Queen of faces, p.39
Queen of Faces, page 39
My view of the star-woven body vanished, and I found myself gazing at my Edgar chassis.
I’d avoided mirrors for as long as I could remember. I’d fought, worked myself half to death, just to forget that repulsive face. The pain had grown so ordinary, a constant background noise that blended into my life.
Now I was free.
Sophie had fought every professor left back at Paragon, and countless students, along with both Adam Weaver and Carriwitch. Her body was just as tired as her mind. Every muscle ached, weighing me down, and the cold bit into my skin. Her black gown clung to my legs, damp with sweat. It felt like I could pass out at any second, just from the sheer exhaustion.
But compared to five minutes ago, it was a palace. I could feel my skin. My breathing was smooth and easy. The violent ache in my gut had vanished.
My old body flung its hand forward. The metal cable unwrapped from its chair and coiled round mine, holding me down again before I could stand.
Just like Adam had done to that poor orphan boy. Not Adam, I thought, Tybalt.
Sophie stood, her grey fingers clutching her knife. My grey fingers, until just seconds ago.
‘Poor little pawn,’ she said. ‘May you have better luck in the next life.’
I fought through the exhaustion, through the overwhelming urge to pass out. I summoned my last scraps of energy, then forced the words out of my mouth, so soft I could barely hear them.
‘And what do pawns become?’ I rasped. ‘What do pawns become?’
Sophie stepped forward in my old body, gazing down at me. A withered, furious Edgar, covered in grey, bathed in dark twilight.
The wind blew over the frozen lake. Sophie raised the knife to my throat.
And she coughed. A wheezing, wet cough, spattering warm liquid on to my gown.
The blade wavered. Her body wobbled, then staggered away from me. She fell on to her hands, dropping her knife with a clatter. Her grey eyes widened, red tears beading at the edges, and she gasped for breath, suddenly short of it. Her nails dug into the metal floor.
‘What did you do?’ she growled. ‘What did you do?’
She ripped through her bag, tossing out my wallet, my balisong dagger. All my gear. More coughs tore into her body, each one more violent than the last. She choked, her chest heaving.
I’d seen hot rage from Sophie before. Disgust. For the first time in my life, I saw her look terrified.
She fished out the metal pillbox of Kraken’s Bone. Her shaking hands flipped it open.
The container was empty. I’d swallowed every tablet inside.
Sophie’s eyes bulged. ‘When?’ she said, wheezing.
‘Fifteen minutes ago,’ I said. ‘Walking over the lake.’
She coughed again, then again, spattering liquid on to my feet, gasping for breath. Red liquid. Sophie was coughing up blood, choking on it. Her limbs shook. She bent at my feet, the floor crimson beneath her. Weak black flames sputtered over her skin, collecting in her palms before flickering out.
The steel cables loosened around me. I stood, throwing off my bonds. The chair fell back with a clang, and I reached my Pith into my knife. It yanked off the floor and flew into my hand. I flipped it shut, then tucked it into a pocket of my dress.
Sophie gagged, her limbs twitching, her eyes wide with terror. Scarlet tears slid down her cheeks, and her chest jerked, wheezing. ‘Father,’ she choked. ‘Father.’
She gave one last convulsion, then went still.
When Nima found me, I was stumbling over the frozen island, delirious, covered in blood and fresh tears.
A blizzard howled in my face, and I fell to my knees, dizzy, out of breath. Left-Nima jogged over the ice, through the door in the barbed-wire fence, aiming her shotgun pistols at me. I threw an illusion over three of her senses, writing in glowing letters.
It’s Ana, I said. We swapped bodies.
Nima stared at me, frozen in place.
Then the snow rushed up to meet me, and the world went dark.
after the attack at paragon, I had cornered my mother as her soldiers occupied the floating islands. She stood in the middle of the atrium, the entire room filled end to end with body bags, covering the floor like a carpet. She lifted her hand, stacking corpses into the cable car, making them weightless with her Codex. One of the walls had crumbled, letting in the morning fog.
‘Khaiovhe lives.’ She hovered inches above the ground, looking down at me.
