Into the Black Page 5

  “Excluding your brother in that estimation, I see.”

  Deimos snorts. “Sulten is many things, but reasonable is not one of them.”

  “Unfortunate.”

  “In this context, perhaps, but it makes me look excellent in contrast, so I can’t say I usually mind it.”

  I laugh. “How generous of him to remove from his personality to bolster yours.”

  Deimos laughs. “Well, from what I’ve heard, you seem quite familiar with handling unreasonable brothers.”

  My smile drops and so does my stomach. I sip my juice, focusing on its sweet bite.

  “I’m sorry,” Deimos says quickly. “That wasn’t—I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s fine,” I answer stiffly. “You’re not wrong.”

  I step away from him just as two new royals enter the room—and this time, even thoughts of my brother aren’t enough to wipe away my smile. Tall, beautiful, and dressed in the deep blue and white garb of their nation, Avra-saï Aleija and her wife, Jule, walk into the hall with their heads held high and determination set on their faces. Aleija looks much like her mamae, former Avra Lija, who is on the Emergency Council, but with partially braided light brown hair and dark eyes. Jule looks much more traditionally northern, with near-white hair in an intricate braid and paler skin. But both women are equally stunning, and they carry themselves with confident power and pride.

  While the Emergency Council will meet to choose and confirm the next Sira, as well as establish a baseline rule until the new Sira is crowned, the rest of the royals will gather to bid for the throne and eventually to throw their support behind a candidate that the Emergency Council will take into consideration. Due to their royal status, all they must do to be permitted to stay as the selection process begins is “be of some use,” even if that use is just to share their opinion with whoever represents their territory on the Council.

  But for the most part, royals are always free to come and go as they please, capital to capital, and Asheron is no different. Especially now that there’s interest to bring them here—and not to mention Serek’s funeral, which would bring royals from all over Safara even if the Sira spot weren’t open.

  “Oh, excellent,” Deimos mutters beside me. “It seems I might just get my wish after all.”

  And he’s not wrong—if any more royals had to arrive, I’d choose Aleija over anyone else.

  But the fact remains the one who isn’t here is the one I need most.

  If Eros doesn’t arrive soon, there might not be a place left for him to take.

  Mal lies curled up in a cot, rubbing his eyes again, and again, and again, until he gives up and just closes them.

  “Any better?” I ask helplessly, but the answer is obvious even before he shakes his head and presses his face into the mattress.

  “I hate this,” he whispers.

  I touch his shoulder, but he pulls away from me, curling up closer to the wall. It stings, but the truth is I’m unequipped for this. I can barely handle my own grief—how am I supposed to help Mal deal with his? And to deal with the scary reality of losing at least part of his vision on top of it … I can’t begin to imagine what he must be going through. I don’t know how to help him.

  I sigh and glance around the small room. The woman who says she’s my mother calls our cell a bedroom. After I stormed out, she said we needed time to digest before we “get to business,” whatever that’s supposed to mean. And we can’t leave until we do. If I’d been thinking clearly, I would’ve demanded we “get to business” right away so Mal and I could go, but all I could think about was this stranger calling herself my mother—which would make that asshole Shaw my uncle—and those screens playing my life for all to see like some—some Voiding entertainment. There was drumming in my ears, and the air—too hot, thickening—in my throat was gathering in my lungs, broiling me from the inside out.

  So. Yeah. Our cell/bedroom. Four black stone walls, cool and slick to the touch. An identical stone ceiling, stringed with one dim light hanging overhead. Two clumpy beds stacked on top of each other on metal stilts. It doesn’t look safe. It looks like it’ll collapse under my weight the moment I climb onto the top bunk, but Rani insisted it’s safe and knocked on the top bed’s rail, claiming it’ll keep us from rolling off.

  Mal is afraid of heights, and his vision problems would make it riskier for him up there anyway, so there was never any question who was going to end up on top. It’s not the most comfortable thing I’ve slept on, but it’ll do.

