The Speaker by Traci Chee

Author:Traci Chee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Young Readers Group
Published: 2017-11-07T05:00:00+00:00

“‘We were dead, but now we rise,’” Sefia read, turning his left arm. And the right, “‘What is written comes to pass.’” With each word, her voice grew heavier, and softer.

The boys had quieted now. Archer stared at them—at their flushed, fervent expressions—and at Kaito, who looked at him like an eager dog that doesn’t know it’s about to be kicked.

“Why would you do this?” Archer asked.

Kaito tried to smile, but it came out half-formed. “Because we’re bloodletters. We’re your bloodletters,” he said, sounding confused and hurt. He glanced around. Then, as if he didn’t know what else to do, he bowed his head and crossed his arms. “We offer you our allegiance.”

In that moment the tattoos seemed to blaze like black flames. Frey and the boys looked like warriors from some far-off battlefield, from some far-off myth. And Archer was their great leader.

At last, it hit him, really hit him: the following he was building, his gift for killing, the way destiny seemed to guide their blades.

What is written comes to pass.

Was it him? Was he the boy with the scar? What if, all this time, they’d thought they were fighting the Guard, when in reality they’d been doing exactly as fate had prescribed? As the Book had prescribed?

“Brother.” Kaito’s voice was soft, high, the voice of a scared little boy. “Are you with us?”

Shaking his head, Archer took a step back. “No.” It can’t be me.

And Kaito, thinking he was being rejected, for all his service, for all his loyalty, shot Archer a look so black it could have curdled darkness.

Archer fled. Over the threshold and down the steps, he stumbled into the yard, feeling the lamplight on his heels and destiny breathing down his neck.

“Chief!”

“Come back!”

But he didn’t go back.

He reached the edge of the bay, where his feet slipped on the icy stones. He pitched forward.

Then Sefia was there beside him, her breath warm against his cheek. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

But nothing was okay, and he finally admitted it.

He clutched her to him, burying his face in her hood. Her mittened hands cradled the small of his back, her touch muted by their fur-lined coats.

“Is it me?” he whispered.

His next questions came to him before he could stop them: How many do I kill in the war? And: Why do I die alone?

Out on the water, the moonlight shifted over the whitecaps.

“I don’t want it to be you,” Sefia said, but her voice was filled with doubt.

Inside, he crumpled.

He should have run away with Sefia when they’d had the chance, before they’d ever met Kaito or Scarza or any of the others. They should have picked a direction and kept going, over the ocean, until they hit some foreign land where they could have started fresh.

Alone. Uncomplicated. Free.

But he wasn’t free.

Maybe he’d never been free in his life.

Because even now, knowing what he was becoming, what his thirst for violence was turning him into, he couldn’t stop. Not now, with only one crew of impressors to go.

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