When I heard the scrape-scrape-scrape of feet on metal stairs, I turned to see a tall, lean older woman loping toward me. Her long hair shone like the side of a transport floater. I recognized her from the picture next to Teka’s bed.
“Hello, Miss Noavek,” she said. “My name is Zosita Surukta.”
Zosita wore the same clothes as her daughter, the pant legs rolled up to expose her ankles. There were deep lines in her forehead from a lifetime of scowling. Something about her reminded me of my own mother, poised and elegant and dangerous. It wasn’t easy to intimidate me, but Zosita did. My shadows traveled faster than usual, like breath, like blood.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” I said. “Your name sounds familiar.”
Zosita cocked her head like a bird. “I’m not sure how I could manage to make the acquaintance of Cyra Noavek before now.”
I didn’t quite believe her. There was something about her smile.
“Teka told you why I’m here?” I said.
“Yes,” Zosita said. “Though she doesn’t yet know what I will do next, which is to turn myself in.”
“When I asked her for a name,” I said, swallowing hard, “I didn’t think it would be her mother’s—”
“We are all prepared to face the consequences of our actions,” Zosita said. “I will take full responsibility for the attack, and it will be believable, since I am a Shotet exile. I used to teach Shotet children how to speak Othyrian.”
Some of the older Shotet still knew other languages, from before it was illegal to speak them. There was nothing my father or Ryzek could do about that—you couldn’t force a person to unlearn something. I knew some of them taught classes, and that doing so could earn a person exile, but I had never thought I would meet one.
She tilted her head, to the other side this time.
“It was, of course, my voice that spoke over the intercom,” Zosita added.
“You . . .” I cleared my throat. “You know Ryzek’s going to execute you. Publicly.”
“I am aware of that, Miss Noavek.”
“Okay.” I winced as the currentshadows spread. “Are you prepared to endure an interrogation?”
“I assumed he wouldn’t need to interrogate me if I came of my own accord.” She raised her eyebrows.
“He’s concerned about the exile colony. He’ll want to get whatever information he can out of you before he . . .” The word execute stuck in my throat.
“Kills me,” Zosita said. “My, my, Miss Noavek. You can’t even say the words? Are you so soft?”
Her eyes shifted to the armor that covered my marked arm.
“No,” I snapped.
“It’s not an insult,” Zosita said, a little more gently. “Soft hearts make the universe worth living in.”
Unexpectedly, I thought of Akos, whispering an apology in Thuvhesit, instinctively, when he brushed past me in the kitchen. I had played his gentle words over and over in my mind that night, like it was music I couldn’t get out of my head. It came to me just as easily now.
“I know what it’s like to lose a mother,” I said. “I don’t wish it on anyone, even renegades I hardly know.”
Zosita let out a little laugh, shaking her head.
“What?” I said, defensive.
“I . . . celebrated your mother’s passing,” she said. I went cold. “As I celebrated your father’s, and would have celebrated your brother’s. Even yours, perhaps.” She ran her fingers over the metal railing beside her. I imagined her daughter’s fingerprints, pressed there earlier minutes ago, now wiped clean by her touch. “It is a strange thing to realize that your worst enemies can be loved by their families.”
You didn’t know my mother, I wanted to snarl. As if it mattered, now or ever, what this woman thought of Ylira Noavek. But Zosita was already half faded in my mind, like her own shadow. Marching, in this moment, toward her own doom. And for what? For a well-aimed blow against my brother? Two renegades had fallen to Vas in that attack. Had it been worth their lives?
“Is it really worth it?” I said, frowning. “Losing your life for this?”
She was still smiling that strange smile.
“After I fled Shotet, your brother summoned what remained of my family to his home,” she said. “I had meant to send for my children when I reached a safe place, but he got to them first. He killed my eldest son, and he took my daughter’s eye, for crimes they had no part in.” She laughed again. “And you see, you aren’t even shocked. You have seen him do worse, no doubt, and his father before him. Yes, it is worth it. And it was worth it to the two who died trying to take down your brother’s steward. I don’t imagine you can understand.”
For a long time we stood, with just the hum of the pipes and distant footsteps to break the silence. I was too confused, too tired, to hide the wincing and flinching as my currentgift did its work.
“To answer your question, yes, I can endure an interrogation,” Zosita said. “Can you tell lies?” She smirked again. “I suppose that’s a silly question. Will you tell lies?”
I hesitated.
When had I become the sort of person who helped renegades? She had just told me that she would have celebrated my death. At least Ryzek wanted to keep me alive—what would the renegades do to me, if they managed to overthrow my brother?
Somehow, I didn’t care.