Heir to the Sky (22 page)

It's a complicated tangle, but I know how to unravel it. I'll go to my father immediately and cut the knot through the middle, the rope pieces shriveling like Dream Catchers pierced by the truth. And the truth will shine like a basilisk scale, like the fiery surface of the ocean, reflecting everything in undeniable veracity.

The airship touches down on the landing pitch near the citadel, and my heart pounds with anticipation. We wait for the others to disembark while I stare out the back window at the familiar forests that border the citadel. I'm home, and it floods me with joy. I reach for Griffin's hand and squeeze it as he stares out at the forests for the first time in fourteen years. This is his home, too. We've both returned.

Elisha pats my arm, and now it's time for the three of us to descend the plank to the landing pitch. The shining blue crystal of the citadel refracts the afternoon sun into dancing patterns on the ground. We walk through them, the blue striping across our toes and ankles. The Phoenix's colors are red and orange, and I always wondered why the citadel's crowning crystal was blue. I asked my father once. He told me the hottest fire, the deepest part of the blaze, is not orange or red, but blue. It looks cool and calm, but it carries in it the strength of the strongest spark.

I walk toward the citadel with this memory in my heart.

I will not be the wick and the wax any longer. I will be the flame, and I will light a new world for us all.

TWENTY-TWO

AS WE ROUND
the landing pitch, we stumble upon a strange gathering in the courtyard of the citadel. It's like I've gone back in time to the Rending Ceremony. Some of the banners and garlands are still strung across the courtyard, although the flowers on them are wilted and collapsed. It's like a forgotten birthday party, the decorations collecting dust, the cake gathering mold. “It's because you fell,” Elisha whispers to me as we duck under the faded bunting. “All the efforts went into finding you, and then the threats and blame started.” She looks at the faces of the crowds as we push our way through.

“They look possessed,” Griffin murmurs beside me. “Like they're in a Dream Catcher's vision.”

“Dream Catcher?” Elisha asks. It brings the memory flooding back of the dream the monster put in my own head. The Rending Ceremony, with red petals falling like blood. With the dying garlands and the crowds, the shriveled petals strewn across the ground, it's almost like a prophecy now, like the monster knew what would happen. I'll have to ask Griffin later if it's possible. I don't know enough about any of the monsters on the earth yet. I want to know everything he does.

I'm trying not to look anyone in the face. It's hard to know who my allies are and who my enemies. I feel like I'm on the plains in my karu fur, hiding from hazu birds, trying to blend in as something I'm not. My karu cloak, back in the village, is the color of the pack leader. I'm not a youth hiding in the forest anymore, but the one leading the hunt.

On the plains, I was a scared human hiding in a monster's fur. Now I'm a force of reckoning hiding in a peasant's cloak, trying to look feeble. I will not let the Sargon and his son manipulate our futures.

We push through the crowd toward the sound of a voice. The gathering is thick with villagers from Ulan, and at the front a circle of Elite Guard soldiers keeps them back from the courtyard. Griffin gently bumps into me as I look over the shoulders of the guards. It's a familiar sight, only now I'm on the outside.

Elder Aban is standing in his white-and-red robes, his hands clasped and his face grim. He's droning on with some sort of invocation of the Phoenix, one of the many I've heard thousands of times before. Everyone stands solemnly, and I think about how none of them know what really happened, how we've all blindly accepted what we think our history is.

Then the crowds erupt around me as the doors to the citadel creak inward. The trumpets blare and my heart stumbles over itself. He's there—my father, the Monarch. He's wearing his circlet of golden plumes that clinks and jingles as he walks. His golden cloak adorns his hunched shoulders, the red-plumed hem sweeping against the steps. His face looks weathered and older than it was a few weeks ago, and I unconsciously press against the guards in front of me as I strain forward. They push me back just as Griffin and Elisha each take my arms.

“I know how you must feel,” Elisha says quietly. “But we have no idea how this crowd will react to the news that you've survived.”

“They could riot or panic,” Griffin says. “Better to approach your father quietly after.”

I hate that they're right, and the chance of a riot seems so small. But I listen, if only because I'm in shock at being back here in the courtyard of the citadel, with my father, Elisha and Griffin.

