Marya held her breath, waiting for a response. None came, except that after a few seconds, Cay’s jaw dropped. He’d connected the dots between her and the name of their pitiful group.
Marya pushed the button to speak again, but hesitated, not sure how to convince them.
“I want to say – and I know how it sounds and you’ve every right not to believe me – but I want to say I’m sorry. So sorry.”
Her voice rose a little in pitch, pinched by the tears threatening to choke her, but she forged on.
“I didn’t want to do this, I promise you that! But I did it, and that will never go away. The – the shame, and the guilt, of those…murders. I’m so sorry.”
Cay Vojen found himself leaning toward the orb, straining to hear the muffled last sentence.
Zinnia narrowed her eyes at him, her lips parting, but Cay couldn’t help himself.
“I think…I mean, since you didn’t want to hurt us. And it seems like you’re trying to help us now…I think we can work together. Or, er, are you trying to help us now? And also, uh, why?”
In the silence that followed, the occupants of the coach began to breathe again, and Cay waited patiently until the woman’s voice returned.
“Yes, Cay Vojen, I am trying to help you now. I’ve wanted…I was ordered to kill…” She trailed off for another few seconds.
“My, my sister’s name was Zinnia,” she said finally.
Cay sensed the other passengers shifting uncomfortably, saw Joran’s gaze flick to Zinnia, before he realized what the woman meant: she had been ordered to kill Zinnia next.
Joran Arundasi tried to push away the sudden wash of emotions. Relief, fear for Zinn, guilt, anger at the unknown woman, uncertainty…
Why had this woman chosen to speak to Cay? And why wasn’t Cay as discombobulated as he himself felt? Glancing again at Zinn’s shaken face, he realized he had the answer. Cay had always been the innocent one, in a way. His humble, apologetic ignorance was a funnel for anything new, whatever his uncle had taught him. He’d paid rapt attention to Okner’s ramblings, admired Friya’s skills, unashamedly expressed his confusion during Solldero’s training. This woman clearly knew them all, and had been watching them from the beginning. She must know that Jor was too self-conscious, too guilt-ridden to be open to the idea of her help. And Zinn had been next on the death list… Could he believe her? It seemed a little too clever for her to choose the one person who might be receptive to her overtures, but on the other hand, it made sense if her story were true. Conflicted, he looked to Zinn for a decision.
Zinnia Questel focused hard on a torn thread in her sleeve. She wasn’t about to die, or if she was, it wouldn’t be while she was frozen in panic, not even attempting to save herself. Anyway, it was possible she didn’t need to be saved.
Cay was actually engaging the orb in conversation, the passengers listening apprehensively. Looking up, she found Joran’s eyes anxiously on her and realized that she would have to make the final decision here. She breathed out slowly. Turning her attention to Cay, she caught him saying,
“But where would you go? Do you have a family?”
There was an agonized pause, then,
“I don’t know, Cay.”
Zinn had no idea what could lead to someone not knowing if her family lived – or had disowned her – but the whispers in her imagination made her eyes sting.
Where would the woman go? Where…
“Cay, ask her what they’ve been trying to do with us,” she blurted suddenly.
Cay interrupted himself to stare in surprise, but the edge of the orb floated into view.
“I can hear you, Zinnia Questel,” the woman said softly. Her voice was so sad.
“I want to understand,” Zinn began, frustrated at her own tumbling thoughts, “And know why we were told to do these things. Why us? And why what we did? And who wanted them done? And, what do you know about the king’s advisor Malcav?”