“Perran wouldn’t let me see you.” His brows furrow. “They’ve moved all of the children out of these dorms to the adult ones until your head is better.”
Well, that explains the lack of anyone around.
“Perran told me you are…emotionally drained.” Timo sounds out the last phrase carefully, looking pleased he’s remembered it.
“I was,” I say, giving his shoulder a quick squeeze. “But don’t worry about it. My magic is a bit new and out of control, you know? I need to learn how to control it, like you.”
Timo’s face falls. “I’m sorry about Aunty Es.” His eyes glimmer with unshed tears. “It’s my fault she’s dead, isn’t it?” The tears trickle down his cheeks, and the hard lump in my own throat grows.
“Don’t you dare think that,” I choke out and pull him into a hug, resting my chin on top of his golden hair. He smells of smoke and lemons. “It’s not your fault.”
It’s mine.
Hot tears prick at my own eyes. “You were protecting your family. The fire was an accident. And Gee chose to go back in. No one could have stopped her.”
I could have stopped her, if I’d have been in control of myself.
“Perran says she saved Pa,” Timo whispers, his small chest still heaving against me.
“I know. She was very brave.”
We hold onto each other until his breathing returns to normal. When he pulls away, his face is damp and blotchy, his blond eyelashes wet spikes. He straightens. “I’m going to train until I’m strong enough to burn down the prison and rescue Ruri.”
So he knows about Ruri, too.
His wide eyes glint as he crosses his arms. “And I’ll burn every snatcher in my way.”
“You’re going to be formidable,” I say, and I mean it. Timo is fire, and this is his spark.
“Will you help me when you’re better?”
“Of course.”
He smiles, flashing the gap between his teeth. Voices echo down the corridor, and his eyes flit toward them.
“I’m not supposed to be here.” He takes a step away, looking torn.
“You go. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
I give his hand a quick squeeze before he heads off down the corridor. He spins around, walking backward.
“Oh, guess what?” he calls back. “Bram is living with your friend, Lucine!” Then he’s gone.
My smile slowly fades. It breaks my heart to hear Timo blame himself for the fire. He’s only a child. In fact, if he hadn’t unleashed his power that night, it’s likely there would have been three of us rattling in a prison wagon on our way to Vankuza.
Aimlessly, I walk through the corridors.
If Perran has emptied the place, it'll be easier for me to slip out and escape. But if I went into the desert now with no supplies, I wouldn’t last a day.
And even if I could make it out of the desert, where would I go. Home? Gee was home. The only thing waiting for me in Henling is an empty wagon and painful memories.
My calves burn as I climb a staircase, my legs taking me in a familiar route from my childhood – to the Lunar Enclave above ground, the vast towers sitting directly on top of the underground Defiance.
I emerge from the stairwell into an open courtyard lit by the rich, evening light. The desert air is balmy, the large, red sun just beginning to dip below the horizon.
It’s apt that the Defiance hides out in the middle of the Rust Desert, the once mighty blade of the Mages Guild left to corrode and flake away. If what Perran says is true, this mission is the only chance the Defiance has to become more than just a band of hideaways. If all the mages are freed from prison, they could fight back. Perhaps even topple the Governance and see the Guild rule once more.
A few people bustle by, busy running errands or socializing in the relative cool of the evening. None of them glance my way. I pass several sisters in their silky midnight-blue robes flecked with silver, all gliding slowly but purposefully to Sunsday worship in the Sanctum. Crescent cut-outs detailing the phases of the moon adorn their silver circlets, the metal on their brows gleaming in the golden light.
I make my way to the door of the astrology tower. How could it be that only a few days ago, I walked up an almost identical spiral staircase in Henling? I trail my hands along the warm stone as I climb, red dust scuffing my fingers.
What if I stay here? I could turn down Perran’s offer to go on this mission and still train with the Defiance. They have to accept me now I am actually a mage. I could learn to master my power, live here among the other mages, train the young children. When I’m older, and in control of my magic, I could go out on missions, just like my father. I wouldn’t make the same mistakes he did. I could help overthrow the Governance and reestablish the Mages Guild. It could be the life I’ve always imagined for myself.
The room at the top of the tower is empty and warm, flushed with evening light. I breathe in the welcome smell of ink and paper as I walk past the narrow windows. They’re more decorative than anything. The top of the tower is completely open to the sky, capped by a thin veil of magic put in place by one of the more powerful earth-signers – perhaps Perran himself – that shields the room from the elements and creates the illusion of silver spires from the outside.
I pull back one of the thick tapestries lining the circumference of the tower. The constellations, so carefully stitched in gold and silver against inky velvet, fold in on themselves as the metal rings clank along the rail.
The curved bookshelf behind strains under the weight of all the books and scrolls. Each tome looks identical – bound in midnight-blue leather, a date embossed in silver on the spine. There are a few in purple and red leather with copper and gold lettering – charts borrowed from the other enclaves.
The one I’m looking for is blue with my birth year in silver. Finding it, I hook a finger in the top of the spine and wiggle it out with one hand, moving to sit at one of the tables.
The heavy pages creak as I flick through them. Star chart after star chart flit past my eyes, followed by pages of analysis written by the Lunar Sisters.
Halfway through the book, I find what I’m looking for. My own chart. The spine falls open neatly, as if remembering the page.
I was only nine when the sisters allowed me into the enclave and opened my eyes to the warnings and promises held in the night sky.
I run my finger around the page, tracing the circle of my chart, my gaze scanning the position of each celestial body in the sky at the moment my mother brought me into the world.
The sisters cast a natal chart for every child born into the Defiance or ones who join later in life. They rarely share their findings with the child. And they never invite the child into the enclave.
I was the exception.
In a reading so rare, High Priestess Diana told me it’s usually only seen in the charts of great warriors and leaders.
I run my fingers along the swirling, slanted cursive in midnight-blue ink.
Behold the star-cast promise of a great leader. She is a herald of fate and will wield great power. Her choices will unite or destroy entire kingdoms. As above, so below.
I had believed these words, until my thirteenth birthday.
After Perran told me to leave, I’d come here and begged the Lunar Sisters to let me join them.