The Unfinished World (The Armor of God Book 2) (25 page)

He sat down. “Zenith. Nandi. Everything.”

“Well, you make a very good guardian.”

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what happened back in Roue—that’s the city I’m from, though I bet you already knew that. Somehow.” She nodded, and grabbed his hand again; it made him feel warm and welcome; exactly how he needed to feel. “I did something very stupid, and put a lot of people in danger. I thought I’d never get to pilot Nandi again.”

“I’m sure it was an accident. You took care of those monsters in Kerek to protect
me
specifically. Remember?”

Ezra looked at her and sighed. “You know, I really don’t like it when people lie to me. It’s hurt me a lot before. I feel comfortable with you, even if we just met—”

“Right? Me too,” she purred.

“What I mean,” he said when his voice returned, “is that I get the feeling that you’re lying to me—you’re not telling me something. How do you know about Roue and the Creux? Why did they really exile you? No—are you even from Clairvert?”

“Ezra—I don’t like being lied to any more than you do. Everything I’ve said . . . I couldn’t lie to you. Even if I wanted to.” She squeezed his hand. “I don’t want you to worry about me; there are more important things. If you want to take care of me, just remember: you’re welcome here, but
they
can’t see me. You understand?”

“I won’t tell anyone; I promise,” he said. “I’m sorry about Garros, the last time. You can trust him. I’ll talk to him about it.”

When she smiled again, letting him know that she forgave him and trusted him, Ezra thought about kissing her, yet he couldn’t; he still remembered the last lips that had touched his, and it made him sick.

Sometimes, the solutions to our problems come at the end
.

He still remembered Tessa’s exact words.

“Don’t scowl, now,” Elena said, and advanced for him. Her lips met his and it was like they melted together for one second before he drew himself back.

“I’m sorry. Elena—I can’t do this right now,” he said.

“No, I understand. I apologize.”

“But listen: we’re planning something!” he said, louder than he intended. “Clairvert might not be safe anymore, so we’re going to move everyone in the city elsewhere, to one of the islands in the wasteland. You just need to hold on a little bit longer, while Jena makes a plan, and you’ll be able to join the others. Do you have a family inside?”

She didn’t say anything, and he was disappointed when, instead of showing enthusiasm before the prospect, she changed the subject, as though she had no faith in it. “I heard they were preparing themselves for some kind of celebration inside. Maybe you should join them. Wish I could come with you,” she said.

Ezra nodded and rose to his feet, careful not to hit his head on the stone wall. “Even if you don’t believe me, I’ll make sure you don’t have to stay in here much longer. I promise.”

When Ezra slipped back into Clairvert, the celebration was well on its way. He could hear music being played, and could see people dancing in pairs around the pillar. The closer he got to the party, the more he realized that it was a remarkably joyous occasion, and it made him wonder if it was really in their honor.

He finally reached the dais. People danced, stomping hundreds of flower petals with their restless feet, and releasing a sweet scent that filled the air. If he was in a better mood, he would be happy to stay. Instead, he decided to go.

But when he turned away to go back to Solis’ house, he almost crashed against Solis himself. The man had a canteen in his hand, and smelled of alcohol. “Where are you going, boy? Don’t you know it’s bad luck to leave a wedding early?”

“A wedding? Who’s getting married?”

Ezra turned around and, when some of the dancers cleared some space for him to see the other end of the dais, he finally got a look at the newlyweds.

Garros and Erin sat together in tall chairs, holding hands. He had never seen them smile the way they were smiling.

It was difficult to be angry at them, but Ezra had somehow found a way. He sat at the edge of the dais, almost sulking, wondering why they had kept such an important moment in their lives a secret. It had been a last-second choice, not something thoroughly planned, and it had been Garros’ idea.

Garros himself told Ezra after he stumbled next to him and Jena and sat down, clay cup of foaming ale in his hand. “It’s something we wanted to do for a long time. And then we had this man who had the power to do it, even if under some alien denomination, and we took it.”