I nodded, every muscle in my body aching. Odds were, she’d escaped the city, or the country even.
And if she’d escaped, my friends were probably dead.
‘Khaiovhe lives,’ I said, my voice hoarse. ‘So do the students.’
‘Some of them,’ said my mother. ‘More than two hundred have fallen.’ She gave me an odd look. ‘It could have been more. But for you.’
An unfamiliar thrill ran through my veins. ‘Adam Weaver and the headmaster drove off the witch,’ I mumbled. ‘I was merely present.’ And if it weren’t for us, the Eldritch Guard never would have abandoned Paragon, leaving it vulnerable.
All around us, soldiers carted wheelbarrows in and out of the building, adding to the body bags covering the floor. My school had become a graveyard.
‘You slew many foes,’ said my mother. ‘You distracted the Black Wraith, tired her out. You saved my daughter, who could not save herself. Whose mind has slipped, these past few months.’
‘Slipped?’
‘Her grades have fallen. She no longer attends class. Before the battle, she spent all her days in the library, or dissecting scorpions in her dormitory.’
Her ill sister. Ana had mentioned my replacement’s quest, and her research crumbling. And on top of it all, she’d lost Ana.
‘She barely sees me or her teachers. When she does, she speaks only of the Aeon Scroll, and taking its power for herself.’ My mother stared at me, and it felt like her gaze was peeling back my scalp, cracking open my skull to peer at the contents within.
‘516-R. How would you like a chance to go home?’
My entire body shivered. I stuffed my hands into my pockets, to hide that they were shaking.
I thought of my old body, the porcelain dollface and the tight dresses. I thought of dull classes and droning professors. I thought of Queen Sulphur, Ana’s peaches and cream.
But Ana was dead.
I thought of Samuel, and his painting of the lake. I thought of my family’s gardens, where moguls and ministers ate from my mother’s hand, showering her with praise.
‘Ori worked so hard to get here,’ I said. ‘And she just lost her best friend. Doesn’t seem fair.’
‘There is no fairness in this world.’ My mother put a finger on my chin, tilting it up. ‘You’re finally starting to learn.’
I swallowed, frozen for what felt like an eternity.
Slowly, hesitantly, I nodded at my mother.
‘Then I’ll see you in a week.’
At the crack of dawn, I would begin the most important challenge of my life. A battle with no holds barred, a final exam against an enemy who had crushed me once already.
I showed up half an hour early.
My mother had let me sleep at Paragon, stuffed into an empty lecture hall with four dozen students who were left homeless after the battle. I studied for seven days, finishing my preparations for the Ousting, using everything Nima had taught me. Up there, there was nothing to do but study. Whenever I took a break, I thought of Ana, sinking into the crimson morning, gone forever.
I did not take many breaks.
With my old kit burned, I bribed a soldier to buy me stationery for a new sword and some wings, and to wake me up on time. At dawn, I’d taken the cable car down. A short jaunt through a tunnel, and I was striding across the twilight streets of Hightown, emptied of both cars and pedestrians, trams and bicycles.
Mages had finally extinguished the fires all over the city, but clouds of smoke still filled the air, darkening the dim blue sky. The stench followed me as I passed a looted jewellery store, a darkened movie theatre and a pair of soldiers patrolling the street corner. Parliament had declared martial law in the aftermath of the Paragon attack, the police arresting anyone suspected of involvement. Work and school had been paused, and an anxious quiet had tightened over the city like a straitjacket.
When I arrived at my mansion, my mother was waiting for me at the front door. She spirited me down to a dusty basement room, where she locked me in with the written exam and a box of pencils. The Ousting exam I’d lost almost a year ago.
To my surprise, it went well. Maths and physics were easy, as always, and the rest of it went far smoother than last time: biology, psychology, the rhetoric essays. My score wouldn’t turn any heads, but compared to last year, I was Westyn himself. All thanks to my studying with Nima, my twelve months of struggle in this strange, remarkable body. The body I would soon be leaving.
In contrast to my improvement, Ori’s score had swan-dived into a septic tank, five points below mine. But to Oust someone, the challenger needed to win both the written exam and the duel. So now I found myself at the final stage, on top of a very familiar tree.
