Page 43 of The Gilded Ones

Even after almost a month here – a month seeing at least one alaki corpse return from every raid – I still didn’t understand how easily we could die. After all, those were novices, older girls far removed me from me and my friends. But Katya – how could she succumb so easily? How could the deathshriek’s claws strike true the very first time? As tears fall freely down my eyes and exhaustion weights my limbs, fingers snap, forcing me to look up.

It’s Karmoko Thandiwe, frowning as she stares down at me. “Your eyes, Deka,” she murmurs wonderingly. “Whatever’s happened to your eyes…”

That’s the last thing I hear before darkness reaches up to claim me.

“I saw what you did last night.” Keita’s voice is an unwelcome whisper in my ear.

It’s evening and we’re at the lake, observing Katya’s funeral rites. Alaki aren’t allowed burial in the ground, so we’re burning her on the water, in a small boat we’ve turned into a funeral pyre. In the absence of a male guardian, Surem is in charge of her rites, and he reads solemnly from the Infinite Wisdoms. He’ll be leaving Hemaira the moment the funeral rites have ended, returning to his home in the Western provinces. He can’t take the thought of witnessing any more comrades’ deaths.

I don’t blame him. If I had the choice, I’d leave too. It doesn’t matter that Mother was once here, that there are still questions I need answers to. I want to escape this place – want to run somewhere far away. But I’m bound to these walls, just as Katya was.

Her skin is the deep indigo of the summer sky now, and her long red curls flake in tiny patches as the fire flickers over them. She never cut her hair after that first day here, not even when it got in the way of training. I always thought the matrons would punish her for it, but they never did. It smells like apples as it burns away – the big red ones from the Northern provinces she once told me she was fond of. I don’t know whether this is fanciful thinking or not, but it drives away the metallic odour of blood from my nostrils, the lingering memory of her ripped-out spine, the look in the deathshriek’s eyes when I addressed it – the same look I saw in the Irfut deathshriek’s eyes.

I inhale the smell to banish the horrible thought before I turn to Keita. “What do you mean?” I murmur. I’m so numb now, I’m not even afraid that Keita suspects me, that Karmoko Thandiwe likely does as well. What kind of life have I chosen that people die so easily? That friends die so easily?

One much better than what you had before… I stifle the unhelpful thought. I don’t want to think practically right now, don’t want to think about what happened yesterday, when the deathshriek stood over Katya, and I spoke—

Keita moves closer. “I won’t tell anyone,” he says. “And, if it helps, I don’t think Karmoko Thandiwe will either.”

This assurance does nothing to dull the twitchy, agitated feeling that’s crawling over me. “What exactly is it that you want?” I ask, looking up.

If there’s one thing being here in the constant presence of deathshrieks has taught me, it’s that Britta was correct: my gift is valuable, which means other people will do awful things to get their hands on it. On me.

A memory of the cellar flashes through my mind: golden blood on the floor, the elders approaching, buckets in their hands. I push it away, wait for Keita to reply.

It takes him a moment. “The same thing I want from everyone,” he says, determination in his gaze. “To help eradicate the deathshrieks.”

“What does that have to do with me?”

“Don’t play stupid, Deka. Whatever that is that you did last night, it seems like it might be useful. I think we should explore it – in secret, of course.” I nearly laugh at the irony. Just weeks ago, Britta suggested the same thing. I force myself to pay attention as he continues: “I don’t think my commanders would take kindly to such things, much less the priests.”

These last words, the priests, stoke my agitation, and that memory flashes again; Elder Durkas’s hand, a knife inside it. I breathe to calm myself. “Why should I trust you? If you saw what you think you saw, why should I believe that you won’t betray me to the priests or your commanders?”

He shrugs, golden gaze meeting my own. “There are monsters at our gates whose very screams can cause a person’s eardrums to explode, and whose claws can saw through bodies smoother than a knife through butter. Don’t you want revenge?”

There’s a look in his eyes now – a bitterness. He isn’t just talking about me, but also about himself, perhaps even the other uruni as well. “Aren’t you tired of losing people to them? Always losing to them…”

I find myself nodding, anger abruptly boiling inside me. More images rush through my head: the attack on the village, all those corpses lying in the snow, then the cellar, golden blood pooling on the floor, and finally, Katya, claws piercing through her chest.

Deathshrieks have already taken everything away from me. What else am I going to let them take? I know I can command them – that I can force them to do my bidding. I need to learn more about my ability. Need to use whatever this thing inside me is to get back at those monsters. To get revenge for Katya.

“I am tired,” I whisper, suddenly thinking of everything I’ve lost. Mother, Father, my life back in Irfut. I think of Katya, who only ever wanted to go home – to be a wife to Rian, have a family. “I’m so very, very tired.”

Keita nods. “Me too, which is why I’ll gladly swear my loyalty to you – protect you with my life – if what I saw you do can help us kill more of them.” As I glance up at him, startled by this fervent declaration, he holds out his right hand. “I mean it. Partners – in truth, this time?”

I stare at his outstretched hand, confusion rising. No man has ever offered me his before, as if we were equals, but that’s exactly what Keita’s doing. Perhaps he truly does mean everything he’s saying. Or perhaps this is a trick, one that could end my life. Either way, he already has his suspicions about me. Perhaps it’s better that I ally with him, watch him for any weaknesses I might exploit. A devil’s bargain, to be sure, but what isn’t in this life of ours?

I take his hand, marvelling at how odd it looks against mine. Skin versus gilding, brown against gold. “Partners – in truth,” I say.

This time, Keita squeezes my hand before he releases it. My breath catches, though I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s all the exhaustion.

“See any changes?” Keita asks, his voice echoing off the damp, dark walls.

It’s early morning, and we’re in the caverns under the Warthu Bera, using the spare few minutes we have between lessons to test out our theory about my ability. The others are back in Karmoko Huon’s lesson hall, still packing up from combat practice. I’ve warned them to stay away until I’m more certain about Keita. I’m still not certain what his motives are. As he stands lookout at the end of the passage, I stare down at a bucket of water, my skin tingling feverishly. Deathshrieks are caged in the next cavern over, and their muffled grunts and clicks are causing my blood to pool faster and faster, moving in tandem with all the mist now crawling around me. They secrete it whenever they’re agitated, and they’re always agitated down here.

I examine my reflection, then sigh. My eyes are still as boring and grey as they were ten minutes ago. “No differences,” I say to Keita. I pick up the bucket to empty it, then stop – think. “What if I get closer?”

“What? No, they’re not wearing their gags—”

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