“There are more important things to do,” Ezra said, and Jena shook her head.

“Not to me, though,” replied Garros and took a swig of his drink. He offered some to Ezra, and he reluctantly took a drink. It was incredibly sweet, and he felt its effects immediately.

“I wish you had told us,” he said, suddenly wanting a drink.

“Don’t know why; this is between me and her,” he looked back at Erin, who sat in her chair, talking to Farren—she was glowing. Garros smiled and turned to Jena. “I know that you heard, by the way. Both of you. Back in the forest with Lazarus, what I said to Erin, about our kid.”

Ezra didn’t know what to say, but there was no point in feigning ignorance, so he remained quiet.

“You haven’t stopped looking at Erin’s belly since then, Jena. It’s adorable.” Jena’s face was red. “But she’s not pregnant; it’s just a plan we have—we really want to have a kid. That’s all.”

“Congratulations,” Ezra said, finally realizing that he had no business telling either Garros or Erin to involve him in their lives any more than they wanted. “I sincerely think you guys will be happy.”

“If the world doesn’t end, right?” Garros replied, and it was then that Ezra knew that he was drunk; the man wouldn’t have joked about something like that otherwise. Garros took the following silence to look back at his wife, who immediately sensed his gaze. From afar, she did the motion he had seen them do in the Creux: fists together, then the thumbs-up.

This time, Ezra heard Garros whisper:
Stick together, we’ll be all right
.

He understood then; they had turned two standard Creux hand signals into a romantic gesture.

Before Ezra could tell him he finally understood their private signal, Garros went back to Erin. Ezra saw him pick her up and throw her high up, catch her, kiss her. She laughed when their lips came together.

“This is so strange,” Jena said. “The concept itself: they’re married. People in Roue don’t get married that much anymore. I wonder if it’s more common in here.”

“I doubt it,” said Ezra. “Where’s Akiva, by the way?”

She shook her head and shrugged. “I haven’t seen him—I was too busy to care for him. I started doing some sweeps, asked around about how many people lived in the city, tried to see how many of them would be willing to leave if William doesn’t, asked about who could influence them. I haven’t gotten very far. I’m really going to take you on your word, when you said you’d help.”

“Of course I will,” he said.

“It’s not going to be easy.”

“I would imagine not.”

She smiled.

A gloved hand appeared between them. It was Malachi, offering his hand to Jena. “Can I ask you for a dance, if Akiva doesn’t mind.”

Ezra looked up at Malachi; he was nervous, unable to keep eye contact with Jena. She took too long to reply, caught off guard, and Malachi began to draw his hand back. When she saw him do this, she took it.

With a relieved smile, Malachi pulled her back and they were lost among the dancers. It seemed weird to Ezra that these people would celebrate so intensely the wedding of two people they didn’t know.

At least the feeling was contagious; Ezra was smiling when he walked to find a drink, past dancers and drunken men telling filthy jokes. When he returned, he found Malachi sitting alone where Jena had sat.

“What happened? I thought you were dancing with her,” he asked and sat down next to him after failing to locate Jena.

“We were, but after a few bars she just took off,” he said and didn’t look as sad as Ezra thought he would be. “I put her in an uncomfortable situation, I think. I didn’t mean to make an advance, or anything; she just seemed sad.”

“Did she?” Ezra took a drink of the ale. It was sweet and strong. “I didn’t notice.”

“I think she was. I was talking to her earlier today, before the wedding. She wants to move everyone in the city to the wasteland?”

“Not the wasteland. One of the oases—there are these . . . islands out there, like spots of land that aren’t sick,” said Ezra. “It’s hard to explain.”

“I’m not sure it can be done, but I’d be glad to help,” said Malachi. “Since I became an adult I’ve tried to make the people of this city happier. I wasn’t there when they moved from Kerek, but . . . look at them.”

