Page 26 of Guardian of Exile

They wandered for over two hours, with no particular direction Nyx could identify. If forced to explain it, she would say Evra was going off vibes. Every now and then the Amazon would stop and talk to people—typically teenagers or unhoused individuals—and Nyx would listen and try to figure out how she did it. She wouldn’t have thought Evra, who was direct to the point of rudeness, was the type of person who could go up to random people on the street and have them be receptive to her inquiries.

She wasn’t even subtle about it. Usually she’d walk up to them with the kind of determination that typically made a person think maybe she was considering violence against them—and, okay, yes, many did get a slightly terrified look in their eyes at her approach—and then she wouldn’t even say hello, she would just start asking how well they knew the area and the people. She’d segue into how her sister had a heart defect the doctors said was unfixable, but she’d heard rumors of a guy who could work miracles, if you knew where to find him.

Sometimes they just shrugged and said they were sorry, they didn’t know. A few people directed them to nearby houses of worship that held faith healing nights. Nyx might have considered checking those out—it wouldn’t be a bad place for a Shaman to work—but none of the people mentioning them had the sort of enthusiasm that came from believing they’d actually experienced what, to Dead Earthers, looked like a miracle.

A few people gently suggested counseling could help Evra come to terms with her sister’s condition. What none of them did? Tell Evra to fuck off. Maybe it was that her story had the ring of authenticity to it.

“Does Tamrin actually have a heart condition?” Nyx asked as they walked away from the latest group.

“She did. She was born with it, though we did not know it at the time, of course. When she was fifteen, it simply stopped working during a training exercise. Chest compressions saved her from lasting damage until our local Warlock arrived to return the organ to normal function, but they informed us that only a Shaman could actually repair the defect. Until then, too much stress—physical or otherwise—might kill her.”

Nyx waited, but Evra didn’t elaborate. “So a Shaman did fix it?”

“Yes. Eventually. They are not so easy to access, though my mother’s history of service to the Enforcers allowed Tamrin to be placed ahead of many others already waiting. But Shamans are small in number. The universe is vast, and everyone wants a miracle for the person they love.

“We were informed it would be three years before she could be seen. Her heart stopped another three times in the next two years. The last time, the Warlock did not think they would be able to bring her back.”

“So did they move her up the waiting list?”

“No. I lost her to Arkadia, where Tobi saved her.”

Nyx was quiet. She couldn’t imagine living with the kind of fear and anxiety that must come from knowing someone you loved could die at any moment. Not the theoretical possibility of a random accident befalling them, but the knowledge that their body had given out at one point, and no matter what you did, it would do so again. And it made her wonder…

“I know what you are thinking,” Evra said. “You are wondering why she was with me the day she was lost to Arkadia.”

“Yes.” If too much stress could literally kill her, why bring her on a job like that?

“It was not my choice. I didn’t want her training at all, after the first time it happened. But Scythians are stubborn. Tamrin insisted she would rather risk death than be less. As if not training could make her less.” Evra’s words turned bitter. “My mother was so proud of her. Tamrin was so fearless, so dedicated, so strong. I was the weak one for wanting her to be safe. And when mother insisted I take her with me on the prisoner transport, I was the weak one for losing her.”

Nyx reached out and squeezed her hand. “Caring doesn’t make you weak.”

Evra gave her a humorless smile. “It is words like those that make me certain there is not a drop of Scythian blood anywhere in your ancestry. Mother likes to claim Father polluted mine, while she ran true in Horus and Tamrin.”

Nyx flinched. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

Evra shrugged. “That is Moriana al’Daemon.”

“Also, I thought your father was Scythian.”

Evra sighed. “My father is a farmer.”

Nyx blinked. “Like tilling soil and planting seeds and harvesting vegetables? That kind of farmer?”

“What other kind of farmer is there?”

“Knowing what I know of Scythians, I thought it might be something more along the lines of Farmer of Fear or Sower of Bloodshed. You know, the kind of farmer who reaps a deadly harvest.”

Evra snorted. “Alas, even Scythians must eat. It is why the planet has a robust immigration policy for people willing to do all the necessary trades Scythians would rather not. My father was one of them. He is a sweet man. Stars alone know what drew him to my mother. She is as mean as a Morabeast.”

“You know,” Nyx said casually, “Morgen is a sweet man, and some might describe you as, ah, prickly.” Evra shot Nyx a glare of death, proving her point, but Nyx wasn’t foolish enough to point it out. “Anyway, how did your father feel about the situation with Tamrin?”

“After her heart stopped the first time and Mother allowed her to continue training, he did not speak to Mother for six months. It made family dinners quite awkward. When Tamrin’s heart stopped the second time and Mother allowed her to return to training, my parents separated and he attempted to gain sole custody.

“He thought he had a chance, as it had to go through a hearing with representatives from both parental cultures, but greater weight is always placed on the family side native to the planet the child is being raised on, and none of us al’Daemon children have citizenship on our father’s planet. Mother insisted we didn’t need it. My father had made his life on Scythia with no plans of returning to his homeworld, so he had not thought she was wrong.

“She was as vicious in court as she is on the battlefield. She went for the quick kill and she did not fail. By the time she was done, he only retained visitation rights because she allowed it. He was completely stripped of all decision-making in Tamrin’s life.”

Nyx’s face must have displayed her shock, because Evra said, “It is what Scythians are taught to do—win at any cost. I think it horrified my mother, afterward. My parents had had a mostly happy marriage before they disagreed over Tamrin’s condition. The cracks were there, of course, as I believe they are in so many relationships. Most people are simply not run through the crucible that will turn those cracks into breaks.”