Page 18 of The Merciless Ones
“Precisely,” White Hands finishes, and we return our attention to the scene in front of us, where the new converts are dispersing into the crowd, the ones whose memories were cleansed being led away by helpers who will aid them in adjusting to their new life in Abeya.
Once they’re gone, the mothers rise again. “Now that we have welcomed our new children, it is time to welcome one of our eldest – Melanis, the Light of the Alaki. Finally, after centuries apart, she has returned to us, our beloved child and the second of our war queens.”
They glance pointedly up to the ceiling, where the glass parts as easily as a flower, revealing a lone, winged figure, glowing body accentuated by the evening sunlight: Melanis. Awe suffuses me as I watch her wing down, as graceful as a dewdrop on the breeze. This is the truest form of Melanis, the reason we risked so much to rescue her. Unlike the three other war queens, and indeed, all the alaki in general, Melanis is a beacon of light in the most literal sense of the word, one who will give us hope as we continue our offensive against the jatu and the priests.
The entire hall is quiet now, everyone staring up at Melanis with the same awe that is coursing through my veins. Everyone, that is, except for White Hands. I glance at my former karmoko out of the corner of my eye, confused to see she’s once again stiff, the smile that’s plastered across her face one of politeness rather than joy. What is it about Melanis that has her so on edge?
I try not to think too deeply about it as the goddesses smile up at the descending war queen. “For too long,” they continue, “our children have languished in the shadows – abused, beaten, executed. Our war queen Melanis’s return signals the dawn of a new era. With her and our beloved daughter the Nuru at our side –” four pairs of divine eyes turn to me, and I kneel, reverence washing over my body – “we will take back Otera and make it ours again. We will rule these lands once more.”
Cheers ring out, ecstatic expressions of joy, victory. So much happiness fills me now, I feel like a cup on the edge of overflowing. And there’s only one person I want to share it with: Keita. His back may be to me, but I know he feels my gaze, knows I’m watching. Just a few hours more and I’ll be in his arms again.
It’s going to take everything I have to wait.
The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur. I barely hear the mothers speak, only scarcely watch Melanis as she addresses the crowd. Even when the mothers leave and my friends rush Keita and me to the dinner tables, I pay little attention. All I can see is Keita sitting there beside me, his golden eyes peering into mine. I feel the heat of his leg next to mine, the callouses on his fingers as they stroke my wrist.
“The nystria afterwards?” he whispers into my ear.
Warmth flushes my body as I nod. “As soon as we’re done.”
He smiles at me, the barest hint of a dimple grazing one cheek. “I can’t wait.”
“Me neither,” I say.
“Ooh, look at the lovebirds back together again,” Adwapa coos, the sardonic edge to her voice so slight, the others don’t notice as they laugh and waggle their brows at us.
I disregard them all. I’ve been waiting months for this day; I won’t let anything ruin it. Keita is here, and that’s all that matters.
Keita and I meet, as we did the few times we were able to meet privately before, at our new favourite tree. It’s a nystria, just like the one we used to meet under at the Warthu Bera, only this one sits on one of the N’Oyo Mountains’ more remote crags – a many-branched giant so formidable, its roots spread across the entire peak. A miniature forest has sprouted underneath its fragrant, blue-flowered branches: small trees sprouting between its roots, little animals skulking in the shadows. Ixa stalks them, an excited gleam in his eyes. There’s nothing he loves more than terrorizing smaller creatures. Despite his soft, almost kitten-like appearance, he’s very much a predator – and predators like meat. Within moments, he’s gone, chasing a terrified monkeybird into the Bloom. I send up a little prayer to the mothers for the creature’s soul. Hungry Ixa is determined Ixa – he never lets his prey go.
As Keita and I snuggle into the blanket we’ve spread, two soft green lights emerge in the branches above us.
I nudge him excitedly. “Look, an indolo,” I whisper.
“Where?” His movements are heavy with exhaustion, but he follows my gaze, excited as I nod to a higher branch, where two tiny feline creatures are prancing in the moonlight, sleek bodies covered by trailing green vines, golden horns gleaming as they peer at us.
That soft green light shimmers over both of them, a visible tether tying the pair together. Anok once told me that the indolo are hers and her sisters’ most treasured creations, each one a single forest spirit split into two identical bodies. Whatever happens to one happens to the other. A visible reminder that all of us are connected, always.
I grin at Keita. “One spirit—” I begin.
“Two bodies. Just like you and me,” he says, squeezing me tight.
Despite his tiredness, his grip is as firm as ever.
His nose nuzzles my hair, and I shiver, savouring the sensation. Keita’s touch always makes me feel warm inside. Even though we’ve never done much more than kiss, just the slightest caress is enough to send my skin prickling in anticipation.
I look up at him. “So…how was Hemaira?”
He sighs. “I’d prefer we didn’t speak of it.”
My throat closes. There’s only one reason Keita wouldn’t want to speak of Hemaira: more girls have been thrown off the walls. Many more. “Did I know any of them?”
When he shakes his head, relief travels so strongly through me, I almost shake from it. “No,” he says.
Not yet… I finish his silent reply.
The jatu have already thrown a few girls from the Warthu Bera, but none that I knew well. None like Binta, the evercheerful novice who once oversaw our group, or even Mehrut, Adwapa’s former flame. But, regardless of whether I know these girls or not, each death is another little wound, piercing deeper into my heart. Those girls all had families, loved ones – dreams for the future. Then I came along… Every one of their deaths is on my hands.
I swiftly ask my next question to distract myself. “Any word from the karmokos?”