A War of Swallowed Stars Page 3

  “About Sorsha? Or Esmae?”

  He drops into the other chair, replacing Rama’s ghost. Like me, he sits straight and graceful. “Both.”

  “Sybilla sent me a text comm a little while ago,” I say. “Max and Titania are going to Ashma to see if they can persuade Ash to let a god use one of the Seven to kill Sorsha. I think they’re hoping Ash might also be able to tell them where Esmae is. If she’s even still alive.”

  That’s another reason for the guilt chewing me up. Like so many other people in her life, I blamed Esmae for a lot of things that weren’t her fault. I never wanted her to know that, but she found out on the Empty Moon. She was kind to me even after what I did to Rickard, and she almost died saving my life on the Empty Moon, and that was what she got in return.

  Rodi looks surprised. “Why do they think a god like Ash would listen to anything Titania and Max have to say?”

  I hesitate, but say, “I don’t know.” Only a few of us know the truth about Max. I don’t like lying to Rodi, but it’s not my secret to tell.

  “There’s a summit at the end of the week,” Rodi tells me. “All the heads of state in the star system, except for Elvar and Alexi.”

  “Because they’re the ones you’ll be discussing,” I guess. He nods. “I assume you’re going instead of Father?”

  “Yes. I’ll put in a word for Esmae and Max, but I don’t know how much good it’ll do.” Rodi sighs and tips his head back against the chair. “The other heads of state are livid. Alexi lied to his allies about Arcadia, nine countries lost soldiers when Esmae burned down Arcadia, and now we may all die because Alexi set Sorsha free. This war is going to be the end of us all.”

  “The other heads of state needn’t pretend they had nothing to do with any of this,” I say, annoyed. “Our father is the reason a weapon like Titania exists, Queen Miyo and King Ralf have been helping Alexi for years, and King Yann handed Elvar an obscene amount of silver before he died.”

  “All of which I will be sure to say to them,” says Rodi. “In fact, you can come with me and say it, too, if it’ll make you feel better. I think I can count on Ralf backing us up. Prime Minister Gomez, too. But I still don’t think it’ll make much difference. We’ll be outvoted.”

  I trace that tea stain again, round and round. “Outvoted on what?”

  “On what action to take.”

  “What do you think the others want to do?” I ask, alarmed.

  “If we’re lucky?” he replies. “Kill Sorsha and contain Titania.”

  “Containing Titania is not an option,” I say. “Rodi, come on. She’s not a monster. You know that. We grew up with her. When Father let her out of the dock, she used to hover right there.” I point to the big window at the other end of Rama’s suite. “Rama would talk to her for hours. He was the one who would beg Father to let her out more often. She was his friend. She’s my friend.”

  “I know who she is,” Rodi says, frustrated. “Do you think I don’t know that it’ll break her heart to be powered down and locked away somewhere? But she broke the laws of righteous warfare and the other heads of state are, understandably, terrified of what she might do to their countries if she feels like it.”

  “She only did what Esmae asked her to!”

  Rodi shakes his head. “We can’t tell them she’s sentient and deserves the same rights as the rest of us, and then in the very next breath tell them she was just a tool in Esmae’s hands.”

  “But both of those things are true—”

  “Radha, I know. I care about her, too. And right now, Sorsha is everyone’s priority, so I can buy Titania some time. But let’s say Sorsha dies, one way or another. Let’s say the star system gets its future back. What happens then? You do see, don’t you, that the other heads of state will turn on Kali if they can’t be satisfied that Titania is contained?”

  I think of the friends I have on Kali. Max. The kids of the Hundred and One who took shifts to keep me safe. And Sybilla. Sybilla most of all, Sybilla who will never abandon Max or Esmae or Kali even to save herself, Sybilla who failed her test of truth because she couldn’t admit even to herself that she cared about me, Sybilla who kissed me and now only sends me awkward text comms because she’s so lovably terrible at this.

  Princesses don’t slouch, Radha, but I wish they did. I’m exhausted. “The end of the war is the only thing that will fix this, isn’t it?” I say.

