“I’ve loved you since I first was born,”
Lady War told Lady Death.
Said Lady Death to Lady War,
“I’ll love you till your final breath.”
excerpt from “Ballad of the Door,” by an anonymous Valenèsian soldier
They come for Ila three days after Bardic and Linden depart. A brigade of ten glassforgers arrive to cart her off to the First Circuit in a horse-drawn carriage. The kingpin, Ruba, is a well-built woman with a deep voice and crimson hair. She takes my palms in her cracked hands, peers into my eyes, and tells us looking after Ila will be Lord Lefe’s top priority.
“Things aren’t easy in Le Château du Roi Dieu,” she says in her crisp accent. “The holy artisans only apprentice the crème de la crème. That said, Lord Lefe is the best craftsman in the First Circuit. If your sister puts in her dues, she could be a master by the time she’s twenty.”
“Maybe seventeen.” One of Ruba’s cohorts turns Ila’s arm in his grasp. “Look at these hands, Jez. These are good hands.”
“Great hands.” A gangly girl nods approvingly. “Strong tendons.”
Ila cries when Akeeva, Felicity, and I take her downstairs and load her into the carriage. I press a kiss against her forehead, and Akeeva squeezes her shoulder. Felicity looks away. Her eyes linger on the cathouse across the street—the tall building, the red door, the peeling sign. According to the hussar who arrived with Ruba, armed guards will move my older sisters to Main Street tomorrow morning. The hussar offered to escort me to Bathune, but I’d rather stay on Leisure Street than ride another horse.
I press one last kiss to Ila’s cheek. She throws her arms around me and cries a river of snot on my sweater. I hold her until there’s a break in her sobs, and then I push her onto Ruba’s lap.
“There are cows in the First Circuit,” I say.
I glance at Ruba to see if this is true. She looks puzzled but nods. I guess there’s livestock in heaven after all.
“Cows are stupid,” Ila says miserably. “Dreams are for children.”
My throat closes up, and I shoot an accusatory glance in Felicity’s direction. She shrugs. Akeeva and I glare at her, and—sighing—she moves forward. Ila looks up, her expression pleading. Hopeful. Wet.
“Never let men see you cry.” Felicity’s words are forceful, and she ticks off advice on her fingers. “Tough up and do what needs to be done. You’re a child of Lady Lust—the First Circuit will not be kind to you. Hide your wrist and keep your head down. If Lord Lefe touches one hair on your head, run as fast and as far as you can. Trust your L-Street instincts and keep yourself safe. Sometimes the bravest thing to do is leave.”
Ila’s voice cracks. “Will he hurt me?”
“No, little duck,” Ruba says adamantly. “He’s an honorable man, albeit trapped by his own mind. This will be as good for him as it is for you.”
Felicity’s face twists, then smooths over.
“I love you.” She kisses Ila’s cheek. “Watching you and Ko grow up has made life worth living.”
She walks away before Ila can respond, heading down the street. Her headscarf flies behind her in the breeze. Ila touches her face. Her fingers brush the place where Felicity pressed her lips. She turns her huge, moist eyes to me.
“Come visit me,” she says pleadingly.
It’s an easy vow to make.
The doors swing shut and the horses whinny. My little sister is carted away from L-Street.
###
Akeeva helps me pack. I start off with my kit bag, which Akeeva sewed from curtains too sun-damaged to keep out light. I pack a flask of water and the only spare clothes I own—a pair of socks that once belonged to my mother.
I take the opportunity to give Akeeva a scuffed jewelry box I found in the scrapyard. I was saving it for her yearday, but I don’t know the next time I’ll see her.
“That’s pretty.” She waves a hand, looking flustered. “Keep it.”
“I want you to have it,” I say. “You raised me.”
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“It was a community effort.”
“You did most of the work.”
Akeeva examines a biter painted on the front of the box. “Thank you, love.”
“You should have the sweater too.” I start to tug it over my head. “I lost yours—”
She reaches out and stops me.
“You can’t go to Bathune half-naked,” she says chidingly. “I’ll find a new one. Besides, it fits you well—you look like a man. You’re all grown up, aren’t you?”
She presses a feathered pen into my hand before I can argue. I lay the contract flat on the milk box and open it to the last page. My eyes glide over the meaningless words. Even if I were an academic, I wouldn’t be able to read it—it’s in legalese. Still, I know what to do with the dotted line on the bottom of the last page. Even so, I hesitate. The pen quivers.
