Chapter 23: Terra

Someone banging on my door wakes me before sunrise the next morning, and I realize I slept all day and the rest of the night. Jesse meets me at the door, his arms full of gray and black clothing.

“Is there a funeral?” I rub my bleary eyes.

He shakes his head. “We wear training gear for Ascensions. I brought a few sizes. I wasn’t sure what would fit you the best.” He tosses me the clothing and then his brow furrows and he steps closer. “What exactly are you wearing?”

I glance down at my makeshift nightgown. “Clothing’s expensive, so usually I Bind fabric in place however I want. I made this from a few blankets I found in the closet.”

Jesse's eyes bulge. “What happened to not Lifting until the Ascension like we discussed?”

“This isn't Lifting. It barely took a trickle. Besides, none of the clothes in the drawers fit.” I can’t believe Duncan kept my clothes in the drawers—clothing made for a very small child.

He sighs. “You badly need an education on how this works. I feel like I’ve handed a toddler a bucket of water and now I’m stuck watching him slosh it all over the place. Bindings pull continuously from your ability. They'll tire you out more quickly than anything else. You wore that all night long?”

I nod.

He shakes his head. “Don't do that anymore. We have loads of clothes, I just didn’t think to bring any. Ask next time, okay?”

“Uh, sure. Sorry.”

“It's okay, I hope. I don't want to stress you out, but if you lose the first fight against Flynn, you can never join the Unit. Which is fine I guess, but it’ll look pretty bad.”

“Wait, I must have missed something. Why do I have to start at the bottom again? I’m Duncan’s daughter, and I challenged Kahn, not Flynn.”

“Well, at some point a long time ago, presumably during a time of great talent, it became annoying for the leaders to deal with so many challenges—the limitation on challengers being able to Lift a person wasn’t enough of a barrier. They changed the law so that any challenger had to work his way up the line in order to face someone higher up in the Unit.”

“That seems monstrously unfair. In order to actually fight Kahn, I have to defeat how many people?” Twelve? “Whereas he only has to fight me?”

Jesse shrugs. “That's how it works.”

“I better get dressed.”

“Yeah,” he says, “I told Dad we could have breakfast together.” He steps outside the door.

Once I’m alone, I release the Bindings on my fabric pieces and they slide to the floor in a heap. I pull several shirts down over my head before I find one that doesn’t drown me. I don't know where Jesse found clothing this small, since women aren’t ever a part of the Unit, but the last gray button down shirt I try and the smallest pair of black pants fit fairly well.

My brother’s waiting for me in the hall when I emerge. He gestures for me to follow him and heads down the interminable hallway. Eventually, we reach a long banquet hall that Jesse calls a dining room. Duncan’s standing near the massive wooden table at its center. “Alora.” He blinks several times, like he’s blinking away tears.

“Hello.” I’m not sure quite what to say to a man I don’t know, who’s acting like he’s happy to see me—but is the person from whom my mother ran.

“Uh, I’m sorry I slept so long,” I say. “I meant to wake up and see how your discussions were going.”

“Not at all,” he says. “I’m sure you needed the rest. We’re happy you’re here, and I might have made more progress yesterday without you there for them to fixate on.”

Jesse glances from Duncan to me, his look pained. He can tell I don’t know what to say. “We certainly are happy you’re here. We’ve missed you.”

I try not to snort or laugh or cry.

“Dad did look for you over the years, you know,” Jesse continues, as if he can’t handle me blaming Duncan. “He had to be quiet about it or it would have ruined Mom’s ruse. She faked your death before you disappeared, for your own good.”

Hence the gate guard thinking I died in that fire. Ugh. I can’t believe everyone thought I burned to death.

Still lost for words, I look down the length of the polished wooden table. It’s covered with platters and bowls and pitchers, all filled to the brim with fruit, breads, meats, and cheese. My eyes bulge a bit in what I’m sure is an unattractive manner. I’ve never been allowed to eat whatever I want with the troupe—food was limited and had to be doled out carefully—but Jesse’s piling his plate high, so I do the same. Marvelously, no one seems to care much what I grab.

Are we the only people eating all of this? I can hardly believe it.

“How did the discussions yesterday go?” Jesse asks. When my eyes widen—he doesn’t know?—he explains. “Dad was still arguing with Flynn and Stefan when I went to bed.”

“The men are coming around slowly,” Duncan says. “Your arrival was a shock to pretty much everyone, myself included. But I think most of them assumed as I did before your birth—that the prophecy would never really be fulfilled.”

