by RJ Metcalf
“This doesn’t change anything of who you are, sweetheart.” Papa rocked slightly, emanating a sense of calm and soothing that she wouldn’t have believed possible. “You are a survivor. You always have been. From the moment Connor and Maria found you, to now, you have survived.”
“But—”
He shook his head. “No buts. Yes, you made a mistake by giving in to hatred and taking a life because of that.” He leaned back, his eyes shadowed in the dim light. “You will never be able to change what happened. Not to you by him,” Papa’s grip tightened on her arms and his voice dropped, “nor what you did to him. What happens now is up to you. You need to choose if you’re going to pick yourself up and move forward, or if you’re going to sit and wallow.”
Heartbreak glimmered in Papa’s words, as tangible as if she could see them. “What Simon did was unforgivable. And he paid the price.” Papa pressed his fingers against the scar he’d touched earlier on her hand. “Now you have two scars to carry: the one he gave you, and the one that you gave yourself. He stole from you, something precious.” He tipped her chin up and angled his face so the light illuminated him instead of casting shadows. “Will you continue to let him steal from you, little Spook? Will you let him rob you of your happiness, your joy, your future?”
“What happiness?” Raine exclaimed. She winced and dropped her voice, hoping her outburst hadn’t carried out beyond the cell to wake others. “I’ve been hunted as a Void Born my whole life, and I’ve always assumed I’d never settle, never marry. That a future, that happiness was something that a monster like me couldn’t have.” Sorrow that she’d never witnessed on Papa’s face before made her drop her gaze to the thin blanket under them. “I mean, it’s not like I was actively hunted growing up, but moving around every year didn’t help, and—”
“I’m so sorry, my dear.” Her grandfather shifted, casting his face in shadows once again. “I never wanted for you to feel that way.”
“You did well, all things considered,” Raine offered lamely. He really had. He’d done all he could to provide for her desires while also balancing their safety. “I mean, you’ve kept us both alive for how long now?”
Papa snorted lightly.
She stared at the scar on her hand. Funny how she’d gotten so used to it that she’d almost forgotten it was there, until now that it was pointed out to her again. “I haven’t said anything to Ben,” she admitted.
“Mm, I know.” Papa gave her the tiniest of smiles. “If you’re trying to make him crazy, you’re succeeding admirably.”
“I don’t know what to tell him, Papa.” Raine hugged herself despite the dry warmth of the mine. “What will he think of me when he knows the truth?”
Papa stayed silent, thinking. She swiped the drying tears from her face and accepted the handkerchief that he pulled out of his pocket and handed her. He waited for her to finish blowing her nose before giving her his simple advice: “He’s a wise lad. Tell him when you’re ready.”
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Ben
Raine was avoiding him. She had to be, because since they’d boarded to the airship to Lucrum, they’d only been in the same room for more than a minute once. Sure, they’d both slept in the Hollows, and she’d shadowed Finn while there, occasionally looking at Ben as if she were going to say something important, then she’d shake her head and retreat into herself, her expression shuttering. But beyond that, she remained distant, almost aloof.
Clearly, she was wrestling with something, and the sooner she got it out, the better. If concern could eat someone alive, his would devour him before too much longer.
Rain slapped against the airship window with a vengeance. It had poured all day since before they’d taken off, and Ben missed the fresh air of the main deck. The tiny kitchen they called the canteen wasn’t doing it for him. He pulled on his dark green skyfaring cap and snugged his goggles into place before buttoning his trench coat and braving the narrow stretch of open scaffolding that they referred to as the catwalk. Wind and rain pasted his coat to his legs as he moved to the same side as Geist.
Geist’s collar was turned up, protecting his neck from the stinging rain. He nodded and pointed out into the low clouds that they flew through. A patch opened up for a brief moment, giving Ben a vision of a ravaged city, charred building supports and low steam were all he could make out before the clouds swirled in again, covering the sight.
Geist shook his head. “That was supposed to be the city of Faile. I can’t imagine who would’ve done something there, if not the north.”
