Black as diamond, p.41
Black as Diamond, page 41
Rishé watched with increasing dread as the drake lifted her necklace in their fist. Stern eyes scrutinized the pendant, a spot of color burning like the heart of a forge. The chain drifted as through wind. Their gaze flitted back to her, and their frown deepened.
“No,” they said, voice muffled behind glass and the pressure of the depths. “You had no right.”
With a single careless act, they crushed the red stone to dust.
Rishé was obliterated.
Tears brimmed, overflowing from her eyes. Her heart shattered into pieces, innumerable as the crushed particles that filtered through the drake’s fingers when they opened their fist. Dust floated off in the water like nothing. Like her whole world hadn’t been utterly destroyed.
Gone was the last connection to her mother. The last physical reminder that her mother once lived. It felt like Jarha was being taken from her again. Like the consumptive taint had once more wrapped wretched fingers around her mother’s neck to slowly and cruelly wring life from a woman so vibrant and deserving of more.
Throwing her one last sneer, the drake pulled their hood up and swam away, leaving Rishé only with her tears. Devastation dragged her into the water. Sobs racked her body. Heaving cries cascaded pain through every inch of her. She hurt, she was the hurt, she couldn’t breathe. Trapped in darkness, lonely and alone, she sank into sorrow. Nothing mattered anymore. Not when her mother’s memory was ash in the water.
Only emptiness remained.
Asaru
Patiently, Asaru watched as a pair of attendants prepared him for the showing. Through the steady buzz of static and the low hum of pain, he faintly realized he was naked. He let them move him as they liked. He let them wash gray-gold blood from his incorruptible body. He let them clean the jagged hole where his arm had once been. All this he let them do because he did not belong to himself—and neither did they.
Though the deathless retained some sense of who they were in life, the will of another had become their own. They were malleable clay bending to the whims of their possessor. If this was what She commanded of them, it was what they would do. This and more. This and anything else.
When the ablutions were complete, the two revenants dressed him. Bound an ayashif around his breasts, wrapped him in a black tunic that fell to mid-thigh, slipped onto his limbs wraps made of flexible metal that winked in the light.
As one cinched a belt of chain links around his waist, Asaru stared at the mirror across the room. But he did not know the man who stared back. In the fractured glass were the facets of someone who both was and was not him.
The door clicked open. In the mirror, he watched a lieutenant enter. Asaru searched for a name, but they were just another piece of dead flesh in the faceless mass. This piece of flesh was similarly clad in ruddy leather. A trident spearing a sun lay stitched on their upper arm—it was familiar in a way that made little sense. With the help of the newly infected members of their legion, the deathless had been uniformed. Not all of them were warriors, after all. That was good, he’d been told. An army required diversity to function, he’d been told.
He took the lieutenant’s hand and was led down a corridor pitted with cavernous gaps. They stepped over ivory debris and tumbled columns. Finally they emerged in the light, grayed due to the dull sheen of the dome.
Ruination spread before him. The broken bowl of the Odeum that once floated among frozen clouds lay splintered in half, a stage rising from the midst of the rubble. Scores upon scores of the dead lined the crude amphitheater. Endless columns of darkness were stacked high in the neat rows, disappearing into the distance.
The crowd was thunderous.
As he climbed the stage, Asaru looked out over the deathless horde. Their eyes were dark and empty, their cries robbed of true vigor. The sight inspired nothing within him.
On stage Oprekhet waited with a glint in her eye. The smile she wore revealed rows of needle-sharp teeth. She gestured him closer with barely restrained glee.
Pressing a fist to his chest, Asaru lowered his gaze and bowed. Why did she deserve such reverence?
“Hello, Mother.”
His mother’s smile grew so wide, it strained her face. A flush of satisfaction spread across pallid brown cheeks. Snatching his wrist, she dragged him to the middle of the stage. The touch scarcely registered as painful beneath the static cloud that consumed him.
“My son,” she shouted.
