LIV

“VIS! BELLI! AREN’T YOU GOING to join us?”

I sit on the dune, arms around my legs, watching the clear blue waves as they glitter in the early morning sun. It’s before breakfast; as little as I wanted to come down here, I know I can’t be seen as disinterested or overly standoffish. Emissa’s waving at us. She and Indol are in light clothing, swimming and splashing in the shallows. Behind me, the palace is hidden just over the high, jagged cliff to the east. I refuse to look toward it.

“I don’t really swim,” I say apologetically as Emissa jogs up.

“Neither do I. It’s shallow enough not to matter. I promise.”

I’m not able to be convincingly cheerful. “Thanks, but I’m happy just to sit.”

Emissa narrows her eyes at me but then sighs, turning to the girl reclining a few paces away. “Belli? What about—”

“No.” Belli pushes back a long strand of curly red hair, giving Emissa a firm look.

Emissa rolls her eyes. “You two are no fun.” She runs back to Indol.

I lean back, closing my eyes and letting the warmth of the sun caress my face. There’s no pleasure in the act, though. No pleasure to being here, at the beach where I used to play with my siblings. It was once one of my favourite spots. I can almost see Ysabel doing cartwheels along the sand, or Cari building the elaborate sandcastles that I took far too much pleasure in knocking down.

Instead, a little way along, I see the place where I dragged Cari’s lifeless body to shore. Where I spent too long and not enough time trying to revive her. And then the inlet where I released her body to the sea. Watched it tumble and roll as it was taken by the rip. The last of my world borne away with her.

“Not much of a swimmer?”

I’m shaken from my thoughts, twist to see Belli looking at me with some amusement. She must have seen my expression as I stared out over the water.

I force a chuckle. “Not my favourite thing.”

“We have that in common.” She makes a disdainful motion. “It’s fine while you’re actually in the water, but the sand afterward… ugh.”

“Exactly.” Not something that’s ever bothered me, but Belli’s so aloof, I’ll take any chance I can get to connect with her. “You’d prefer to be inside at a game of Foundation, I take it?”

“Something like that.” She looks over at me curiously. “Do you know how to play?”

I almost laugh aloud at the presumption, though I suppose it does make a small amount of sense: most orphans would have neither time nor inclination to learn the game. “The basics.” I’ve seen her in action on several occasions now: she’s technically proficient but has none of the inventiveness of a great player, makes no moves that I couldn’t see old Hrolf having made.

“Do you want a game?”

I wave my hand to indicate hurried refusal. “I’ve seen you play. I’ve got no interest in being humiliated, thanks.” I smile to show it’s meant as a compliment. Skill at Foundation is valued almost as highly as being able to run the Labyrinth, in the Academy. There’s no point revealing I can play until I can take full advantage of it.

Belli shrugs and resumes her observation of the others.

“Did you ever play Callidus, when he was in Three?” It’s not planned, but I’ve been wondering about their relationship since seeing them together after the Festival of Pletuna. A gentle prod won’t hurt. “He’s mentioned that he enjoys the game.”

It’s subtle, almost imperceptible, but Belli tenses. “Ericius? Rotting gods, no. What a waste of time that would have been. There’s a reason he’s a Seventh.”

“He’s smarter than that.”

“He never showed it when he was with us. And why else would he be in Seven?” She glances over.

“You’re wrong about him.” There’s something off about Belli’s words. I don’t think she’s faking her dislike of Callidus—my presumption of romantic involvement was, I’m rapidly realising, wildly inaccurate—but she’s watching my reactions too closely.

I lose whatever I was going to say next as I spot movement at the far end of the beach, a single figure trudging toward us across the sand from the palace path. It’s Fadrique, the man’s balding head and broad shoulders distinctive even from a distance.

“Looks like we’re being summoned,” I observe to Belli, trying to tamp down my uneasiness.

The red-headed girl turns to lazily observe Fadrique’s approach, then gives a grunt of what I suspect is relief. “Time to go!” she shouts at the two in the shallows.

Emissa runs up, long hair dripping and shining in the sun. Her clothes cling to her.

“Have fun?” I keep my eyes firmly on her face.

She flicks water at me playfully. “I did. I haven’t been swimming in… I don’t know how long.” She leans close, lowering her voice so that only I can hear. “I was thinking of maybe sneaking out after dinner and coming back, actually. If last night is anything to go by, it will certainly be warm enough.”

I glance at her. There’s the hint of an invitation there. It’s undeniably tempting, but I need the evening to try the tunnels again, to make sure the summit is actually being held where I expect it to be. “More swimming. Enjoy that.”

She grins back, though I don’t think I’m imagining the glimmer of disappointment in her eyes.

Everyone’s gathered by the time Fadrique arrives, allowing me to keep myself positioned at the back of the small group. I can see my father’s former adviser mentally checking off that we’re all present once he reaches us. He doesn’t pause when he looks at me.

“Your father thought it would be instructive to break fast in town today,” he says eventually, addressing Indol. “You won’t have many opportunities to see the island once your training starts.” Despite this being a month away from the Academy, I’ve been left under no illusions as to what we’ll be spending most of our time here doing. As Belli bluntly noted when I questioned it, “We don’t want to let you Fourths catch up.”

Indol looks around at the rest of us and, seeing no objections, gestures. “Lead the way, Sextus.”

