An Ember in the Ashes(51)

She’s gone. It was too much for her. For a second that never seems to end, I hold her, numb as the realization sinks in. She’s dead.
“Out of the way, damn you.” Grandfather’s voice seems far away, but a second later, he’s beside me. I stare at him, shaken. Only a few days ago, I saw him dead on the nightmare battlefield. But here he is, alive and well. He lays a hand against Helene’s throat. “Still alive,” he says. “Barely. Clear the way.” His scim is out, and the crowd backs away. “Get the physician! Find a litter! Move!”
“Augur,” I choke out. “Where’s the Augur?” As if my thoughts summon him, Cain appears. I thrust Helene at Grandfather, struggling not to wrap my hands around the Augur’s neck for what he’s put us through.

“You have the power to heal,” I say through gritted teeth. “Save her. While she’s still alive.”
“I understand your anger, Elias. You feel pain, sorro—” His words fall upon my ears like the incessant caws of a crow.
“Your rules—no cheating.” Calm, Elias. Don’t lose it. Not now. “But the Farrars cheated. They knew we were coming through the Gap. They ambushed us.”
“The Augurs’ minds are linked. If one of us aided Marcus and Zak, the rest would know. Your whereabouts were concealed from all others.”
“Even my mother?”
Cain pauses for a telling moment. “Even her.”
“You’ve read her mind?” Grandfather speaks up from beside me. “You’re absolutely certain she didn’t know where Elias was?”
“Reading thoughts isn’t like reading a book, General. It requires study—”
“Can you read her or not?”
“Keris Veturia walks dark paths. The darkness cloaks her, hiding her from our sight.”
“That’s a no, then,” Grandfather says dryly.
“If you can’t read her,” I say, “how do you know she didn’t help Marcus and Zak cheat? Did you read them?”
“We do not feel the need—”
“Reconsider.” My temper surges. “My best friend is dying because those sons of a whore pulled the wool over your eyes.”
“Cyrena,” Cain says to one of the other Augurs, “stabilize Aquilla and isolate the Farrars. No one is to see them.” The Augur turns back to me. “If what you say is true, then the balance is upset, and we must restore it. We will heal her. But if we cannot prove that Marcus and Zacharias cheated, then we must leave Aspirant Aquilla to her fate.”
I nod tersely, but in my head, I’m screaming at Cain. You idiot. You stupid, repulsive demon. You’re letting those cretins win. You’re letting them get away with murder.
Grandfather, unusually silent, walks with me to the infirmary. When we reach the infirmary doors, they open, and the Commandant emerges.
“Giving your lackeys warning, Keris?” Grandfather towers over his daughter, his lip curling.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“You’re a traitor to your Gens, girl,” Grandfather says, the only man in the Empire brave enough to refer to my mother as a girl. “Don’t think I’ll forget it.”
“You picked your favorite, General.” Mother’s eyes slide to me, and I spot a flash of unhinged rage. “And I’ve picked mine.”
She leaves us at the infirmary door. Grandfather watches her go, and I wish I knew what he was thinking. What does he see when he looks at her?
The little girl she was? The soulless creature she is now? Does he know why she became like this? Did he watch it happen?
“Don’t underestimate her, Elias,” he says. “She’s not used to losing.”
XIX: Laia
When I open my eyes, the low roof of my quarters looms over me. I don’t remember losing consciousness. Perhaps I’ve been out for minutes, perhaps hours. Through the curtain strung across my doorway, I catch a glimpse of a sky that looks as if it’s still undecided as to whether it’s night or morning. I push myself to my elbows, stifling a moan. The pain is all consuming, so pervasive it feels as if I’ve never been without it.
I don’t look at the wound. I don’t need to. I watched the Commandant as she carved it into me, a thick-lined, precise K stretching from my collarbone to the skin over my heart. She’s branded me. Marked me as her property. It’s a scar I’ll carry to the grave.
Clean it. Bandage it. Get back to work. Don’t give her an excuse to hurt you again.
The curtain shifts. Izzi slips in and sits at the end of my pallet, small enough that she doesn’t need to stoop to avoid hitting her head.
“It’s nearly dawn.” Her hand drifts to her eye patch, but, catching herself, she knots her fingers into her shirt. “The legionnaires brought you down last night.”
“It’s so ugly.” I hate myself for saying it. Weak, Laia. You’re so weak. Mother had a six-inch scar on her hip from a legionnaire who nearly got the best of her. Father had lash marks on his back—he never said how he got them. They both wore their scars proudly—proof of their ability to survive. Be strong like them, Laia. Be brave.
But I’m not strong. I’m weak, and I’m sick of pretending I’m not.
“Could be worse.” Izzi raises a hand to her missing eye. “This was my first punishment.”
“How—when—” Skies, there’s no delicate way to ask about this. I fall silent.
“A month after we arrived here, Cook tried to poison the Commandant.”