The crowd roared, their emotions fueled by hers, by her unwavering voice.
Son.
For a moment the notion felt wrong—a sudden surge of not right—but it was swept away. Oprekhet was his mother. She was his mother, and he had no one else. This knowledge was pushed into his mind, and he accepted it. Was made to accept it.
“Though my traitorous sibling snatched him from my arms when he was but an egg, through blood and diamond and death, he has at last been returned to me!”
Oprekhet tilted her head to the sky. Her hair danced, forming a wild spiral that expanded and contracted like a panting beast. Liquid blackness undulated around her body in waves of power. The same power with which Asaru had split apart the island they were standing upon. The recollection of a duel over earth and rock surfaced through the fog of possession.
A fleeting part of him screamed in horror, trying to grasp the depths of what he’d done. But an unrelenting presence pressed him into compliance. What resistance remained was smothered. His body was not his own.
It was Hers. Had always been. Would always be.
“Asaru, warrior, brother, son,” the deathless chanted. The sound reverberated through his body, extremities tingling with sparks. Oprekhet basked in the attention, throwing her arms up. Then her head whipped back down, and—
“Silence.”
The crowd quieted instantly.
“A thousand years ago, Niekthe turned humanity against me. Turned our own people against me. Jealous, they killed me to try and destroy my life’s work. And driven by sentimentality, they resurrected me. They thought I could be controlled, would be indebted to them. That was their folly—”
As she spoke, Asaru felt the hold on his mind weaken slightly. His will was still hers, but with the bit of him that was still his, he fiddled with an object at his back.
A poorly folded paper flower.
He’d found it tucked into the pleats of his ayashif, so small it went unseen by the attendants. As he’d examined it, something clicked in the untouched parts of his mind. This nameless flower had a meaning. Some confusing part of him hadn’t wanted it destroyed, so he’d hidden it away. Why and how he did so, he was unsure. It felt as though the sight of the blossom rocked him free for less than a split second. Then the static swelled back in, and Asaru was lost to himself again.
“Now he shall become what he was always made to be. My masterpiece, my greatest weapon, forged for one sole purpose: Retribution.”
The noose of possession tightened around his neck, and all thought fled like mist.
Instinctively, Asaru turned to Oprekhet—his mother. Your mother, remember that.
She clasped her hands, light pouring from the cracks between her fingers. A glow cast her face with baleful shadows, her grin the arc of a scythe. Slowly, she pulled her hands apart, uncovering a circlet of black diamond. The jewels glistened, rising like mountains to the center, where a triangular shard rested.
With a smile gesturing vaguely at tenderness, Oprekhet placed it in the crimson sea of Asaru’s hair. Cupping his cheeks, she pressed a kiss to his forehead. Hidden in the back of a small part of his mind was the urge to draw away in revolt. It was replaced with appreciation and thankfulness. Emotions pushed into his body and made to feel like they were his.
“Let Estyria have their bastard king,” she murmured. “We have a prince of our own.”
“Warrior, brother, son. Home, you’re home, Asaru.” The persistent drone streamed into his ears like through water. He heard them in discordant unity, voices all one and the same. The horde and his mother, his mother and the horde.
The corner of Oprekhet’s lips quirked up. Pressing the jagged scars of his wings, she pushed him forward. Her other arm flung out as she presented him to the legions. Her mindless, obedient followers. “I give you Asaru! Prince of the deathless, heir to my sister Madib—my magnum opus!”
An earsplitting cheer shattered across the island. Revenants cried out in clattering cacophony. Writhing hands waved, fluttering in his honor. Pitch-covered wings dripped, and thousands of feet stamped an arrhythmic tune. Distantly, Asaru watched the horde congeal into a rising tide of black. Black that screamed. Black with hollow faces and gaping maws. Black as diamond.
The din rose and rose and rose. Until all he knew was the scream of a thousand living corpses. As the deathless showered him in his mother’s glory, a name resurfaced in his waterlogged thoughts.
