Phoenix Overture

shove him out of my way. Not that I knew where I was going. Or what I’d do now.

Fayden lurked a few paces away, his arms crossed as he glared at the ground.

Maybe I could go live in the concert hall.

Stef inclined his head toward the Center. “Let me talk to the Council about the trap. You and Fayden cool down. Then I’ll find you somewhere to stay for the night. Maybe your father will change his mind when you don’t come home.”

“That seems unlikely.”

“Then you’ll stay with me as long as you need.” He shifted his weight. “I can cook, and my aunts live next door. They can help us get whatever you need.”

“Why?” My voice caught. I didn’t deserve anything like that. “Why would you do that for me?”

Stef blinked and pulled back a hair. “Because you’re my friend.”

In spite of what I’d done? What I hadn’t done?

The sky opened and thunder cracked. Rain poured from the clouds and a cold wind whipped through the Community. Children shrieked and lifted their faces to the sky, delight shining. Mothers pulled them into houses, but they, too, were smiling, because the heat had finally broken and the drought was over.

“Hey.” Stef rested his hand on my shoulder. “I don’t believe what he said you did. About your mother.”

Rain dripped from my hair, into my eyes. I swiped away the black strands. “He wasn’t lying.”

Stef raised an eyebrow.

“There was a troll, just two weeks before we met. I didn’t stop it. I didn’t even try.” The rain chopped my words. “I was too afraid to move.”

Fayden came closer, still silent, and put his hand on my other shoulder. The weight of their hands made me feel like I might sink into the ground, but they were trying to be supportive and I couldn’t stand to disappoint them by edging away.

“Nothing will change what I didn’t do.” I could hardly hear my words under the clatter of rain and thrash of wind. We were the only people in the street now; only pots and jars and buckets stood out here with us, gathering water as the street turned to mud.

“You have the chance to act now,” said Stef. “Help me stop it from happening to anyone else.”

Shivering at the cold slap of rain, I nodded and followed them to the Center. Stef’s acceptance—and Fayden’s forgiveness—didn’t fix anything. Mother was still gone, Father hated me worse than ever, and suddenly I had no home.

I wasn’t a brave person. This only highlighted my faults, this inability to resist their attempts to accept my past as past. But I wanted them to accept me. So I’d let them believe they were helping.

The Center was cool and dry. Rain beat a staccato tempo on the roof, dulled by the sound of voices and breathing and people rushing through the long, curved hall to relay some message or other. Maybe they, too, were excited about the storm.

Stef knew where he was going, so Fayden and I trailed behind. I wanted to ask Fayden what he thought about Stef’s offer, if it seemed weird that Stef was inviting us to live with him. But I couldn’t make my voice work. I didn’t want to risk Fayden taking back the silent support he’d offered earlier.

Footsteps echoed in the halls, and shoes squeaked on the cracked tiles. Faces, some friendly and some frowning, peered at us from under wide-brimmed hats that dripped rainwater.

Tap tap tap. The world was alive with sound, but my thoughts dulled, their edges fuzzy as I went after Stef and Fayden.

We rounded a corner and arrived at the Council chamber. Stef knocked, and an old man pushed open the door. “Welcome.” He glanced over the three of us. “Which one of you is Stefan?”

“I am.” Stef pulled his folded papers from his pocket. “I know I’m a little early—”

“That’s quite all right,” said the old man. “The previous appointment was canceled because of the storm. I’m Sine. Come in.” He eyed Fayden and me, then motioned to a metal bench just outside the room. “Please wait for your friend here. If you’re needed, we will call on you.”

I slouched over to the bench and leaned against the wall, shivering as the temperature in the building dropped and the rainwater cooled on my skin. Fayden sat next to me, his arms crossed and a tight expression on his face.

“We’ll have to get back the glass.” He spoke to the empty hall. “If the Council finds out he doesn’t have it, they might not approve him to install the traps throughout the forest. He might not get the rest of the supplies he needs.”

“Surely the Council could persuade Father to turn over the glass to them.” I wiped away a trickle of water leaking from my hair. The cut on my temple stung, and red tinged the water when it fell onto my forearm. “The trap will work. Stef knows what he’s doing, and the Council would be fools to turn down his project.”

“You have a lot of confidence in his work.”

I shrugged.

Minutes dripped by. Inside the Council chamber, voices rose and fell. Mostly Stef’s. Even with the drive of rain obscuring the words, I could hear Stef’s passion and enthusiasm in his tone. Hopefully they were reacting well, even though he hadn’t had a chance to test the prototype.

Would they have the same angry response as Father when they found out about the glass? Maybe Stef wouldn’t tell them where he’d gotten it.

Fayden glanced at me. “He’ll forgive us.”

“Who? Father?”

“Yeah.”

I shook my head. “I don’t care if he does or not.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” He hesitated. “I’ve known you your whole life. I know what you look like when you’re lying.”

“Why would I care if he forgives us?” If Father forgave anyone, it would be Fayden. That could happen pretty easily, if only Fayden stopped caring what happened to me. And the truth I was barely willing to admit: part of me still waited for Fayden to turn back to Father. One summer of brotherhood didn’t change an entire lifetime of unhappy experiences.

“If you didn’t care, you’d have left when Mother died.”

And gone where? Done what? I’d wanted to leave, but I hadn’t, because I wasn’t brave enough. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

He sat back and rubbed his jaw, expression thoughtful. “I’m sorry, Dossam.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“For not understanding. For assuming you were lazy and useless, like Father said. I couldn’t understand why Mother thought so highly of you. . . .”

And now she was dead. Because I hadn’t been able to save her. Had she thought so highly of me in those last minutes?

“I didn’t understand that you were keeping such a big part of yourself secret from Father—that you had to. He wouldn’t understand. Until I heard you play and saw the way it affected you, I wouldn’t have understood.” Fayden sighed. “I still didn’t understand your resentment toward him until today. He’d never hit me before.”

I closed my eyes and pulled in the sound of rain on the rooftop, voices echoing in the hall, and my brother’s breathing next to me. “He won’t forgive us. He might forgive you, but no matter what anyone else thinks, he’s been waiting for the chance to force me out. He blames me for what happened to Mother.”

“Do you blame yourself?”

Loud thumping down the hall saved me from having to answer his question. Fayden and I sat up to watch a young man come hurtling through the Center, water streaming behind him. Everyone moved out of his way.

“Is that Meuric?” Fayden asked.

“I think so.” I didn’t know many of the Councilors by sight. We all knew Janan, of course; he’d been the leader of the Community since before I was born. Before him, his father had been the leader, the one who led everyone out of the Center and assembled them into a new society after the old had vanished. He’d appointed the Council to rule under him, as well. Over the years, many groups had come from other parts of the world to join