The bars, too, comforted him. Whatever Isaac had said, whatever Kado had thought when he'd first escaped Krymammer to help Katrine, this was where he belonged—locked up.
That’s what happened to killers.
Kado recalled the fear in the scarred redhead—Rayna’s—eyes. It had not taken his new captors long to recognize him for what he was. When he'd said his father’s name, it was clear they had known him.
It was clear they'd hated him.
A foolish tear slipped down Kado’s cheek. Who was this Nero Geddeont? After everything Kado had been through, a small part of him had hoped his true father was out there somewhere. He'd prayed Nero Geddeont was a better man than Enzo Aronak.
Because, if his real father had been a good man, maybe there was hope for Kado, too.
But that hope seemed foolish now. Whoever Nero Geddeont was, Kado sensed he was not a good man. It was no surprise—only a faithless man would have allowed Quella to be captured.
Just as her worthless son had allowed her to be killed.
A creaking brought Kado’s attention to the door.
A figure slipped into the darkness beyond the brig’s bars. A candle lit Katrine’s face, exaggerating the shadows beneath her fierce features.
“Kado.” She set the candle down and knelt outside the brig.
“What are you doing here?” He willed his voice to sharpen.
“I slipped out while the others were asleep. I’m sorry Pheros put you in here. When we get back to Fenear, I’ll explain everything to Silver. I’m sure—”
“No.” He wrapped his fingers around the bars, moving into the candlelight. “It’s for the best that I’m here. Your friends are right. I shouldn’t be trusted.”
“I trust you.”
His lips twitched. “You shouldn’t.”
“Why not? You saved my life—twice.”
“I don’t know why I did that.” It had been instinct—as natural as breathing. But that's all it had been.
Saving Katrine meant nothing.
He was still a monster, and she had to learn that.
“I do.” Katrine nodded with conviction. Leaning forward, her fingertips brushed his. “You’re Fenearen. Part of the pack, like me, like Rayna, Roxen, and Channon.”
Kado pulled back his hand. “Like Nero Geddeont?” If Katrine insisted on staying near him, he might as well find out more about his father.
She swallowed. “No. You’re not like him at all.”
“So you know him?”
Katrine looked away. The candle reflected in her brown eyes, turning them amber. “No, not really. I never spoke to him.”
“But you know him?” he repeated stubbornly.
“I suppose I knew him. I knew enough, anyway.” Any hint of cheer left Katrine's voice. Kado was making her uncomfortable. Good.
“Knew?” he asked.
“I-I shouldn’t be the one telling you this. It’d be better to wait for the Alphena or—”
“He’s dead.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.” A beat passed. “I’m sorry.”
“Are you?”
Katrine chewed her lip. “Perhaps not.”
“How did he die? When?”
“I really shouldn’t—”
“Tell me now,” Kado growled.
She took a deep breath. “He died in the battle for the Southern Densite last winter, as did many others.”
Confusion mired Kado’s thoughts. For a Fenearen, was it not an honorable deed to die in battle? So why did Katrine speak so shamefully of Nero Geddeont?
“Was he running away? A coward’s death?” Kado questioned.
“No. He died fighting.”
“Then why—”
Katrine continued over him. “He died fighting for the wrong side.”
“A traitor.” Kado gritted his teeth. Some tiny part of him had still been hoping he was wrong about what kind of man his father was, but there was no question now.
Kado's father had not only abandoned his mother to the Kyreans, he'd abandoned his country.
“It doesn’t mean anything. You didn’t know him. Locking you up because they’re frightened of the man your father was—”
The door behind her opened. “Katrine!” Rayna entered the room, arms crossed. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“That’s what I told her,” Kado added.
The hurt in Katrine's brown eyes urged him on.
“Get her out of here.” Kado wanted no more of the girl's sympathy. It seemed the power she'd awakened in him had been nothing more than a fluke. She was not the key to unlocking his abilities, and he felt a fool to have thought such a thing.
