Gates of Thread and Stone(35)

“Pretty much,” Hina said. “We’re not really sure if others have tried, but we’ve found remains. The gargoyles get everyone who isn’t riding a scout.”

They almost got us, too.

“Anyway, catch you later?” she said, brushing a damp red strand from her cheek.

“Sure,” I said, and squeezed to one side of the aisle to let her pass.

I found an open stall and snapped the curtain shut. Then I undressed, bent over the spotted tub, and peered at the knobs.

Once the tub was full, I braced my hand against the slick wall and climbed inside.

There was only room enough to sit with my legs crossed, but the hot water felt heavenly. The water in the East Quarter bathhouses was either lukewarm or frigid depending on the time of year. I’d mastered the art of washing quickly. But here, I decided to take my time. The amount of dirt that had accumulated since leaving Ninurta was embarrassing, even by the Labyrinth’s standards. I dragged a soapy rag across my skin, scrubbing even after the dirt had been washed away.

The heat soothed the bruises, but it also made every scratch sting, including the new welt on my palm from when I snapped my spoon. Still, it was all easy to ignore as I rested my shoulders against the lip of the tub.

This didn’t seem like such a bad place. Etu Gahl. G-10 had said it meant “to exist in darkness” in whatever ancient language was native to the Infinite. I hoped it referred to the way the fortress could remain hidden from outsiders, but I doubted it.

My house is a place of forgotten things.

I wasn’t sure what Irra meant, but the memory sent a shiver through me despite the hot water. Still, the hollows seemed to be happy here. They had full stomachs, a roof over their heads, plenty of water, and a community of people who understood one another. I wished Reev had been brought here.

I dunked my head beneath the water, my eyes squeezed tight.

I’m sorry. I didn’t know who my apology was meant for. Reev? Definitely. But maybe also for the woman who attacked me in that alley. Because if I had known then that it would lead to this—Reev kidnapped by Ninu, and Avan and me stuck outside Ninurta’s walls—I don’t know if I would have alerted the runners. It scared me to think it: that I might have left her to die instead.

Avan was wrong. I don’t always do the right thing. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

Back in Avan’s room, he had stacked the rugs into a makeshift bed on the floor and settled in with a threadbare blanket. His hair, still damp, clung to his neck in dark tendrils like the lines of his tattoo.

Without a word, I crawled onto the bed, on top of the covers, and leaned over to switch off the lamp. My stomach grumbled. I hadn’t been hungry when it was time to go down for dinner, and then I’d spent a long time in the bath.

“Kai,” Avan said, “have you . . .”

“Have I what?”

After a moment, he continued. “Have you considered the possibility that you might be like Irra?”

“I’m not like him. I can’t do anything like what he did.” I recalled how the walls shriveled at his touch. “And I really don’t want to.”

“What if you could find out for sure? Would you want to know?”

Something in his voice sharpened my attention. “Yes,” I said. “But what are you getting at?”

It was so quiet I could hear him breathing: slow, uneven breaths.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “I’m just thinking about everything Irra said.”

“A lot to take in,” I agreed.

“Yeah. You okay?”

No. Reev had been found because of me. I should have just told him about the tax.

I reached over the edge of the mattress and was met by Avan’s fingers. Strong and reassuring, they laced through mine. I clutched his hand, afraid he’d let go. But he didn’t. Even after my body finally relaxed and my fingers grew slack, he held on.



“Kai,” Avan whispered sometime later.

My name sounded different when he said it: a tender, velvety quality that I wanted to wrap around me. But maybe that was just the film of sleep. I fought the drowsiness that curtained my eyes.

“Do you know what tomorrow is?”

I thought about it but couldn’t seem to focus on much more than the timbre of his voice. “No.”

“The first Day of Sun.”

I counted back the days. How could I have forgotten? Tomorrow, the clouds would clear for the first time in a year, just enough to get genuine sunshine.

The texts told of a time when the Sun had been a constant in the sky—when the weather had been both varied and volatile. After Rebirth, a pall of clouds had taken control of the sky. The storms grew more violent, the nights darker. For decades, the Sun became nothing but a memory for the people left behind. Maybe that, too, had been punishment from the Infinite.

Then one day, the clouds broke and sunlight slipped through—only for a minute. And every year after, the Sun had appeared a little bit longer. Now, the Sun remained for a week. I liked to think that someday it would stay.

During the Week of Sun, Reev and I would climb to the roof of the Labyrinth, the highest point in the East Quarter. We’d lay on top of the metal freight containers, warm from the Sun. When it grew too hot, we climbed down to the bridge to watch the light skip across the river, heat shimmering above the surface. At night, we returned to the roof to observe the stars, a billion little suns more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen, more beautiful even than the White Court with its ivory walls and silver banners.