Startled resentment crossed Rift’s expression. “Yes,” Rift admitted, biting the word off as if it hurt to tell the truth. “How did you know?”
There was something about Rift’s attitude that suggested it. The warriors born out of royal clutches always seemed to be the troublesome ones. “Just a wild guess,” Moon said. Across the room he saw Drift, who had been pretending not to listen, roll his eyes in derision.
Rift’s sideways look was dubious. Moon said, “Why didn’t the queens like you?”
“I had a fight with one of the reigning queen’s favorites.” That wasn’t a good reason to be exiled, either. Moon hadn’t even been in the court that long, and he knew young warriors frequently attacked each other. River and Moon had tried to kill each other right in front of Pearl and Jade, and nobody had suggested exiling anybody.
Moon asked, “Did you kill her?”
Rift flicked his spines. “Of course not.”
Moon sensed the story had just veered off the truth again. Rift’s answer had been too easy. Moon thought an adult female warrior, especially a favorite probably from a royal clutch herself, could have beaten Rift into the ground. And if the fight was so violent that Rift had killed his opponent in self-defense, that wouldn’t be such a terrible thing to admit. Moon said, “So they threw you out of the court for losing a fight with a queen’s favorite?”
Rift’s jaw set as if he suppressed some strong emotion. Moon knew in his bones that this was play-acting. Rift said bitterly, “If that’s how you want to describe it. It wasn’t fair, but it’s what happened.”
Moon watched him for a long moment, but Rift’s gaze didn’t waver. He knew he hadn’t gotten the truth yet, but Rift seemed committed to this story, at least for now.
He got to his feet and walked out, randomly picking another doorway off the stairwell. The room within was thankfully empty, a little smaller than the others on this floor, with long narrow windows letting in light and the damp air.
There was a quiet step behind him and he glanced back to see Balm.
She stopped and said, “He’s not like you, Moon. He’s a real solitary, exiled from his court for a good reason.”
Moon rubbed his eyes, trying to be patient. He suspected he was going to be having this conversation a lot. “You don’t know he’s not like me,” he said, aware he was just being difficult. “I could be lying.”
Balm shook her head in exasperation. “You don’t know anything about living in a court. You have to have everything explained to you, and when we do explain it, you look like you think we’re crazy. Everyone who speaks to you notices that. No one is that good a liar.”
Moon turned away abruptly and sat down against the wall, folding his arms. He had expected to have the conversation, but not that it was going to be about him. Balm followed and sat on her heels in front of him. He said, reluctantly, “It could have been me. Everything Rift did. When I was alone, I was just looking for a place to live. If I’d been hurt, trapped, and been found by someone like Ardan, who was kind to me… Even if he wanted to use me, I might have gone along with it, just to belong somewhere.” He waved a hand in frustration. “That’s exactly what happened with Stone. I crossed the Three Worlds for the first person who asked me.”
“The first Raksura who asked you,” Balm corrected, unconvinced. “Back at the colony tree, you told me what I should do. Now I’m telling you. This solitary is not like you. Thinking of him that way is a mistake.” She sat back. “He’s even changed his name. No one calls a child ‘Rift.’”
Stone had said much the same thing about Sorrow, the warrior whom Moon had thought of as his mother. But a warrior who changed her name to Sorrow because her court had been destroyed and she was left alone with four small Arbora and a fledgling consort to care for was understandable. A warrior who left his court and called himself “Rift”… “I know. I know I can’t trust him.”
Balm watched him. “Do you trust us?”
Moon couldn’t answer. Maybe he didn’t trust them. Maybe he was pretending they were his family, going through the motions, but deep in his heart he didn’t really believe it. It would explain a lot, he told himself. Like why you keep acting like an idiot.
Balm shook her head regretfully. “Sometimes it doesn’t seem like it. Did you think we would have let that noisy little Emerald Twilight queen touch you?”
It had never even crossed his mind that they might defend him. From a Fell or a predator or some other common enemy, but not from a Raksuran queen, even one from a strange court. It was an uncomfortable insight.
His inability to answer told Balm all she needed to know. She sighed and squeezed his knee sympathetically, then pushed to her feet and walked away.
Chime passed her in the doorway, and Moon hunched his shoulders, feeling beleaguered. “Don’t say she’s right. I know she’s right.”
“That wasn’t what I was going to say.” Chime sat down, settling uneasily on the cracked tiles. “She is right, though.”
Moon rubbed his forehead; the tension and the long night underground had given him a headache. “What were you going to say?”
“Nothing. I just… I don’t want to worry Flower. Especially now, when she’s trying to talk to Stone.”
Moon squelched a surge of guilt at the mention of Stone. “Worry her about what?”
Chime sighed. “I keep having these… odd feelings.”
“Odd how?”
Chime made a vague gesture. “Like I can feel water moving, and… cold and weight and rock. I’m twitchy, like I can just catch glimpses of things that flick away before I can focus on them. The feelings come and go, in bursts—which is good, because otherwise I’d go out of my head.”
That definitely sounded odd. “When did it start?”
“Since just before dawn, when we landed on this creature.” Chime shrugged, obviously uncomfortable with the whole idea that he might have some sort of heightened awareness of the leviathan. “I know. If it’s a coincidence, it’s a strange one.”
“Is it a mentor thing? I mean, are you…” Knowing how badly Chime felt about his involuntary change to warrior, Moon hesitated to suggest that Chime might be getting his abilities back. If he wasn’t, if it was just his imagination… Hope was painful.
But Chime shook his head. “No, it can’t be. Augury isn’t like this. This is different.”
“Then you should talk to Flower.”
“I know.” Chime slumped. “I’m tired of strange things happening to me. I just got used to being able to fly, and to hunting, and all the other things I’m supposed to do now. I know this is the only way you’ve ever seen me, but to me it still feels like it just happened.”
“No, I know what you mean.” Moon felt like he was reliving his past at regular intervals, whether he liked it or not.
Flower stepped into the doorway, gave the room a sour look, then came to sit down next to Moon with a grunt of effort. “Consorts,” she said, in a tone that made it sound like an insulting epithet. “Old, stubborn, obstinate consorts.” She eyed Moon without favor. “And you. You have to be coaxed to do everything except risk your life.”
Moon fumbled for a rebuttal as Chime said, “Are you all right? You look terrible.”
Flower transferred her glare to him. “If you ask me that one more time, I will curdle your liver.”
“Hah, good luck trying to slip me the simple to do it with.” Chime leaned close to her, despite her attempt to bat him away. “You’ve got blood trails in your eyes.”
Moon took her hand. Her skin was the matte white of extreme age, no trace left of its original color, though there were traces of gray in the creases around her wrist and on her palm. He wondered how many Raksura were left in the court who remembered what Flower had looked like in her youth, if her skin had been bronze or copper or some shade in between, if her hair had been black or red-brown. Stone was more than old enough, and maybe Bone. Pearl might be, but he wasn’t sure. He hadn’t learned to judge the age of queens yet. He said, “You should rest.”