  As Mal settles down on the bunk below, I stare at the smooth stone ceiling. If I let my vision blur, it almost looks like a starless night sky. Like I’m not lying stars know how deep beneath the sand, far from four moons and twin suns and a glittering horizon. Like a woman I don’t know—a woman who ordered my abduction and has been spying on me for most of my life—didn’t just say she’s my mother.

  She’s not my mother. She may have given birth to me, but a mother doesn’t drop her kid off with a group of strangers and walk away. I had a mother, and though we didn’t share blood, it didn’t matter. Esta took care of me. Esta hugged me after Nol patched me up, and she whispered stories of a boy so loved his heart contained galaxies into my hair. Esta promised me I’d meet someone who loved me with everything and never, ever turned away. She made me believe on my darkest nights I wouldn’t be alone, I’d have my own family, I’d live in peace with someone who made me so happy my smile sparkled like stars.

  And then Esta died and my hope died with her. But there’s no question she was my mother and Rani is not.

  Someone knocks on our thick, metal, blast-proof door. The door with guards standing on the other side to keep us safe.

  I’ve been a prisoner enough times to know what this is. At least in Asheron’s dungeons, they’d had the decency to call it what it is.

  The door opens, and Rani enters with another woman with lighter brown skin and long, black hair. The new woman smiles and extends her arm. “I’m Tana, one of the docs here.”

  I don’t shake her arm, but I nod at Mal. “He’s been having trouble with his eyes ever since the nanite attack.”

  “Ah, right.” She sits on the edge of the bed and nods. “We’ve heard about that from the feed and refugees. Horrific, but they say the former Sira’s brother put a stop to it …”

  “A little late,” I answer flatly.

  “Yes, well, let’s take a look.” She smiles at Mal. “Hey, hun, can you sit up and look at me, please?”

  Mal hesitates then sits up and faces her.

  “Eros,” someone says softly. Rani. Rani Jakande. Who says she’s my mother. I look at her, and she nods to the open doorway. “A word, please.”

  I glance at Mal.

  “He’ll be fine,” Rani says. “We’ll be right in the hall. We’re not going far.”

  “Mal?” I ask.

  “It’s okay,” he answers softly.

  I nod. “I’ll be right back. If you need me, just shout.”

  Mal nods.

  I step into the long hall with Rani, the lights flickering above us. She sighs and runs a hand over her head. “Look, I … I think we started off on the wrong foot.”

  I stare at her. Started off on the wrong foot—as if that even begins to scratch the surface of everything blazed up about this.

  “You’re angry—I understand, and you have every right to be. All of this must be a shock to you, and you need some time to process—”

  “No.” I step toward her, scowling as my pulse hammers in my ears. “What I need isn’t time to fucken process. What I need is to get out of here and get to Asheron so Mal can get some real medical attention.”

  She purses her lips. “Unfortunately, I doubt you’ll be able to get him comprehensive medical care in Asheron.”

  I ball my fists. “I’ll make them look at him. I don’t care what it takes; I don’t care that he’s human—”

  “You’re misunderstanding me. I’m not saying you won’t be able to get him
medical care because they’ll refuse—though they might, but I don’t doubt you’d ordinarily find a way anyway. I’m saying you won’t be able to get him medical care because they won’t be able to give him medical care. If our techies are right, they’re unable to give anyone the kinduv medical care you want right now. They don’t have the tech.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about; their tech is way more advanced than ours.”

  “It was, yes. But our techies think when Serek stopped the nanite attack … he didn’t just stop them from attacking.”

  I stare at her.

  “He stopped them completely. We think he executed a universal kill command, and not just to the nanites attacking the humans.”

  A chill washes over me as her words trickle down my throat one syllable at a time. “… a kill command.”

  She nods. “It was effective—there were topside human survivors, and I doubt that would’ve happened without interference. But it also means, as of the moment the command went out, the nanites are ineffective.”

