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  Mala’s eyebrows went up. “My friends say you’re a friend of theirs. They didn’t want to tell me more, and I know better than to ask questions.”

  From his studies of Adappyr, Thiyo knew it was a freer place than Nalitzva. Mala might not flinch at the idea of two men lying together. Still, he judged it safer to wait.

  Erinsk came up with a bowl of broth, followed by the two women. They stood at the foot of his bed, brimming with unspoken questions. Erinsk tried to hand the bowl to Thiyo, but Thiyo had only one good hand, so holding the bowl and feeding himself at the same time was out of the question. He forced himself up so he could hold the bowl in his lap and the spoon in his good hand. He was starving, but he wasn’t going to have this conversation while being hand-fed.

  They let him eat a few spoonfuls in silence. None of them moved or made any attempt at conversation. He sighed. “Just ask your depths-drowned questions already.”

  It was Ev who broke the silence. “You lived as a woman the whole time you were here?”

  “You don’t think of yourself as a woman,” Alizhan said. “At least not all the time.”

  “Yes,” Thiyo said, in answer to both of them. If Mala was surprised by any of this, it didn’t show. She sat perfectly still next to his bed. “Although I did rather enjoy being one. Some parts of it, anyway. The clothes.” Thiyo smiled at Erinsk.

  “I’m sorry,” Ev said. “I just want some clarification. That whole story was true, and it was about you? You slept with the prince, and then when that wasn’t working out, you slept with his fiancée? Because you thought that would fix things? And you think I’m dumb?”

  “I never said that, but thank you, I cherish the judgment you’ve passed on my recent, painful heartbreak—please tell me more.”

  Ev closed her mouth, abashed.

  Thiyo thrust his bad hand at Mala, and bless her, she held it. He was flooded with warmth. His whole body relaxed. He almost said you’re right, I made a lot of mistakes. But no magic was that good. Still, Mala’s touch made him generous with his forgiveness, so he dropped the subject and said, “Anyway, I was going to explain all of this, because it’s our way into the palace.”

  “They threw you in prison!”

  “They threw Thiyo in prison. They drugged me and beat me so badly that I can’t remember any of it. Not even where or how I was caught. But I know it was all done in secret. For all anyone knows, Lan has been sulking in her bed for two weeks.”

  “That’s absurd. Who could possibly sulk in bed for two whole weeks?”

  Thiyo decided to consider Ev’s response harmless and naive. Practical. Sweet, even. Viewed from a certain angle—a certain magical, medicinally induced angle—her whole selfless, stoic, set-my-jaw-and-ignore-my-feelings attitude was kind of attractive. Thiyo graced her with a smile and she looked absolutely baffled.

  Next to him, Mala shifted her hold on his hand and sighed.

  Erinsk shook his head, smiling a little. “She’s known for her moods, our darling Lan.”

  “And her sense of style,” Thiyo said. Erinsk beamed.

  “Okay, I figured out the story, but I don’t understand how this part helps us,” Alizhan said to Thiyo. “You were hard to read earlier, but now your whole head’s a mess. Ilyr knows about you, right? So if he’s the one who threw you in prison in the first place, and you show up at his palace as Lan, he’ll still know it’s you.”

  Mala was giving Alizhan an approving look. Well. If Mala didn’t hold Thiyo in high esteem, that wasn’t his fault. He’d met her in unfortunate circumstances. He regretted flirting with her, whatever he’d said. Thiyo removed his hand from hers. Alizhan was right: his head was a mess.

  “He didn’t,” Thiyo began, and found himself unable to say throw me in prison. The sentence was too painful to finish. Thiyo could accept the simple heartbreak—he doesn’t love me anymore—but the betrayal was too much to comprehend. Ilyr had loved him. They’d fought, of course. Ilyr had fallen out of love. Those things hurt. That didn’t mean Ilyr was the one who had sent anonymous men to abduct Thiyo and bash his head so hard he couldn’t remember it.

  Ilyr was an asshole, not a monster.

  The trouble was, even with a gut-deep certainty that Ilyr would never, ever have shared those poems with anyone, Thiyo didn’t know who else could have. He’d never shown them to Aniyat. They’d been so careful. Who knew the truth about him? Who knew the truth about Ilyr? Who wanted him in prison—or dead?