  “Yes. This galaxy will burn if they don’t find a way to make peace.”

  “What about justice for Rama?”

  “Justice and peace aren’t mutually exclusive.” Rodi looks over at a picture of Rama and me at the edge of the desk. It was taken on my sixth birthday. I have a mouth full of birthday cake and Rama has his arm slung around me. We’re both grinning, his teeth white and bright, mine smeared with purple cake. “You used to hate that picture. Raaaa-maaa,” Rodi’s voice goes high and whiney, “I’m not at allllll dignified in that picture. It’s not princessyyyyy.”

  “I did not sound like that,” I say, smiling in spite of myself.

  “What was it he used to call you?”

  “Caterpillar.”

  Rodi lets out a short bark of laughter. “That’s it. Caterpillar. Because you wanted so badly to be all grown up and graceful like a butterfly, but he insisted you couldn’t skip ahead. You have to be a caterpillar to become a butterfly, Radha.” Now it’s Rama’s lazy drawl he’s mimicking. “You can’t skip ahead.”

  I laugh, too, but it hitches. Like somewhere in there, the laugh is hiding a sob.

  Rodi’s smile fades. “I tried to get him back, you know,” he says quietly.

  “You did what?”

  “I thought maybe a god could do it. That they might have the power to bring a mortal back to life. I prayed to all of them, one after another.” He gives me a crooked, sad smile. “No one answered.”

  “Maybe it just isn’t possible,” I say.

  Rodi opens his mouth to reply but is interrupted by the notification chime of his watch. He glances at the screen and grimaces.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Father wants to see me,” he says, uncurling from the chair.

  “I’ll go with you.” The sooner I get what I want from Father, the sooner I can go back to Kali. Back to Sybilla.

  We find our father in his private parlor, with a tray of kaju sweets and black coffee on the tea table in front of him. Father gives Rodi an annoyed look when he sees that I’m with him, but he waves an impatient hand to indicate that we should come in and shut the door.

  Father’s shoulders are hunched over. Kings don’t slouch, Father, I am tempted to say. Of course, I don’t. He looks so old and tired. Maybe it was too much to hope that doing what he asked of me would make him love me, or to even just see me for once in my life, but at the very least I thought he’d be happy. He punished Rickard for what Rickard did to Lavya. Why isn’t he happy?

  “You wanted to see me, Father?” Rodi asks.

  “Those need to be assessed and signed,” says Father, pointing to a stack of papers on his desk.

  Rodi and I glance at each other. Father’s been doing this more and more lately: whether it’s paperwork, or the menu for a state banquet, or even a summit to discuss the fate of the star system, he’s been taking a step back and handing Wychstar’s affairs over to Rodi. It makes me worry. Whatever else has happened, he’s still my father.

  “Are you well, Father?” I ask.

  He gives me a sharp look. “Are you asking because you’re concerned? Or because you want to soften me up before you ask me, for the hundredth time, to commit my armies to Elvar’s war.”

  I am a princess. I am poised, calm, and patient. “It is not just Elvar’s war,” I say evenly. “It’s ours, too. Don’t you want justice for Rama?”

  Father’s hands grip the arms of his chair very tightly. However he feels about me, I’ve never doubted that he loved Rama. “As I have said before,” he says, his voice brusque, “to lend my armies to Elvar is t
o lend them to Rickard, and I will not do that. Not even in my son’s memory.”

  “Rickard can barely stand,” I remind him. “He’s not in command of Kali’s army anymore. You saw to that. I did that for you. This is what I want in return.”

  “Radha,” Rodi murmurs. “Let it go.”

  He knows I won’t. If there’s one thing all four of Father’s children inherited from him, it’s our doggedness.

  “Why aren’t you happy?” I can’t help but ask our father. So much for poise and calm. “You got what you wanted. Why aren’t you happy about it?”

  And to my surprise, he gives me a small, bitter smile. “I have been asking myself that very question.”

  I watch the way he keeps smoothing his left hand over his right thumb, over and over, like he’s reassuring himself that it’s still there. Pity makes me soften my voice. “Father, this war has to end, one way or another. I, for one, would like Rama’s killers to not be the ones who win. Let me prevent that from happening.”

