Processing I

Ky'cina was against the emperor of Ry’keth but she was ruthless. I’d trusted her as an ally because I knew what she wanted, and I’d trusted her as a person because she was decent and rational. But in the end, she’d had Ky’sy’ana kill her lover—never mind that said lover was the emperor—and a teenage girl kill her best friend—who wasn’t innocent exactly but who was an exploited child—and I’d always figured she was responsible for other deaths as well.

I did what Val asked. I followed him down the trail—”My horse?” “I’ll come back and get her,” and through the city to a palatial townhouse.

His knife was off me, but he’d taken mine. Mud still clung to my feet. Out of place in this expensive neighborhood, I tilted my neck, looking up.

The building had a skeleton of arching metal bordering granite bricks. It blended into the facade of the city to some extent, not extending outward or retreating inward from the sidewalk; however, it went up a story more than its neighboring buildings and was crowned by a gold dome.

Val pushed me to enter ahead of him.

Inside was an entry room that matched the outside; ornate, but not unusual. A statue of the doorway god sat on either side of the inner door. You were supposed to bow to them upon entering a Ry’ke home; it constituted a vow to be a gracious guest. I didn’t feel like making that promise, and didn’t bow.

Being guided by Val like this, I kind of felt like I was on a set tour. Like they were making a movie for my book, with everything replicated in intricate detail. Hand-woven rattan rugs and tapestries, smooth hardwood flooring, mosaics in stone and glass embedded in the brightly painted walls. Long tables, gold sculptures sitting on some of them, and carved wooden chairs. Magical lighting, even though Ky'cina knew who that magic came from.

“Where’s Jayla?”

“She’s here. I think—I’ll let you meet, too.”

“You locked her up.” My voice was low and dangerous, startling even myself.

“I’m sorry—well, not permanently. And I’ve been making sure she’s okay, like her conditions are.”

“She’d hate being locked up, especially here. How could you do this behind my back?”

“Look—hang on, let me tie your hands.” He knotted them together tightly with a piece of cord. “I’ll let you see her, she’s fine.”

I followed him upstairs to what seemed like an ordinary bedroom. I could see it; them taking Jayla to a room that seemed normal to rest for a short time, then locking the door. For insurance against me…so it was like my fault.

“Stand back.”

After I did, Val opened the door.

A sharp inhale of breath.

“What?” I pushed past him. “What is it?”

He let me go into the room, seeming to be in shock.

Rain blew in, staining my cheeks. The window was shattered.

And Jayla was curled on the sidewalk fifteen feet below, blood in her hair.

I curled up too, on the ground of the room that had been in the cell, dizzy and sick to my stomach. I should jump out the window after her. I couldn’t move. If I’d listened to her properly, how she didn’t want to split up, this wouldn’t’ve happened.

I closed my eyes. Blankets shielded my view like curtains. I’d crawled under the bed.

No, get it together. Useless.

I tried to stand and hit my head. I needed to jump out the window and get to her. My heart was beating hard enough I thought it might break. I tripped again standing up.

Suddenly Ky'cina was in the room, Val standing apologetic behind her. She grabbed me by the wrist and pulled me up, spread my hands apart.

“Stop! Stop—! Let me go!”

“You’ve scratched yourself. Calm down.”

“Did you see? What’s going to happen to her? I, I, I—”

“Calm down.” She covered my eyes; I shook my head, trying to get vision again, but she moved her hand with me. With my eyes covered I was led through a sliding wall and into a little room. She left me, and locked the door.

I was going to cry. I was way too old to cry like this in public, it was embarrassing. I needed a protective skin I could draw up over myself and hide in.

I pressed my face to the floor and sobbed.

I was non-functional for some time. Jayla’s probably dead, my traitorous brain was saying. So what’s the point?

There was a point in going on anyway, to explore my own world, to protect my own life. To set things right in this world? That idea rang hollow. I’d set up a massive edifice of an enemy. In the end, it had been defeated, but by Ky’sy’ana and Lil, the United Liberators’ loyal spies. It wouldn’t get defeated in a better way by Naomi Furukawa, a random Joe Schmoe from planet Earth. That was why they hadn’t let me in on any secrets, wasn’t it?

Maybe Jayla was alive. She’d looked dead, curled like that on the ground, but in fact I couldn’t be sure. That thought bolstered me a bit. There was hope after all.

I fell into a restless sleep.

Knock, knock, knock. Some hours later, that knocking startled me awake.

I dragged myself up and looked around the room—I’d been too incoherent to before. It was lined with books mostly. There was no window, but there was another door. I opened it and found that it led to a tiny magic bathroom. In a way, that was bad news. It meant this was more of a long-term cell. I didn’t have my bag or anything on me, but I could probably find some items that would help me. For now, though, there was this person at the door. “Come in.”