Katrine was simply another spectator, hungry for what entertainment Kado could provide.
“Go back to bed, Katrine.”
When Katrine did not move, Rayna raised her voice. “You’re my ehreln. I am commanding you to rest.”
With a sigh, Katrine relented. She left without looking back at Kado.
When the door closed, Rayna turned back to Kado. He stood, but she still towered over him. From what he could tell, he was short for a Fenearen.
“Is it true, what you are?” she asked.
“I’m a killer—”
“No.” A strange expression lit Rayna’s face, one Kado could not quite place. “Kellan saw you in the arena when you were in your other form.”
“I didn’t kill Lonian—”
“I know,” Rayna interrupted “Kellan told me that, too. I’m talking about the color of your wolf form.”
Kado thought back to when he'd met Kellan in Krymammer. The Sylrian had mentioned Kado's fur, too. He'd said most Fenearens had the same hair color in both shapes, and that his white fur was some kind of blessing. Kellan had also said it was nothing but superstition.
But perhaps this magical sign was connected to Kado's new found affinity for runes. Perhaps Rayna knew more.
“My hair is black, but my fur is white,” Kado said.
Rayna blinked. “Are you sure? It’s white, not silver or pale gray?”
He pictured his endless fights in the arena, and the crimson blood coating his fur. “I’m sure.”
Rayna brought her hand to her mouth.
“Kellan told me about the myth. He said it was nothing—”
“I would hardly consider Kellan an expert on such things,” Rayna cut him off. “Believe me, most of the stories are true, if you look closely enough.”
“Kellan said Lonian believed the old stories, too. That he killed himself to save me. But what can be so important about the color of my fur? It has nothing to do with anything.” He purposefully left out his suspicions about his own powers. He could not trust this Rayna, but perhaps he could probe her for information.
Rayna sat down, her brow furrowed in thought. She spoke as if to herself. “Our founder, the goddess Lumae, is a white wolf, like the Ice Wolves from which Trues are descended. But when a Fenearen is born with a white coat like hers—well it’s so rare some say it’s never happened at all. Others say, that a thousand years ago or more, a Fenearen girl—a great hero—had a coat like the goddess’s.” Rayna shook her head. “It’s thought that such a blessing is a sign of a soul with great potential.”
“Potential for what?”
“For good.” Rayna returned her gaze to him, as if remembering he was there. “I only know what I learned from Thera as a pup.”
“Thera?”
“She was the Lead Healer of our pack, but—” She cut off, staring at Kado with sudden intensity. “Never mind. I need to go, I need to—”
“Wait! What can you tell me about my father?”
Rayna’s lip twitched. “That isn’t for me to say. I don’t know how it’s possible.”
“Do I look like him?” The question came from nowhere, but somehow Kado needed to know.
Rayna opened the door. “Very much so.” She left, leaving Kado alone in his cell with more questions than ever.
A warm sensation bloomed i
n Kado's chest. He touched his sternum where Isaac’s ring hung from a leather band fashioned from the cover of one of Isaac’s books. Kado lifted the ring from beneath his shirt. In the dark, it seemed to glow with a rosy light.
As Kado's fingers closed around it, Isaac’s voice filled his mind. The memory of the conversation was so powerful, it felt as if he were really hearing him.
“I don’t care what you are now. I care about what you could be one day.”
It was clear Kado was becoming something else. He only wished he understood what that was.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tallis Terayan wiped blood from his hands. Some clung to his nail beds, but that couldn't be helped. Satisfied, he returned his attention to the man before him.
Garrison's swollen gaze met Terayan’s. Magical binds pinned Garrison’s hands behind his back, and forced him to his knees. He was not foolish enough to speak.
Terayan grimaced, disgusted. He turned to the small man beside him instead. “Amblin.”
“My lord.”
“Remind me, what was it we told Captain Gabriel Garrison? With what single task did we entrust him?”
Amblin’s face betrayed no emotion. “Captain Garrison was to deliver Rayna Myana to us.”