It’s a crystal lotus.
A beautiful name, unfurling like a blossom. But try as he might, Asaru was unable to wrap mental fingers around comprehension. Whatever it represented, whatever it meant, drifted away on ethereal wings. As possession crept back in, he pushed the name into the tiny part of himself that he still owned, senselessly protecting it.
Any coherent thought he may have had was obscured beneath a will that he was forced to take as his own. The only thing that mattered was the cold caress commanding him under the guise of gentleness tinged with retribution.
The man that used to be Asaru was a body without a mind, a vessel of pure violence. A tool to be used. A weapon to be directed at enemies. His enemies, her enemies. Anyone who stood against them.
Nothing—and no one—would stop him.
Acknowledgments
Like most of what I write, this book came about as a result of way too many ideas that probably don’t belong together, stuffed in a blender and synthesized through years of single-minded writing. Sometimes I find myself stunned by the fact that other people . . . actually like it. (But despite my anxieties, they do, and I’m amazed.) I’m also super grateful for all the people who inspired this story—none of whom will read this, though I’d be over the moon if somehow they did. Thank you for putting your art into the world, for being self-indulgent without cringing and for inspiring me to do the same. You always have to be your number one fan—I don’t know if I’m quite there yet, but I do like this little book I wrote. I think it’s neat.
Thank you, Shira, for completely ruining my five-year plan (/pos)! I appreciate how patient and understanding you were at the beginning of all this, and I still have to pinch myself to make sure it’s real.
Thank you to my agent, Emily: A million praises for standing in my corner since our very first call, despite the circumstances—you’re seriously an absolute rockstar, and I’m amazed by everything you’ve helped me accomplish so far!
Shout-out to the editing and production teams! Thank you for making this feel like a “real novel” even before I held a physical copy. Special thanks to Sara, my publishing manager, for answering my ELI5 questions and making this process less opaque; Alicia, my developmental editor, for literally reading my mind with suggestions that strengthened the story I was trying to tell until it was polished like a diamond (get it . . . ?); and Charlotte for designing an amazing cover—I have a new appreciation for typography and just want to stare at it all the time. Thank you also to Emilie, Alyssa, Wanda Z., and Janice for handling this book in its uneven transitory states.
Thank you, Jaysen, for being the catalyst that set this whole thing in motion! Hearing the enthusiasm in the way you spoke about the book almost brought me to tears. I’m honored that you took a chance on Black as Diamond despite it being unlike your first two acquisitions—there aren’t enough words to describe how much that means to me. I want to keysmash, but it would be improper for a published book, so imagine me endlessly screaming THANKS in your ear.
Thank you to Julia (Seoyeon), who didn’t follow the journey of this specific book but has always supported my writing in her own way despite our differing career paths. I’m soooo happy we didn’t allow a certain obstacle to keep us from becoming friends. Thank you for checking in during the lulls, sharing your interests, and ranting about your fixations with me.
And thank you to N. B. and N. P., the teachers who kept me writing: the one who quietly sparked the dream of being a novelist and the one who ensured that I would always love being in a library.
Glossary & Pronunciation Guide
adderowl: A large serpentine owl commonly found in the Veil Islands.
aether/spirit: Immaterial concept that animates living beings.
aetherstones: Prayer spots for members of the Church of Queen Mab found all across Estyria, said to have been built by Ariadine.
Akiki: Official language of Estyria, formalized by the linguist Koa nadu-La Schei.
Antorcans: Humans originating from and mostly found in Anticarta, have distinct physical evolutions adapting them to the cold.
Aspects: Wraiths with spirit-blessed abilities gifted by the Zodiac, identified by the red suvaugrams on their hands. They can control up to two different aspects.
aur (ohr): Currency of the continent of Trinacrios.
ayashif (aya-sheef): Stays made from leather, silk, and metal that act as both armor and chest binding for eresh keyel.