And then another figure steps out of the doorway to the citadel and down the long stone steps. He's dressed in the white uniform of the Elite Guard, the golden plume of leadership pinned to his lapel. Around his head he wears a circlet of etched golden feathers, the mark of the Phoenix's royal favor.

My blood runs cold. It's Jonash.

He stands beside my father. The one who pushed me off the edge, if I believe Aksel. And as I stare at my once fiancé, I do believe him. I believe with all my heart that he knew about the crystal edge of the outlands, and that he walked along it to stage the accident.

The crowds fall silent as my father stretches out his hands, but it is Jonash who speaks. “To our family in Ashra, visitors of Burumu, and kin of Nartu and the Floating Isles,” he says. “Thank you for gathering this day. Many of you have heard rumors and have troubled hearts. We are here to put those rumors to rest, so that you can all know the truth of what is happening.”

The truth that you pushed me?
I think.
The truth that you and your father have stirred up fear of the rebellion and the genocide to your advantage?
But I feel Griffin's fingers on my elbow, and I take strength in him, waiting for the right moment to act.

“The truth is,” Jonash says, “that all our hearts are broken at the passing of my fiancée, our beloved Monarch's only child. She was the Eternal Flame of Hope, the heir of the floating continents, adored by us all. She would've been our queen. My queen. And my heart breaks that her life was taken from us by the lies of the rebels that seduced her.”

“That dirty cinder,” Elisha says beside me. I can think of stronger words, ones I learned from Griffin on the mountain when the basilisk meat burned. Those words bounce off the walls of my mind as I force myself to stay quiet.

“Many of you have heard that she fell from the outlands while trying to throw me off of Ashra.” He pauses, scanning the crowd. “This is true. But I do not blame her. The rebels twisted her understanding with their lies. And now they hope to twist the rest of you to their side, as well.”

It's ridiculous, yet the people hang on his every word. My father merely hunches like an old man. Why is he letting Jonash go on and on like this? He must know it's utter nonsense. He must think more of me than this.

Jonash makes a fist. “But my father and I are loyal to the Monarch, and united, we can stand against this rebellion!”

Some of the crowd cheers, but most still look confused.

Elder Aban steps forward, raising his hands for the crowds to silence. “It is true, my dear ones,” he says, “that there is an abomination in our midst. And we have been protecting you all as part of our duty to the Monarch for the last three hundred years. There were those perverse souls who joined with the monsters and longed for humanity's destruction. They were called the Benu. And the Elite Guard and our brothers and sisters, the Elders, have both protected society for as long as we could in our own ways. But now we have joined together, for the abomination has grown, and like weeds, must be cut down for the health of the crop.”

I can't stand to hear any more. I lurch forward, but Elisha and Griffin pull me back. “Let me go,” I say, and press forward again, but they pull me back and I lose my balance. I bump against one of the guards, and he turns to see who's causing trouble.

“Quiet there,” he says, and turns back to the speeches.
We have to get out of the crowds
, I think.
We have to get to the side entrance of the citadel
. I jostle through the throng to leave, and my friends follow.

Jonash is speaking again as we weave through the gathering. “Rebels and Benu are to be executed on sight,” he says. “Benu can be recognized by two crescent-like gashes on their back from shoulder to hip. Rebels do not have this marking, but can be recognized by a disdain for our Monarch or the Sargon. They will speak of the Benu with reverence instead of disgust. If anyone has information about a suspected rebel or Benu and does not come forward, they, too, will be charged with treason.”

Why won't my father speak up? They're inciting madness. We round the base of the Phoenix statue as I approach the side doors. The crowd is thinner here, and I stop for a moment as I consider breaking through the guard. Surely this charade has gone on long enough. I look at Griffin. I wonder if he can see the flame burning in my heart. He nods, and I know he trusts me to do what I need to do. I only need to trust myself.

I take the edges of my hood in my trembling fingers and step toward the guards. “Let me pass,” I say, my throat dry and the words barely coming through.

The guards look at me, eyebrows raised, hands on the hilts of their swords.

