GRAVESKIES

Chapter 22

"Hello, dear. How are you feeling?" Fern did not answer to the woman who'd let herself inside her room. Fern's accommodations in the Repertoire were less than satisfactory—her room was no larger than a closet. Storyteller sat down next to her and handed her a cup of ice cream.

"I hope you hold no resentment towards me."

"Why would I ever?" Short-lived, there seemed to be a glimmer in her eye.

"You must've come a long way. I assume this is different from who you used to be."

"It is." Fern didn't know to judge people much beyond her own instinct of whether to trust them or not. And even before she'd seen what Storyteller had done, she had never trusted her.

"If you don't mind, where do you come from?"

Fern froze. Put her silver spoon down. Her abdomen tensed.

"What will you give me for that information?"

"What did Ryujin give you? What—you thought I hadn't guessed she knows more than the rest of us?"

"You're no Ryujin."

Storyteller chuckled. "That I am not. Well, isn't it obvious? I give you this."

"Ice cream." Fern blinked. "I'm not a kid. Or an idiot. Whatever you want from me, I won't play along. You can stop trying. I stood at your side once. I will never make that mistake again."

Eyes flashing, face wrinkling in anger, Storyteller grabbed her by the collar, fist pressing a bruise against her throat. "You remember, don't you?"

"You must really believe in yourself if you think your gift can affect me. Are you so arrogant that you believe your gift could affect me? You are is just a dilution of my kin."

"Have I told you what would happen if you told Ryujin?"

Fern paled.

"Oh, I have, haven't I?" She shrugged. "Actually, I don't care. You could talk to her, Fern. If you're ready to cause her so much sorrow and guilt, you could break everything I've built. Or you could let her keep her happiness. You could let me protect her."

"I won't tell a word."

Only minutes after Storyteller's departure, someone else entered her bedroom.

Fern couldn't be sure, but by the white hair and snow-pale skin, she had to be the Rakian Ambassador Sylvia.

"You know what she wants from you, right?"

"Do you?"

"I have no reason to get involved. I don't care about your country, but I do care about the survival of mine. If you tell her anything about the gods, like where they exist, or how they function, both are compromised."

"Why are you saying all this? Do you know anything about the gods at all?"

"No. But I have an inkling as to what she could do with that information."

It was a shame none of them really understood the nature of gods. Fern was no longer like them. Hadn't been like them in a long time, since she had first fallen and first failed to remain purely immortal.

*   *   *

Four days later, the morning before the festival, Ryujin tried to warm up, do some simple exercises to rust off and get her mind away from the experiences she'd been having at night. As a location she chose the field where her group of trainees had often been assigned to practice. No point in hiding from memories anymore. When she'd arrived in her room this morning, before sunrise, for several good minutes she had the impression that she'd been transported back in time. In the mirror, the skimpy, scratchy kid she'd failed looked back at her. When she tripped and fell to the ground, her knees had looked tiny like pebblestones, knobby and bruised. Every centimeter of her being accused her, because every atom of her flesh had longed for her to be someone that'd passed her by.