“Lici will come around,” Akeeva says sweetly. “Give her time, Ko. Mother was her hero, and you’re her best friend—”
“How’s that supposed to make me feel better?”
“You’ll be a medic, no?” she says. “You’ll stay away from combat, and you’ll come home safe. Lici will see she was worked up about nothing.”
I try to swallow the knot in my throat, but it stays firm. Akeeva blows a strand of blond hair out of her face and scoots closer. Gently, she pries the pen from my fingers and sets it aside. She puts her arm around me and pulls my head to her chest. I snuggle against her and enjoy the sensation as she pets my hair.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
“Without my little ones?” she pauses. “I honestly don’t know.”
“Killián said he’d help you find employment uptown.”
“I haven’t thought about it.” Her voice is soft. “I’ve been a mother since I was fourteen. It’s hard to think about my cubs leaving the den. Why do you ask?”
“I want to enlist.” I can barely swallow. “But I feel like a family treasonist—”
“Lici never should’ve said that.” She rubs my shoulder. “I’m proud of you, Ko.”
My eyes burn—Akeeva’s so good to me. “I need to know I’m doing the right thing.”
She thinks for a minute.
“I could intern at one of the courthouses,” she says shyly. “If I found a way to get some money, I could take classes at the Faculté de Droit at night…”
“Law school?” I pull away and stare at her, nonplussed.
“You’re right.” She laughs a soft giggle and presses her hands to her cheeks. “It’s silly.”
“It’s surprising, not silly.”
“I’ve seen so much suffering,” she says. “I don’t have a single friend who’s living a happy life. Jólan has three boys under five, and her husband just died. She can’t make rent, and her landlord is sending collectors after her. Zoei was arrested for public drunkenness last month. She’s still in the guardhouse—can’t afford bail. I could give you a thousand other examples of people I want to help. But I can’t, because I have my own loved ones to look after.”
I don’t know Akeeva as well as I should. We talk, but never about her. Together, we worry about Ila. Felicity. Me. I’ve gone to her for advice more times than I can count—her failed attempts to teach me how to shave hang at the forefront of my mind. But I’ve never heard her talk about her job or her coworkers. I don’t know if she’s ever fallen in love. There are so many things I want to ask her before I leave, and there’s not enough time.
“Are you interested in law?” I ask.
“I’m interested in helping people.” She doesn’t meet my eyes. “I have a lot of ideas, but they’re all stupid.”
“If anyone can clean up the streets, it’s you.”
“There’s not much I can do.” Her words come quickly now, as if they’ve been smothering her for a long time. “I’d love to open an addiction treatment center—one that’s free to the public—but I doubt anyone would fund it. The cathouses need better regulations and standards. The girls need to be safer…”
I take her hands. She offers me a small smile.
“In answer to your question, no,” she says. “I have no idea what I want to do with my life.”
“There’s time for you to figure it out,” I say. “I’m proud of you too, Keev.”
I pick up the pen, pull the enlistment contract toward me, and scrawl my name in a sloppy, crooked font.
###
As I walk by a drunkard passed out in front of a twenty-four-hour tavern, my homemade kit bag slung over my shoulder, I make a promise to the God King. I’ll stay alive, for my sisters’ sakes as well as my own. I’ll forward all my earnings to my family, and I’ll make enough that Akeeva and Felicity can study whatever they want. I’ll set up a trust for Ila, and someday we’ll all live together again. Maybe in Marbecante—I think they’d like it there. If I’m making enough, they could go shopping in the stores where Killián took Brid…
I don’t think about the fact that none of these dreams are feasible on a guardsman’s salary. My best shot at a decent paycheck is being deployed to Ávila for medi-school. If I flush out of the Colosseum quickly, I could be earning a student’s stipend by this time next month. That’s a long way off, and it’s banking on the fact that I’ll be able to handle an advanced curriculum plus field work.
Still, as I pass the porn shops, their windows alight with paintings of curvy women, a smile tweaks my lips. I’ll tough up and do whatever needs to be done.
Stay Safe, the sign says as I pass it.
I kiss two fingers and tap them against the chipped wood.
“I’ll try my best,” I say.
I mean it to sound like a promise, but it comes out like a desperate man’s prayer.