  Father doesn’t know that the twins’ mother, Kyra, was the one who killed Rama. Rodi doesn’t, either. I know because Sybilla told me, because Max told her, and I promised I wouldn’t say a word. It’s another secret that’s not mine to tell.

  If Alexi wins, his mother wins. I’m useless in a fight, but I have to do something to help make sure that doesn’t happen.

  “Father,” I prompt, because he hasn’t said anything.

  Still, he doesn’t speak. He looks like he’s far away.

  “Radha, maybe you should come back later,” Rodi suggests.

  “Father,” I say. My teeth clench. “At some point, you have to decide who you hate more. Is it the man who once betrayed and ruined you? Or is it the people who murdered your son?”

  At that, Father looks up. His sharp, angry eyes meet mine. “Very well,” he says.

  Rodi drops his pen. I can’t quite hide my own shock. “You mean you’ll send our armies to fight with Elvar?”

  “As you said,” Father says, “at some point, I must choose who I hate more. So here we are. Leave what we need to defend Wychstar, and take the rest.” He pauses and adds, “On one condition.”

  There it is. I eye him warily. “What condition?”

  “I want to see him. Just once, before all this is over.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all.”

  Rodi and I glance at each other. Is it possible that our father, after all this time, is ready to put his past behind him?

  “I’ll have to ask Max to see what Rickard says,” I say.

  Father just nods, already far away again.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Titania

  Ashma rises out of a cluster of brilliant stars. From a distance, it looks like a small orb of darkness lit only by the starlight around it, but as I fly closer, we see cliffs and forests take shape out of the dark. The thing that stands out, though, is the Temple of Ashma, an ancient and enormous structure of stone, marble, and glass on top of the highest cliff.

  Like many of the gods’ celestial realms, Ashma is physically present in this star system but does not follow its natural laws. The human day-night cycle, for example, doesn’t exist on Ashma because Ash does not need it. Sunlight never touches the planet directly, and the only light here comes from the light that the surrounding stars reflect, and from the artificial light within the Temple itself.

  “Approach the Temple with caution,” Amba says to me, arms crossed tightly over her chest. She stares at Ashma with a tight, pained look on her face. I think she hates being confined to her mortal body and can’t bear that she now has to rely on me, or another kind of mortal transportation, to get across the stars.

  “Is there a shield?” I ask her.

  “Not the kind mortals construct to protect their territories,” says Amba. “To be perfectly frank, I’m not actually sure what Ash’s shields are like. I have never had to get past them. I have only ever come to Ashma at his invitation before.”

  “If Ash doesn’t want us here, we won’t get anywhere near the Temple,” Max says wryly. “He may be in his Sleep, but he’ll know we’re here.”

  An unfamiliar feeling sends vibrations along my wings. It’s not fear—that would be unthinkable!—but I think it’s something like it. Am I nervous? I suppose that would make sense; I have never met a god like Ash before. Amba and Kirrin, who helped King Darshan make me, don’t have Ash’s power. It stands to reason, therefore, that they also could not have built me to withstand power like his.

  “Can Ash damage me?” I demand.

  Max grins for the first time since we lost Esmae. “It didn’t occur to you before, did it? When you were so merrily insisting that we should come wake the most powerful god in the universe?”

  “You could try to sound a little less amused at the prospect of my untimely demise,” I sniff.

  “Indestructible means indestructible, Titania,” Amba says. “Even Ash cannot destroy you. That said, I suspect his power can affect you.”

  I am unimpressed with the lack of clarity. “Affect me how?” I ask. “Affect me like that gravitational pull on the Empty Moon that forced me to land and stay grounded until Kirrin decided otherwise? Or affect me in some other way that will leave me even more traumatized than that time I had to fly in the rain?”

  Amba rolls her eyes like she thinks I’m being melodramatic. The nerve. “I assure you, you’ll survive.”

  Max gives her a look. “But will we?”

  “That’s less certain,” she replies with the faintest hint of a smile.