  Or perhaps someone had wanted to hurt Ilyr, and Thiyo had been collateral. But that would mean that Ilyr still cared for Thiyo, and that was too much to hope for. Or perhaps the architect of Thiyo’s imprisonment had erred. Perhaps the shadowy figure behind this plot had gone to Ilyr with threats against Thiyo, or proof of Thiyo’s incarceration, and Ilyr had let it happen.

  No. There were the poems to consider. Ilyr wouldn’t have let anyone see those. Thiyo’d had so much time to think on this in prison, and still the answer eluded him.

  He realized everyone in the room was staring at him, and it had been a long time since he’d said anything. “It doesn’t matter,” Thiyo concluded. “It’s true that Ilyr and Aniyat know, but no one else does. And Ilyr and Aniyat can’t reveal my secret without coming dangerously close to revealing their parts in it. There are five hundred guests attending the wedding anyway—”

  “The wedding,” Ev said.

  “You mean your ex-lover’s wedding to your other ex-lover,” Alizhan clarified helpfully. Thiyo glared. She took no notice.

  “It’s our best shot at entering the palace,” Thiyo said. “There will be so many people. A perfect distraction.”

  Mala interrupted. “Am I done here? I have a ship to get back to. And so do you two, if you want to get out of this city safely. Vines departs on the second triad of Yahad at the shift of the Rosefinch. Don’t miss us. Also, I’m not your mother, but please don’t get yourselves imprisoned again. Or tortured or killed. Ifeleh wouldn’t like that and she shouts when she’s angry. And Djal will cry.”

  She blinked and swallowed and said nothing of her own feelings.

  “We won’t,” Alizhan said, and she crossed the room to take Mala by both hands. It was the first time Thiyo had seen Alizhan touch someone without hurting them. Mala clasped Alizhan’s hands as if she were any other person. Alizhan didn’t react to Mala’s touch as if she were being drugged. That suggested excellent control on someone’s part—Mala’s, he assumed. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “Thank me by staying alive, little sister. Be there when we leave.” Mala turned toward Thiyo. “You, keep those splints on. Don’t do anything with that hand until it’s healed. And I swear by all the smoke and fire in Adap, if you get these girls hurt with your crazy plan, we will find you.”

  Thiyo really regretted flirting with her now. “Um. Thank you?”

  “You know how to thank me,” Mala said. She hugged Ev, nodded at Erinsk, and left the room.

  “I don’t like crowds,” Alizhan said to Thiyo, picking up where they’d left off.

  Ev, for her part, looked pointedly down at herself, at Alizhan, and then at Thiyo. They were all three different colors, none of which was pale enough. “You want us to blend into a crowd of wealthy Nalitzvans.”

  Thiyo grinned at Erinsk. “Blend? I prefer to stand out.”

  6

  Iriyat to Ilyr, Lyrebird shift, the 11th Triad of Alaksha, 764

  LYREBIRD SHIFT, THE 11TH TRIAD of Alaksha, 764

  My dearest Ilyr,

  I hope it does not trouble you to be addressed with such familiarity, even from a delinquent friend who does not write you as often as she ought to.

  Warmest congratulations on your marriage! My heart yearned to be there to witness your union, but as you know, the ocean disagrees with me, and it is not possible for me to travel to Nalitzva.

  Six cases of wine from my vineyards accompany this letter. It is a sweet yellow wine. You will recall the vintage, I hope, from our time together in Laalvur three year
s ago, when we shared a bottle with Mar ha-Solora on my balcony—the moment that preceded your historic voyage to the islands! It is an honor to know you, my friend, and to have witnessed history in the making, and I hope you drink this wine in good health.

  I wish you and your future bride a happy and fruitful marriage.

