183
" Once I reached the door, I paused with my hand near the sensor, listening.
At first, all I heard were heavy breaths that turned into sobs. Then Akos screamed, and there was a loud crash, followed by another one. He screamed again, and I pressed my ear to the door to listen, my lower lip trapped between my teeth. I bit down so hard I tasted blood when Akos’s screams turned to sobs.
I touched the sensor, opening the door.
He was sitting on the floor in the bathroom. There were pieces of shattered mirror all around him. He had ripped the shower curtain from the ceiling and the towel rack from the wall. He didn’t look up at me when I came in, or even when I walked carefully across the fragments of glass to reach him.
I knelt among the shards, and reached over his shoulder to turn the shower on. I waited until the water warmed up, then tugged him by his arm toward the spray.
I stood in the shower with him, fully clothed. His breaths came in sharp bursts against my cheek. I put my hand on the back of his neck and pulled his face toward the water. He closed his eyes and let it hit his cheeks. His trembling fingers sought mine, and he clutched my hand against his chest, against his armor.
We stood together for a long time, until his tears subsided. Then I turned the water off, and led him into the kitchen, scattering mirror pieces with my toes as I walked.
He was staring into middle distance. I wasn’t sure that he knew where he was, or what was happening to him. I undid the straps of his armor and guided it over his head; I pinched the hem of his shirt and peeled the wet fabric away from his body; I unbuttoned his pants and let them drop to the floor in a soaking-wet heap.
I had daydreamed about seeing him this way, and even about one day undressing him, taking away some of the layers that separated us, but this was not a daydream. He was in pain. I wanted to help him. "
― Veronica Roth , Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark, #1)
184
" Is giving me useless cutlery really necessary?” I said, stabbing my toast with the knife instead of slicing it.
“The sovereign is concerned that you will try to end your life before the appropriate time,” Eijeh said.
The appropriate time. I wondered if Eijeh had chosen my manner of death, then. The oracle, plucking the ideal future from an array of options.
“End my life with this thing? My fingernails are sharper.” I brought the knife down, point first, on the mattress. I slammed it so hard the bed frame shuddered, and let go. The knife fell over, not even sharp enough to penetrate fabric. I winced, not even sure what part of my body hurt.
“I suppose he thinks you’re creative enough to find a way,” Eijeh said softly.
I stuffed the last bite of toast into my mouth and sat back against the wall, my arms folded. We were in one of the polished, glossy cells in the belly of the amphitheater, beneath the stadium seats that were already filling with people hungry to watch me die. I had won the last challenge, but I was running out of strength. This morning walking to the toilet had been a feat.
“How sweet,” I said, spreading my arms wide to display my bruises. “See how my brother loves me?”
“You’re making jokes,” Ryzek said from just outside the cell. I could hear him, muffled, through the glass wall that separated us. “You must be getting desperate. "
― Veronica Roth , Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark, #1)
186
" You really don’t hate me for this,” I said, lifting up my left arm.
“No, I don’t.”
I had experienced only a few different reactions to what I was, what I could do. Hatred, from those who had suffered at my hand; fear, from those who hadn’t but might; and glee, from those capable of using me for it. I had never seen this before. It was almost like he understood.
“You don’t hate me at all,” I said in almost a whisper, afraid to hear the answer.
But his answer came steadily, like it was obvious to him: “No.”
I found, then, that I wasn’t angry anymore about what he had done to me, to get Eijeh out. He had done it because of the same quality, in him, that made him so accepting of me now. How could I fault him for it?
“All right.” I sighed. “Be up early tomorrow, because we’ll need to train harder if you expect to get your brother out of here.”
His water glass was marked with fingerprints around the base. I took it from him.
He frowned at me. “You’ll help me? Even after what I did to you?”
“Yeah.” I drained the water glass, and set it back down. “I guess I will. "
― Veronica Roth , Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark, #1)
188
" How sweet,” I said, spreading my arms wide to display my bruises. “See how my brother loves me?”
“You’re making jokes,” Ryzek said from just outside the cell. I could hear him, muffled, through the glass wall that separated us. “You must be getting desperate.”
“No, desperate is playing this stupid game before you kill me, just to make me look bad,” I said. “Are you that afraid that the people of Shotet will rally behind me? How pathetic.”
“Try to get to your feet, and we’ll all see ‘pathetic,’” Ryzek said. "
― Veronica Roth , Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark, #1)
189
" I’m not so jaded I don’t remember,” she said, eyes shifting away from his. “That feeling, like everything is broken. Breaking.”
