Sky Stitcher, page 16
I cringed, assessing the sky. The walls and columns surrounding the space loomed prestigiously above, like soldiers guarding cells—an inescapable prison—and I shivered with the sensation of feeling trapped.
“Where do you think they are keeping the Eldress?” Rue asked, placing a hand on the small of my back to still the rush of trembles through my spine. “Can you sense her?”
I paused, closing my eyes to listen for the weaving magic of the Daughters, the pull of that internal compass always leading home, but all I could sense was the pounding of my own heart. “No,” I admitted, surprised by the creak of emotion in my tone.
Rue’s hand slipped from my back, and the air shifted with tension, snapping my focus back to the courtyard. A woman with short black hair, cropped and angled to mirror her jawline, pelted toward us. “Zara! Daughter of Halah!” she shouted, stirring birds from their rest in the shade. They exploded into the air with a sharp cry of alarm. Just like my heart.
“Zara.” She hastily swept into some interesting interpretation of a bow, though she seemingly lacked the grace to do so. When she straightened her spine, her amber eyes glittered above the light of her smile. “You are Zara? Are you not? The star of A’i Halajan? The Daughter selected to receive Halah’s blessing? Descendant of the goddess and perpetuator of her holy lineage?”
“Uh. Y-Yes?” I stuttered over my own tongue and squeaked with shock when she wrapped her arms around me.
“Oh finally, I’ve found you. I am Basmina, coordinator of ceremonies. I’ve only just been promoted to lead coordinator and you’re already making me look bad by making us late. Come quickly. You are required to attend the ceremonial Ja' Rilaht procession.”
I threw a cursory glance back at Rue, who merely shrugged at the alarm on my face. ‘I’ll follow,’ he mouthed, and Basmina tugged my arm so sharply that my head snapped backward, falling a few paces behind the rest of my frame as she led me away at a breakneck pace.
“Basmina?” I asked between spurts of breaths as she rushed me through the courtyard and winding hallways, caring little for the increasing gasps issuing from my lungs. She insisted we were late and that there would be time for breathing later, but later never seemed to come. “Basmina. What is Ja' Rilaht? Do I need to...do anything?” How long will it take? Will anyone notice if I slip away to search for the Eldress? Is this what Rali had insisted I attend? Nobody had prepared me for what to expect at the festival. Only to pray for Halah’s blessing. My inability to pray like a proper Daughter had been well-established, but Basmina wouldn’t know that about me.
“You only need to sit, look beautiful, and graciously accept the gifts that the people of Rashii offer you. You can manage that, can’t you?” Her bronzed, upturned nose crinkled when she looked at me. “We really must hurry. You can’t go about looking like that.”
She led us in front of a paneled double door, cracking open one side to usher me through. Rue’s hand caught the door before she could close it behind us, and he followed with a confidence that brooked no questioning about whether his presence would be permitted.
Basmina stopped long enough to eye him curiously, appraising his stature and lingering far too long on his wide shoulders and amethyst eyes, then closed the door without a word of confrontation. I clenched my fist, digging my nails tightly into the heel of my hand, and forced myself to relax when she turned away. Basmina steered me toward the center of the room, and I blinked several times, stunned by the faces looking back at me.
A collection of women wearing proud smiles beneath blonde hair and moonsilk skin approached me, entangling me in a jumble of hugs and a rush of familiarity. Daughters of Halah. My eldest Sisters and Aunts. The ones who’d moved to Rashii with unions of their own. Aunt Vanya. Rada. Juryasha—with a rounded belly. Magura. Aunt Naila.
Basmina slipped away, pardoning herself from the room. As soon as she left, my Sisters exploded into chatter. Voices mixed with one another, each attempting to be heard over the others, their bracelets and beads jingling to complete the chaos. They grabbed my hands, pulling me further into the room to sit me on a tufted couch. Silk tasseled pillows scattered across the seats. “Have you met him yet? Is he handsome?”
“Oh, I hope he’s a kind one,” my elder Sister, Rada, wished dreamily as she pulled the beads from my hair and began to unwind the braids.
“Are they often unkind?” I asked nervously, wondering what she meant and wincing at the careless tug of her fingers through my hair. A shimmering powder drifted over my head, entering my nose and lungs to make me cough.
