Page 9 of Between Smoke and Shadow

I blow out a breath and close my eyes again. I’ve suspected Viana for a long time, what with my mother adoring her father, and yet the confirmation makes me sick.

“Well?” Tora asks. She nudges me with her shoulder.

“Well…what? There’s nothing to say.”

“Only a few days ago, you seemed okay with it,” she says, shrugging. “You’d been making jokes. Saying you’d just have to put a spike between your ears and it wouldn’t be so bad. Sheispretty.”

“Yeah, well I can’t actually stab myself through the skull, now can I?” I snap.

Tora doesn’t respond. Her pale eyes scan my face and her mouth switches. Just when I think she’s going to cry, she lets out a sharp laugh.

“This is cruel, but you being upset makes me feel a bit better.” Her lips tilt into a quirked smile.

“Thatiscruel,” I agree, but I laugh too. “Why, who did they assign you?”

“His name is Nordan Kerr. I don’t think I’ve even met the man. But his name isNordan. That has to be a bad sign.”

“I don’t know him,” I admit. “I think his parents meet with Mother every season though. They oversee the fruit production in the Reaping Grounds.”

“Maybe he knows how to cook then,” Tora says, her words softening. “Is he good looking? Gods, at least let him be good looking. Or kind. What are the odds he’ll be handsomeandkind?”

“He’s short,” I say. “That’s all I remember. His hair might be brown.”

“You’re useless,” Tora snorts. She drops her head against my shoulder, only to pull back just as quickly. When I open my eyes, hers are puffy and red, like they can’t keep the tears in much longer. “Can we go over our plan? At least one more time.”

It’s a stupid game we’ve played for far too many cycles. We shouldn’t waste time pretending, but soon enough, we’ll both be fully grown and we won’t be able to do this at all.

“We’ll start in the Reaping Grounds,” I say. I twist to face the skyline. With my hands on the iron rungs, I glance at Tora. She’s already turned as well, propped onto her knees, grinning at me like she rarely does these days. We must look like children, and for the moment, I don’t mind.

“I thought we’d finally agreed on the Pit,” she says, creeping closer to the ledge. “We can collect some gems, maybe some magic. Save up enough?—”

“Hear me out,” I say, cutting her off. “We’ll start at the Reaping Grounds. That’s where we’ll have the quickest access to food.”

We’re facing the Reaping Grounds now. Once that sector was full of flourishing crops—lush vegetables and ripe fruit—and hundreds of plump cattle. Now, the ground is graying dirt and the animals are sickly.

“Once we have food,thenwe’ll move to the Pit.”

We shift to face Savoa’s mines. All the gems and metal we use come from the Pit’s underground network of tunnels. The sector looks the same as it probably always has: black gravel with massive equipment littered across it. Beneath the surface, however, cycles of earthquakes and floods have collapsed over half the tunnels.

“Then we’ll work our way through the City of Mirrors.”

We have to scoot now to see the eastern sector. Most commoners live there, and even from here, it’s the hardest to look at. Their city is in constant disrepair, destroyed almost every season and rebuilt worse than it was before.

“Maybe we’ll make it our home, or maybe we’ll just try to help a family or two while we’re there,” I say. I’ve always liked the idea of helping people, and Tora is one of the few people who understands. “Then we’ll make record time across the Deadlands.”

We turn again, our backs to the iron fence now. We can’t see the Deadlands from here, but we face its general direction. It’s the southernmost part of Savoa, and it’s a final, haunting reminder from Wyhel, the god who banished the Architect and his people. The Deadlands are what Savoa would be without Wyhel’s cyclical magic distribution, every Lightning Season. The entire sector is inhospitable, covered in scorching stone and toxic gasses.

“And then, the Wilds,” I say. It’s a salving breath through my lungs. “We’ll stay there as long as we like. Tame a beast or two, live off the land if we can.”

Backs still against the iron fence, we look to the western side. It is the lushest sector of all: towering trees of all colors with trunks as thick as my height; a freshwater lake, rumored to have no bottom; and wild animals of all kinds, many of which produce the finest meat. Aside from the Tower, the Wilds is the strongest remaining sectors, thanks mostly to Ksana Renat. Still, even it struggles. The lake is murky and too dangerous for swimming; the animals are often toxic and unsafe to eat.

“That’s a solid plan.”

Tora closes her eyes. I take another moment to scan our kingdom, my attention drifting to the mountains that surround it. The peaks are enormous and daunting, sharp daggers angled up and away from the earth. Beyond them, saltwater rushes in undulating, crashing waves.

“But if it fails…”

“If it fails, we’ll start climbing,” Tora finishes.

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