While I waited on the woven arena, I stretched and bounced on my toes, warming up my body. The stands had emptied. No Samuel, no shadowy figures from the House of Faces. Just my mother, sitting up front, slouching for the first time in her life. Everyone else was counting bodies, searching for survivors, or arresting Black Arrows.
Two minutes before the scheduled start, a girl jogged over the lake and climbed up the stairs in the Everautumn. Her blonde hair spilled down her neck, a mess of tangles. Her blue school blazer sat lopsided, wrinkled.
Ori. The impostor who’d taken my name, my body, my life. She jogged to the far side of the platform, massaging her neck. When she turned to me, her eyes looked flat, with dark circles underneath.
My mother went over the basics of the duel, same as last time, floating above the arena with her Codex. ‘We are the prodigies of man, born to reveal the truths of heaven and earth. Minds like burning stars.’
‘Minds like burning stars,’ Ori and I repeated.
My mother turned to me. ‘First combatant, are you ready?’
Korin and Nima had vanished. Ana was dust in the wind. I had nothing left, except this.
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Second combatant, are you ready?’
Ori slid her foot back and bent her knees. She raised her fists and nodded.
‘Begin!’ my mother barked.
Before Ori could attack, I held up an open hand. ‘Wait a moment.’ I sat down on the woven branches of the arena, keeping my sword folded.
Ori didn’t budge, blinking at me.
‘I’ve had an especially bad morning,’ I said. ‘So, quite frankly, I’d love nothing more than to carve you up like a prime rib. But why exert myself, when I know the truth?’
Ori’s fists tightened.
‘Let words be our blades,’ I said. ‘We can discuss who is more worthy of the name. Then one of us can jump in the lake.’ I smiled. ‘If we arrive at an impasse, we can battle as planned.’
My mother stared at me. Ori hesitated, biting her lip. Then she lowered her fists and sat down.
‘When I first met Miss Gage, I was plotting to kill her,’ I said. ‘In our months together, I dreamed of all the ways I could end that grey Edgar, how I could burn down that flooded ruin we squatted in, rid myself of our troublesome allies.’ I let out a slow, pained breath. ‘The chips never fall the way I plan. Troublesome allies can be your friends. A flooded ruin can be a home. And a grey Edgar can be beautiful.’ I swallowed. ‘Anabelle Gage is dust. But Samuel isn’t.’
Ori flicked her gaze to the woven floor.
‘You think you’ll grow to love him, but you won’t. Love isn’t a chain binding you together. Love is a fond memory, the comfort of a friend.’ I thought of striding over the lake with Samuel. The time Ana and I kissed in the flooded bar. ‘Love is walking on water.’
My words sank in. The waves lapped against the Everautumn.
‘Your sister taught you the Water Walk, didn’t she?’
Ori gave a faint nod.
‘She’s not dust, either. But she will be soon. And no matter how high you climb at this school, you’ll never read the Aeon Scroll. Because it’s gone.’
Ori froze. My mother glared at me, annoyed by my spilling of secrets.
‘G-gone?’
I nodded. ‘Khaiovhe took it during the attack. Burned every professor in the castle to find it. Now she’s reading it, and may the Prophets have mercy on us all. If you want that power, if you want to save your sister, you only have one choice.’ My voice hardened. ‘Jump.’
If Ana were alive, she’d tell me to go soft on the kid, be kind to a person she cared about. But she wasn’t alive.
‘We can fight,’ I said. ‘I can show you the second branch of my Codex. Killing is forbidden in an Ousting duel, but anything else is fair game. In five minutes, you’ll be begging me to throw you into that lake.’ I stared at her. ‘Or, you can jump.’
Ori’s face went pale. The glitter stopped rotating on her cheeks.
‘Jump!’ I barked.
Ori stood and strode to the edge of the arena.
Then she glanced back, craning her neck. ‘Did you see her corpse?’
Ana’s. I shook my head.
A smile broke across Ori’s face, like flames spreading over a newspaper. She blew me a kiss. And she jumped off the edge of the tree.
I jerked up, stretched my Pith into my clothes, and flew forward to watch her.