She placed a hand in his, and lifted the other to touch his neck, lightly. He twitched at first, then relaxed. He still had a mark there where Suzao had choked him in the cafeteria.
Then she was moving her fingers back toward his ear, along the scar Ryzek had cut into his neck, and he was leaning into her touch. He was warm, too warm. They never touched like this. He never thought he wanted them to.
“You make no sense to me,” she said.
Her palm was on his face, then, her fingers curled behind his ear. Long, thin fingers with tendons and veins always standing at attention. Knuckles so dry the skin was peeling in places.
“All that has happened to you would make another person hard and hopeless,” she said. “So how…how are you even possible?”
He closed his eyes. Aching.
“Still, Akos, this is a war.” She brought her forehead to his. Her fingers were firm, fitted to his bones. “A war between you and the people who destroyed your life. Don’t be ashamed of fighting it.”
And then a different kind of ache. A pang of longing, deep in his gut.
He wanted her.
Wanted to run his fingers along her strict cheekbone. Wanted to taste the elegant birthmark on her throat, and to feel her breaths against his mouth, and to wind her hair around his fingers until they were trapped.
He turned his head, and pressed his lips to her cheek, hard enough that it wasn’t quite a kiss. They shared a breath. Then he pulled back, stood up, turned away. Wiped his mouth. Wondered what the hell was wrong with him.
She stood right behind him, so he could feel her body’s warmth at his back. She touched the space between his shoulders. Was it her currentgift that made his skin prickle at the contact, even through his shirt?
“There’s something I have to do,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.”
Just like that, she was gone. "
― Veronica Roth , Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark, #1)
191
" Ryzek will be in a huge crowd of people, many of whom are his most ardent supporters and fiercest soldiers. What kind of ‘move’ do you suggest we make?”
Cyra replied, “You said it yourself, didn’t you? Kill him.”
“Oh, right!” Teka smacked the table, obviously annoyed. “Why didn’t I think of killing him? How simple!”
Cyra rolled her eyes. “This time you won’t have to sneak into his house while he’s asleep. This time, I’ll challenge him to the arena.”
Everybody got quiet again. For different reasons, Akos was sure. Cyra was a good fighter, everybody knew that, but no one knew how good Ryzek was--they hadn’t seen him in action. And then there was the matter of getting to a place where Cyra could actually challenge him. And getting him to do it instead of just arresting her.
“Cyra,” Akos said.
“He declared nemhalzak--he erased your status, your citizenship,” Teka said, talking over him. “He has no reason to honor your challenge.”
“Of course he does.” Isae was frowning. “He could have gotten rid of her quietly when he learned she was a renegade, but he didn’t. He wanted her disgrace, and her death, to be public. That means he’s afraid of her, afraid she has power over Shotet. If she challenges hi in front of everyone, he won’t be able to back down. He’ll look like a coward.”
“Cyra,” Akos said again, quiet this time.
“Akos,” Cyra answered, with just a touch of the gentleness he had seen in the stairwell. “He is no match for me.”
The first time Akos ever saw Cyra fight--really fight--was in the training room in Noavek manor. She had gotten frustrated with him--she wasn’t a patient teacher, after all--and she had let loose more than usual, knocking him flat. Only fifteen seasons old at the time, but she had moved like an adult. And she only got better from there. In all his time training with her, he had never bested her. Not once.
“I know,” he said. “But just in case, let’s distract him.”
“Distract him,” Cyra repeated.
“You’ll go into the amphitheater. You’ll challenge him,” Akos said. “And I’ll go to the prison. Badha and I, I mean. We’ll rescue Orieve Benesit--we’ll take away his triumph. And you’ll take away his life. "
― Veronica Roth , Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark, #1)
193
" Akos sprinted to my side, bent over me, and wrapped an arm around my waist. Together we ran toward the rope. He grabbed it with one hand, and it jerked up, fast. Too fast for Vas to grab.
Everyone around us was roaring. He shouted into my ear, “I’m going to need you to hold on by yourself!”
I cursed at him. I tried not to look down at the crowded seats below us, the frenzy we had left behind, the distant ground, but it was hard not to. I focused instead on Akos’s armor. I wrapped my arms around his chest and clamped my hands around the collar of it. When he released me, I gritted my teeth--I was too weak to hold on like this, too weak to support my own weight.
Akos reached up with the hand he had been using to hold me, and his fingers approached the force field that blanketed the amphitheater. It lit up brighter when his fingers touched it, then flickered, and went out. The rope jerked up, hard, making me whimper as I almost lost my grip, but then we were inside the transport vessel.