Bile hardened into an acidic rock in Ben’s gut. “Should we stop and check for survivors?”
“We don’t have time.” Geist rubbed his jaw, slicking away rain. “We need to get Brandon back as quickly as possible so he can report everything that happened at the Hollows. And we need to get there so we can learn of anything else we need to do.”
“Right.” Ben hunched over the rail, welcoming the sting of the cold air in his lungs. How would they end this war? Was it possible to end it before it even started? He knuckled his forehead with half-numb fingers. At this point, after this long with nothing to really go on, he had to start long-term planning if it wasn’t possible to go home. And even if he had a chance to return home right now, see Sara again, could he leave Raine behind? Finn had given his blessing, but little good that did when she wouldn’t even let Ben in.
It was as if her hurt radiated, calling out to him. So much in her furtive glances, her hesitation, her bowed shoulders, painfully reminded him of Sara. He had suspicions, and he desperately wanted to know, so he could figure out how to help Raine. How to support her.
But he couldn’t do anything until she talked to him.
Chapter Seventy
Jade
Jade and Zak followed the attendant to Prince Weston’s office. What was so important that they’d been summoned so late in the evening? She ran her hand over her hastily-brushed hair, hoping that it didn’t look like she’d just rolled out of bed and thrown clothes on––even if that was exactly what she’d done.
Zak’s elbow brushed her arm, and he leaned over as they walked, his breath warming her ear, “You’re beautiful.”
She shot him a grateful smile even as she blushed lightly. It was as if the floodgates had been opened. Now that they were engaged, Zak was an endless fount of compliments and subtle touches, never pushing boundaries of propriety, but always there for a hand brush, for a tap on the shoulder, to hold hands. It was dizzying.
The attendant left them at the doorway where Niles, Weston’s bodyguard, waited. He nodded respectfully and swung open the door for them. Zak gestured, allowing Jade to go in first.
Weston perched on the edge of the huge desk, reading a missive, the tightly curled edges rolling over his fingertips as he kept the paper spread open. “One moment, Niles,” he muttered.
Weston’s tight curls looked as if they’d been pulled at a few times, and his crown of gold, diamond, and sapphires lay discarded on a corner of the polished wood.
Jade frowned. His day had to have been as long if not longer than hers, and he didn’t show any signs of thinking of going to sleep anytime soon. Her slippered feet sank into the plush rug as she walked across the long room. “You wanted to see us?”
Weston’s head whipped up and he blinked owlishly. Faint circles shadowed his under his eyes, but he broke into a welcoming smile at the sight of her and Zak. “Yes, actually.” He glanced at the clock above the fireplace mantle and grimaced. “I didn’t realize how late it is. I’m sorry.”
He gestured to the paper he’d left on his desk. “Just got that from a messenger hawk. Your fath—both your fathers actually—are on their way back from the Hollows right now. Apparently it was a successful battle.”
Joy threatened to burst out of Jade’s chest and take wing. “Any news on Ben? Raine?”
Weston’s head started shaking before she could even finish the question. “No, sorry.” Weston scratched the ba
ck of his neck, then nodded to the Monomi dagger on Jade’s hip. “I haven’t had a chance to actually talk to you yet about that.” A conspiratorial grin grew on his face. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks.” Affection spread through Jade’s chest with the same intensity as the boiler heating on a winter day.
Weston leaned against the desk. “Time is of the essence these days. When are you planning for?”
Jade glanced up at Zak, then shrugged. Somehow, discussing her future wedding to Zak, with Weston, didn’t seem that odd right now. “We’d hoped for when we had family together. But I don’t know when that will be.”
Weston rubbed his chin with the back of his knuckles, his gaze focused on the bookshelves behind her. A speculative glint entered his eye and he glanced at Zak. Weston dropped his hands to brace against the desk. “I’ve had an idea about that, if you’re willing to hear me out.”
