CHAPTER 17 : THE TRUTH HURTS

“Not all the Endless were chosen. The disbelievers who ran from His shadow were left to suffer the winds, until nothing remained but dust. Few still live in these inhospitable lands, and those that do grew hard shells and sharp teeth.” ~Oracle Imin, Excerpt From the Eternal Teachings, Children’s Edition

“Shadow puppets encouraged for audience retention.”

EGG - PRESENT DAY

“I don’t understand.” I sit down on a fallen log, head in my hands.

Staring up at me is Dart’s broken mask from beneath her pine tree grave. The smiling expression carved into the porcelain bowl now feels cold and lifeless, nothing like the Dart I remember.

Dart used to play hide and seek with me, and skip sky snail shells across the palace ponds, and play pranks on Needle. But now...

I tear my eyes away.

Nilah’s brow is knitted in concentration. She is tearing strips from her skirt and wrapping them around a stiff piece of birch bark placed on the back of Bavetna’s broken hand.

She tightens the make-shift splint and Bavetna hisses in pain.

“Sorry,” she says.

“Do not be.” Bavetna rubs the top of Nilah’s head, ruffling her hair. She returns to her explanation, but her voice sounds far away. “The role of the King Initiate is not to be the Endless King—but to be his body.”

I shake my head. “You’re wrong.”

“What did you think the ichor was for?” Bavetna asks.

My mind flashes back to a white room and a raised, metal bed. It was always very quiet, mostly because the Oracles couldn’t speak out loud. The needles hurt more than the ichor at first, but over the years the ichor started to burn.

It was like fire in my veins.

The servants gave me chilled grapes and cider afterwards, and I was allowed to visit the stables—as a reward.

“They said it would give me the powers of a King,” I whisper hoarsely.

“What did it really do?” Nilah asks in a tone that is far too curious for my liking.

I glare up at her. Is she really entertaining this nonsense?

“The Endless King’s chaos is so strong he would break you into pieces,” Bavetna says, “most could not withstand the merging without regular ichor injections. It hardens your shell, but it can take a toll.”

“My shell,” I spit.

“Maybe that’s why your magic is so strange,” Nilah mumbles, knuckles touching her chin, “ichor must be really rare. Where does it come from?”

Bavetna nods. “There is a flower...”

The world slows down.

A memory floats to the surface of my mind. A small lakeside village, and laughing children daring each other to race through the flower fields.

“Starflowers,” I whisper, “we called them starflowers. They made you sick. The grown ups would band together and try to burn them, but they’d just grow back.”

I look up, eyes wide.

Bavetna kneels in front of me, brow turned downward. She unfurls her hand, and in her palm is a small, emerald ring. “She would want you to have it, Little Egg.”

I take the ring, the metal is warm to the touch and the stone is shaped like an oak leaf. I close my fingers tightly around it. “Why didn’t Lyara tell me the truth?” I ask, shaking.

“Would you have believed her?”

I think about it for a long moment. “No, I would have gone to Needle, I would have wanted an explanation.”

“No doubt Needle would have turned you against Lyara. Lies are one of many things the Silk Sisters weave.”

I can see it clearly. That’s exactly what would have happened. But Lyara...she knew I was doubting my worthiness of being King. She knew exactly what to say to get me out of the palace.

Silently, I slip the ring onto my left hand—the one without the weird, glowing magic hole. It fits onto my pinky finger. I rub my thumb across the green gem.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Speaking of silk whatevers,” Nilah pipes up, “why does this...scary warrior monster look like you?”

Bavetna straightens. “That is not a story for children’s ears.”

“Now I really want to know.” Nilah says, bouncing on her heels. “Come on, spill!”

Part of me is curious to know the answer too.

I lived with the Silk Sisters for almost a decade and I’d never once seen them show off more than two hands at a time. Were their masks and cloaks a disguise? And if so...why?

“Stop it.” Bavetna doesn’t speak loudly, but something in her tone strikes with the strength and clarity of an iron bell. “You should not take death lightly, especially that of your enemy.”

Nilah’s body droops like a wilting flower. She looks down at her feet, tapping the tip of her shoe in the dirt. “Sorry. I’ve...never killed anyone before. I guess I’m just not used to it.”

