Cy stared at his reflection in the dark window. His new metal eye was the most intricate piece of machinery he had ever seen, and the smallest: it matched his other eye in size. Minuscule silver and copper pieces twisted as he moved his gaze, adjusting the tiny red lens to focus his vision. Why the steamwright had chosen red glass confused him until a flash of lightning illuminated the street, giving him a better look. The lens was cut from a clear red gem, not a ruby, but the light faded to fast for him to determine anything more. How in the hell had Moxie been able to afford this? They barely had enough money left over to eat after buying the parts for Moxie's work and paying the oppressive taxes charged by the Republic. What had she done to save him?
Cy pulled his coat closer around him, as if that could ease the guilt constricting his chest. He owed Moxie so much more than an apology. What kind of a fool condemns his lover for saving his life? Expecting her to understand how horrific these metal parts were to him was asinine. To Moxie, metal and machines were the answer to everything. She had never been burned by touching iron or steel, nor could she feel the constant, discordant energy of this metal city thrumming in her bones. She ordered her world into nice, neat rows of logic and reason while Cy, like all fey, was ruled by instinct and emotion. And right now, every instinct he possessed was screaming at him to rip the metal from his body. He felt like it was poisoning him, burning him, twisting him into something dark and unnatural. He knew that wasn't true--at least, he didn't think it was--but his faerie instincts wouldn't listen. As it was, he could barely resist the urge to claw at the metal. Were he a full-blooded fey, he would have been screaming and tearing at the parts, desperate to remove them. Moxie didn't understand that. She treated him like he was human, but he wasn't.
A shaped copper plate surrounded that awful metal eye, replacing his brow, cheekbone, and temple. Cy scraped his fingertips across it then clenched his fist and forced it back down to his side. He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool glass. His breath fogged the window. "Mox," he whispered, "how could you do this to me?"
"She didn't. I did." Cy whirled. A tall, beautiful sidhe stood behind him, just under the eaves that covered the porch. How had Cy not heard him approach? He heard everything, even the petal-soft footsteps of the fey. He felt six kinds of stupid to be caught here unaware. The sidhe pushed back the hood of his cloak, revealing the sheen of silver hair and perfect, blood-red eyes. Cy flinched beneath that proud, mocking gaze. "Why you are standing at my door, Cypher Nahuel?" the sidhe asked. His lips twitched. "One might mistake you for a stray wanting to be let in."
Heat suffused Cy's cheeks. Of course the braider would choose that image. That was how Cy always felt around the sidhe: like a stray--with fleas. He only wanted to understand them, to finally grasp that alien part of himself, but they went out of their way to avoid him. It was nice to know this sidhe was no different. At least now Cy knew where he stood.
He wrapped his arms around his chest then felt the metal arm inside its sleeve. He dropped the machine to his side again in revulsion. Raine's gaze tracked the movement. "Look, I know I disgust you," Cy began, "but--"
Raine's nostrils flared. "I did not say that." The sharpness in his tone scraped Cy's skin. Cy touched his cheek, expecting to find blood--when he spoke that sharply, people bled--but there was none.
"You didn't have to," Cy said softly, dropping his gaze. The sidhe liked to feel superior. Hell, they were superior, and though it galled him to acknowledge it, Cy was desperate enough to do so. "But please, the metal, can you remove it?"
Raine didn't answer at first. He shifted his weight and the wind caught his cloak. Cy was surprised to see that the sidhe's fists were clenched. He glanced up, but instead of the rage he expected, Raine looked... awkward. Like there was so much he wanted to say, but he didn't know where to begin. His gaze danced over Cy's face. "You don't disgust me, Cypher Nahuel," he finally said. Then he turned away in one of those lightning-fast movements that so disturbed their human neighbors. Had Cy not been so shocked by his words, he would have smiled. Raine wasn't trying to play human with him, and he wasn't disgusted by Cy's mixed blood. It felt odd. And good. So good. Cy could pretend for just a moment that this sidhe thought of him as kin.
But he knew that was a lie, and the fey didn't lie, not even to themselves. Raine's hand touched the bone latch on the door. Crushed, Cy stepped back out into the rain. Now what was he going to do? He tried to stop himself from stating the obvious, it was such a human thing to do, but he couldn't help himself. "So you won't help me then?" he said. Rain pattered down on him. The acidity and soot from the factories stung his skin. Don't beg, he told himself. Do not beg. But the words slipped out anyway. "Please? I can pay you. I mean... I don't have the money right now, but I'll find a way. Whatever it costs, I--"
Raine opened the door then looked back at him with a frown. Confusion danced across his achingly beautiful features. "You won't come inside?" he asked."This unnatural rain hurts my skin. Does it not hurt yours?"
Cy stared at him, speechless. Was this sidhe inviting him in? He couldn't believe it. He couldn't even bring himself to ask; he was too ashamed at the possibility that he might be wrong. The sidhe would laugh at him, be disgusted or worse, offended. One did not insult a full-blooded sidhe and hope to keep one's limbs intact. "Yes," Cy finally said. "It hurts."
Raine's frown deepened then his eyes lit with understanding. Emotions skittered across his face to fast to follow, but they ended in sadness. "You are welcome in my home, Cypher Nahuel," he said softly. "Please, come in."
No comments:
Post a Comment