“The Followers of Amun believed in it quickly enough.” I think about the volley of arrows they aimed my direction—twice—and I shudder. “Are they still threatening me outside the city?”

Duncan shakes his head. “We managed to kill a dozen or two from the wall, and the rest of them retreated. It’s only a matter of time before we hear something else. Devlin will either attack us in force, or he’ll send an envoy to negotiate for your release. It’ll depend, of course.”

Devlin? He uses the man’s name like they’re friends. “It’ll depend on what?” An envoy doesn’t sound too bad, but an attack in force? I close my eyes.

“Devlin’s hotheaded,” Duncan says. “But as the leader of the Followers of Amun, he almost always takes the time to think things through.”

“Do you. . .know him?” I ask. “Sounds like you were close.”

Duncan frowns. “We trained together. For quite some time, Isis and Amun repaired tensions between us, you know. But we. . .fell out.”

“Dad stole his girlfriend.” Jesse’s trying not to smile, but clearly he knows some story.

Which perversely upsets me. Clearly there’s a whole family history here from which I’ve been excluded.

“The exordium hardly lets you choose,” Duncan says. “To say I stole her is unfair.”

I don’t even want to think about the stupid exordium. Ugh. Time to change the subject back to the real issue. “You said it depends—how Devlin will respond? Invasion or diplomacy? Depends on what?”

“On whether they believed you when you shouted that you’re Alora Sterling,” Jesse says. “Because Devlin will surely know that Dad would never surrender you—so sending an envoy would be a monumental waste of time.”

“You’ve seen the prophecy at this point,” Duncan says. “Jesse told me he pointed it out in your room.”

I nod. “It’s pretty confusing, though.”

“That it is, which is exactly why the Followers of Isis have always advocated prudence. Wait and see what it may mean before taking any hasty action. Terra and all its people matter to us, clearly, but we aren’t convinced that augmented strength for the men and restoring women to their former power, whatever that is, would be bad.”

“But what about the beginning of the end and the creation of the endings? Or whatever that said,” I mutter. “That part was bizarre.”

“Like any prediction of the future made thousands of years ago, it’s not especially clear.” Duncan shrugs. “I’m hardly unbiased, however, as I certainly care less about the dumb prophecy and more about keeping you safe.”

The rest of breakfast with Duncan is weird, but Jesse keeps the conversation going. They both go into great detail about different men and their fighting preferences, which would mean more if any of the fighting methods or the names of men they use mean anything to me. We've finished eating when I realize my hair’s still hanging loose around my face.

“Can I get a tie or strap to pull my hair back?”

“What do you usually do to keep it away from your face?” Duncan asks. “It looked. . . complicated yesterday.”

“I usually Bind it in place, but Jesse said I shouldn't waste my strength on things like that.”

Duncan smiles at Jesse. “I think if she's accustomed to doing it, it should be okay. But maybe wait to do it until I introduce you in the arena.”

“Okay,” I say. “But why?”

“Smart,” Jesse says. “To maximize the intimidation factor.”

They think that Binding my hair back will scare trained fighters? Then again, Lifting the tray yesterday freaked the maid right out. Citizens’ rules are odd—and I clearly have no idea what to expect around them. I follow Duncan and Jesse out of the castle and back to the courtyard.

The columns of soldiers awaiting my arrival yesterday seemed imposing and large, but more than five times as many people are milling around now, vying for positions near the raised arena. The sun still hasn’t come up, but lights flicker in huge sconces along the stone walls at the edges of the courtyard. Large posts at intermittent intervals around the courtyard also provide light from lanterns hung from hooks.

I grab Jesse's arm and tug him down low enough that I can whisper in his ear. “Who are all these people?”

“Mostly they're nobles from the areas surrounding Sterling, as well as their family and friends, but some Unit Leaders have traveled from farther out.”

“Every single person here is noble?” I ask.

“Everyone here is related in some way to a Unit member or leader with Isis. Dad wanted to open it to the public, but far, far too many people gathered. We had to limit things somehow, and it’s common for Unit Leaders to observe other Ascensions. They say they’re scoping ideas, but really, they’re spying on their competition. In this case, Dad’s hoping your performance will generate some additional support for defending you from whatever force Amun brings.”

“I thought everyone within Isis was on the same side.”

Jesse laughs. “Sure, in theory, but we have a series of contests each year and all the Units are invited, from both Amun and Isis. We haven't had a real war with the Followers of Amun in decades, so it's easy to forget how strongly we disagree on some fundamentals.”

Fundamentals. Like whether women have value, and whether I should be killed, for instance.