Land of Perpetual Night: An Empire of Ash novel by Miri C. Golden

Author:Miri C. Golden [Golden, Miri C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-01-19T20:00:00+00:00

21

Signs and Wonders

TROA AWOKE TO an empty room, but sounds from downstairs told tales of Omi moving about. She sat with an airy groan, wiping sharp crust from her eyes. A peek at the bedroom window found a world cloaked in darkness. Not even dawn. Why in Ruin was Omi making so much noise this early?

When a loud clang rolled out of the kitchen, Troa’s mouth drooped with the racket. That was an intentional clang. Omi wanted her up, likely to talk while alone—and doubtlessly about rot she didn’t want to discuss. Her friend avoided talking of wolves and governors with the rest of Cedar Squad as Benn still turned green when the subject came up, and Sera’s guaranteed vitriol lasted for hours. Both made for a wretched day in the field, so Omi saved that agony for when they spent time by themselves.

After Troa cradled her head, she jerked her uniform off the bedroom chair and dressed. A touch of color still lingered from last week’s bruises, but at least they didn’t ache anymore.

“Oh, you’re up,” Omi said when Troa descended the ladder and tossed her gear on the floor. “Great. I made breakfast.”

Troa raised an eyebrow. “What’s the occasion?” They had assembly this morning, but patrol assignments hardly merited a big to-do.

Omi started to speak but changed her mind, turning back to the stovetop instead. “It’ll be ready in a minute. There’s tea on the table for you.”

Giving her friend the side-eye, Troa sat and palmed the tea, bracing herself for whatever misery-dredging conversation Omi planned. Her brow dipped as she sipped the scalding drink. She set down the mug and stared. The kitchen stood in perfect order. It hadn’t looked this way in months. She twisted. The living room, too.

Troa paused her roving gaze on the pair of rocking chairs, and hot thorns of acrimony prickled her skin. Dad’s chair stood as it had since he died, but Shekyvah’s chair, the one she shoved in the wolf’s ransacked room back in the fall, now stood beside his again—down to the angora blanket slung over its back.

Troa straightened, readying an ass-chewing, but the kitchen’s wall-mounted calendar caught her eye. All her anger and indignation evaporated, turning to steam and clinging to her lashes as mist.

As Allian always changed the calendar, up through last night, its tiles read zero-eight-two-one, as if time stopped that awful day and never resumed. But this morning, those tiles read zero-six-zero-one: twenty days before summer solstice.

Today was Mom’s birthday.

Troa shredded a shaky breath.

Shekyvah’s birthday. Shekyvah’s birthday.

“I’m visiting the oak before assembly,” Omi said as if offhand, speaking of the tree where Dad and Zora rested among its roots—Shekyvah’s sacred place. Allian should’ve rested there, but the Imperium claimed the remains of dead traitors. Those, they reduced to ash to be forever scattered on the wind.

Omi carried a platter of thin cardamom cakes to the table along with a pair of plates and a carafe of syrup. “Want to come?”

Troa couldn’t look at her.

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