Page 52 of Voidwalker
And she had no idea which direction would tip her in.
Part Two
The nameless warrior didn’t retreat.
They drew their sword against the daeyari, who came not from this world, matching the beast’s claws blow for blow. Until at last, they plunged their blade into the daeyari’s heart.
But the immortal didn’t fall. It laughed.
“What need have I for a heart?” it said. “Not the way you mortals do.”
Then the daeyari ripped the human’s heart from their chest.
Ripped their foolish name from any who’d remember it.
So let this be a lesson, a fate to avoid.
Futile to fight the beasts born of the Void.
—Excerpt from a folktale, Autumn Plane,The Folly of the Nameless Warrior
12
What have you done?
For the last seven years, Nyskya had been Fi’s refuge.
Whether work had her fleeing trade wardens on the Autumn Plane, stowed away on a Summer train past cerulean seasides, drenched in a warm Spring rain while contraband bottles clacked in her cart, she could always retreat here to the cold and quiet. She’d hide away in her cottage, enjoying hot bubble baths and the music of her gramophone, pestering Boden until her next job.
Out here, problems like capitol explosions and daeyari coups could seem blissfully distant, buffered by miles of forest and snow. Distant, but not inescapable. All these years, Antalcouldhave come to Nyskya to press the settlement beneath a firmer claw. Nothing stood in Verne’s way of doing so.
And it was all Fi’s fault.
She could weave excuses about lying clients, a friend’s betrayal manipulating her into business she should have no part in. But Fi put the bomb in that building. She’d let her guilt over Astrid make her complacent. Who knew how many bodies lay under the rubble of the capitol? What fate awaited Nyskya, under Verne’s rule?
Maybe Boden would know what to do—if he could forgive Fi for screwing up again.
She stepped off the Plane through the Curtain near her cottage, crossed the distorted distance of a Shard, out another Curtain that placed her at the outskirts of the village. The streets were drowsy in the early hour, muffled by fresh powder. With hair tucked into her hat and face obscured by the white fur collar of her coat, Fi slunk past buildings, over boot tracks and sled trails heading into the forest, coming at last to the ranch south of town. A herd of aurorabeasts browsed the pasture, hooves rooting for forage beneath the snow, green energy glowing along their backs.
Daeyari had brought the animals to the Season-Locked Planes, bred as a high-energy food source to sustain the immortals if their preferred prey ever ran scarce. Humans found other uses for the beasts: meat and milk and fur, valuable in endless Winter.
But mostly, Boden enjoyed their company. Fi found Nyskya’s mayor amongst his herd, tromping through snow to haul hay into feeding troughs.
He stilled when he spotted her, ice crusting his beard, exhale billowing into steam.
Boden broke into a run.
Fi cracked at the sight. Aurorabeasts snorted as he passed, his strides laboring against the crust of old snow on the field, closing the distance to grab her in a rib-crushing hug. There were normal, sibling hugs. Then there were Boden’s worry hugs, that sixth sense he had whenever Fi acted too recklessly. Normally, she’d tease him for the sentiment.
This time, Fi hugged back, distressed to find herself no less desperate for the anchor. His coat smelled of aurorabeasts. His messy hair, of the old wood musk and hearth ash from their family home. The only one left who did.
“Fi,” he breathed, heavy with relief.
“Bodie,” she returned, muffled by the shoulder he’d smushed her face into.
He held her at arm’s length, worry creasing his thick brows. Shadows framing his eyes. “We’ve gotten telegrams from Thomaskweld. People say the capitol building collapsed. Some kind ofexplosion. And when you didn’t come back… are you all right?”
Curse him for piecing this together before a word left her mouth. Curse him for caring so damn much. Which would be worse: watching Verne cut Boden down as an example against rebellious magistrates? Or Fi abandoning him again so she wouldn’t have to witness the aftermath? Either would shatter her.
