Page 43 of Envious Of Fire
Even the uttering of his number casts ice down Tristan’s spine, as if even the butterflies can overhear.Every good thing is earned with time.Don’t you think I had to earn my spot by our Lord Marky’s side? Years, it took, years of being invisible and powerless…
“And then you threw it away overnight for aboy.”
Tristan is taken aback.Raya…
“I know what you’re like. Nothing means anything to you. Nothing matters. Everyone will suffer and someday die. Every night, you carry yourself around rooms like a golden carriage, no care in the world, no worries … but do you know what I think?” A glowing purple butterfly daintily takes a rest on her arm. She swats it away with such violent intent, the illusion vanishes in a cartoon puff of smoke. “I think it’s all a mask you wear. I think youdocare. Terribly. I think Blood 1025 is special to you. You hide him away. But why do you do that? … Who is he?”
Another butterfly appears, neon blue, and lands on the tip of Tristan’s nose. He ignores it, struck by her question.Well, if he was, in fact, special to me…do you think then that I may hold his best interest at heart in asking you to keep away?
“I think I miss the years I was on my own, independent of this place, no rules, no Lords, no Bloods.” One side of her face is lit by the green glow of the trees hanging over them, making her look alien, the white half of her hair appearing pale green. “Can I help that he makes me happy when he plays his violin, even if his music is sad? Is that wrong? That sadness can make me … happy?”
“Not in the least,” comes another voice.
The butterfly takes flight from Tristan’s nose as he turns, uncharacteristically caught off-guard.
Ashara emerges from the path next to them, her green dress as radiant as emeralds in the glow of the illusionary forest, hair swishing side to side, lips curled by her signature superior smirk.
Raya lifts her eyebrows, alarmed. “A-Ashara.”
“It is perfectly natural to feel happy listening to sad music. I am rather fond of it, actually.” She stops in front of Raya with a satisfied look. “What was this I heard about a violinist?”
Raya’s eyes snap to Tristan’s.
Tristan finds himself fidgeting with the bracelet, his latest restless habit since meeting with the necromancer, before he faces Ashara.Just that we miss visiting the orchestra, back when—
“No, not quite,” Ashara cuts him off. “It was a specific one you both spoke of. Blood 1025, I overheard?”
Raya hasn’t closed her lips since Ashara appeared, her face a wreck of worry. “Blood 525, actually,” says Raya, picking up on Tristan’s instinct to lie. “I was talking about 525 and his—”
“No, I did distinctly hear 1025,” insists Ashara. “Goodness, everyone here holds theirtoysso close to their chests. It’s a very Vegasyn quality, I’ve come to learn. Does my brother terrorize everyone so much that you’ve come to mistrust everything? Have other toys been taken away? We ought to trust one another.” Ashara brings a hand to Raya’s cheek, surprising her, as she caresses her face. “Does 1025 bring you joy?”
Raya stares upon Ashara, scared, awed, paralyzed.
To her silent face, Ashara says, “It so happens I’m looking for a new musician. The previous one … has sadly retired.”
Retired isn’t the word I’d use, interjects Tristan.
“Retired of his head,” amends Ashara flippantly. Raya doesn’t seem to acknowledge any difference, still hypnotized. “He or she would be given a purpose and serve us well. Isn’t that lovely?” Her smile is as warm as a mother’s, as sweet as a sister’s. She is still stroking Raya’s face. “Should I interview this … 1025…?”
“Yes,” says Raya dreamily.
Tristan takes a step forward, stops himself, alarmed.
Ashara’s smile remains. “Good.” She lets go of Raya’s face, appearing satisfied. “Please keep away from 1025, then, until I have conducted my interview. If the talented Blood proves true and loyal to us, then you will have your music returned to you soon enough, and in great supply.”
That brings Raya pause. “True and loyal?”
“His loyalty must be tested, of course. What is it?” Ashara then asks to a distressed Raya. “You’re worried? If you ever wish to hold a title anywhere in our society, you should learnneverto grow attached to your Bloods. Over a thousand crawl beneath your feet like mealworms. I doubt very much he is the only musician among them. Learn to weed out the bad. Andyes,” she then says with a flippant, mocking sort of chuckle, “it may go against some truce you have with your local humans, but can it not be viewed as fair game if a human wishes to betray you?”
Raya casts her eyes to the floor, troubled.
“There, there,” says Ashara, putting a finger under Raya’s chin and lifting it, “do not pout. It will be over quickly. He will be tested tonight, in fact, in a conveniently natural turn of events.”
Chin still held up by Ashara’s finger, Raya gasps. “Tested?”
“I caught whispers that some of your Bloods are plotting an escape. Mmm, yes, an appropriate reaction,” she adds, amused when Raya’s eyes widen. “I know how to monitor the humans. I know how to have eyes and ears everywhere. This is something my brother can improve on. He’s lucky I’ve returned.”
“How can any of them escape?” wonders Raya aloud. “The House of Vegasyn is impossible for a mortal to navigate.”