  Once we enter the planet’s atmosphere, it becomes obvious that the skies above Ashma are stormy. There is, thankfully, no rain, but lightning crackles silently above the Temple and I have to work harder than usual to stay on course.

  I wait for some kind of tug, like the pull on the Empty Moon that forced me to the ground, but nothing comes. I approach the cliff as slowly as possible. There’s no landing space around the Temple, so I will have to hover. Inside my control room, Max and Amba are tense, their eyes fixed on the Temple like they can’t look away.

  Lightning blinks in and out above me. It seems closer than it was a moment ago.

  “Titania, get closer to the surface,” Max says sharply.

  “There’s only so close I can get—”

  “Now!”

  I huff, but I comply. Just as I am about to ask him why he’s become so high-handed all of a sudden, there’s another bright, jagged flash of lightning.

  This one hits me, sending electricity across my wings, and my system cuts out. Just like that. I go dark.

  The first thing I realize when I power back up is that there was space to land outside the Temple after all, because I am on the ground. It is solid, grassy, cold, and unpleasantly damp beneath me.

  The second thing I realize is that Max and Amba got out safely. They’re close by. Max is pushing himself off the ground, dusting grass stains off his hands and the knees of his battle gear. Amba follows suit, wincing. Her movements are stiff, and she has one hand pressed to her ribs.

  Max looks worried. “Where’s Titania?”

  Honestly. I am a whole entire ship. How has he missed me?

  He and Amba both look around, and it takes them a good thirty seconds to find me. They stare. And stare some more.

  “What?” I ask irritably. “What’s the unseemly gawping for?”

  Odd. My voice sounds a bit lighter and higher than usual.

  Max takes a step closer. “Titania?”

  “You’re being weird,” I inform him.

  Wait. Why are they so big? Why are they looking down at me?

  Did Ash’s power shrink me?

  Outraged, I squeal, “What did he do to me? How small am I? Please tell me you can’t fit me in your pocket! Lie to me if you have to, but do not tell me I can fit in your pocket!”

  Max takes another step closer and crouches beside me. Crouches. My humiliation is complete.

  “Titania,” Max s
ays gently, “can you get up?”

  Get up? What kind of absurd question is that? I just have to input the code that will get me into the air and—

  Nothing.

  Panicked, I launch into a full system analysis to figure out what’s wrong with me. My database and memory appear to be intact, but my physical functions are—

  I—

  Slowly, my line of sight lowers. No, not my line of sight.

  My eyes.

  I have eyes.

  I have hands.

  I have feet.

  I have clothes.

  I can’t fly because I don’t have wings.

  I’m not a ship anymore.

  I’m human.

  “It’s okay,” Max says, “it’s okay,” but I can’t hear him properly over the sound of these odd, sharp sounds that keep coming out of me.

  Breaths. That’s what they are. Panicked breaths.

  My system analysis tells me my heart rate is very high. System analysis? No, it’s a brain. I have a brain. And a heart rate.

  I try to rise, the way I would rise from the ground into the air, but instead of wings and machinery, I have wobbly, trembling legs. I balance on them, teetering back and forth, and then I try to take a step forward with one foot and immediately trip over the other foot.

  Max catches me. I am small, even smaller than Esmae. I don’t even reach his shoulder at full height. I suppose that must be because, in human years, I’m a child. My alien hands clutch his arms. I can feel the armored texture of his vam-braces, the fabric of his shirt. I can feel.

  The realization that I can touch sends me into a brief and wholly inappropriate frenzy of patting my hands all over Max’s face, arms, and chest, unable to quite believe that I am actually experiencing the textures of skin, hair, jaw, cotton, leather, and metal with real human hands.

  Patiently, Max lets me paw him like I have become an overenthusiastic puppy. His eyes smile in a way that I’ve never quite been able to see before.

  “Titania, it’s temporary,” Amba says to me, her calm, firm voice finding its way to me. “Don’t panic. Ash’s power over you won’t last.”

  “Why did it do this to me?” I ask in that lighter, higher voice. I sound like a young girl.