“Never mind that. Forget I said anything. Wait.” She paused, rubbing her palms together over my head to scatter more powder. It smelled of honey and blossoms. “Is this him?” She tilted her head toward Rue, eyebrows lifting at me with delight. Rue smirked, but shifted almost imperceptibly. Perhaps I was the only one to notice, but his lackadaisical composure wavered ever so slightly beneath the attention of all the women in the room. I bit my lip to hide the grin of satisfaction, knowing now with certainty that he could, in fact, be ruffled.
“Oh. No, that is not him,” I answered, flushing with embarrassment from the misunderstanding. Rue’s expression darkened, but he recovered with a wry grin, amused at my expense.
My elder Sister Magura blew disappointment through her pursed lips. “Too bad. He is handsome. You would have been lucky. Are you available?” she asked Rue without any effort of tact.
Rada punched my elder Sister in the arm. “Magura, your union has already been blessed. Stop that nonsense.”
“I was asking for Zara. Do we know anything of this Rali she’s been promised to? Perhaps a switch could be arranged. She clearly seems comfortable with this one.”
“Oh, oh no. That will not be necessary,” I responded, perhaps too quickly. My ears and cheeks warmed with a new flush. Rue was certainly handsome, but also rude, infuriating, and of questionable intentions. Not to mention the minor flaw of his origin.
Rue shuffled inconspicuously to the corner of the room, where he occupied himself with the spread of little pastries and cheeses. Too bad they hadn’t left out any halfmoon bread. He would have loved that.
“Where is your tapestry?” my Aunt Vanya asked sharply, shoving my Sister Rada aside with a hip, then reaching to rearrange the braids at the front of my hair. Rada scowled at her, but she spun around to bustle toward a table littered with brushes and jars.
My mouth opened to answer Aunt Vanya’s question, but I could only manage a shrug. The tapestry had likely burned in the wreckage of the guryas, but I didn’t know how to explain…how to break that news.
Aunt Vanya noticed the strained sadness in my eyes and softened. “Still not good at weaving, then? Never mind, you can borrow mine. Nobody will know the difference.” She moved a hand to her hip, scanning the room behind me. “Are you alone? Where are our Sisters? Didn’t any of the Daughters accompany you to witness the union?”
I twisted my hands in my lap, forming a response in my head. Rada returned, abruptly shoving my shoulders down and away from my ears. “Sit straight and look up.” I lifted my chin to the exposed beams above, but Rada smacked my hand. “Not with your face. With your eyes.” She rammed a chiseled sliver of charcoal toward my cheekbone, sweeping it around my lashes until it made my eyes water.
“So, where are they?” Rada asked, tucking the pencil into her dress and snatching a pot of vibrant liquid from the table. She swirled the concoction in the palm of her hand, then dabbed a fine bristled brush into the oil.
“I don’t know,” I whispered so quietly the whole room stilled to hear me. Even Rada stopped, her brush poised next to my lips.
“What do you mean? What happened? Who brought you here?” Her mouth pursed.
“The guryas...are gone. They...they burned.”
A collective gasp rose sharply among all of the Daughters, and they stopped their fussing long enough to toss frightened glances between themselves.
“What happened to them?” Aunt Vanya asked, her voice croaking. “Was it Riders? Or did the Khazdruki find them? Did the Daughters survive? How did you escape?”
“I left to…” I hesitated, catching myself before I told them that I’d been out with the Eldress and found myself obligated to explain circumstances I did not wish to share. How could I describe everything that had happened? How could I justify Rue? They wouldn’t buy the same explanation I’d fed to Rali and the guards—they’d know better. “I left to patrol the dunes, and when I returned, the guryas were burning, and the Daughters had fled. And I didn’t know what to do but...” I paused again, searching for a logical explanation. “I ran into Rue. He was traveling to A’i Halajan to witness the union, and he found me and swore to bring me to safety. And I was hoping the Daughters would meet me here, so I didn’t go looking for them, but now I don’t know where they are, and I’m so sorry.” I spoke faster and faster as I went on, an unexpected rush of tears ruining Rada’s efforts to enhance my features.
