The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark #2)(112)

Akos smiled.

“Show me your house,” she said. “Are there embarrassing pictures of you? On the journey, your sister told me you were very particular about your socks.”

And so Akos took her upstairs, his fingers laced with hers, and opened all his drawers, letting himself be thoroughly mocked.

Dear Cisi,

I’m sorry I didn’t wait for you. I wasn’t sure when you’d be back, and my ride was leaving.

I hope you understand why I can’t stay. There’s no place for me here anymore. But let’s make a deal. If you try to ease off your currentgift when you’re advising Isae, I’ll try to stop beating myself up about Eijeh. And Jorek. And Hessa.

Personally, I think your end is much easier, so you better take me up on it.

But I’m serious—you’re not a puppet master, Cee, even though I know sometimes you want to be. Maybe power suits you, but it’s got to be handled carefully, you know?

I’ll be farther away from you now, on Ogra, than I ever was in Shotet, but this time will be different. This time, I can come visit. This time, I can be what I want to be, go where I want to go.

I’ll miss you. Stay safe.

—Akos

P.S. Don’t worry, I’ll talk to Mom eventually.





CHAPTER 56: CYRA


One Season Later

I WOKE TO A low hum, and the tap tap tap of a knife on a cutting board. He was facing away from me, his shoulders hunched over the narrow counter. The pile of ingredients next to him was unfamiliar—something Ogran that he had learned to use in half a dozen ways since he’d been studying under Zenka.

I stretched, my knees cracking as I straightened them. I had fallen asleep to the sound of this new concoction bubbling on the stove, but he had been sitting on the end of the bed then, reading a Shotet book with the translator close at hand in case he needed it. He had made rapid progress with Shotet characters, but there were quite a few of them to learn, and it would take seasons to master them.

“I heard that creaky knee, your sovereignty,” he said.

“Good,” I said through a yawn. “Then you’re not as unguarded as you look.”

I got up and padded over to him. There was a bandage on his arm—the tentacle of some kind of venemous Ogran plant had wrapped around him while he harvested it, and ate away at his skin like acid. The scar would stretch right across his Shotet marks, passing through them, though not entirely erasing them.

“That looks disgusting,” I said, pointing to the substance he was chopping. It was grainy and black, like it was coated in engine oil. It had stained his fingertips a grayish color.

“It tastes disgusting, too,” he said. “But if it does what I think it will, you’ll have a painkiller that won’t make you sleepy during the day.”

“You don’t need to dedicate so much time to painkillers,” I said. “I’m managing just fine with the ones I have.”

“I enjoy making them,” he said. “It’s not all about you, you know.”

“I love it when you talk sweet to me.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, breathing in the smell of fresh things that lingered on all his clothes in the afternoons, after he went to the ship’s little greenhouse.

The Ograns had loaned us two ships for our sojourn this season. They were a lot smaller than the sojourn ship had been, so not all eligible Shotet could go, and those who did had been selected by lottery. But the sojourn would happen, and that was what mattered to most of us—especially the exiles, who hadn’t been able to sojourn for many seasons.

The planet we would scavenge this season was Tepes. The decision was politically motivated, rather than guided by the current, as it should have been. Tepes, Ogra, and Shotet were on one side of an ongoing debate with Othyr, Thuvhe, and Pitha about the oracles. And the word debate was somewhat ill-chosen, since the environment was, as Teka had put it, “a bit tense.” Bad, in other words.

That the galaxy would divide over this issue was no longer a question of “if,” but one of “when.” The problem was that the rest of the Assembly planets wanted to keep their oracles but impose stringent guidelines on how they would practice, which was, for the oracles, untenable. I wasn’t sure what to think, after my dealings with Sifa. But thankfully, it was not up to me.

Aza was the prime minister, responsible for most of the decision making. I consulted, when I needed to, and tried to manage the diplomatic end of things, though I wasn’t much good at it. I did know the other planets, though. I’d spent all my life fascinated by them. And my talent for languages was useful, since people liked to hear foreigners make an effort.

Akos stopped chopping and turned in my arms, so I had him pinned up against the counter. He wore one of his father’s old shirts, which was worn and patched at the elbows, and the dark crimson color that belonged to Thuvhe.

His gray eyes—still wary, always wary—looked a little sad, and had since the day before. Ara Kuzar was on our ship, thanks to chance, or fate, or whatever I believed in these days. She still wouldn’t look at him, and I knew having her here was difficult for him, though whenever I brought it up he just said, “Not as difficult as it is for her,” which was inarguable.

I tipped my chin up and kissed him, gently. He responded by wrapping an arm across my back and lifting me into him, strong and warm and certain.