A Torch Against the Night (An Ember in the Ashes #2) - Sabaa Tahir Page 0,56

It does matter.”

Her round face is filled with love. It will be filled with horror if she knows what I did. This will hurt her far more than the Martials ever could.

“Always so afraid of the darkness within.” Mamie takes my hands. “Don’t you see? So long as you fight the darkness, you stand in the light.”

It’s not that simple, I want to shout. I’m not the boy I was. I’m something else. Something that will sicken you.

“Do you think I don’t know what they teach you at that school?” Mamie asks. “You must believe I am a fool. Tell me. Unburden yourself.”

“I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want anyone else hurt because of me.”

“Children are born to break their mothers’ hearts, my boy. Tell me.”

My mind orders me to stay silent, but my heart screams to be heard. She is asking, after all. She wants to know. And I want to tell her. I want her to know what I am.

So I speak.

«««

When I finish, Mamie is quiet. The only thing I haven’t told her is the true nature of the Commandant’s poison.

“What a fool I was,” Mamie whispers, “to think that when your mother left you to die, you would be spared from the Martials’ evil.”

But my mother didn’t leave me to die, did she? I learned the truth from the Commandant the night before I was to be executed: She had not abandoned me to the vultures. Keris Veturia held me, fed me, and then carried me to Mamie’s tent after I was born. It was my mother’s last—her only—kindness to me.

I nearly say as much to Mamie, but the sorrow on her face stops me. It doesn’t make a difference now anyway.

“Ah, my boy.” Mamie sighs, and I’m certain I’ve put more lines on her face. “My Elias—”

“Ilyaas,” I say. “For you, I’m Ilyaas.”

She shakes her head. “Ilyaas is the boy you were,” she says. “Elias is the man you have become. Tell me: Why must you help this girl? Why not let her go with the rebel, while you remain here, with your family? Do you think we cannot protect you from the Martials? None in our Tribe would dare betray you. You are my son, and your uncle is the Zaldar.”

“You’ve heard the rumors of a Scholar who can forge Serric steel?” Mamie nods warily. “Those stories are true,” I say. “The Scholar is Laia’s brother. If I can break him out of Kauf, think of what it could mean for the Scholars—for Marinn, for the Tribes. Ten hells, you could finally fight the Empire—”

The tent flap bursts open, and Afya enters, Laia trailing and heavily hooded.

“Forgive me, Kehanni,” she says. “But it’s time to move. Someone told the Martials you entered the camp, and they wish to speak with you. They’ll likely intercept you on the way out. I don’t know if—”

“They will ask questions and release me.” Mamie Rila stands, shaking out her robes, her chin high. “I will not allow a delay.” She closes on Afya until inches separate them. Afya rocks very slightly on her heels.

“Afya Ara-Nur,” Mamie says softly. “You will hold your vow. Tribe Saif has promised to do its part in assisting you. But if you betray my son for the bounty, or if any of your people do, we will consider it an act of war, and we will curse the blood of seven generations before our vengeance is spent.”

Afya’s eyes widen at the depth of the threat, but she merely nods. Mamie turns to me, rises on her tiptoes, and kisses my forehead. Will I see her again? Feel the warmth of her hands, find comfort I don’t deserve in the forgiveness of her eyes? I will.

Though there won’t be much to see if, in trying to save me, she incurs the Martials’ wrath.

“Don’t do this, Mamie,” I plead with her. “Whatever it is you’re planning, don’t. Think of Shan and Tribe Saif. You are their Kehanni. They can’t lose you. I don’t want—”

“We had you for six years, Elias,” Mamie says. “We played with you, held you, watched your first steps, and heard your first words. We loved you. And then they took you from us. They hurt you. Made you suffer. Made you kill. I don’t care what your blood is. You were a boy of the Tribes—and you were taken. And we did nothing. Tribe Saif must do this. I must do this. I have waited fourteen years to do