Black Order, the / Black Fleet, the: Estyrian military and naval force. Its members are called sentinels.
Chilawari: A hybrid ethnic group native to the Veil Islands, descended from humans and drakes.
choramelo (kora-melo): Domesticated chameleon equus.
Crocodile Coterie, the: Private order whose sole task is to protect the kharess and carry out her commands. Each member is given a title, such as Sister of Peace, Coin, Faith, Might, or Body. They are identified by emblems, which they cannot remove, though they can be stripped from them.
Dis: Afterworld where the aethers of the forgotten dead are said to be sent, ruled over by the god Disan.
dolomites: Ancient precursors to the wraiths.
Doyisha, the (doy-ee-shah): Lulaik curse breakers under the tutelage of the Chronicler. Identified by their red cloaks with wide-open eyes sewn onto the hoods.
Ela Prinâza (ella prin-aah-za, prin-ee-za): One of the primary deities of the Norvatti faith. Also known as our Lady Blessed Sunnai.
Emedu (em-eh-doo): Primary language of the Chilawari.
Eșarpe (esharp, etsarp): One of the three primary deities of the Norvatti faith.
Eslang: Estyrian sign language.
feyinesh (fae-yee-nesh): Alien race of originally nameless entities from another world, the progenitors of the eresh keyel.
flintrock: Mineral that cloaks the scent of khetry, used to construct Birinuyi.
fox tree: Tall palm-like trees with feathers instead of leaves. They grow from the feathers shed by feather foxes and sprout feather foxes from their own fallen feathers.
freelancers: Aspects who take on kill contracts to make a living.
Furtumbér (foor-toom-bear): One of the primary deities of the Norvatti faith.
Guild of the Living Body, the: Group of renowned healers with a compound located on neutral ground in Porto Bierov, which is part school, part medical treatment center. Founded by Eírtat Warda.
hexe: Public shrine dedicated to any number of the Six, covered in decorations associated with a god or gods, usually contains a statuette with an offering bowl at its feet.
Inachie (ina-chi): Primary language of wraiths.
Ishmer: Afterworld where the aethers of the beloved dead are said to be sent, ruled over by the god Disan. All eventually sink into Dis.
Kestrel: A celebration that takes place over three days at the end of summer. It also correlates with the coronation day of the rulers of Estyria and is rooted in historical worship of Disan.
khetry (keh-tree): Warm substance resembling a web of red threads woven over the world that connects all living things. It is raw and wild and pulsating with life. Visible only to those who can manipulate it through drawing and casting spells.
kurigand (koo-ri-gand): Currency of Peskelos, made of pink cowries.
major: Economic hub or central square of a town or city.
Maronwuchi (mah-rawn-woo-chee): Celebration to revere the Zodiac that occurs once a year on the first half-moon. In Ilon, the beginning of the festival is marked by a gala.
marrowstone: Wraithian term for “obsidian.”
Melarhone (mel-a-rown): Humans originating from and mostly found in the south.
minor: Residential districts of a town or city.
Neyari (nay-ari): Ilonese nobles. Most highborn Aspects are Neyari, but not all Neyari are Aspects.
Nomyrs (noh-mirs): Language of the Norvatti. There are slight variations among the tribes of Estyria, as well as an alternate dialect spoken by the Vana of Peskelos.
Norvatti (nor-vah-tea): Comprises three tribes of humans, and some lulaik, that originated in the Anticartan Silver River region before migrating to Sterrock Valley in Romia. The Eihron are mostly sedentary, the Rosatay are seminomadic, and the Vana are mostly nomadic.
panmi (pan-me): Norvatti dessert of circular sweet bread filled with fruits and decorated with floral shapes made of pastry.
primer: Khetry spellbook. Many of the surviving primers have been passed down within lulaik clans.
qhat: A psychedelic from Peskelos known for its ability to aid underwater breathing when smoked (or at least induce the feeling of breathing underwater).