Ezra looked at the crowd: they were dancing, drinking, singing. They looked—

“They’re not happy,” said Malachi. “This is their island, this moment: a small space where things are okay and where the world didn’t die. I believe you guys, and your Colossus, can help us go back out there someday. Jena has a good idea. I’d like to leave because I don’t like living here, knowing we can lose our minds at any point, be . . . exiled.”

“Are you okay?” Ezra asked when he noticed Malachi’s sudden inability to speak.

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to overshare; it must be the damned ale—I shouldn’t be drinking it at all,” he said and put his cup aside. “I lost my sister to the Asili not long ago. She was older than me, and she was going to wed Captain Farren; I think she was the only reason why I’m wearing this armor at all.”

“How did it happen?” Ezra asked.

“Well, Farren selected me, trained me—”

“No, Malachi, with your sister.”

“Ah. Well, the captain noticed how she began to speak nonsense, talking to herself. He tried to protect her, cover for her, but then he couldn’t. They were going to throw her in the Caduceus, but . . . like we said, many people choose to test their luck out there, and then they’re gone. Jena reminded me of her. They look alike.” Malachi wiped his eyes with his gloves. “I miss her.”

Ezra looked back at the Atrium, where he had last met Elena, and then at Malachi. “Malachi, what was her name?”

“I’d . . . I’d rather not talk about it. I’m sorry for laying this on you, Ezra. I guess I thought I’d let you know why things aren’t as good in here as you might have thought. I’ll just go home, so I suppose I’ll see you later. Please enjoy your friends’ wedding.”

From that moment on, he couldn’t enjoy the wedding; all he could think about was Elena.

ф

Ezra wasn’t sure at what time he had retired to bed; all he knew was that when he did, the party was still happening and showed no signs of dying. Walking home, past the atrium, he thought of Elena. The connection his head had made about her relationship with Malachi, Solis, and Captain Farren had troubled him. Suddenly she wasn’t as much a mystery, and he could put a story behind her, and it was not a happy one.

He had to make sure that she was indeed Malachi’s sister before telling him that she was, in fact, alive, and closer to him than he imagined.

He considered visiting her, but leaving Clairvert in the middle of the night could raise some eyebrows and he wouldn’t risk it; it would be dangerous for both. Instead, he just went to Malachi’s home and took his spot on the long mat they had placed for him, Akiva, and Garros. Neither one of the other occupants were there, and he didn’t expect he’d see them again that night.

He woke up alone, head heavy and hurting, several hours later.

To his surprise, he found Garros and Erin, as well as Jena, having breakfast in the section of Solis’ hut that could be described as the kitchen. He meant to ask William how exactly they grew their food—there didn’t seem to be any fertile ground whatsoever in this fortress of stone.

Erin and Garros were all smiles, a thin silver ring on their fingers, as they ate their breakfast and commented on the party.

“I’m glad you had fun,” said Jena. “I had never been in a party that big.”

“Neither had I,” said Erin and squeezed Garros’ hand.

“I had,” Garros said. “How’d you sleep, Blanchard?”

“Fine, thank you. I could barely talk to you last night, Erin, so congratulations. I’m really happy for you. I bet these people really appreciated the celebration.”

As Ezra helped himself to some eggs he wasn’t sure his stomach would appreciate, the clanking sound of armor made him turn. Malachi and Farren stood by the entrance to the kitchen.

“Congratulations to the newlyweds,” said Farren, looking formidable in clean armor. Ezra caught a hint of melancholy when he spoke of the wedding, and once again thought of Elena. “I trust you got enough sleep. Mr. Heath is waiting for you in the chapel.”

“Got it,” said Erin and wiped her mouth. “Let’s go then. Blanchard, either pack that in quickly or eat after the meeting. We need to get moving.”

Ezra had chosen to eat the eggs as quickly as he could, and it almost made him choke. When he followed Erin, Garros, and Jena out of Malachi’s home and were escorted back to the chapel, he regretted his decision. He didn’t drink too much at the wedding, but what little he had was potent, and his stomach still resented it.