Ori splashed into the water below. Touching the surface of the lake. Ripples spread from the point of impact, and she surfaced, floating on her back and staring at the sky.
Just like that, it was over. I’d won, without throwing a single blow. I stood there, reeling, arms limp at my sides. The sun rose from behind the fog.
And my mother started clapping.
I woke to an icy sting on my face.
My eyes snapped open. Someone was pouring cold water over my head. It trickled on to my lace nightgown and dripped off my wooden chair, forming a puddle of glitter on the floor. Ori’s make-up, washed away.
I sat in my mansion’s ballroom, emptied of servants and furniture. I must have passed out after the transfer, when they’d removed the memory blocks. In the corner, a piano played a ragtime song from my childhood, the keys pressing themselves.
The ceiling spread over me, a giant mirror. I gazed up, and a girl gazed back at me. She looked like a stranger. Like I’d broken into someone’s house and was wearing their clothes. My skin looked cold and smooth, like polished bone.
A comb ran through my long blonde hair. My mother stood behind me, straightening it into regimented lines, washing my face.
‘Beautiful,’ she said, ‘your hair was always so beautiful.’ Her eyes gleamed. ‘All those months when you were gone. You have no idea how much it hurt.’
‘You Ousted me. You called me simple.’
‘I had to cast you out, strengthen your armour against the world.’ She cupped my cheek from above. ‘But I knew you’d be back. I always knew.’
Lying, she’s lying. Eighteen years of hating me, screaming at me, voicing her displeasure in a thousand different ways. But her voice sounded so sincere. In all those long years, I’d never heard her say anything like this. Maybe she really believed her own words.
The water turned warm over my scalp, a gentle shower caressing my skin.
‘You fought so hard to return, down there in that body,’ said my mother. ‘You must have witnessed hell.’
‘Hell.’ I nodded. ‘But the body wasn’t unbearable.’
‘Wasn’t unbearable?’ My mother’s eyes turned harsh. ‘You saw the old Rowyna, didn’t you? The woman I Ousted.’
My heart jumped. ‘How did you know?’
‘The police found her on a cargo crane, shivering and terrified a hundred feet up. I read about it in the papers.’ Her gaze pierced through me. ‘Tell me. What did you see?’
‘I saw a drunk,’ I said. ‘A failure, alone at a Lowtown bar. Middle-aged and already half a Humdrum.’
‘Wrong,’ said my mother. ‘You saw no one. You saw nothing. An empty space, soon to be forgotten.’ She gave me a look. ‘You’re not going to be an empty space. You’re going to be perfect.’
A void seemed to open inside me, a massive, swelling terror that swallowed my other thoughts. Simple fool. Simple fool. I couldn’t be broken again.
‘Weston Brown was an exile. A criminal, cavorting with freaks and terrorists. A fool, playing dress-up with suits and circling the drain. You are so much more than a fool.’ Her eyes met mine. ‘What is your name?’
I searched my memories, newly unlocked, and a pair of words bubbled to the surface. Maybe they weren’t perfect. Maybe they weren’t comfortable. But they were my duty. Two keys to a bright destiny, a noble future.
I reached into my mind, and found where Wes was hiding, buried next to memories of Ana and Queen Sulphur. My chest ached from the loss, the faces I would never see again.
Farewell, Ana, I thought. Farewell, Wes. And I flung the memories as far away as I could.
A rush of power surged through me, intoxicating and heavy. I am the hero of Paragon, I thought. I am the admiral’s daughter.
‘What is your name?’
‘My name is Nell Ebbridge.’
My mother smiled and kissed me on the forehead. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, it is.’
The doors of the ballroom creaked open, and a figure strode in. A boy with dark blond hair, slouched over with dark circles under his eyes. Samuel.
His eyes widened as he saw me, and I stood.
Over two hundred Paragon students had been butchered. Our friends, our classmates. But we’d survived, and I’d returned. Despite everything, I’d returned for good.
How many times had I imagined his voice, guiding me, protecting me? It had grown so distant, I could almost think I’d forgotten it. That his love had merely been a dream, a falsehood I’d woven to stave off the loneliness.
