Page 97 of The Moon Blessed King
Fen thinks of it. A life outside court. A life of travel, observation: service. She could do good in the world. ‘I’m a slow learner,’ she tells Cieli. But Cieli smiles, and reminds her:
‘The one thing you and I both have…is time.’
She’s right. She’s very right. And Fen knows, deep in her chest: her brother would let her go. Adalei would too. They’d let her leave, let her grow beyond the walls of Kreuzfurt and everything she has hated for so very long. There is nothing Zinnitzia can teach her. But there is something she has yet to take accountability for. ‘I owe you an apology,’ Fen murmurs. ‘I hated Reapers. I hated them with everything I had. Death was something to be feared and avoided at all costs. We’re taught this from such a young age that it never occurred to me that…it’s wrong.’
‘You’ve always said Stello Alest is your best friend.’
‘Yeah.’ She bites her lip. It’s hard to meet Cieli’s eyes, and it’s hardnot to let shame force her to look away and avoid the judgement she knows she deserves. ‘I decided he was an exception. Everyone else…the rest of the Reapers were just as bad as I knew they were. Cat wasdifferent.Cat wasspecial.And the more I saw or heard him insist he was a Reaper, an Alelunen Reaper at that…the more I insisted that he wasn’t. I wasn’t a good friend to him either. I owe him an apology too.’
‘You’re the one who insisted that everyone get along, that everyone speak to each other, make friends.’
‘Because it was the only way I could think of to make people actually work together on the problem,’ Fen huffs. She closes her hands into tight fists and feels her nails dig in against her palms. ‘But I didn’t pay attention to what I was actually saying. Zinnitzia always said I was an idiot, and now it just seems so obvious.’
‘Why now?’ Cieli asks.
‘Because Zinnitzia was right. She said that the Exalted areone, that Reapers and Givers belong together. We’re not only two sides of the same coin but two halves meeting each other in a looking glass. I convinced myself that Reapers were people that needed to be managed and controlled because, left on their own, they would bring nothing but terror and strife. And yet…look what Givers have done.’ She casts her arm out to the side, trying to encapsulate all the victims of the plague, the past few weeks of torment and conflict. ‘I hated and blamed a people I didn’t understand just because others told me it was the right thing to do. BecauseIwas afraid of death.’
‘Death is something to fear,’ Cieli says.
It is a horrible thing for a Reaper to say. Fen shakes her head. ‘No,’ she murmurs. ‘We shouldn’t be afraid of the things that make us who we are. And we…we are nothing without death. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was afraid of you…that I was prejudiced against you and your people. That once…I thought the idea of locking Reapers away wasn’t a bad thing, because your comfort was less important tome than mine. I’m sorry, and…I want to do better. In everything, moving forward.’
For a long while, Cieli stands before Fen as if carved from stone. Then, she says: ‘To die is to change. That is what we celebrate in Alelune. Every change, every chance to become something new. I believe, Fen, you died today.’ It is a metaphor, a suggestion. It is said with grace, and with invitation.
‘I hope my change is good,’ Fen replies.
‘I believe it will be.’ And it feels, for the first time, that someone truly does believe that Fen can succeed.
Food returns to the city, slowly but surely. Fen watches as their rations begin to include more and more fruit, the occasional slice of meat. Cheers go up through Crowen. Laughter echoes occasionally through the streets. Someone plays the oud out their window and the city sings together, hopeful of the turning tide. And still the Exalted work day in, day out. The patients come and the Exalted piece them together one by one, team by team. Fen watches Reapers laugh at jokes Givers tell. She watches friendships form, the exchange of kisses. Fen thinks of soldiers, thinks of stories of the war where bonds are formed and never forgotten. Things will never be the same again, she knows. She knows, too, that there will never be another Kreuzfurt – where Reapers and Givers live separated from one another.
‘There were only forty new cases today,’ Cieli points out one evening.
Fen tilts her head at that, considers it for all it’s worth. ‘Only forty?‘ she asks, just to be sure. They heal more than that each day. If they can heal faster than people get sick – Cieli grins.
‘That’s it. I think…we might finally be getting ahead.’
And Fen doesn’t think she has ever once felt relief more profoundthan in that moment. She laughs, pumps her arms in the air and asks to hear the numbers again tomorrow. The rate goes down again.
And again.
Until there are no new cases, only lingering ailments. And then, then – Zinnitzia comes with news. She calls for all of them. Her voice carrying from one end of the hall to the other. She hands Fen a letter with a broken seal. She already knows what’s inside. Fen opens it, with all the eyes of the butcher shop on her. Elician’s perfectly neat handwriting crosses the page from one end of the letter to the other. Her heart goes to her throat as she slowly reads over the document. All around her the world has gone soft and quiet. Fen finishes reading. Her lips quirk into a grin. She looks up at all the people who have done nothing but fight this plague endlessly in the hope of trying to keep their country alive. Carefully, she climbs up to stand on the butcher counter so she can look at every single person in the room. All the Exalted, all their companions, all those who have recently been healed and those who have lingered looking for hope. ‘It’s a letter from King Elician,’ Fen announces. ‘As of three days ago, the plague in Alelune has been contained.’ Startled gasps and whispered words of confusion fill the room. ‘And,’ Fen goes on, ‘the people of Alelune have crowned a new king: Alest, son of Alen—’
The room explodes with sound. Reapers are screaming with joy. Cat’s Reapers are throwing their arms around each other, hissing gasps and exclamations. Kreuzfurt’s Reapers are chanting his name. Someone rushes out into the street to tell it to all the world. There is barely a moment’s pause, and then the cacophony rises.
Voices are everywhere. Bodies are rushing to and fro. Someone starts, strangely enough, playing Soleb’s anthem. People begin singing and dancing and, in the crush and swell of delight, Fen looks to Zinnitzia, and Zinnitzia grins. ‘We’ve been forgiven,’ Zinnitzia confirms. ‘It’s over.’
Cieli reaches up and helps Fen off the counter. Her arms wraparound Fen’s body and Fen hugs Cieli back as tightly as she can. Her fingers crinkle Elician’s report, but it is irrelevant now, in truth. Soon, she knows she will see him in person.
Finally, their world is at peace.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Elician
Alest descends to the underground cells himself. The cages were opened at his word, but the same woman who gave the order returned to say the Reapers had not left. It is exactly as Brielle said, all those months ago. Even if the cages are open, where would they go? And so, Alest goes to them. He walks down into the darkness of his childhood, and when the faces of his people see him, the sound they make is in perfect, aligned harmony.
It is a great cacophony of noise bursting out from the nothingness, echoing from one cage to the next. Alest steps forward and reaches into one cell, then the next. He never makes it to the third. They all emerge on their own by then. They scramble forth, hissing and reaching. He hisses and reaches back. They touch him, embrace him. Elician stands by, silent and watching. It is not his place to interfere. He memorizes it anyway. It is beautiful.
Rows and rows of emaciated bodies crawl forth and draw in close behind Alest. They stumble but never fall. Hands and arms and bodies that have always yearned for touch but have never been granted the relief catch each trembling form and keep themselves steady and unified as they leave the dark behind.