“Yes, that’s right.” Terayan gripped Garrison’s chin. “And what did you do, Garrison?”
A strange, gargling sound escaped Garrison’s throat.
Terayan snatched back his hand.
“I—I—” Garrison muttered through his split lips.
“What. Did. You. Do?” Terayan waved his hand and Garrison flew back against the stone chamber’s wall.
Garrison slid to the floor. Somehow, he found his voice. “I failed, my lords, I failed.”
Of course, Terayan had failed as well. But his own frustration only fueled his rage against Garrison. “No. You failed again.”
Terayan knelt in front of Garrison. “Last winter, you had Rayna in your grasp, until you allowed the Sylrians to surprise you. And now, even though Rayna Myana walked into our city—into our prison—you still lost her. Again.” Terayan shook his head. “How do you expect me to react to this?”
“Councilor—”
“No. Don’t answer.” Terayan stood. “How should we react, Amblin?”
Amblin’s black-and-gold eyes flitted from Garrison, sprawled on the floor, to Terayan. “Captain Garrison has expressed an interest in joining the Scalthe. You generously offered him the chance to prove himself worthy. He, however,” a thin smiled spread across Amblin’s narrow face, “has proven himself a liability.”
“Please.” Garrison sniffed. “I know that I've failed you, but give me one more chance. Please.”
Terayan took a breath. “Why should I? Consider your answer carefully, Captain.”
“Because…” Garrison shook his head, as if to clear it. “Because I will do whatever you ask of me. If I fail you again, I swear I’ll kill myself before you get the chance to do it. Please, I’m begging you, let me serve.”
Terayan pursed his lips. He released the magic holding Garrison.
Garrison fell to his knees, panting.
“You are fortunate you at least managed to collect the seer's blood on her bandage and your hands. Thanks to Lady Ezra's expert preservation magic, we will have Rayna's blood when we need it. Moreover, this prison break has inflamed tensions between the Republic and the Peninsula. Despite your failings, our plan still worked. War will soon be declared, and we have Rayna's blood for the Ascension.
“But this is your last chance, Captain. The next time you fail to follow my orders, you will die. For your own sake, I hope you take your own life as you say. Because if you don’t, I’ll leave you breathing long enough to beg for death.”
The threatening finished, Terayan nodded to Amblin.
Amblin’s eyes glowed gold.
Garrison groaned as his wounds healed to light bruises and scratches.
Terayan extended his hand and after a beat, Garrison took it.
He rose, pale and sweating. “Thank you, thank you.”
Terayan ignored his groveling. “The other Councilors are waiting. Captain, you will escort us to the Council Chambers.”
“Yes, of course.” Garrison smoothed his rumpled robes.
Terayan flicked his wrist, cleaning the blood and smoothing the wrinkles on all their clothing.
As Garrison headed for the door, Terayan pulled him back. He relished the terror in Garrison’s gray eyes.
“You are fortunate that the Laevuls and I had a contingency plan in place, if you were to fail. The white wolf will return when the time is ripe. When he does, and the Ascension begins, you will play your part.”
They were all fortunate. Terayan had not counted on Alvornian interference, nor would he forget it. They had cost him not only Rayna, but Kado as well.
But Terayan had the seer's blood, and a method to call Kado back when the time was ripe. The Ascension would continue as planned.
“I will,” said Garrison. “I swear.”
“Lead the way, Captain.”
Terayan and Amblin followed Garrison into the chambers.
The other Councilors were already seated.
Caere’s bulldog-gaze tracked Terayan as he took his chair. Once Garrison had left the room, Caere spoke. “You look remarkably composed, Councilor Terayan, given the disaster you presided over. Have your boots dried out yet?”
“Now, Paullus,” Amollo began. “You oughtn’t make light of Tallis’s ordeal—”
Terayan could not stand any more fake sympathy. He had nearly drowned in the flood the Alvornians created, only managing to escape using magic. Most of the soldiers had not been so lucky.