I try not to let my concern show as we start along the beach toward the main township. Risking Fadrique’s presence is one thing, but mingling with the people of Suus is quite another. I often travelled into town with my father, who always insisted that a king was useless if he did not spend time among his people. Too many of them knew me by sight.

But I can’t think of a way out, either. It’s too early to fake illness; if I play that card now, its efficacy tomorrow night will be greatly reduced. And multiple days of being bed-ridden will raise questions, draw more attention than I would like. A single day and evening, and I may not even have to fake symptoms to the local physician.

So instead I fix on Fadrique’s back as he prattles cheerfully to us about the wonderful changes that have been made in town since the Hierarchy came. It’s all I can do to prevent my hands balling into fists. My father trusted this man. My family trusted him.

“A bit disturbing, isn’t it,” murmurs Emissa from beside me.

I blink, then follow her gaze ahead, where I suspect she thinks I was staring. Belli is talking to Indol, walking close to him. Very close. The Dimidius’s son looks distinctly uncomfortable.

“Oh, I… oh. When did this happen?”

“Last night. I think we may have accidentally done Indol a disservice, leaving him alone with her for so long.” She shakes her head solemnly.

I choke back a laugh. “We’ll have to apologise later. How did we not notice?”

“Well. I did, after I went back to them. You had admirers of your own to fend off, I suppose,” Emissa says cheerfully.

“Hm.” I watch the two of them. “You don’t think Indol might be a little bit interested?”

Emissa hides a smirk. “No. Trust me.”

We’re entering the township. It’s grown since the expansion of the port, main streets paved, a hundred similar-looking stone houses dotted around its outskirts. The streets are busy, horse-drawn wagons moving alongside Will-powered ones, many of them taking timber down to the docks for transport. Trade was always Suus’s primary source of wealth, and it seems the Hierarchy has worked hard to increase it over the past few years.

Fadrique continues to tell us pointless facts about Suus, though at least these ones are accurate. The streets here are eerily familiar, but the weary faces are not. There’s a mechanical torpor to the bustle. My people were a people of verve, of passion, of cheer and laughter as they toiled. Now they’re Octavii. Enough energy to work. Not enough to find the joy in it.

Finally we stop in front of a tavern I recognise: an institution in Suus that overlooks the harbour. I’ve been here before. It once wore the royal insignia over the entrance. Only empty wood remains in the space it used to be.

“The finest food in Suus,” Fadrique assures us as we’re urged through the doors. There are a few people reclining on benches outside, and though Fadrique doesn’t seem to notice, the glares they give him are anything but friendly.

The interior of the tavern is spotless, bright and cheerful, with large windows to the water letting in plenty of morning light. Several customers lounge at tables. At the sound of the door opening a huge man emerges from the back, broom in hand and a broad smile on his face, despite the telltale dark bags of an Octavii under his eyes. He’s Suusian through and through: sun-browned skin, broad shoulders, and gleaming white teeth. The last disappear as soon as he sees Fadrique. “You’re not welcome here.”

Fadrique laughs awkwardly at the blunt, and clearly honest, statement. “Now, now, Menendo. I was just telling the Dimidius’s son and his friends about how things have changed since our transition to the Republic.”

Menendo’s eyes rake over us, and I swear there’s a flicker of hesitation when he looks at me. My heart stops, but he moves on, his scowl progressively deepening. “You mean since the invasion? The one where they hanged our king and his family like common criminals in the square? Is that what you’re talking about, Fadrique?” The broom in his hands is looking more and more like a weapon.

Thankfully, everyone’s so focused on the innkeeper that they don’t see the way my face drains of blood at his words. Don’t see how I’m light-headed with emotion, just for a second, before I can recover myself.

Indol steps forward smoothly. “Sir, please. We don’t want to cause trouble. We’ve been told that you serve the finest—”

“Get out.”

Indol’s lip twitches. He draws himself up, affronted. “I am the son of Dimidius—”

“I said get out.” The calmness in Menendo’s voice is more menacing than a shout could ever have been.

I can’t help but drink it in. This is what I’ve been waiting to see, have been desperate to see, since I arrived. Menendo will get in trouble for this, but he doesn’t care. He hasn’t forgotten my family. He hasn’t forgotten Suus. There’s a lump in my throat at the realisation.

“Come on.” Fadrique is flushed, glaring but retreating. I notice for the first time that almost to a man, the other patrons’ expressions are stony as they watch Fadrique. It seems the man’s far from popular.

Indol looks like he wants to argue the point, but Emissa tugs on his arm, and then we’re leaving.

“That was unacceptable!” Indol fumes once we’re outside. I can see the others looking varieties of outraged and shocked, too. “When my father hears of this—”

“Let me speak to him about it. Please.” Fadrique says it quickly. “This is my fault. My mistake in bringing you here. Menendo’s a stubborn man. I should have known he would react that way.”

Indol’s mouth twists, but he relents.

We find our meal elsewhere, after that—a small shop run by a Catenan citizen suits our needs—and though our shoddy treatment is the topic of much offended discussion for a while, eventually everyone seems to forget about it. Soon enough the conversation turns to our plans for training, the areas to be focused upon hotly debated. My opinions, when I bother to voice them, are largely disregarded. For all their friendliness over the past couple of days, it’s clear they all still very much see me as a Fourth.

I’m not bothered by the discovery at all.

For the first time since we got here, I feel just a little bit like I’m home.