  * * *

  Accept, dear Ilyr, my most respectful and sincere friendship, and may God’s Balance keep you,

  Iriyat

  7

  Wai

  “THIS IS STUPID,” ALIZHAN INFORMED Thiyo. He’d dragged himself out of bed and made Alizhan and Ev sit with him in a little room at the back of Erinsk’s shop where clients would try on their new clothes. The bare, white-walled space wasn’t meant to hold three people and Alizhan was already feeling hemmed in. She and Thiyo were cross-legged on the floor, facing each other, and Ev was standing, leaning up against a wall. She’d left as much distance between herself and Alizhan as possible. “You’re going to get hurt.”

  “You said Mala taught you some control,” he said, skeptical. “Show me. I need to know what you’re capable of before we go anywhere together.”

  “You saw what I’m capable of in the prison.”

  “I saw that you have lots of power and very little control. If someone bumps into you at Ilyr’s wedding, are they going to drop to the floor? Because if so, we might as well walk back into that cell. So right now, I’m going to brush your hand and you’re going to make sure nothing happens.”

  Alizhan took a breath. She could do this. She’d touched Mala and Djal plenty of times, but they both had magical abilities, so their shields were strong. Like them, Thiyo was mostly unreadable, which might mean he had a gift. Most people at Ilyr’s wedding wouldn’t be like him. They’d be like Ev, unprepared to protect themselves from Alizhan’s painful, invasive touch.

  Alizhan had hurt Ev the first time they’d touched. Since then, they’d managed once—and only once—to hold hands without any ill effects. Alizhan had cleared her mind and focused and kept herself in check. She still couldn’t believe it had worked. She hadn’t had the courage to try again. It meant too much. Before, it had been hard enough to clear all of Ev’s desire out of her head, and now Alizhan had to contend with her own. She lay in bed during her sleep shift and thought of Ev’s warm, smooth skin. With that much want inside her, how could she ever hope to concentrate?

  Thiyo’s hand brushed the top of hers and the shock of it slammed through her. His whole arm went slack. He fainted, slumping forward, and Alizhan caught his head before his face landed on her crossed ankles. Her hands made contact with his skin and sensation poured through her until her eyes rolled back.

  From the corner of the tiny room, Ev said, “Smoke and fucking fire,” and that was the last thing Alizhan heard.

  He clung to his mother’s hand as they looked out over the strip of sand and the vast water beyond it. No sails interrupted the horizon yet, but Mama swore Papa was coming home. “You’ll grow up to be just like him,” she’d said as they’d walked down to the beach.

  “But I failed the test.” They’d stuck his hand in the water—and his feet, and his head—over and over, but he’d never been able to answer their questions. He’d barely understood the questions to begin with, even though he liked words. How could he know where a medusa was, just by sticking his hand in the water? And why would he want to? Medusas were terrifying. Every time Papa left with the other hunters, there was a chance it was the last time. Thiyo hated waiting on the beach.

  “Sometimes gifts take time to manifest,” Mama said. Hunters like Papa were rare and special. They protected the islands from monsters and waves and mainlanders. And they brought back medusas to harvest their venom. “You’re young. It might still come.” Thiyo knew she was saying it because she wanted it to be true. But he’d done the test dozens of times. He wasn’t a hunter. He didn’t have that gift. “And even if it doesn’t, you can still sail. Papa needs help, doesn’t he?”

  Mama had a gift, too. She could talk to anyone in Shadeside or Deep Forest or Summit or High Lagoon or Cove. Even people who lived in far away Li and Kae, where there were even more languages. Mama could speak them all. Any time there were visitors, she went to the council meeting to speak with them. Currents of sound rushed all around her and she channeled them through herself. It was beautiful. Better than hunting. When Thiyo had gone with her to the All-Island Council and listened to her manage all the arguments about the number of medusas each tribe could hunt, he’d felt the pull of those flowing sounds, with their meanings shimmering underneath. He’d wanted to dive in and catch them. Words had swarmed and swirled like a school of fish in the shallows, and every now and then, he could snatch one from the rest. Mama never looked happy when he talked about that. She said he’d do better to practice catching real fish.

  A sail appeared, cutting across the water. “Here he comes,” Mama said. “When the time arrives, you’ll be the one sailing, and we’ll wait for you on the beach.”

