So lost in myself, and in Sam’s arms, I almost didn’t notice the commotion around the curve of the temple.
“What’s going on?” I swallowed more tears.
“Sylph. Don’t worry. They’ll capture it and set it free outside Range.” He started to adjust his hold on me, but I straightened and pulled away. “What is it?” Concern lined his face.
“I just had a horrible thought.” I wanted to be wrong, but my mind worked no matter how I tried to ignore it. “Help me get there before they put it in an egg.”
He looked uncertain, but kept me upright as I limped toward the crowd gathered around a panicked sylph. The tall shadow hummed and sang, caught in the circle of people with brass eggs. It could have burned any of them, but it stayed in the center and shifted as though trying to decide what to do.
Then it saw me.
I gathered my strength and gave Sam’s hand a squeeze. “Let me through.” My voice cracked, and I had to say it again, but the team with sylph eggs backed off. Maybe they remembered Deborl’s claims that I could control sylph.
I stepped through the line of people, Sam close behind, and Stef after him. The column of smoke and shadow grew still and its songs silent. It looked at all of us and slumped, somewhere between relief and exhaustion.
It was too human.
“We shouldn’t have let him do it, Stef.” I lifted my hand toward the black smoke. People hissed, but when my fingers passed through, there was only uncomfortable warmth. The sylph hummed, calmer.
I raised my other palm toward the midnight curls, but it shivered away from me as heat grew, like it had lost control.
“Oh.” Stef sounded like she wanted to be sick. “Cris?”
The sylph twitched—acknowledgment—and a tendril of shadow blossomed like a black rose, then fell to my feet.
I clutched my chest, my heart caged inside. We’d let him sacrifice himself for us, and now he was cursed—
Cursed.
Sylph were cursed.
Cris had said there’d been no sylph in the beginning. I still didn’t know how they’d been cursed, but I knew what Cris had done.
“Oh, Cris.”
The shadow rose vanished, and the sylph floated between a pair of guards—who stepped aside to let him pass. He flowed like ink down East Avenue, and Sine muttered into her SED. “There’s a sylph going through the Eastern Arch. Open the gates wide and let him be.”
31
HEARTBEAT
AFTER SPENDING A few days in the hospital, I was taken to the Council chamber. The remaining Councilors were there—nine now, since Deborl was in prison—but none of them looked happy to see me. Most just stared at the items on the table: a stack of leather-bound books, a handful of diaries, and a small silver box.
This wasn’t quite everything Deborl had stolen from me, but these things were the most incriminating. The music…
I slumped in my chair, grateful when Sam sat next to me; they hadn’t let anyone visit while I was in the hospital.
“Today’s session is closed.” Sine focused on me, her gaze hard and holding back all emotion. “And it will probably stay closed. Typically we are in favor of sharing our decisions with everyone in Heart, but this—Ana.” She said my name like heartbreak.
Everyone stared at me, but I didn’t look away from Sine. I just waited.
“Deborl’s methods were reprehensible, but he did uncover several unfortunate truths.
“First, you were in possession of Menehem’s research.” She pressed her palm on the diaries, as though she could crush them into dust. “The same research that describes how he created Templedark. You lied to us. You hid information regarding our existence and our history. Regardless of whether Menehem left the research in your care, it was never yours to keep.”
I clenched my jaw and said nothing, because nothing I might say would help. I had kept the research. I had lied. Those things were true.
“Second, there’s Meuric.”
The name alone conjured memories of his stench, his grating voice, and his manic laughter when he told me that Janan ate souls. I shuddered and swallowed the taste of acid in my throat. Below the table, Sam took my hand and squeezed.
“Is what Deborl said true, Ana?” Emotion cracked through Sine’s voice when she asked, “Did you kill Meuric?”
Had I? I’d thought so before, but then he was alive in the temple. He would have stayed alive, but Deborl brought him out. Both Deborl and I were responsible, but if I hadn’t stabbed and kicked Meuric to begin with… “It was self-defense. He tricked me into the temple. He was going to trap me there. We fought. I won.”