Jade’s eyebrows shot up. A year ago, she would’ve scoffed and walked out the door. But now she merely crossed her arms and leaned into Zak. He shifted, bracing his feet to counterbalance her. Jade tilted her head at Weston. “I’m intrigued.”
“Well, as far as family goes, that letter I just mentioned says that both your fathers are on their way here. That counts as family, does it not?” Weston toed at the floor with his polished boot. He sucked his cheek in and shrugged. “And with all that has happened: the barrier falling, the assassination, the attempted coup, we could use a morale boost. And what better way of showing that the ties between Doldra and Aerugo are strong, than to host the wedding of Doldra’s princess to her noble Guardian, here within our own city walls?”
Something fluttered in Jade’s belly at the simple question, and she glanced at Zak, uncertain, yet liking the idea.
A grin tugged at one corner of Zak’s mouth, and he gave her a lopsided shrug. “My mother will kill us.”
“But she’d understand,” Jade countered, excitement overriding her hesitation. She twitched. “I’ll need to find Krista first thing tomorrow. If I start planning without her …”
Zak’s smirked. “We’ll visit the workshop in the morning, prevent her blowing a gasket.” His gaze practically caressed Jade with warm affection before he nodded at Weston. “I like this idea of yours.”
Weston clapped his hands together. “It’s decided then. Let’s get you two married.”
Chapter Seventy-One
Brandon
Brandon breathed in the tang of misty air as he loitered by the Doldran airship, waiting alongside General Titus for Finn and Zebediah to join them. Soldiers bustled about, unloading supplies, helping the injured hobble to the waiting medics. Distant clangs of industrial work echoed throughout the airship landing zone, heightening the sensation of impending war while also ringing defiant against the scent of rain that had greeted Brandon when he’d first disembarked. How soon winter hit would affect everything—how soon the Elph would invade, deployment of the southern armies, protecting their soldiers from the elements, battlefield tactics … He sighed. From life as a prince to life as an enslaved berserker, to life as a king at war. Someday he’d be able to get his bearings. Hopefully.
Titus came to attention next to him and bowed, holding a salute. Brandon settled his hand on his hilt as he turned.
Prince Weston gave Titus a simple nod as he strode up to Brandon, relief clear in his smile. “Your letter said as much, but I am glad to see that you both made it.” He glanced into the belly of the ship, his curious frown quickly devolving into a frown of concern. “Your letter mentioned Zebediah, but not Finn. Did he—”
“He’s still onboard,” Brandon assured. “He was discussing a new idea with Zebediah and Raine regarding the bonded.” He left unsaid that Raine had adamantly refused to come down with them. Seemed like she wasn’t keen on being around so many people at once after all she’d experienced at the Hollows, and she found being cooped up in the tiny bunk room preferable to the current bustle. Brandon crossed his arms and leaned against the polished wooden hull, analyzing Weston. Black suit jacket, deep blue vest, polished cuff links. Same style as he’d worn previously, but more polished, somehow. Weston’s bodyguard stood just a few paces behind the prince, and a small entourage of attendants waited nearby. Brandon narrowed his gaze at Weston. “What have I missed?”
Weston’s shrug flirted with the line between apologetic and fed up. “I’d love to say not much, but that’d be a lie. For one, I’m now Lord of Aerugo, and all the southern nations are united under my banner.” Weston’s voice rang with a confidence that seemed at odds with his slight wince. “And we’ve been getting reports from the northern borderline towns of blood-bonded skirmishes.” He rubbed his thumb against his forehead, shaking his head. “Loore’s Landing is overrun. And Sordes is under siege.” He waved a hand at the far end of the airship field. “I’m sending two companies to take care of Sordes right now.”
“When you say that Sordes is under siege”—alarm rang in Titus’s deep voice—“you mean, by the Elphen bonded armies?”
Weston lifted his hands in a gesture of helpless ignorance. “The messenger hawk only said combatants from the north. I don’t even know how many.” His smooth features twisted in a grimace. “For all we know, they have just twenty well-placed men around the city walls. Or they have an army of hundreds. The message wasn’t very clear.”