We were inside, and it was deadly quiet.
“You made Vas feel pain,” I said, breathless. I touched his face, ran a fingertip down his nose, over his upper lip.
He wasn’t as bruised as he had been the last time I saw him, cowering on the floor at my touch.
“I did,” he replied.
“Eijeh was in the amphitheater, he was right there. You could have grabbed him. Why didn’t you--”
His mouth--still under my fingers--twitched into a smile. “Because I came for you, you idiot.”
I laughed and fell against him, not strong enough to stand anymore. "
― Veronica Roth , Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark, #1)
194
" Cyra,” Akos said again, quiet this time.
“Akos,” Cyra answered, with just a touch of the gentleness he had seen in the stairwell. “He is no match for me.”
The first time Akos ever saw Cyra fight--really fight--was in the training room in Noavek manor. She had gotten frustrated with him--she wasn’t a patient teacher, after all--and she had let loose more than usual, knocking him flat. Only fifteen seasons old at the time, but she had moved like an adult. And she only got better from there. In all his time training with her, he had never bested her. Not once.
“I know,” he said. “But just in case, let’s distract him.”
“Distract him,” Cyra repeated.
“You’ll go into the amphitheater. You’ll challenge him,” Akos said. “And I’ll go to the prison. Badha and I, I mean. We’ll rescue Orieve Benesit--we’ll take away his triumph. And you’ll take away his life.”
It sounded almost poetic, which was why he’d put it that way. But it was hard to think of poetry when Cyra’s fingers crept to her covered arm, like she was imagining the mark Ryzek would make there. Not that she would hesitate. But Cyra knew what those marks cost; she knew as well as anybody.
“It’s settled, then,” Isae said, her voice cutting through the quiet. “Ryzek dies. Orieve lives. Justice is done.”
Justice, revenge. It was too late to figure out the difference. "
― Veronica Roth , Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark, #1)
195
" Jorek bent low, catching Akos’s stomach with the tip of the practice knife.
“Not a good place to aim, Kuzar,” Akos said. “In a real fight, I’d be wearing armor.”
“I go by ‘Jorek,’ not ‘Kuzar.’ You’ve earned armor?”
“Yeah.” Akos used his distraction against him, smacking the front of Jorek’s throat with the flat of the weapon. Jorek choked, clapping his hands over his neck.
“All right, all right,” he gasped, showing a palm. “That answers that question.”
Akos backed up to the edge of the arena to put some space between them. “What question? About my armor?”
“No. Damn, that sucked.” He massaged his throat. “I came here wondering how good you’d gotten, training with Cyra. My father said you didn’t know hand from foot when he first met you.”
Akos’s anger was slow to come, like water turning to ice, but it had some heft to it, when it did. Like right then.
“Your father--” he stared, but Jorek interrupted.
“Is the worst kind of man, yes. That’s what I want to talk to you about. "
― Veronica Roth , Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark, #1)
196
" Of course I’m ready. But are you ready for your part of our agreement?”
“Kereseth? Yeah,” she said. “You get us in, we’ll get him out.”
“I want it done simultaneously--I don’t want to risk him getting hurt because of what I’m doing,” I said. “He’s hushflower-resistant, so it will require quite a bit to knock him out. And he’s a skilled fighter, so don’t underestimate him.”
Teka nodded, slowly. And stared, chewing the inside of her cheek.
“What happened? You look all…frantic, or something,” she said. “You guys have a fight?”
I didn’t answer.
“I don’t get it,” she said. “You’re obviously in love with him, why do you want him gone?”
I considered not answering that, either. The feeling of his rough chin scratching my cheek, and his mouth, warm against my skin, haunted me still. He had kissed me. Without prompting, without cunning. I should have been happy, hopeful. But it wasn’t that easy, was it?
I had dozens of reasons to give her. Akos was in danger, now that Ryzek had realized he could use him as leverage over me. Eijeh was lost, and maybe Akos would be able to accept that once he was home, with his mother and sister. Akos and I would never be equals, as long as he was Ryzek’s prisoner here, so I had to make sure he was freed. But the one closest to my heart was the reason that came tumbling out.
“Being here, it’s…breaking him,” I said. I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, uncomfortable. “I can’t watch anymore. I won’t.”
“Yeah.” Her voice was soft. “Win or lose--you get us in, we’ll get him out. Okay?”
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you. "
― Veronica Roth , Carve the Mark (Carve the Mark, #1)
