Page 54 of Voidwalker
The overhead lights flickered. This time, no fault of Kashvi’s. Fi was used to fluctuating power, having to charge everything in her cottage, but Nyskya’s conduit grid ought to be more stable. Boden’s curse spurred her concern.
“What happened to those daeyari energy chips?” she said. “They should lastmonths.”
“They will. Just some conduits acting up. We’ve been working on repairs.”
Boden didn’t speak with the confidence Fi wanted to hear. Nyskya needed power. Theyneededself-sufficiency. If they had to turn to Thomaskweld for replacement parts now, with a new daeyari seizing control… Fi fidgeted with her coat sleeves.
Boden tracked every move. “Fi. What’s wrong? You seem—”
Voices rose from the kitchen. Steps erupted down the hall. A wisp of a woman stormed into the room, eyes like seafoam, pale skinned with a bun of straw-blonde hair. She swept aside the ties of her apron, hitched her sleeves then cracked a wooden spoon across Fi’s arm.
“You’ve got some nerve, Fionamara Kolbeck! Waltzing in here after stealing my soup!”
Fi hissed, hands raised in defense. “Calm your tits, Iliha. I left an energy capsule!”
“Can’t even bother saying hello. Here and gone like a thief!”
“I was on a job!”
Kashvi followed with two breakfast plates. “Careful, Fi. Never spite the woman who makes the food.” She leaned down to Iliha’s slighter stature, pressing a kiss to her wife’s scowling cheek. “Don’t fret yourself, dove. I’ll handle the vagabonds.”
Fi had been called worse. Her nose wrinkled at a stale smell—coming fromher. First, she’d break the news, then she could worry about reclaiming her bathtub from a daeyari.
Iliha stalked across the room, muttering like an irate shrew as she brought on the rest of the lights, turned up the furnace, snapped the automaton birds to life. They fluttered awake with a click of gears, heads swiveling with copper crests.
Kashvi dropped into a chair, boots propped on the table. “Wondered when you’d pop up, Fi. Boden says you were in Thomaskweld?”
Fi nodded. Her ceramic plate held a flaky pastry, oozing cream cheese and honey glaze, almonds sliced on top. Despite feeling ravenous, she struggled to keep a bite down.
If Boden was the administrative head of Nyskya, Kashvi was its heart, curating every drunken rivalry and sliver of gossip that passed through her doors. Best to tell them both the foul news in one go.
“You should’ve seen this man.” Kashvi jerked a thumb at Boden. “Moping in here every morning, wondering when you’d be back.”
“For good reason.” Boden poked his pastry. “Everything we’ve heard from Thomaskweld is piecemeal. And Fi’s usually good about—”
“But you know what I said?” Kashvi grinned. “That Fi? She’s like a cockroach. Always crawls her way out of things.”
From the bar, Iliha muttered agreement. Kashvi smirked at her contribution, absently tapping a finger to her single earring,a dangling glass capsule glowing silver—a match to the pendant Iliha wore around her neck, both their energy combined as part of the marriage pact. A dandelion wisp wedded to a lioness, both with ferocious temperaments.
“Thanks, Kashvi.” Fi flicked a pastry flake off her finger. “You must be the only person on all four Season-Locked Planes who uses cockroach as acompliment.”
“Well?” Kashvi said. “What’s the news?”
Iliha circled the table with mugs. Kashvi accepted her tea with a brush of Iliha’s thumb, then a huff when Iliha nudged her boots off the table. Boden took his coffee with a nod. Fi’s coffee was frothed to the rim, tan with cream and sugar. She clutched the ceramic. Breathed.
Maybe they’d understand. Maybe she could fix this.
“Itwasa bomb, Bodie,” Fi said in a hush. “All those energy capsules. The clients asked me to move them into the capitol building, then…”
Overhead, energy lights hummed. A flock of automaton birds ratcheted and clicked. But the people: silent. Iliha cast wide eyes from the bar. Boden paused with crumbs in his beard.
The table creaked as Kashvi crashed forward on her elbows. “Fuck me in the Void. That wasyou?”
You.
The accusation sliced deep.Youdid this.You’reto blame, like always.
“Not just me,” Fi argued.