“And you decided not to tell anyone.” Sine glanced at Sam, probably knowing I’d told him, but if she was going to punish him for not coming forward, she wasn’t going to do it now. “That brings me to the third complaint.” She touched the temple key and books, and confusion flickered across her face. The other Councilors, too, seemed unsure what they were looking at.
“Those were Meuric’s,” I offered. Technically the books weren’t, but he could have shared them with the community. He’d decided not to.
“And yet,” Sine said, “when you came into possession of them, you hid them.”
It wasn’t like anyone else would have remembered them. Deborl would have taken everything, and I would have no answers.
Maybe I had too many answers.
“Do you remember what happened to Cris?” My voice caught on his name.
The Councilors glanced at one another, muttering, until Sine shook her head. “He was killed during the mob on market day.”
My fists balled up and my jaw ached from clenching it, but there was no point in arguing. They wouldn’t remember that Cris had become a sylph, or what Janan did to newsouls, or that they’d all agreed to bind themselves to him in the first place. The forgetting magic was too strong.
They’d only remember that they didn’t trust me. That I’d lied. That I’d kept things from them.
“Ana.” Sine leaned on the table. “I know the newsouls are important to you.”
She had no idea.
“The Council had several emergency meetings after market day. We did listen to what you had to say, and we’ve already put laws in place to make sure newsouls are protected. Anid and Ariana are safe. So are any others born.”
And me? I’d never feel safe again. Neither would those inside the temple. Still, it was more than I’d expected. “Thank you.”
“But,” she said, “I’m afraid given what we’ve discussed today, the Council has decided to revoke your status as a guest in Heart.”
Everything inside of me spun, dropped, slammed. She couldn’t do that.
“Be reasonable—,” Sam started, but Sine held up a hand to stop him.
“This was not an easy decision to come to.” Sine lifted her voice, glancing between Sam and me. “We agonized over it, trust me, but the fact of the matter is that Ana has not held up her end. By lying and withholding important information and items, she betrayed our trust.”
“No.” Sam’s voice was low. Dangerous. “You betrayed her trust. She hasn’t been safe in Heart since she arrived. And would you have believed her, even if she’d come forward? People have tried to kill her; Deborl—a Councilor—and his friends set explosives to try and kill more newsouls. The moment she arrived in Heart, the Council betrayed her by making up laws to prevent her from joining society.”
Sine closed her eyes, and her tone was much too calm. “As a result of your actions, Ana, I’m sorry to say you are no longer welcome in the city. Dossam will no longer be your guardian. While we will not force you beyond Range—that would surely be a death sentence—you are hereby exiled from Heart.”
“No!” Sam lunged across the table, and within heartbeats, every Councilor was up and shouting.
Exiled.
Screaming and fighting built around me. I stared at my hands on my lap.
Exiled.
Asunder after all.
&nbs
p; “I’ll go.” I stood, and the cacophony stopped; Frase and Finn had Sam pinned against the wall already, fists drawn back as though they were going to punch him. It hadn’t been much of a fight, one against many. “I’ll go,” I said again, “as long as you keep your promise about the other newsouls.”
“Of course we will.” Sine nodded at the men holding Sam. “Please, all of you. Stop this. Sam, I’m disappointed in you.”
Sam muttered a few unfamiliar curses as he jerked away from the Councilors. “You deserve everything coming to you.”
I frowned—no one deserved what Janan would do—but I just turned for the Council chamber doors. “I need to pack a few things.”
“That’s fine.” Now that it was over, Sine was gentle. “We can give you two days.”
That didn’t give me much time to pack and say good-bye to friends, but it was more time than I’d expected.
Afternoon fell in pale splashes across Heart. Sam and I walked home, not talking about the Council’s decision. Instead, he called and vented to Stef, who immediately went to demand an appeal. Other friends joined in, once they heard the news, but when they came over later, everyone said the Council had refused to hear them.