“Oh, Zara.” Warm arms enveloped me. “We had no idea.” My Sisters’ expressions turned grim, and the air mingled with a cloud of uncertainty.
“They’ll find their way back. They always do,” Aunt Vanya said. My Sisters nodded in unanimous agreement, but worry lingered at the corner of their downturned mouths.
“But how could you not know?” I asked, my voice growing stronger. “Didn’t you notice? I can’t sense them anymore. Can you? Didn’t anyone tell you?” I paused, unsettled by the nervous glances they shared with one another. “Have you seen the Eldress? Will you bring me to her? I need to talk to her.”
Rada raised a cocked eyebrow at the others, but bit her tongue. “We don’t hear much in Rashii,” she finally admitted, dropping in a graceful heap of sheer fabric at my feet to level her eyes with mine. “We’re cut off from the Daughters here. For our protection. So we're not tempted to return. There are...wards around the city to prevent us from sensing our outside Sisters. And the Eldress.”
“But the Eldress is here. She should have arrived just before me.”
Aunt Vanya blinked, her eyes widening before her smile. “Oh, then that is good! She’ll be safe here,” she said reassuringly.
I gaped at her. “That is not good.” What was wrong with her? “The Eldress is ill. She is dying, and we need her out there mending the skies. We need all of you out there because the stitches are failing and the Daughters are missing and Prisha’s monsters—”
“So it’s true? It’s getting worse? All we hear about is the tension and whispers of war from Khazdra. They think Prisha is waging war to punish us for stealing their land,” Rada whispered, not bothering to let me finish. “Has Halah chosen a new Stitcher yet? Do you know? That would change everything for us.”
I wasn’t prepared for that question. “No,” I lied, shifting uncomfortably on the cushion. “Nobody can stitch the skies besides the Eldress.” At least that part was true. “But if you can help me find the Eldress...maybe she can help us get past the wards to get back and—”
“Zara...It isn’t safe out there. Too many enemies wish the Daughters harm. We need to stay here,” Rada interrupted, speaking in a kind but absolute tone.
“It isn’t safe in here,” I challenged, gritting my teeth in my frustration. If I didn’t figure out how to stitch the skies and hold back Prisha, the city walls would offer little protection against her wrath. It wasn’t safe anywhere. When did the Daughters of Halah become too afraid to protect the people and only care to protect themselves? Had all of them given up hope in the fight?
Rada smiled apologetically. “Of course. But it is safer. And the best thing to do is to stay here and pray for a new Stitcher while we fulfill the duties we’ve been assigned. Perhaps our Daughters will finally carry out the Prophecy of Dusk and Dawn and bring about an end to Prisha’s curse. That is the role we must fulfill. That is the role we can fulfill.”
From the end of the couch, lounging against the arm so her swollen belly rose like a sand dune, my elder Sister Juryasha choked on a sudden sob, her hand lost halfway into the caress of her abdomen. My other Aunt elbowed her sharply in the ribs, which only made Juryasha cry in earnest.
“Don’t mind Juryasha,” Rada told me. “She is anxious. Childbirth is hard, especially these days. But it’s what Halah has called us to do, even if it sends us to the stars.” She said this last statement with a scolding undertone, tossing a reproachful glance toward Juryasha.
Aunt Vanya narrowed her eyes back at Rada, and I gaped, still grappling with what she’d said. “Do not frighten the girl, or she will never do as she’s meant to,” Aunt Vanya snapped. I studied Juryasha nervously, who began to cry with great heaving sobs into Aunt Naila’s shoulder. Aunt Naila grimaced, but patted her head gently and played with the braids in her hair, consoling her.
“Why?” I asked, still stuck on Rada’s comment about joining the stars. “You mean they are dying?” I immediately regretted asking, for the question only made me sound like a small, frightened child. But not nearly as scared as Juryasha.
Rada shrugged, resuming her effort to stain my lips with the coral oil. “We don’t know what’s wrong, exactly. The prince has even broken some of the rules to help us. Just the one about royalty getting too involved with the Daughters,” she amended quickly. “How they’re not allowed to meddle or seek unions with us.” She twirled the end of the brush in her palm to reshape the bristles, shrugging airily as she continued, “It’s an old rule, really, meant to keep power in balance. At least, that’s what Prince Tiralish said. He thinks we should focus on rebuilding our lineage and getting stronger, especially with the threat of Prisha and the lack of a new Stitcher.”