  If Thiyo ever sailed, he’d go back to the All-Island Council, or he’d listen to people in Li and Kae with their unusual, musical words. He’d cross the whole ocean and listen to all the mainlanders. He’d let their words wash over him until he could breathe them in and out. What good would he be, chasing after medusas? They were ugly and dangerous and they never made a sound.

  “Watery fucking hell,” Thiyo groaned. He squeezed his eyes shut but an image burned behind his eyelids. A city built at the water’s edge on high red cliffs. He’d never been there, but somehow he knew it was Laalvur. He remembered—but how could he possibly remember a place he’d never been?—darting through the narrow streets, keeping to the shadows, scrabbling up a wall, pushing himself up and wriggling through a tiny window. His body felt foreign. There was so much of it. When he opened his eyes, the sight of his legs crossed in front of him unnerved him. Had they always been that long? His feet were gigantic. A wave of dizziness rolled through him. “You could’ve just cracked my head into the wall and spared me this.”

  Alizhan’s face was startlingly clear in its squinting, accusing expression. He felt as though he’d never seen anyone’s features in such detail, although he had. And despite how huge he felt, the dressing room seemed bigger and airier—and so quiet. He couldn’t feel what anyone was thinking.

  That’s what it’s like to be her.

  “It hurts me too, you know. And I did try to warn you,” Alizhan said, closing her eyes and pressing her hand to her head.

  Thiyo reconstructed the last few minutes—the immediate past, in his own body, and not whatever he’d just experienced. He’d touched Alizhan. It had felt exactly like cracking his head into a wall. He’d underestimated her badly. He must have lost consciousness. They’d been facing one another at the time, but Ev must have moved them to opposite sides of the dressing room since then.

  This house was so much smaller than the ones Iriyat usually sent her to. And it was down close to the harbor, not near one of the fancier neighborhoods. There wasn’t a library inside, only a single shelf of books in the dark bedroom. Iriyat hadn’t said which one to take, exactly, just that the writing wouldn’t be any script she knew. She checked all twenty-two, opening each one and flipping through it. One book was like that. She’d never seen such spiral writing. The whole book seemed backwards. But Iriyat hadn’t asked her to read it, only to steal it. Thin and bound in tan leather, it was easy to slip off the shelf and into her clothes.

  Thiyo pinched the bridge of his nose. The writing was indistinct in Alizhan’s memory because she hadn’t been able to read the script. But it was the first one he’d ever learned. Hoi.

  There shouldn’t be any Hoi books on the mainland. That was forbidden.

  “You’re a thief,” Thiyo said. He’d learned a lot about Alizhan from that little fragment of memory. “You stole a book for Iriyat.”

  “For Iriyat?” Alizhan said. “No, I stole a book from Iriyat and that’s what started this whole mess.”


  “Not that book. One from a long time ago, I think. You were—” Thiyo assessed her height, trying to measure her against what he’d felt “—even smaller in the memory. It was about this big, not too thick, and bound in tan leather. I remember thinking—or you were thinking, in the memory, that you didn’t usually go to small houses in town for her. Iriyat. I’d like to know more about her, before I get any more involved in this.”

  Alizhan pursed her lips and ignored his last sentence. “You saw a memory. Damn. I was hoping it was only me this time.”

  That alarmed him, and then he remembered she already knew the secret. It was easier to draw breath after that, but to cover his concern, he favored her with a suggestive smile. “I hope you enjoyed it.”

  In the corner of the room, for just an instant, Ev scrunched up her face. Alizhan, either oblivious or indifferent, said, “I don’t know if I did. It was kind of sad, I think. But your home is beautiful. The ocean always looks so dark in Laalvur, and we don’t have white sand like that. And your mother—wow. No wonder you wanted to be like her. She just seemed so tall and powerful and gorgeous. I guess that’s how you thought of her as a kid. Did your father come home?”

  Depths drown it, why had she seen that of all things? Thiyo didn’t want to think about his mother, let alone be like her. It was easier to answer the question about his father. “He did until the one time he didn’t.”

  “I’m sorry,” Ev said.

  “Tell me about that book,” Thiyo said, changing the subject.

  “I don’t remember much,” Alizhan said. “I’d never seen that language before and I’ve never seen it again. I don’t know what Iriyat wanted with a book she couldn’t read.”