“And Loore’s Landing has been captured by the enemy?” Brandon mentally reviewed where the port city rested on the northwest edge of Doldra. Sea on one side and a narrow stretch of beach and hillsides that led to the Shifting Mountains on the other. If the first snow hadn’t come yet, that expanse of land would be easy for Elphen armies to traverse. “Has anything been done about the Landing?”
Weston nodded, glancing into the airship again. “We got a hawk from Doldra. Lady Esther Monomi was going to deal with the problem.” His voice lowered. “If she’s anything like the rest of her family, I almost pity the fools who invaded.”
An unexpected laugh broke from Brandon. “Good to know we’re in good hands.”
The sound of Zebediah’s light tread and Finn’s slight shuffle quieted Brandon’s brief mirth. Zebediah quietly joined Brandon while Finn stayed just inside the airship, within listening distance but out of the immediate cold. No sign of Andre, Raine, Ben, or Geist.
Weston acknowledged Zebediah and Finn with a brief nod and smile, then focused anew on Brandon. “It gets worse. We’ve heard reports of losing citizens to the bonded.”
Brandon’s fingers started tingling the longer he stood outside in the brisk air. He tucked his hands under his armpits. “Losing them in what way?”
“Being forced into the bond.” Weston looked at Finn, where he sheltered in the curve of the cargo bay. “How many activation stones are there? Is it possible that they have more?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.” Finn replied, bracing his hand against the bulkhead. “We know that Brandon has one, and that Artemis had one that we never found. And after speaking to young Christopher, I would assume they enslave those that they want at any early age, so they must have a plentiful amount of stones on hand.” Finn’s shoulders bowed. “It would be any feat for them to grow their army if they stop to bond each soul they find here.”
Weston glanced over his shoulder at his bodyguard, and the burly man flattened his lips in response. Weston shook his head to himself. “If only we could break the bond for good.”
Brandon bit back the sarcastic response that rose at Weston’s words. Wishes aren’t going to get us anywhere.
“Or we kill all those in a higher rank,” Zebediah suggested, his tone equal parts certain and apologetic. Melancholy shone in his eyes, and he rubbed at the scruff on his chin. “There’s no way you can turn each and every one of them, Brandon. It’s an option whenever available, but we can’t have you on the front lines, turning thousands upon thousands of bonded.”
Bitter acid coated Brandon’s tongue at the truth of Zebediah’s statement. He was right. It took
Brandon hours to fight his way through two hundred enemy combatants, and he knew which leaders to target. The likelihood of having that same advantage next time was slim. He glanced up into the airship. He couldn’t imagine what insight Andre might have, having been bonded, but now he wanted to ask his old friend new questions: Was it possible to know who was in charge, just by some magical feeling? What methods of identification could they have?
Weston misinterpreted his look. “Before I forget, did you by chance run into any of my men who were delivering the steam rifles? Specifically Ben or Geist?” His gaze flicked to Finn for a brief moment. “Or anyone else?”
“Raine is out of the Hollows, yes.” Finn’s reply was smooth, yet slow enough that Brandon suspected Finn was picking his words carefully. “Now she needs to rid herself of the taint.”
Wind whipped through the airship yard, scattering the few papers and supplies not lashed down. The frigid breeze cut through Brandon’s jacket with the same intensity as a thousand tiny ice knives. Weston smiled as he shivered and clasped his hands to his elbows. “I’m glad to hear of her survival.” He tilted his head. “And Princess Abigail has given a full pardon, so Raine need not fear any repercussions.” He hesitated, consternation wrinkling his brow. “Anyone else disembarking now?”
“Ben and Geist are still onboard. They’re injured, so they’ll be along when they feel ready,” Brandon offered. Andre asked him to not mention anything to Weston about his survival yet. Why, Brandon didn’t understand, but he’d bite his tongue and respect those wishes. Brandon gestured toward the nearest building, floundering for a change of topic. “Shall we walk and get out of this weather?”
