She said, “I’m glad I married a man of honor.” And she stood. Her heart was beating very fast, and her blood was singing with a pristine fury that felt like peace.
In any other time or place, in any other way, she might have accepted Romeo’s sacrifice. But not here. Not now. Not after all she had dared and done and suffered—not as recompense for Romeo’s kindness and Paris’s loyalty.
Those with clever plans, I outwit, Death had said. There was no trick or scheme that Juliet could hope to use against her.
There had been no hope for her to defy Lord Ineo, so she had turned her obedience into a weapon. If cleverness was always outmatched by Death, how would she treat faithfulness?
“Death,” she called out, her voice filling the great silence. “You broke your promise to me.”
“Did I?” said Death an instant later, from only a step behind her. “How rude of me. But what did I do wrong?”
Juliet turned to face Death, and stared fearlessly into those half-familiar eyes. “You said that I could bring Romeo back, if I could find him. And I found him, but he has vowed not to leave Paris here, so I cannot take him with me. Your promise is broken.”
“And what would you have me do?” asked Death, grave and amused at once. “Send Paris back to life as well?”
“Yes,” said Juliet.
“That is a very childish wish,” said Death.
“Children,” said Juliet, “believe their elders will keep their promises. I know my father was a liar. Tell me, are you one too?”
And Death smiled. “That is the right answer, my child. Take him with you, if you can rouse him from his sleep. And try not to let me see you again for a very long time.”
In the next breath, she was gone, faded into the darkness of her kingdom. Juliet turned back to Romeo and Paris.
“I don’t know if we can—” Romeo began, but she ignored him.
“Paris Mavarinn Catresou,” she said. “I command you on your obedience, to me and to your clan, get up and walk.”
And his eyes opened. He blinked, drowsily, and then he sat up. “Lady Juliet?” he said.
“Not anymore,” she said, and hauled him to his feet. “But you’re still mine. And we’re all going home together.”
When they returned, it was dawn. The sky overhead was pink and gold.
Runajo was waiting still. But she no longer knelt in formal prayer like a Sister of Thorn. She sat with her knees pulled up to her chin, hands twisted together. When she saw them, her eyes widened, but she didn’t move, as if she could not believe they were real.
For a heartbeat, Juliet could not believe that Runajo was real either. She had never before looked on the other girl without feeling her mind as well, and it hurt to think she would never have that again.
But she had sacrificed that closeness when she gave up the sacred words of her people. And she had bought something far more precious.
Juliet let go of Romeo’s hand. She walked forward and knelt before Runajo. She reached across the invisible chasm between them and cradled Runajo’s face in her hands as she said, “I am no longer the Juliet. So I can finally tell you this: I forgive you.”
38
THE DAYS THAT FOLLOWED WERE full of beginnings.
This was one: as they lay together in bed, she whispered to him, “I don’t have a name anymore. I never had a name, and now I’m not even the Juliet. But I would trust you to give me one.”
He brushed the hair away from her face, and then kissed her. “You nearly killed me. And you saved us all. What other name could I call you, except Juliet?”
They signed the new Accords in the Exalted’s palace, before the Exalted’s silver throne, beneath a ceiling carved into foamy swirls of white stone.
Runajo was not entirely sure why she had been summoned to witness it. She knew why Lord Ineo was there, and the new Lord Catresou, and Vai. They each had to sign on behalf of their people. And she could guess why Xu was there, no longer a subcaptain but the Exalted’s right hand.
Officially, the previous Exalted had sacrificed himself out of grief for his people. But Runajo felt very sure he had died on Xu’s blade, abandoned by his personal guard. She had read the histories of Viyara; it was a form of succession that was not unknown.
But Runajo didn’t know why she was there. She was not Juliet, who had walked into death, and now people would try to kiss the hem of her dress in the streets. She was not Sunjai, who had died to save the Upper City, and now a statue of her was being carved in the Cloister.
In the end, she had done little besides try very hard and get a lot of people killed. And she was learning to live with that shame, but she didn’t understand why Inyaan would offer her any favor for it.
“It is our command that these Accords supersede all previous bonds and ranks, and lay to rest all previous feuds.” Inyaan looked very small, sitting on the throne, and her heavy gold collar and crown only made her look more delicate still. But she held herself with stiff, unyielding pride. “If anyone cannot abide these terms, then do not sign.”
The words were clearly addressed to Lord Ineo, but his expression of calm respect did not twitch. “The Mahyanai have always been honored to keep the laws of Viyara,” he said, bowing slightly. “We will abide by them still.”
The new Lord Catresou’s expression could not be seen, hidden behind a golden, full-face mask. But his voice was also respectful. “We will also abide by the new Accords.”
“And we,” said Vai, “have waited far too long to be allowed to keep them. You needn’t fear us breaking faith.” She was the only one of them wearing no jewelry or fine clothing, just a worn blue coat; but she held herself with a proud grace that put the others to shame.
So each one went forward in turn, accepted a tiny silver knife from Xu, and signed the Accords in blood. Last of all Inyaan signed, and Runajo thought she saw a slight tremble in her hands when she sliced her finger open—but maybe it was just her imagination.
They all signed the Accords in blood, but they promised none. There were no more walls to maintain. The Great Offering was over. For the first time in a hundred years, Viyara could be a city that sheltered innocents, whose lives were not bought in blood.
When the signing was finished, Inyaan told Runajo to stay. As the others filed out, Runajo felt a little trickle of fear. Xu had remained behind, to fill the role of bodyguard, but everyone else had gone away. If Inyaan wanted to punish her for anything she had done, Lord Ineo would make no protests on Runajo’s behalf.
They stared at each other for a moment, Inyaan still sitting on her throne, Runajo standing before her. Runajo had never liked to apologize, and yet now Sorry was on the tip of her tongue. She wasn’t sure for what. I’m sorry that Sunjai is dead? But that had been Sunjai’s choice, and Inyaan’s fingers on the blade. I’m sorry that I sent you to your brother? But that had been the one time she’d been trying to help Inyaan, no matter how badly it turned out. (And in the end, it had made Inyaan the new Exalted.) I’m sorry that I hated you in the Cloister? But their squabbles when they were novices seemed so insignificant now.
“I want you to return to the Cloister,” said Inyaan.
Runajo stared at her. She did not miss the shift away from the royal we. This was not the Exalted’s command. This was a request, from one former Sister to another.
“Why?” she asked.
“Because she wants the lot of you gone,” said Xu, looking faintly amused.
“Viyara was never meant to be the home of all the world,” said Inyaan. “It is a city for those who serve the gods with their blood. None of those who came here to escape the Ruining have ever done that except under compulsion.”
Runajo could say nothing to that. It was true enough.