When Stef and Sarit left late that night, Sam and I changed into nightclothes and settled in the remains of our parlor.
“I can’t believe this is really happening.” He sounded far away.
“They’ll never accept me.” I closed my flute into its travel case, grateful it had survived the mob. “They don’t trust me, and they won’t believe the truth. But I believe Sine when she says she’ll take care of the other newsouls. They have a chance. As far as Janan goes—what can I do against him when the Council has everything?”
“You won’t give up against him, though.”
“No. But what I want to do, I can’t do here.”
“What’s that?” Hope colored the edges of his voice.
“I’m going to find the sylph.” I was closer to finding answers to the questions I’d asked in Menehem’s lab, but I needed to know more. And Cris was out there. Somewhere. Maybe—No, he’d already given everything.
Sam smiled grimly. “I’m going with you.”
Joy sparked inside of me. “Are you sure? I’d never ask you to leave—”
“I’d go anywhere with you.” He touched my cheek. “It doesn’t matter where or how far, or even why. I want to be with you no matter what.”
“Thank you.” Heartbeat thudding in my ears, I met his eyes and let my emotions bubble into words. “I love you, Sam.”
It was easy to say. I could love. And I did.
Sam swept me into his arms and hugged me so tight I couldn’t breathe, whispering his love again and again. His promises sat warm on my throat, trapped in my hair and shirt collar, and I imagined they wrapped around me like armor.
“I always have,” I said into his hair. “I’ve loved you since I first heard your music, and saw how you wrote about it.” I kissed his throat, twisted my fingers in his shirt. “I loved you when you saved me from the lake and put your breath inside me.” His face, his hair, his shoulders—everywhere my hands could find, they did. “I loved you that day in the library when you showed me your past lives, and at the masquerade before I was totally sure you were the shrike.”
“All those times?” He pressed his cheek against mine.
“And more. When you took care of my hands, when you found me outside the temple. I even loved you when I was angry with you. Maybe especially then.” While I spoke, I’d settled myself on his lap, facing him. His heart thudded against mine. “I think no matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”
Even though five thousand years ago, he’d made the choice to sacrifice newsouls, I still loved him. I couldn’t help it.
He’d changed so much since then. The entire world had changed.
We fell asleep on the sofa, tangled in blankets. My cheek rested on his chest, and my arms looped around him. I loved the way he felt underneath me, and the way his hand rested on my ribs. I loved the occasional soft snore.
There were so many times I should have said it since meeting him. I should have told a lot of other people, too.
It was the last night before the new year. The Year of Hunger was passing into memory as I breathed.
I slipped from Sam’s arms and let my nightgown fall straight, then took careful steps around the last of the piano wreckage. Dried and delicate rose petals still speckled the floor, like flecks of cracked blue paint.
“Ana?” Sam watched me from the sofa, my hand extended halfway to the exterior wall. “What are you doing?”
I shook my head, dropped my arm. “Just…seeing.” I’d feel better about leaving if everyone was safe.
He sat up, blankets tangled around him, his shirt askew and half-unbuttoned. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I did at Menehem’s lab.”
I picked up a rose petal; it rasped and crunched in my fingers.
“I asked you about the knife. You’d said it made you feel better. You’d said you wanted something like that against Janan.”
The petal crumbled and bits fluttered to the floor, and I couldn’t forget his guilty expression anytime we’d spoken of Menehem’s lab. I’d felt bad about keeping the truth from people, but he’d seemed to take the guilt even harder. “What did you do?”
He met my eyes and drew a shaky breath. “I turned on the machine. It’s been making the poison since we left.”
“Oh.” A hundred emotions flooded through me, shock and dread and gratitude.
“You said it would take an incredible amount to affect Janan even for a moment. I don’t understand much about it. I just turned on the machine and input the ratios from the dose that worked on sylph. It may not do anything. It may be for nothing. But I wanted to give you a knife.”
