I nodded slowly, though my innards clenched in new knots. I would not grovel. “It will do for now.”
“For now?” Scimina stared at me, incredulous, then began to laugh. “Oh, Cousin. Sometimes I wish your mother were still alive. She at least could have given me a real challenge.”
I had lost my knife, but I was still Darre. I whipped around and hit her so hard that one of her heeled shoes came off as she sprawled across the floor.
“Probably,” I said, as she blinked away shock and what I hoped was a concussion. “But my mother was civilized.”
Fists tight enough to sting at my sides, I turned my back on the whole arena and walked out.
21
First Love
I ALMOST FORGOT. When I FIRST arrived in Sky, T’vril informed me that the highbloods sometimes gather for dinner in one of the fancier halls. This happened once during my time there, but I chose not to attend. There are rumors about Sky, you see. Some of them are exaggerations, and many are true, as I discovered. But there is one rumor I hoped never to confirm.
The Amn were not always civilized, the rumors remind us. Once, like High North, Senm was also a land of barbarians, and the Amn were simply the most successful of these. After the Gods’ War they imposed their barbarian ways on the whole world and judged the rest of us by how thoroughly we adopted them—but they did not export all of their customs. Every culture has its ugly secrets. And once, the rumors say, Amn elites prized the taste of human flesh above all other delicacies.
Sometimes I am more afraid of the blood in my veins than the souls in my flesh.
When Nahadoth’s torture ended, the clouds resumed moving across the night sky. They had been still, a caul over the moon that glimmered with arcs of color like weak, sickly rainbows. When the clouds finally moved on, something in me relaxed.
I had half-expected the knock at the door when it came, so I called enter. In the glass’s reflection I saw T’vril, hovering uncertainly in the doorway.
“Yeine,” he said, then faltered to silence.
I left him floundering in it for a while before saying, “Come in.”
He stepped inside, just enough to allow the door to shut. Then he just looked at me, perhaps waiting for me to speak. But I had nothing to say to him, and eventually he sighed.
“The Enefadeh can endure pain,” he said. “They’ve dealt with far worse over the centuries, believe me. What I wasn’t sure of was your endurance.”
“Thank you for your confidence.”
T’vril winced at my tone. “I just knew you cared for Sieh. When Scimina started in on him, I thought…” He looked away, spread his hands helplessly. “I thought it would be better for you not to see.”
“Because I’m so weak-willed and sentimental that I’d blabber all my secrets to save him?”
He scowled. “Because you’re not like the rest of us. I thought you would do what you could to save a friend in pain, yes. I wanted to spare you that. Hate me for it if you like.”
I turned to him, privately amazed. T’vril still saw me as the innocent, noble-hearted girl who had been so grateful for his kindness that first day in Sky. How many centuries ago had that been? Not quite two weeks.
“I don’t hate you,” I said.
T’vril exhaled, then came over to join me at the window. “Well… Scimina was furious when you left, as you might imagine.”
I nodded. “Nahadoth? Sieh?”
“Zhakkarn and Kurue took them away. Scimina lost interest in us and left shortly after you did.”
“ ‘Us’?”
He paused for a second, and I could almost hear him cursing to himself under his breath. After a moment he said, “Her original plan was to play that little game with the servants.”
“Ah, yes.” I felt myself growing angry again. “That’s when you suggested she use Sieh instead?”
He spoke tightly. “As I said, Yeine, the Enefadeh can survive Scimina’s amusement. Mortals usually don’t. You aren’t the only one I need to protect.”
Which made it no more right—but understandable. Like so much in Sky, wrong but understandable. I sighed.
“I offered myself first.”
I started. T’vril was gazing out the window, a rueful smile on his face. “As Lady Yeine’s friend, I said, if you’ll forgive me for presuming. But she said I wasn’t any better than the rest of the servants.” His smile faded; I saw the muscles ripple along his jaw.
Dismissed again, I realized. Not even his pain is good enough for the Central Family. Yet he could not complain too much; his unimportance had saved him a great deal of suffering.
“I have to go,” T’vril said. He lifted a hand, hesitated, then put it on my shoulder. The gesture, and the hesitancy, reminded me of Sieh. I put my own hand over his. I would miss him—ironic, since I was the one slated to die.