  “What are you saying?”

  Rani sighs. “All the nanites are dead, Eros. And with them, the foundation of their technological advancement. Some human slaves are running from their Sepharon masters for the first time—their tracking nanites have been deactivated and we’ve taken dozens in, free for the first time in their lives. Crops are wilting, technological luxuries eradicated, and their medical care has just jumped back two centuries. They’ll be no more capable of helping your nephew than we are—in fact, given their reliance on nanites, they’re likely less capable right now.”

  Her words are everything I don’t want to hear. They sink into my stomach and grip my lungs and nip my skin, traveling over my body in waves. If she’s right, the nanites are gone. And if the nanites are gone, no one can help Mal. No one can stop whatever’s happening to him.

  “That can’t … their society is built on nanite technology.”

  She nods. “The whole planet’s on the brink of panic. There’ve been riots all over—most of them put down, but the ones in Vejla are ripping the city apart. Royals are gathering in Asheron to make a decision about the throne and take charge before the planet goes to shit. Everything is changing; we’re on the edge of revolution, and we need you to tide us over.”

  “I’m not your spokesperson,” I say stiffly. “I don’t even know you. I hadn’t even heard of the Remnant until you nearly killed us.”

  “And that’s my fault. I should have reached out to you sooner, but it was essential to your safety no one knew who you were—”

  “Stop.” I press my palms against my eyes and inhale deeply. Calm. Drop my hands. Glare at her. “If you’re really my biological mother—and I’m not convinced you are—then you don’t get to stand there and pretend you were somehow protecting me by abandoning me. And you don’t get to call yourself my mother, either. You weren’t there—Esta was. But you were never there.”

  She winces, but nods. “You’re right. I wasn’t there. But I couldn’t be; you weren’t safe here. I brought you to Nol and Esta knowing they’d take care of you better than I could. I know life with the nomads wasn’t easy, but you were safe. I didn’t have to worry about someone …” She sighs. “Forget it. I’m sorry I wasn’t there—it wasn’t an easy decision for me, either. But I don’t regret bringing you to the nomads. They took good care of you.”

  Heat clenches my lungs and climbs up my throat. “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Am I wrong? I’m not saying it was easy, but—”

  “Well, apparently you’ve been watching me my whole life, so you tell me: was it safe? Did you really not worry someone might lose control and not stop beating the stars out of me? Did it not occur to you maybe one day they’d turn their backs on me just like you did? Did you not realize the nomads didn’t stay in one place because they were literally running for their lives?”

  “Eros—”

  “I haven’t been safe a mo in my life. Maybe it made you feel better to pretend otherwise, but you’re living in a dream world if you think that’s true.”

  She frowns and hesitates, then: “I’m sorry.”

  I shake my head and turn back to the door, flames simmering in my lungs. “Save your apology for someone who cares.”

  “They would have killed you if you’d stayed with me.”

  I pause at the door but don’t turn around.

  Rani takes a shaky breath. “I control the Remnant now, but I didn’t then. My father was in charge, and he didn’t take well to the news I was pregnant with Asha’s son. He called me a traitor; they nearly kicked me out. Not even Shaw could convince him otherwise.”

  I turn around. “If you’re trying to make me feel bad for you—”

  “I’m not. I just want you to understand why I made the decision I did; it wasn’t because I didn’t want you, it was because I couldn’t handle the responsibility of raising you and I didn’t have a choice—not if I wanted you to live. When you were born and Asha was killed, my father told me to leave you in the desert or he’d end you himself. I knew Nol from some of our negotiations and trades in the past, so I did the only thing I could to save your life. And it wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t easy, but you’re alive. You’re here. And you wouldn’t be if I hadn’t left you with the Kits.”

  I cross my arms. “But you still went back to them.”

  Rani frowns. “I did.”

  “You could have joined the nomads yourself and raised me with them. You didn’t have to leave me there alone. If you really cared, you would have stayed.”