I grasp the slippery fabric tighter and press the hood backward. It slides from the short curls of my cut hair as I lock my fierce gaze with the guards. “Let me pass,” I command.

Their eyes widen like they've seen a ghost, and they hesitate, stepping aside just enough that I can push through. Griffin and Elisha follow me toward Aban, Jonash and my father. My beloved father, who is looking at me in disbelief.

“Father,” I say, willing my voice not to shake too much. The crowd is watching in stunned silence. Jonash's face is pale and frightened. “My friends and kin,” I say to the crowd. “You have been misinformed.” I glare at Jonash. “I am very much alive.”

“Kallima,” my father stammers. He holds his arms out and I long to run into them, but one thing I've learned from Griffin is caution around monsters, and there's one standing beside my father now. I focus on Jonash as I stride nearer.

“What Jonash has told you are lies,” I say. “He is the one who pushed me. I stumbled upon a conversation between the lieutenant of the Elite Guard and Elder Aban about the rebellion and the truth of the floating islands. And Jonash threw me down to the earth's surface to cover it up.”

Jonash says nothing, his face pallid and swirling with panic and embarrassment. The words are caught in his throat.

“I have been, and always will be, loyal to Ashra and her lands,” I say. “But the Benu are nothing to fear. They are our brothers and sisters, and have lived among us peacefully for three hundred years. They are the ones who fear us. We need not fear them.”

I have reached my father, his face bewildered. I hold him tightly in my arms, and feel the warmth of his hug as he embraces me. “Kallima,” he whispers. “My daughter.”

“I'm home, Father,” I tell him, and I blink back the tears, because there is still work to be done. I tilt my chin up and glare at Jonash. “I hereby arrest you for treason, son of the Sargon. You threw me from the edge of the outlands, and when there was a chance to rescue me by airship, you fired on me—your very own fiancée and future Monarch. Treason!”

“Lies!” Jonash shouts, and the sound of it almost jolts me backward. “The lies of a traitor. She has survived the fall and come back to lead the rebels. She's not to be believed.”

“Oh, stuff it, you bag of hot air,” Griffin says. “If you truly loved her, you never would have pushed her, not for any reason.”

“And who is this
gentleman
?” Jonash asks, the patronizing disdain clear in his voice. He glares at Griffin as he stands beside me.

“My name, that you will know, is Bazh,” Griffin says, and it startles me. “And I lived among you once, in Ulan. Before I fell to the earth fourteen years ago.”

Bazh. The name he held before he was Griffin. One of the only memories he has of Ashra—an ancient name and chubby fingers burned by a crust of fluffy bread, hands kissed better by a mother whose fate is uncertain.

The crowds mutter, for they remember the toddler and his mother who fell. How could they not? And one of them says, “It's in his eyes. Look! He has her eyes.” And another says, “He's the spitting image of his mother, no mistake.”

“I'm here to tell you that you've been deceived,” Griffin says. For an inexperienced speaker who hunts monsters alone, he has a surprising amount of charisma with the crowds. I swell with pride at his voice. “There's a barrier surrounding the continents that protects those who fall. It was put in place by the rightful heirs to the floating mountains—the Benu.” The crowds mumble among themselves; he's almost lost them. He shouts over them, “They aren't monsters! They were and are our allies. If you'll allow me to explain—”

“There's nothing to explain,” Jonash says. “It's clear you are the one who has confused my fiancée. Kallima, we're grateful you have returned, but I have been nothing but faithful to you and your father in your absence. This ruffian has filled your head with lies.”

“You're wrong!” Elisha says. Aban stares, unsure what to make of it all as the crowds become uneasy. Jonash's eyes are shifting through the crowd as if he's looking for someone, but perhaps he's only looking for support. None of this has gone the way he intended it.

“Daughter,” my father says quietly. “Is this true?” He looks at Griffin thoughtfully. “Are you the one who saved her?”

And then everything happens at once. Jonash shouts, “Your Majesty! Look out!” I turn to stare at the crowds, and there are two men dressed in dark cloaks and golden winged masks, like an ominous masquerade ball. And one has in his hand a crossbow, and it's lifted toward my father's chest.