu kii’rna dae,’ she told me afterward.”

Aurora shakes her head. “What does it mean?”

“ ‘There is nothing as painful, or as simple, as doing what is right.’ ”

She looks to the stars outside, lips pressed thin.

“You told me your father …”

“Died,” I reply, my heart clenching with a strength that surprises me. “He died at Orion, be’shmai. In the same battle that claimed the life of Jericho Jones. Tyler, Scarlett, me, all of us were made orphans that day.”

“What …” She trails off, meeting my eyes again. “What happened to your mother? I’d like to meet her… .”

But Aurora’s words falter when she sees the pain in my eyes. I can feel her presence in my mind, just the lightest touch, and in it she sees the reflection of a sun flaring into blinding light, then to bottomless darkness. Enveloping the planets around it, dragging entire systems down to oblivion, ten billion Syldrathi voices screaming as the void opens wide to swallow them whole.

“She died,” Aurora whispers. “When your homeworld did.”

I hang my head. “The Starslayer took much from me, Aurora. But my mother gave me much more. I would have been on Syldra when it perished had she not instilled her wisdom in me, had she not forced me to see the anger in my blood as something to be used for good, and the safety of the galaxy a cause worth harnessing it for. I joined the Aurora Legion because of her. Even though leaving her and my world behind was the hardest thing I had ever done.”

I shrug.

“But that decision brought me to this squad. And you. And your quest. I would have none of that, if not for her.”

“What was her name?”

“Laeleth.”

She nods, pale hair tumbling about her eyes. “That’s beautiful.”

“She would have liked you, be’shmai,” I say, and she smiles through her tears, because she can see the truth of what I say in my gaze. “She would have seen the strength in you. The burden you carry, this thing we are a part of, this path we walk . . .” I shake my head in bewilderment. “The fate of the entire galaxy lies in your hands. The courage you have shown to even get this far … I know blooded warriors who would have crumbled to dust under such a weight. And yet, here you stand. Strong and beautiful and unconquered.”