Page 78 of Cage of Starlight
Tory grimaces. “Fine. Let’s play this game, shall we? My mom was a whore and I have no idea who fathered me, but the way she looked at my eyes sometimes, she knew and was afraid of him. I could ask, but she killed herself to let me out of prison when I was eight.”
Iri stares at Tory, horrified. “Excuse me?”
Tory stares back. “I thought we were telling sad little stories that have nothing to do with the point.”
“The point,” Iri echoes.
“Please,” Sena whispers, voice frayed. “It doesn’t matter.”
“It does! Thepoint,” Tory says, “Is that none of us chose our parents and this guy doesn’t have the slightest idea what any of us went through to get here. I won’t defend Westrice. We all know it’s rotten. We’re here because it’s rotten. But none of us chose this.”
“Didn’t you? To serve that monster or to die—I know which I would choose.”
“I’m sure you believe that. I did, too, but here I am, still scrambling to survive. Go ahead and blame me. I probably deserve it, but Sena—”
“Tory! I have no excuse.”
“Sena,” Iri spits the name like a curse. “Did you know your name means hope? I wonder how the bodies you left behind unburied feel about that.”
Tory wants to interrupt, but he doesn’t know where to start. Dread simmers in his stomach.Soft, Riese called him. The word echoes in his skull. He should know better by now.
Iri continues, “Do you know why your father started this war?”
Sena shakes his head.
“He and his new wife, yourmother, were invited to celebrate the twentieth anniversary of the treaty that formalized trade and brokered peace between our nations. At the event, an artisan Seed shared a performance. She used what you call Legion. It was not a weapon. It was an expression of unity between two disparate but interconnected elements. They were used for building and bridge-making, for transportation, for many of the intricate works we traded with your country in exchange for stellite. Your father saw the artisan at work and saw a threat. A month later, he killed the stellite trade. Wereliedon that trade—for food and buildings and everything else. And when it stopped and our reserves ran scarce, we starved.”
Iri pauses. “Your Grand General was right. ‘Legion units’ can indeed be used to kill, though they would never have been used that way if not for him.”
He turns on Sena, dark eyes burning. “How can you allow him to make a weapon of you? The Voidseed is meant for growth,protection—it isthe cosmic womb of all life, not a mindless destroyer.”
Of all the things Iri has said, this hits Sena hardest.
He draws back with a wounded expression that’s gone before Tory can name it. “My powerdestroysthings,” he says flatly. “I don’t see what’s protective about that.”
And of all the things to deflate Iri’s anger, it’s that line that does it.
His taut shoulders loosen. Irritation, then confusion, then a sickened sort of wonder bloom on his face. “You do not know,” he whispers.
“Know what?”
“You don’t know anything.Theydo not know anything. About the Voidseed. They are warlike men, so they see a weapon in you. But both of your abilities are mere byproducts of your true skills. No wonder their names for you are flawed. They’ve taken the part to be the whole.”
Sena must mean to respond, but he opens his mouth and says nothing.
“If telling you the truth will take a weapon out of your bastard father’s hands, I will do it. It is too late to make a proper start on it tonight, but both of you, find me tomorrow.”
*
Fatty meat sizzles onto the rocks around a roaring bonfire. Tents pock the ground beyond it, green as the vines that arc between the trees overhead. Riese’s people bask in the bonfire’s glow. The group’s Porter—a genial young man with large brown eyes who introduced himself as Travin and spent the first few minutes after Tory’s arrival apologizing for their first meeting—blinks in to steal a slice of meat before Judge can grab it, earning a scowl and a half-hearted swat.
Spark, the buzz-cut girl who zapped Tory into unsweet dreams, shocks Travin and steals the meat from his fingers, swallowing it almost without chewing and serving both Judge and Travin a satisfied grin.
Tory aches.
He spent his whole life hiding his powers or trading his service for silence. These people use their abilities as freely as they breathe. They laugh like they have nothing to fear.
It’s absurd—it’s reckless, their confident liberty.
