Page 57 of Between Smoke and Shadow
I nod, struggling to think of something more to say. Harrick rises and comes to sit beside me, stooping to avoid the ceiling.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
“Warm,” I admit. Without magic, it’s sweltering inside the cabin. “Otherwise, I feel fine.”
“My head is killing me,” he says after a long pause. “My magic sort of rebels here. Feels like it’s trying to escape through my skull.”
“Not your hands?” I ask. I turn to face him. “I thought it came from your palms.”
“It can come from anywhere,” he says. He turns, fingers gently capturing the edge of my sleeve. “I use my hands to cast, but the magic has a life of its own. If I get upset—or I’mhere—the magic gets restless.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. I move to touch him, only to decide against it at the last second. “Can I do anything to help?”
Harrick grins now.
“Yeah, stop overthinking,” he says. His smile is the lightest I’ve seen it. He pulls me back to the bench and nestles me into his side. Despite the heat, I find myself leaning closer. I can feel his smile against the side of my head. “I’m going to rest my eyes, just for a moment. Wake me if I fall asleep, okay?”
Harrick does fall asleep, but he looks far too peaceful to wake. I take turns watching him sleep and searching the horizon for the City of Mirrors. Not long after I’ve memorized every sharp angle and smooth edge of his face, the City of Mirrors finally comes into view.
It sends a sharp pang through my gut, and for the first time in cycles, I think abouthome. I wonder, if I followed the zig-zag of streets, would my home still stand where it once did? Would our things still be in place, as if waiting for us to return? I close my eyes and let myself imagine it. Mom’s sick bed would still be unmade. My collection of found objects would still be tucked behind my dresser. Dad’s drawings would still line the walls.
We were poor, even for City standards, but that was our home. And maybe I wouldn’t hate returning so much, if I could return to the last place I felt loved and safe.
I study the buildings as they come into closer view. They are all sizes and shapes, made from cycles of destruction and reconstruction. Built of shattered glass and warped metal and broken concrete, these buildings are each hideous in their own way. Patchy framework, rusted pipes, lopsided walls. Some doors are oddly short, others too narrow. The only commonality between these structures are their perilous designs and their collection of mirrors. Dozens line each building, secured with impossibly intricate knots.
It’s another flicker of memory. Mom once taught me how to tie those knots, how to make them too troublesome for hunters to bother removing. Without consciously deciding to, I finger the sliver of mirror beneath my sleeve.
The carriage turns, and the Chapter Building comes into view. It’s the tallest structure in the City, settled on the highest hill. This is where elites and descendants stay during their visits, and these streets are where theyhunt. Monsters like Malek and Sorace and so many more find their prey here, and these mirrors are the commoners’ only chance to survive. If they can avoid eye contact—they just might make it.
The streets are emptier here than they were on my family’s side of the City. While we were surrounded by impoverished houses, and lived in one ourselves, we were far enough from the City’s center to avoid the worst of the hunters. We were cautious, always, but not like the people here have to be.
Despite all the mirrors around us, the streets are mostly empty. A handful of people walk from one building to another, but they’re quick to get inside as we approach.
The carriage jostles over cracked pavement, inclined to force water away from the nicer buildings. As we drive, the mismatched and cobbled buildings transition into purposeful and aesthetically pleasing ones. The Chapter Building stands at the center of them all, a miniature version of the Tower itself.
“They still hunt here,” Harrick says, startling me. I didn’t realize he’d woken, but he’s staring at me with a careful expression. “The descendants. It’s outlawed, but nobody enforces it.”
I nod, unsure what I’m supposed to say.
“Keep your mask secured. Always,” Harrick says. “And don’t go anywhere without me. It’s not safe.”
“I won’t,” I say. The lie is bitter on my tongue, as if I’ve swallowed ash. After last night, it feels wrong. But Harrick’s attention won’t last long, and once it’s gone, I’ll need Berg’s information if I want to survive.
I spendthe next day in a constant state of anxiety. Harrick’s team claims an entire level of the Chapter Building, with his quarters—and subsequently, mine—on the western side and everyone else’s on the eastern side. After over an hour of soft kisses and Harrick’s gentle praises, I’d fallen asleep with his arms wrapped around me.
Early this morning, I’d awoken to his lips on my forehead. We ate breakfast together until my stomach ached with fullness, and then, he left with two guards. They’ve been gone ever since, and I’ve spent most of the day in the sprawling kitchen. Alven flickers in and out of view, but he takes his time before approaching. It’s late in the afternoon, with the sun beginning to dip beneath the mountains, when he finally does.
As I scrub the spotless counter for a fifth time, too anxious to be still, Alven slides into place beside me. He sorts through the rationed food, separating it into nonsensical groups. Across the room, a pair of guards sit with a round table between them.They’re too absorbed in their piece of parchment to pay us any attention.
From beside me, Alven shifts. He’s still faced away, but he’s close enough I can hear him.
“Are you all right?” he asks.
“Yes,” I say. My cheeks bloom, partly because I know what he thinks and partly because I can’t correct him. I have to let him think Harrick hurt me, but I still feel ashamed for doing it. Before Alven can say anything more, I get to the point. “Where do I find him?”
Alven moves the grains into a pile before organizing the vegetables by color.
“He’ll be at the base of the mountain. An hour’s time,” he says. He shifts a few vegetables to the pile of grains. “It’s a farther distance than I hoped, and a bit more complicated, but I’ve drafted instructions.”