“No. Councilor Caere is right.” Terayan's declaration elicited the expected shocked expressions. Terayan would have preferred the operation to have been a success, but as always, he had a contingency plan to use the failure to his advantage.
The prison break, loss of the remaining Sylrians, Kado Aronak, and the wolf witch’s escape had stirred up unprecedented fear of their southern neighbors. Terayan had long been seeking an opening to declare all-out war on the Peninsulars, and now Rayna’s ill-conceived heroics had given him that.
“Are you sure you’re quite well. You don’t seem yourself,” Caere said frostily.
Terayan gave his humblest smile. “Your scorn is warranted. I underestimated Rayna Myana and her band of savages once again—but let me assure you this is the last time I’ll make such a mistake.”
“Oh?” Caere crossed his arms.
“Gentlemen, this great city, the very heart of our beloved republic, was the target of a brazen attack by the peninsular savages.” Terayan leaped to his feet and paced around the heavy marble table, hands clasped behind his back. “We must decide how to react to this bare-faced display of aggression.”
“Excuse me, Terayan. But do we not have a long-standing policy governing our interactions with the Peninsulars?” Darien huffed. “We do what we must to keep them in check, but if you’re suggesting we return their incursion with one of our own, I would remind you of the Republic’s numerous failed attempts.” Flecks of spit followed Darien's labored speech. He self-consciously brought his handkerchief to his mouth.
“Excellent memory,” Terayan said with a condescending smile. “The policy has long been to ignore the Peninsulars, trusting them to squabble amongst themselves. But now that the Demetrians have been overthrown, it seems the Peninsulars have been emboldened. Frankly, I think it time we discuss what specific retribution we will take against the barbarians who reside below the Pass of Kiriathin—before the wolf witch and her ilk continue their campaign of terror.”
“Your passion is admirable, Terayan.” Paullus Caere spoke so slowly that Terayan was almost compelled to shake his overgrown shoulders. “But perhaps, a little premature.”
“Premature? They invaded the city in broad daylight, broke into our supposedly well-guarded prison, nearly killed me, and released countless p
risoners. Including, need I remind you, the nephew of the Sylrian leader, and our most popular entertainer, Kado Aronak!”
None of the other men in the room, excepting Amblin, had any idea of the true gravity of that loss. Their pea-sized intellects could never grasp such important matters as the white wolf.
“Look, Tallis.” Amollo reached out and clasped his shoulder. “I hear you. Our people were terrified by such an unprecedented breach in security. We all must remember that our first responsibility is to our people.”
It was all Terayan could do not to roll his eyes, and he sensed the other Councilors were experiencing the same challenge.
Amollo could not go a sentence without mentioning “Our People.” As if he cared, as if any of them actually cared about the individuals who elected them. They were all prostituting themselves to the public—that was how power was won in the sick version of the world they currently waded though. But Amollo did not have to sound so pleased about it.
“Exactly,” said Terayan. “And that is why I think a show of strength is necessary. We need to reassure our precious public that they are as safe as ever in our hands.”
Amblin's beady eyes shifted imperceptibly as Terayan finished.
Had he laid it on too thick?
Amollo shook his head. “I do not think such an action necessary. We must always follow the path of least resistance. In this case, I think a public address and a shoring up of the military force within the city would suffice.”
Of course Amollo suggested a speech. No doubt he would volunteer to give it, speak loftily as ever, and add a few dozen more supporters to his cult of popularity.
Unfortunately the “path of least resistance” was not what Terayan desired. He needed to muster their forces and prepare the siege of the Peninsula before his Ascension could begin.
The blustering of the other councilors faded to a dull buzz as Terayan's gaze locked with Amblin Laevul's.
Amblin's voice slithered into his ear canal, yet the man's lips had not moved. They will not agree to any form of active retaliation at this stage. They are all soft, mewling cowards beneath their claims of prowess and heroic pasts. You see this now.
Twice Blessed Page 28