  She bites her lip. “That’s not fair.”

  I laugh. “Isn’t it? Why didn’t you stay?”

  “I—Eros, I have a responsibility to the Remnant.”

  The heat rages through me, slamming into my chest. “No.” My words shudder with the weight of my fire. “You had a responsibility to me. Your son. And you decided the Remnant—the people who wanted me dead—were more important to you.”

  She winces. “It’s not like that.”

  “No? What’s it like, then?”

  “If I’d stayed with you, I never would have been able to take over the Remnant. Someone else would have taken my place; I wouldn’t be able to make a difference like I can now. This is so important, Eros, now we can make a real change for humans everywhere.”

  I almost laugh at her twisted logic; everything inside me burns and burns and burns. She can try to justify the choices she made all she wants, but she doesn’t get to look me in the eye and pretend her actions don’t have consequences. She doesn’t get to have a happy reunion where I make her feel better and tell her everything is okay.

  Fuck that. Fuck her.

  “No,” I say. “You wouldn’t have taken over the Remnant. You would have been a nomad, and maybe you would have died in the raid, or in the nanite attack after. Maybe I would have watched your ashes join the stars, and maybe I would have mourned you. But before that, you would have been my mother. You would have been with me as I grew up, and you would have been there for me when I needed you.”

  Her eyes widen and shoulders go stiff like I’ve hit her. “Eros—”

  But I’m not done. I step closer and meet her gaze. “You weren’t there. You chose a movement over your son, and maybe you can live with that. But you gave up your right to call yourself my mother when you left me behind with Nol and Esta. You’re not my mother. You’re nothing to me. I don’t know you.”

  She purses her lips and crosses her arms over her stomach, but I turn away before she can try to guilt me, before she can try to make me care. I yank open the door to our bedroom-cell just as the doctor stands and smiles weakly at me.

  “Good timing,” she says. “We just finished up.”

  I take a shaky breath and force calm into my voice. “Is he okay? What’s going on with him?”

  The doctor hesitates. “He will be okay, once he adjusts to his limited vision. His eyes are physically fine; my best guess is th
e nanite attack damaged portions of his occipital lobe—the part of the brain that interprets vision. Some other refugees had brain damage from the attack, as well. It’ll take some time for him to get used to it, but I don’t think his blindness should progress any further.”

  The room warms as I glance at Mal, turned away from me, curled up on his bed. “Get used to … you mean there’s nothing you can do? We can’t—there isn’t a cure?”

  “Short of brain reconstruction—which is impossible without nanites and dangerous even with—no, there’s no way to restore his vision to what it was before the attack.”

  I don’t want to process her words; I don’t want to hear my barely-teen nephew will be partially blind the rest of his life because of the attack. Because I didn’t get there fast enough. Because we didn’t stop Roma before he did something irreversible—before he slaughtered my family and—

  I pinch the bridge of my nose. Take a deep, shaky breath.

  “I’m going to let you two process this privately,” the doctor says. “I’ve left a bottle of painkiller for him for his brainblazes from eyestrain—just have him drink a capful whenever he needs it. If you need anything, just tell the guards outside your room. They’ll make sure you get whatever you need.”

  She starts to walk past me, then pauses. “He will be okay,” she says softly. “I know it’s a shock right now and not what you wanted to hear, but this isn’t a death sentence. He’ll adjust, in time.”

  I don’t answer. My eyes sting, and my nephew is blind. Even if the nanite thing is true, Mal’s best chance is being in Asheron when they get the nanites up and running again. So we need to leave, but we’re stuck here until we talk business or whatever and dammital—I should have brought that up with Rani. Why didn’t I bring that up? What is Voiding wrong with me? I wasn’t thinking—again—I let her get to me—again—and now we’re not progressing, not moving forward, not changing a damn thing.

  I keep fucken this up. I keep getting distracted when I’m supposed to focus. I’ve been just as useless as I’ve ever been and I hate it.