Ink, Iron, and Glass (Ink, Iron, and Glass #1)(93)

“Hi,” Elsa hazarded. “How’s … how’s things?”

He shook his head, half-disbelieving. “That the best you can do?” he said, but when she looked at him, there was amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

“You’ll have to cut me a little slack. I was rather occupied, saving the world and all.”

He laughed. “We’ve never been very good at cutting each other slack, have we?”

Elsa showed a tentative smile. “I suppose not.”

Impulsively, she stopped walking and pulled him into a hug. He froze for a second, surprised, then hugged her back fiercely.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” said Elsa.

“Same to you, dummy,” he replied. “Same to you.”

When they all arrived at the village, Baninu—Revan’s mother and Jumi’s oldest friend—helped Elsa make up a bed in the main room of her mother’s cottage. It might be a while before Jumi could manage the ladder to the loft. With Faraz’s supervision, they disconnected Jumi from the stasis machine and tucked her in, and Elsa settled down to wait for her mother to wake.

When the sun dipped low in the sky, the villagers built a bonfire and brought out the drums and reed flutes. Elsa watched from the open doorway, her own people and the Italian guests making joyful attempts at communication. Faraz slipped away from the light of the fire, and as he approached, Elsa recognized him only by the height of his rail-thin silhouette.

“Hey,” he said, his voice pitched low. “Has your mother woken up yet?”

Elsa shook her head. “Still unconscious.”

“Ah, well. Slow victories are still victories.”

“I’d prefer not to tally our gains and losses,” she answered wryly. “I doubt we’d come out ahead.”

“Your fellow Veldanese seem to think there’s reason enough for celebrating,” Faraz said with his usual tone of careful neutrality.

Elsa watched the festivities while she puzzled over his words. Was this what victory felt like? On the far side of the bonfire, Porzia was attempting to converse with Revan, a feat that apparently required much wild gesticulation.

“How’s she doing?” Elsa said.

Faraz followed her gaze to Porzia. “She’s angry. She tries to hide it, but she’s angry.”

“And you?”

“I’m…” His jaw worked as he struggled for words. “He’s like a brother to me, you know? Disbelieving is how I am. I cannot accept this.”

“I’ve been such a fool.” Elsa clenched her fists against the turmoil inside her; it felt as if denial and fury were two snakes wrestling inside her gut. “I was warned, and still I didn’t see it.”

Faraz tilted his head to look at her, his eyes catching the firelight. “What do you mean?”

Elsa shook her head. Leo had worked so hard to earn her trust, only to leave in a spectacular act of betrayal—just as Jumi had always warned her men would do. A part of her wanted to tell Faraz, I will never trust again. Lesson learned.

Instead she told him, “Nothing, I … I was thinking of the Oracle. That’s all.”

Behind her in the cottage, Jumi coughed and groaned. “Elsa? Where are you?”

“Oh!” Elsa said with a start. “I’d better…”

“Yes, of course,” Faraz said, motioning for her to go back inside.

Elsa bid him good night and moved to her mother’s bedside. Jumi’s complexion was still wan and her forehead damp with sweat, but her eyes were clear. Relief swept through Elsa like a new tide, washing away the hurt and confusion. Her mother keeping secrets, hiding the editbook, even scribing it in the first place … none of that seemed to matter now.

She said, “You’re awake.”

Jumi coughed again, and when she spoke her voice grated in her throat. “What in the world is all that racket?”

Elsa sat on the edge of the cot and took her mother’s hand. “The whole village is celebrating your safe return. Welcome home, Mother.”

*

The festivities wound down and the Italians went home, but the next day Elsa looked outside to see the lanky, familiar form of Alek de Vries picking his way slowly down the path. She could tell even at a distance that his hip was bothering him. When was he going to give in and start carrying a walking cane?

When had Elsa become the one who took care, and Jumi and Alek the ones who needed taking care of? Strange.

“Darling, where are you going?” her mother said.

Jumi hadn’t called her darling since she was a little girl. The word—and the raw need with which her mother said it, so uncharacteristically defenseless—made her heart ache inside her chest.

“You’re not going back for that boy, are you? The one who betrayed you,” Jumi said disapprovingly.

“I never would have found you without that boy,” Elsa snapped. The phrase irritated her, as if Leo in all his complexity could be reduced to that boy. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Though even as the words left her mouth, she knew Jumi wasn’t really the one she wanted to yell at. She was just mad at Jumi for being right, and mad at herself for being so gullible.

Jumi sighed and leaned back against the pillows. Her voice softer, she said, “I don’t know how it started, but I was with you at the end. When I was sick, I could still hear things.”