62
" Ettrek deboarded first, greeting a man with black hair long enough to brush his shoulders with a clasped hand. When I moved closer, I realized they had to be brothers, maybe even twins.
“Wow, you weren’t kidding,” the brother said. “Cyra fucking Noavek is with you.”
“How did you know my middle name?” I said.
He smiled, and offered me a hand. “My name is Zyt. Short for something so long I don’t even remember it myself. I’m Ettrek’s older brother.”
“You probably don’t want to shake my hand,” I said. “You’re welcome to shake Teka’s twice, though.”
“Don’t volunteer me for extra handshakes,” Teka said. “Hi. Teka Surukta.”
“Here are some oracles,” I said, gesturing behind me to Eijeh and Sifa. Zyt raised his eyebrows. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
65
" What happens now?” Akos said to me softly.
“You think I know?” I said, shaking my head. “I don’t even know if you and I count as exiles. Or if Lazmet counts exiles as Shotet.”
“Maybe we’re on our own, you and me.”
He said it with a glint of hope in his eyes. If I was not an exile, if I was not even Shotet, then staying with me was not a sign of his inevitable betrayal. The family Noavek had so long been synonymous with “Shotet” in his mind that the sudden paring down of everything I was appealed to him. But I could not be made smaller, and moreover, I didn’t want to be.
“I am always a Shotet,” I said.
He looked taken aback at first, tilting away from me. But his rejoinder came quickly, and it was sharp: “Then why do you doubt me when I tell you I am always a Thuvhesit?”
It wasn’t the same. How could I explain that it wasn’t the same? “Now is not the time for this debate!”
“Cyra,” he said again, and he touched my arm, his touch light as ever. “Now is the only time for this debate. How can we talk about where we’re going now, what we’re doing now, if we haven’t talked about who--and what--we are now?”
He had a point. Akos had a way of getting to the heart of things--he was, in that way, more of a knife than I was, though I was the sharper-tongued of the two of us. His soft gray eyes focused on mine like there were not over one hundred people crowded around us. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
67
" Akos joined me in the garden, after ensuring there were no killer beetles flying around. Still, he stayed close to me, closer than he normally would.
“What do you think she’ll say?” I asked him.
He sighed, and I felt it against my hair. “I don’t know. I’ve given up trying to know what oracles are going to say to me.”
I laughed. “I bet you’re tired of them.”
“I am.” He stepped closer, so his chest was against my back and his nose was in my hair, tilted down so I could feel his breaths against the nape of my neck. It would have been simple to move away. He wasn’t holding me there; he was hardly touching me, in fact.
But so help me, I didn’t want to move.
“I’m tired of everything,” he said. “I’m tired all the time.”
He sighed again, heavily.
“Mostly,” he said, “I’m tired of not being near you. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
69
" How can we talk about where we’re going now, what we’re doing now, if we haven’t talked about who--and what--we are now?”
He had a point. Akos had a way of getting to the heart of things--he was, in that way, more of a knife than I was, though I was the sharper-tongued of the two of us. His soft gray eyes focused on mine like there were not over one hundred people crowded around us.
Unfortunately, we didn’t possess the gift of focus in equal measure. I couldn’t think in all the chatter. I jerked my head toward the door, and Akos nodded, following me out of the mess hall and into the quiet stone street beyond. Over his shoulder I saw the village, faint dots of light dancing all over it, in all different colors. It looked almost cozy, not something I had thought a place like Ogra could be.
“You asked who we are now,” I said, looking up at him. “I think we need to move even further back and ask, are we a ‘we’?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, with sudden intensity.
“What I mean is,” I said, “are we together, or am I just some kind of…warden again, only it’s fate keeping you prisoner this time, instead of my brother?”
“Don’t make it sound simple when it isn’t,” he said. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” I laughed. “What, in your entire life so far, has made you think anything will be ‘fair’?” I stepped wider, so I felt like I was rooted to the ground, the way I might have if we had been about to spar. “Just tell me--tell me if I’m something you’re choosing, or not. Just tell me.”
Just get it over with, I thought, because I already knew the answer. I was ready to hear it--even eager, because I had been bracing myself since our first kiss for this rejection. It was the inevitable by-product of what I was. Monstrous, and bound to destroy whoever was in my path, particularly if they were as kind as Akos. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
70
" Hold on,” Ettrek said. “What qualifies you to be in charge of this mission, anyway?”
“I’m better than you,” I said. “At everything.”
Teka rolled her eyes. “She knows the target, Trek. You want to charge into Voa to kill a man you don’t understand or know at all?”
Ettrek shrugged. “Guess not.”
“Everybody take this week to do what you need to get done,” Teka said. “I’ll start getting the ship ready now. I might need a new gravity compressor, and I know we need food.”
“And,” I said, thinking of what Isae had used to kill my brother, “maybe some new kitchen knives.”
Teka wrinkled her nose, likely remembering the same thing. “Definitely.”
“Anyway, we might not be coming back, so…” I shrugged. “Say your good-byes.”
“You’re just bursting with optimism, aren’t you,” Ettrek said.
