Tainted

Chapter Four

I watch my hand slip the ruby into my pocket.

"No," I beg, but my body doesn't listen to me. "Please, put it back."

But I only smile in the dull mirror, my face wicked.

I jerk awake, my heart beating rapidly. I thrust my hands into the pockets of my tunic, but there's nothing there, save for lint and gravel. Sighing with relief, I lean my head back against the hard stone floor.

That's not you, I think, desperately. But it is me. Maybe not the wicked smile, but the stolen ruby? That is me: the Thief.

I blink, slowly, and let out a breath. Up above, I can see the faint outline of stars against a sky not quite blossoming to dawn. I can just barely make out Dynami's constellation poking out beyond the lip of the skylight; the bend of her knee, the tip of her dagger. My mother used to tell me the Dynami stories when I was a child. Dynami was a hero in the time just after the fall of Gaia when the Lord of Shadows was rippling through the world. People were going mad, the Fated were struggling to make sense of the words painted across their arms, kings and queens were felling on another; it was chaos. The world was sorting itself out, and Dynami was there to help.

She was an unexpected hero. She didn't come from wealth or training; she came from a small village in the very center of what's now Choravasi. It was there that the Lord of Shadows brought his army of the undead to war against the living children of Gaia. The children of Gaia would have died if not for Dynami and her quick thinking to set fire to the undead where they stood. They couldn't die from swords or arrows, but they could burn. There's a plot of gray, gnarled trees standing like ghosts in a field where that battle took place. It's been centuries, and yet nothing has been able to grow out of the scorched soil. It's as if the earth wanted to leave it dry—a reminder that not all wounds can be healed.

My mother used to tell me that I was her little Dynami, her little unexpected hero. She used to say I'd go on to do great things.

It wasn't until I was thrown in the prison that I learned others told the Legend of Dynami a little differently. For them, the story wasn't about a hero who'd saved her people, it was about a woman who'd burned down a forest.

"Are you awake?" Binks asks. She must see my eyes reflecting the torchlight.

"Yes," I answer.

There's a rustling as Binks rolls over onto her side. I can see her dark form moving out of the corner of my eye.

From my left, there's an even, rattling breathing. Ezzi.

My heart sinks. Before this last month, she was the one calming us with evening stories, but lately she's been passing that duty off to Binks. Ezzi's getting worse, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.

"What's up?" Binks asks.

"The sky," I say automatically. I smirk. I know I can't actually hear her eyes rolling, but a part of me feels like I can.

"I meant why are you awake," Binks says.

The image of my own wicked face in the rusted mirror flashes before my eyes.

"Dreams," I say, which is about as close to the truth I want to get.

Jak's cellmate coughs. I hear Jak murmuring something, and I don't know if it's to his cellmate, or for his cellmate. Either way, I hope the Goddess is listening. May she take both of them by the hand when their time comes.

"Naughty dreams?" Binks asks.

I snort. "Binks, I came here when I was fourteen. Goddess knows I didn't do anything naughty enough before then to have dreams about."