She dabbed the corner of my mouth with a silk hand towel, frowning at her handiwork before slipping the cloth between my lips to make me blot them. “Anyway,” she continued, “he’s taken it upon himself to ensure the Daughters are seen by the best midwives at the palace in hopes that we can spare them. But even so...” She leaned forward now and dropped her voice to a whisper, eyeing Juryasha nervously, “They rarely return to us from the palace after birth. Just the babes.”
I rubbed my lips together, considering the information. The oil tasted subtly sweet...like the tinoya fruit I’d shared with Rue. I caught his eye, but Rada yanked my chin back to brush another layer over my lips. I shivered.
“Would you sit still and stop fretting?” Rada scolded. “The only thing you need to worry about today is today. Deal with the rest tomorrow. The people are so excited to greet you. I’m meant to make you presentable, and right now, you look as though you’ve lost a battle against a thousand crawlers.”
Rue snorted from the corner of the room.
“Why are you still here?” Rada snapped at him. “Go away.” A moment of tension filled the air, and for a second, I wondered if Rue or Rada would win the battle of wills. But it was Rada—of course it was Rada. Only an elder Sister could prove more intimidating than a shadow monster from the In Between. And she was my true blood Sister, so her instinct to protect me ran deep.
Rue met my eyes for half a second, then dipped his head in a modest bow, one I recognized as a mockery, but to the rest, I knew it appeared appropriately respectful. I wanted to tell Rada to let him stay, but she’d already moved on to stripping me of my garments.
Basmina’s head popped through the door at the far side of the room, sending a strip of daylight across the walls. “Are you ready yet? They are waiting. Why does this part always take so long?” A rush of noise slipped through the parted door—laughter and chatter, vendors hawking their wares with boisterous cries that cut effortlessly through the rest of the din. Not only sounds filtered through the door, but also smells. Charred meats, honey, and complex arrangements of spices mingling together in the air, wafting through the crack until my stomach rumbled with an audible growl. Rada giggled at me and adjusted the leather waistband of the gown, which she pulled over my head. “Well, good thing Ja' Rilaht usually involves a lot of eating. Time to go.”
When the doors at the far side of the room reopened, they spread wide and without reserve, eliciting a hush from the crowd and the focus of a thousand pairs of eyes on me. I lounged uncertainly against a sea of cushions, their fluffy abundance crowding me with a paradoxical sense of discomfort. My Sisters filed into line before me, adopting an unusual silence to match the crowd’s lull, but the bangles around their wrists and beads in their hair jingled softly to bring music to their movements. To bring beauty worthy of the descendants of Halah. My stomach writhed, unaccustomed to the attention. Unsettled by the praise…the hope inspired by the mere presence of Daughters and the mere suggestion of a fortuitous union to come. If only they knew this nonsensical tradition kept me from working to ensure their hopes and prayers for safety were not in vain.
The procession moved forward despite my every impulse to run in the other direction. Pulled by my Sisters, the sudden lurch of the palanquin jerked me roughly into the cushions before its movement evened into a more steady progression. I politely acknowledged the faces in the crowd, smiling warmly at the thousands of eyes upon me, but only one pair mattered. Only one pair stole the breath from my lungs, dissolving the rest of the crowd away until nothing else stood before me but him.
I knew I shouldn’t have searched for him...shouldn’t care to pick him out from the crowd, but he called my attention like the stars in a cloudless sky. Meeting his gaze settled my nerves in a way I’d never expected, nor wanted. They made me feel…seen. Safe.
Somehow, they’d become the internal compass I’d been missing, my North Star in a way that seemed both ill-advised and nonsensical. How could I have allowed my attraction for him to develop to such a point? But all the same, there they were. Luminous. Brilliant. Dancing for me. As if everything I’d begun to feel for him was both cherished and returned. His mouth twisted into a smile, and he bowed. “The stars favor you, Zara,” he mouthed when he lifted his chin again, and I frowned. Quite unconvincingly.