“Pray you never do,” Bavetna says softly and raises her splinted hand. “There are many paths for witches who seek power, but it takes far more skill to heal than it does to wound. Remember that.”

“They don’t write as many ballads about healers,” Nilah mutters.

With a grunt of pain I rise from the log. My legs are shaky and I feel like I’ve been kicked in the chest by a horse, but I don’t fall over. “I need to go back to the palace.”

“You cannot, Little Egg. Only death waits for you in the sky.”

“Lyara is there.”

Bavetna shakes her head sadly. “I doubt they allowed her to live after she betrayed the crown.”

“But you don’t know that.” I twist the ring on my finger. “I have to try.”

“Not happening, chicken legs. I can’t just let you throw your life away,” Nilah says with her hands on her hips.

Part of me warms at that. I’m surprised she even cares—

“Not until I study that concentrated havoc in your hand. Who knows what useful applications it has? The academic possibilities are endless. You’re my ticket to getting my own statue in Arcadus Hall.”

The warm feeling evaporates like a wisp of steam on a summer day.

This witch...

Before I can start another shouting match with Nilah, Bavetna cocks her head to the side, listening. She falls to her knees and presses her ear to the ground, then shoots back up just as fast, sniffing the air. “I must go back.”

“What’s going on?” Nilah asks. “We heard the rumbling earlier too.”

“An army marches on Little Abbey.”

Fear twists my guts. “Did the sky send them?” I ask.

This is all my fault.

“It is too soon to say, but considering the timing of your...friend,” she nods to Dart’s body, “I would not be surprised if they were at least manipulated to march in our direction. The Silk Sisters prefer...indirect methods.” Bavetna ruffles through the underbrush for a moment, displacing branches, until she uncovers Dart’s saw-toothed sword.

She glances at me first.

Part of me wants to scream, but I see the necessity, so I swallow my personal feelings and shrug. “Just take it. It’s not mine.”

“Thank you, Little Egg. It will be put to good use.” She shoulders her bow and starts walking away.

“I’m going with you,” Nilah says, hurrying after her.

Bavetna freezes. “You think this makes you brave?”

“I...”

“This is not like your history lessons. A real battle is a terrible, bloody thing. These men outnumber us, they have a witch of their own, and they are ruthless.”

“But—”

“They will not hesitate just because you are a child. Some may even prefer it.”

Nilah flinches.

Bavetna stretches her eight arms and wraps them around both our shoulders, pulling us in for an unexpected hug. My face is squished into Nilah’s tangle of dark hair, which smells like lavender and pine needles.

“Protect each other. Stay out of sight. You will know when it is over when the noise stops. If Little Abbey falls, run south. Go to Salt Port and find a ship to take you to Starfall. The Coven may take you in. And Egg,” she says, “do not go back to the sky.”

She releases us and I stumble as far away from Nilah and her annoying pleasant scent as possible. Bavetna is already gone, leaving only footprints...or handprints...behind.

Nilah and I stand awkwardly beside Dart’s dead body for a moment.

“I’m going after her.” Nilah spins on her heel.

“She specifically told you not to!”

Nilah glances over her shoulder, eyes half-lidded beneath her long, black lashes. “And she told you not to go back to the sky.”

“So?”

“So...do you always do as you’re told?”

I used to.

Torn, I bite the inside of my cheek.

But Nilah doesn’t give me time to make a decision, she’s already unwinding the ribbon from her hair and retying her hair into a practical bun. “My friends are back there. I’m not just going to sit here and do nothing.”

The ripped hem of her dress billows behind her as she takes off at a light jog.

I cover my face with my hands. The glow from my right hand tingles my skin, acting like a miniature sun behind my closed eyelids.

It reminds me of the sunrise waking me every morning below the Warden’s slanted window, of the weevil’s fireballs, of Nilah lighting the tinderbox in the bath house...and suddenly images of all the witches at Little Abbey come to mind. Giggling Heedee, quiet Ursa, annoying Revory, creepy Moroka and that Bevamy girl with the hat who knows way too much about playing cards...

I drag my palms over my mouth.

Fine.

“Wait for me!”