“Thank you.” I wasn’t ready to believe it would work, but my heart swelled with what he’d done for me. Turning on the machine went against his nature, but he loved me and wanted me to feel safe. “So that’s where we go first, before the Council looks into it. Unless…”
I touched my fingertips to the exterior wall.
The white stone was warm, as usual, but it didn’t do anything untoward. I dared a moment of relief.
Shouldn’t have.
The heartbeat pulsed faster than ever. I snatched my hand back, echoes of Janan’s roaring in my head, visions of Cris a sylph behind my eyes. He’d freed us, but nothing more.
Midnight struck.
The Year of Souls had begun.
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
ETERNAL THANKS TO:
Lauren MacLeod, my agent, and Sarah Shumway, my editor. Thank you for always challenging me to do better and inspiring me to try harder. I can’t imagine this journey without you ladies.
The entire team at Katherine Tegen Books, including Amy Ryan, Brenna Franzitta, Casey McIntyre, Esilda Kerr, Joel Tippie, Katherine Tegen, Laurel Symonds, Lauren Flower, and Megan Sugrue. Hearts and flowers to you all.
The amazing people who read early versions (or last-minute changes!) of this book: Adam Heine, Beth Revis, Bria Quinlan, Christine Nguyen, C. J. Redwine, Corinne Duyvis, Gabrielle Harvey, Jamie Harrington, Jaime Lee Moyer, Jillian Boeme, Joy Hensley George, Kathleen Peacock, Lisa Iriarte, Myra McEntire, and Wendy Beer. Your comments, encouragement, and kicks in the butt were invaluable for getting this book from pixels to paper. I’m so grateful that you’re all in my life.
Warm thanks and adoration to Jeri Smith-Ready, Rachel Hawkins, and Robin McKinley, who said such nice things about Incarnate. Your praise means so much to me, as I’m an incredible fan of your books as well.
Special thanks to the book bloggers, writers, and knit bloggers who helped me launch the Incarnate Theater Treasure Hunt the week Incarnate was released. Your support, enthusiasm, and hard work amaze me.
Adam Heine, Amanda Miller, Amanda at Loves Books Reviews, Amber Mitchell, Amy Fournier, Angel Cruz, Anna Billings, A
sheley Tart, Becky Herrick, Best Tanakasempipat, Bonnie Lynn Wagner, Brenna at Ever After Esther, Charlee Vale, Dot Hutchison, Emily Wright, Enna at Squeaky Books, Gabi Becker, Gabrielle Carolina, Hannah Courtney, Jaime from Two Chicks on Books, James at Book Chic Club, Jessica Reigle, Jodie at Uniquely Moi Books, Julie, Katie, Kaye M., Lauren at 365 Days of Reading, Linda Dao, Mary at the Book Swarm, Mei Jiao Ashley Chen, MG Buehrlen, Michelle and Amethyst at Libri Ago, Michelle Villarmia, Rachel, Sana Reddy, Sarah Nicolas, Shanyn Day, Shellie from Creative Reads, Shelley Watters, Stephanie at Poetry to Prose, Stephanie Huber, Susan Adrian, Tammy Moore, and Traci Inzitari.
Jill Roberts, for being the best, most encouraging mother a girl could ask for. Thank you for always believing in me.
Jeff Meadows, for unending patience and understanding, and willingness to listen to book-crazed ramblings at all hours of the day.
Thanks to God, who I will never be able to thank enough.
And thank you, reader, for picking up this book. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
About the Author
JODI MEADOWS lives and writes in the Shenandoah Valley, Virginina, with her husband, a cat, and an alarming number of ferrets. She is a confessed book addict and has wanted to be a writer ever since she decided against becoming an astronaut. You can visit her online at www.jodimeadows.com.
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Credits
Jacket photo © 2013 by
Gustavo Marx/MergeLeft Reps, Inc.
Jacket art and design by Joel Tippie
Copyright
Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
ASUNDER
Copyright © 2013 by Jodi Meadows
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