“Did you expect the person leading your assassination mission to be cheerful?” I said. “If so, I think you’re in the wrong field.” I set my half-finished bowl of breakfast down, and drew the knife at my hip instead. I leaned across the table and pointed the blade at him. “And by the way, if you call me ‘Scourge’ again, I will cut that stupid knot right off the top of your head.”
Ettrek licked his lips, considering my knife.
“Okay,” he finally said. “Cyra. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
71
" You asked who we are now,” I said, looking up at him. “I think we need to move even further back and ask, are we a ‘we’?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, with sudden intensity.
“What I mean is,” I said, “are we together, or am I just some kind of…warden again, only it’s fate keeping you prisoner this time, instead of my brother?”
“Don’t make it sound simple when it isn’t,” he said. “That’s not fair.”
“Fair?” I laughed. “What, in your entire life so far, has made you think anything will be ‘fair’?” I stepped wider, so I felt like I was rooted to the ground, the way I might have if we had been about to spar. “Just tell me--tell me if I’m something you’re choosing, or not. Just tell me.”
Just get it over with, I thought, because I already knew the answer. I was ready to hear it--even eager, because I had been bracing myself since our first kiss for this rejection. It was the inevitable by-product of what I was. Monstrous, and bound to destroy whoever was in my path, particularly if they were as kind as Akos.
“I,” he said, slowly, “am a Thuvhesit, Cyra. I would never oppose my country, my home, if I felt like I had a choice.”
I closed my eyes. It hurt worse--much worse--than I was expecting it to.
He went on, “But my mother used to say, ‘Suffer the fate, for all else is delusion.’ There’s no point in fighting something that is inevitable. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
73
" I heard that creaky knee, your sovereignty,” he said.
“Good,” I said through a yawn. “Then you’re not as unguarded as you look.”
I got up and padded over to him. There was a bandage on his arm--the tentacle of some kind of venomous Ogran plant had wrapped around him while he harvested it, and ate away at his skin like acid. The scar would stretch right across his Shotet marks, passing through them, though not entirely erasing them.
“That looks disgusting,” I said, pointing to the substance he was chopping. It was grainy and black, like it was coated in engine oil. It had stained his fingertips a grayish color.
“It tastes disgusting, too,” he said. “But if it does what I think it will, you’ll have a painkiller that won’t make you sleepy during the day.”
“You don’t need to dedicate so much time to painkillers,” I said. “I’m managing just fine with the ones I have.”
“I enjoy making them,” he said. “It’s not all about you, you know.”
“I love it when you talk sweet to me.” I wrapped my arms around his waist, breathing in the smell of fresh things that lingered on all his clothes in the afternoons, after he went to the ship’s little greenhouse. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
74
" I,” he said, slowly, “am a Thuvhesit, Cyra. I would never oppose my country, my home, if I felt like I had a choice.”
I closed my eyes. It hurt worse--much worse--than I was expecting it to.
He went on, “But my mother used to say, ‘Suffer the fate, for all else is delusion.’ There’s no point in fighting something that is inevitable.”
I forced my eyes open. “I don’t want to be something you ‘suffer.’”
“That’s not what I meant,” he said, reaching for me. I backed up. For once, the pain that wrapped around every limb was not a curse to me--though not a gift, never a gift--but another set of armor.
“You’re the one thing that makes my life bearable,” he said, and the sudden tension in him, suffusing every muscle, reminded me of how he had braced himself every time Vas came around. It was the way he looked when he was guarding himself against pain. “You’re this bright spot of light. You’re--Cyra, before I knew you, I thought about…”
I raised my eyebrows.
He drew a sharp breath. His gray eyes looked glassy.
“Before I knew you,” he began again, “I didn’t intend to live past rescuing my brother. I didn’t want to serve the Noavek family. I didn’t want to give my life to them. But when it’s you…it seems like whatever the end is, it might be worthwhile. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
79
" What’s it like out there?” I asked Zyt, falling into step beside him.
“Well, at first there was a lot of looting,” Zyt said. A lock of hair fell against his cheek. “Good for business. But then Lazmet took power, and that pretty much scared sense into everyone. He imposed a curfew, started rounding people up and arresting them, stuff like that. Bad for business.”
“What business are you in, exactly?” I said.
“Smuggling,” Zyt said. His eyelids fell heavy over his eyes, narrowing them somewhat, and he had a mouth given to smiles. He gave me one then. “Mostly medicine, but we smuggle whatever’s lucrative--supplies, weapons, whatever.”
“Ever smuggle fruit?” I said.
“Fruit?” Zyt raised his eyebrows. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
80
" Let’s do it.”
“How?” Yssa asked. “Where do you activate the alarm?”
“One of two places: Noavek manor, and the amphitheater. The amphitheater is easier to access,” I said. “We don’t all need to go. So who goes, and who stays?”
“I’m leaving this planet,” Eijeh said.
“Yeah, I got that impression based on your repeated insistence that you’re not staying,” I snapped.
“I will take you off-planet, Eijeh,” Yssa said to him. “You are an oracle and as such, your life is valuable.”
“My life’s not valuable?” Ettrek said.
Yssa gave him a look. "
― Veronica Roth , The Fates Divide (Carve the Mark, #2)
