Ch. 1.3- Still You Stay

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This update is a little short because the next few are going to be pretty long by my estimation. I planned on an O'otani/Sholu chapter, but Kaza wanted a scene, so here you go. Next chapter will definitely be Breakfast from Hell (how I affectionately think of the coming encounter) :)

- Swpoet

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I try to be Somitu again, for a moment. Head held high, stately walk, chin jutted out like the world owes me something- a woman who belongs in a grey silk gown before noon, walking down the hall to breakfast with the whole of her spirit and dignity intact.

            But I cannot be like her any more than ash can be like unburnt buildings. Somitu Amarin wore silver bracelets and necklaces of Mirrenovese pearls with her gowns; I wear weeping wrists and the imprint of a noose around her neck. When she stood on podiums, she spoke to the city with a voice so golden people couldn't help but listen and love her. When I stood on a podium, the city wanted my blood running through the gutter.

            So I give up, and decide to just be O'otani Amarin. The traitor, the savior, the whore, the protector. I barely know who she is anymore, but she will have to be enough, because I don't fit into any borrowed skins.

            I walk stiffly, haltingly, vacillating between fear, shame, and a low-burning rage. My hands clench and unclench at my sides, my jagged nails cutting sharply into my palms. The stupid silk dress tangles around my legs and constricts my ribcage when my breathing is already shallow and fast. My jaw trembles intermittently despite my efforts to keep it still.

            "Do not fight him," Kaza says quietly. I glance over to him, coming out of my own head enough to see genuine concern on his face. "It will only make your suffering worse."

            I hate that look. Like he knows me, cares about me. The assumed intimacy mocks me. Who does he think he is? Doesn't he know I hate him, even if he is kinder and better spoken than the rest of Sholu's minions?

            "I do not want your advice," I mutter, looking away.

            "But you need it," he answers quietly. A few guards and servants pass us, but his voice is so low I'm sure none can overhear. "You need to realize how precarious your position here is. You were pardoned, but that can be easily undone."

            "You think I don't know that?" I laugh bitterly. "I know the fragility of Sholu Verlaina's promises. I know how much his word is worth."

            "His word is worth your life," he says. "The other Vasayaste and the Yukkaiti mercenaries wanted you hung and they'll do whatever they can to put you back up on that scaffold. If you want to stay alive, dance his dance."

            "I will not court the favor of the man who murdered my family," I hiss.

            "Then you'll die falling off a ledge, chasing pretty birds," he mutters. "I told you to prop yourself up with pride, not impale yourself on it. Unbending pride and righteous anger are

birdsongs that will lead you to an early grave. They'll ruin you."    

            "Let them, then," I say calmly, done with his oracular warnings. "I'd rather be ruined by pride and righteous anger than by most anything else."

            "And you'd let them ruin that little girl too?"

            I glare at him. "If you threaten her-"

            "Not me," he says. "But the deme has already. I'm only reminding you that if you want to die for pride, she'll die with you."

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