A strange breathlessness caught Nothing, and she parted her lips to gasp a little air. Spring’s pretty eyes dropped to Nothing’s mouth and so Nothing glanced at the other girl’s too. Those lips were pink and soft-looking as the tongues of the orchids in her hair.
Nothing swallowed and stepped away.
“Does the Sorceress Who Eats Girls always do what the river asks?” she demanded.
Spring shrugged and moved to the trunks across the room. Her slippers were pale-pink silk and silent against the obsidian floor. “You’ve been bathed. Would you like to dress?”
Startled, Nothing glanced down at herself. She hadn’t thought about how she’d become clean, only vaguely realized she felt so. Her hair slid around her face as she looked, gleaming and trimmed. A creamy linen shift softer than anything she’d worn before covered her to the knees. Its hem was embroidered in such detail it should have belonged to a queen. “I need to pee,” she said with a surge of anger.
Where had anger come from?
Nothing clenched her jaw. She was unused to fluctuations of emotion. She was not supposed to attract attention.
Spring pointed to the curve of obsidian wall behind the nest. A lidded stone bowl settled in a short tiled stand. “There is cloth in the basket beside, and everything will be taken care of for you.”
Huffing, Nothing went to the chamber pot and used it. The other girl widened her eyes as if surprised at Nothing’s lack of modesty.
“Now my mouth? My teeth are furry.”
Spring pointed again, and Nothing, flushed with an unfamiliar mingling of anger and triumph, cleaned her teeth, too.
When she finished, Spring glanced at her over her shoulder, holding a beautiful expanse of red silk across herself as if she’d been measuring the size. “Ready?”
Nothing took an angry breath and nodded. She strode to Spring, trying to seem larger and more powerful than she was. The other girl watched her, admiration in her honey gaze. Nothing liked and disliked the expression: she both wanted this girl to admire her and wanted this girl to fear her. Or dismiss her. “I want to see Sky, and Kirin.”
“I will take you to the warrior,” Spring said, holding the red cloth up to Nothing’s face, eyes all for fashion. “But not to the prince.”
“Why?”
“Ask the sorceress at dinner.”
Nothing pursed her lips. “Red is too harsh for me.”
Spring laughed. “You think you need pastels?”
“I don’t care,” Nothing amended. “Put me in something and take me to Sky.”
The other girl smiled in amusement and dropped the red silk at Nothing’s feet. She returned to the trunks and pulled out a light-blue robe and a deep-purple long vest with curved black-horn clasps. The robe wrapped tight to Nothing’s waist, looser as it fell to her calves. Spring’s hands worked quickly and with certainty, nudging Nothing’s hip, then batting her hand away to tie the robe. She helped Nothing into the vest, buttoning it swiftly. She stood so near that Nothing found herself holding her breath.
Spring’s lashes were long and a brighter brown than the rich black of her hair. They barely curled at all. Nothing wished to touch them. To feel them against her cheek.
Nothing frowned. What was wrong with her? This strangely intense focus on details, on Spring, the surge of anger, and breathlessness. “What are you?” she whispered.
Spring lifted her eyes. She was so very near. Nothing could see individual flecks and swirls in her honey-brown eyes. They seemed familiar too. Nothing shuddered, fighting the urge to back away. Why was everything here familiar?
“What are you?” she asked again.
“A girl,” Spring said. “Like you.”
“Did she take your heart? Why are you here?”
“I like it here.” Spring touched the overlapping collar of her beautiful silk robe. She pulled it down, revealing smooth white skin, the slight swell of breasts, and a thin, almost invisible scar between them. It was jagged, dark pink, not very old.
Nothing thrust away.
Spring smiled sadly and remained silent.
Covering her face, Nothing tried not to think. She tried not to listen or feel. She was nothing. She was Nothing. Nothing could escape the Fifth Mountain. Nothing could rescue Kirin. It would be all right. She threw her hands down and glared. “Take me to Sky.”
“Slippers are—”
“No, take me.”
Spring turned and gestured for Nothing to follow. She did, barefoot on the cold, smooth obsidian.
The red-and-pink flower door opened out into a maze of narrow corridors carved into the mountain. Nothing reached to trail her fingers against the wall. They’d left obsidian behind and walked through glimmering granite. When she noticed the glimmer, she wondered how she could see: no lanterns nor candles gave light; no tunnels to the surface nor alcoves held natural sunlight. It was as if the air itself simply was light. Nothing wondered how deep within the mountain they were. It felt comforting, as if she belonged here. When she realized that, Nothing was a little bit afraid.
She kept track of their turns and the distance they went, passing forks and offshoots of the corridor, doors carved of dark wood, some painted merrily like hers, others blending into the walls. Nothing was good at internal maps, having spent her life in the pocket-rooms and smoke ways of the palace. They climbed a staircase, and soon Spring opened a door carved in waves and painted blue. Brilliant light fell out as if they’d come into a happy afternoon.
Nothing hurried in: it was a chamber with a vaulted ceiling that glittered with hundreds of crystals pointed down like frozen rain. In the center a slab of crystal rose like an altar, and upon it was Sky.
She grasped his hand. It was folded with the other over his chest. A long blue cloth covered him from waist down, spilling off the foot of the altar and to either side. His head rested on a thin pillow. Nothing waited, staring, until she saw the slow rise of his stomach.
Relief closed her eyes, and she leaned over to rest her cheek against their layered hands. “Sky,” she said.
Standing again, she moved to his head, skimming her fingers over his shoulder and jaw to cup his face. “Sky,” she said again, soft and cajoling. He did not twitch. His copper skin seemed healthy, the blue-violet tinge of his hair and streaks of vivid blue normal. No blood remained dried to his skin, but there were cloudy bruises dark as ink on his left forearm and just peeking up from the blanket along his right ribs. “Is he all right?”
She turned, but she was alone. Spring was gone.
Nothing huffed to herself. “Hello?” she called.
Her voice echoed dully. She glanced up at the winking crystal ceiling. She hadn’t even had a chance to ask Spring more questions. What was she supposed to do now?
Nothing leaned over Sky and kissed his cheek. “Get better. I’m going to find him,” she said.
With that, Nothing left the crystal room.
She’d come from the left, so she turned right. “Hello?” she called again. Her voice flowed before her as if drawn by the dark stone walls.
For a while Nothing walked. She touched the wall, noticing as the type of rock changed, rippling into obsidian at times, or rough as granite, coined into huge crystals in others, and there were sometimes steps of octagonal basalt. Pink quartz speared out of the ceiling sometimes, glowing softly, and in other places threads of gold sliced through the granite. When Nothing came to a door, she opened it. None were locked: some swung into empty, dusty rooms. Sometimes she found a nest like the one in which she’d awoken, unused, or a single desk, or shelves covered in glittering crystal dust. She found a library, she found a room with only candles and mirrors, and she found a long oval room with a rain forest carved into the walls and clouds in the ceiling. She found a room filled with crumbling carcasses of dead dawn sprites.