She craned her neck, admiring the elaborate mosaics overhead, thousands of Mahraini tiles arranged in dizzying geometries.
“Careful,” Nell cautioned. “My mother used to say staring at Mahraini tiles too long could dislocate your eyes, though now that I’m grown I’m pretty sure that’s not possible.” She laughed. “Mothers say such violent things to their children, don’t they?”
In her peripheral vision, Mia saw Pilar flinch.
But there was too much to see, too many marvels to take in, to worry about Pilar. The hall teemed with people. Mia delighted in every manner of attire—smart jackets and trousers; long, flowing garments; veils adorned with jewels—fabrics hugging sharp angles and voluptuous curves, bodies large and small and everything in between.
During Mia’s time in Refúj, the Dujia had mesmerized her, their hair and clothes so different from the ones she’d known. Their hands stirred her deeply: countless girls and women without gloves, a glorious display of skin tones she had never seen in the river kingdom.
Here, in the House of Shadows, her awe only grew. She saw not just women, but men. Some covered their hair while others wore it styled in elaborate braids or coils, or lopped off entirely. Countless languages and dialects twined together in a low, resonant hum. The people bustling around her hailed from all four kingdoms—including, to Mia’s surprise, her own.
She drank in the enthralling blend of sight and sound. A note of music echoed through the hall, followed by another. She followed Pilar’s gaze to a group of children holding an array of string instruments: mainly lutes, with a sprinkling of cellos and violins. Pilar was no doubt thinking of Morígna, her violin teacher, who had so devastatingly betrayed her trust. Mia’s mind sorted swiftly through appropriate words of comfort.
Pilar seemed to sense her watching. She jerked away from the child musicians and kicked at the floor. Even the ground was a visual feast: as the pale rose glass hovered inches over the orange sand, it mellowed to a deep, sunbaked crimson.
“Blood-colored,” said Pilar. “Very comforting. Where’s that sheep going?”
Mia blinked. A bearded man was leading a sheep on a rope.
“To the Curatorium, probably, see its hind leg?” Nell motioned to the bandage wrapped around the sheep’s femur. “The House is home to many lives, not just human, and the Shadowess has a soft spot for vulnerable creatures. Some people abandon their old or sick animals on the front steps, it truly breaks my heart. But there are always physicians and healers in the House—Curateurs, we call them—who tend to the animals, in much the same way they tend to the elder and ill residents who’ve traveled long distances, hoping to be healed.”
As they watched, the bearded man tugged on the rope. The sheep let out a short, sharp bleat.
“If he doesn’t want a hurt sheep,” Pilar muttered, “maybe he shouldn’t yank so hard.”
“Nelladinellakin?”
A woman with pale, cream-colored skin and a long yellow braid stood perfectly still. She had stopped so suddenly that a family nearly collided with her. The father muttered something, then redirected his brood.
“Great sands, Nelladine,” the woman breathed. “Is it really you?”
And then she was gliding forward, arms outstretched, kissing Nell on each cheek before pulling her in for an exuberant hug.
“Celeste,” Nell said, the name muffled in the woman’s thick blond braid. It was hard to tell her age; close up, Mia could detect light creases around her bright blue eyes, but her charming upturned nose made her look younger.
Celeste pulled back, eyes glistening with tears. She cupped Nelladine’s face in her hands. For a moment, Mia thought she saw Nell’s shoulders stiffen. Then she seemed to relax.
“Let me look at you. You’ve grown even more beautiful! Can you imagine? You’re just glowing, glowing with it, truly. She’ll be so happy to see you. Stone’s here—you have to go straight to him or he’ll never forgive you. He’s in the Swallow, per usual. That boy can eat!”
Nell smiled. “Some things never change.”
Celeste turned abruptly to Pilar and Mia, as if seeing them for the first time.
“Kaara akutha to Manuba Vivuli! Welcome to the House of Shadows! Forgive me—I’m just so delighted to see Nelladin-ellakin after all these years. I’m Celeste.” She beamed at them. Then prompted, “And you are?”
“Pilar d’Aqila.”
Celeste leaned forward, hands outstretched. Pilar flinched.
“I don’t want—”
But she wasn’t quick enough. Celeste kissed one cheek, then the other.
“It’s the way we say hello in Pembuk! A kiss on each cheek. It’s really quite nice. I’m just so excited to meet you all. The kosmos does provide!”
Mia let her cheeks be kissed, then extended a hand.
“Mia Rose.”
“A Glasddiran and a Fojuen!” Celeste clucked. “What a journey you’ve been on. As the Shadowess says: all those who come to the House of Shadows are those who belong.”
“I thought I’d show my friends around,” Nell said.
“I’ll lead the way! You’ll find some parts of the House significantly changed since you left, especially with so many new guests—and the refugees, of course.”
Mia raised a brow. Before she could ask about the refugees, Nell interjected.
“That’s all right, Celeste. I’m sure we’ll find our way.”
Something simmered just beneath the surface of the conversation. Mia couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Celeste was obviously more thrilled to see Nell than Nell was to see her. Why was Nelladine, normally so effusive about everything, holding back? She couldn’t tell if it was about Celeste specifically, or about the mysterious reasons Nell had chosen to leave.
Celeste waved them off.
“Don’t worry, you’ll be seeing plenty of me. I’m the House’s Keeper, I make sure everything stays in orbit around here. Someone’s got to keep the celestial bodies afloat!”
They watched her scurry off, yellow braid swinging.
“So you’ve met Celeste,” Nell said dryly.
“What’s a Keeper?” Mia asked, curious.
“Every Shadowess or Shadower appoints a Keeper to help manage the various activities and offerings of the House. Celeste was definitely not the Keeper when I left.”
“Better question,” Pilar said. “Is the Swallow where the food is?”
Mia could say this much for Pilar: she was not constrained by decorum, nor did she ever lose sight of the prize.
When Nell nodded, Pilar smirked.
“The kosmos does provide.”
Chapter 9
The One They’d Come to See
PILAR’S INSTINCTS WERE SPOT on. A building with glass walls, floors, and ceilings? The House of Shadows was disorienting as hell.
That said, hardly any of the glass was transparent. It wasn’t opaque, either, but somewhere in the middle, every hall a different color. They’d round a corner where a green wall met a blue one, casting a turquoise glow. Pretty, she had to admit. Despite the ceiling being one large skylight, the building stayed nice and cool.
Many of the walkways inclined downward or upward, mirroring the strange shape of the walls. She spied dozens of murals: happy scenes painted by children, or possibly adults with zero painting skills. Oceans, forests, flowers. And so on.