She remade eye contact and said, “I don’t know who he is.”
“What about a description?”
Debo was fidgeting with different modules that were displayed around the office. He became specifically interested in a wired, three dimensional module of the world of Kuki Sphaira that hung from the ceiling. Inspecting it with a stern glare, he listened closely to what Yama was saying.
“Well, he was average height—about as tall as me—and he had brown hair,” she said unsurely.
Poicus rested his hands on the desk. “You seem uncertain, Lita Yama.”
She slouched. “I am. I couldn’t get a good look at him for two reasons. I couldn’t believe there was someone that much better than me in that arena, so I was more concerned by that than I was his facial features and physical attributes.” She glanced to the side again, avoiding his stare, and added, “Also, he was faster than me, but not because of movement—he could teleport.”
Debo immediately looked at her as the sternness wiped away from his face. Poicus’ eyes shifted to the tall Intel Director with a look of uneasiness from what she just said.
The Grand Director looked back at Yama and asked slowly, “Are you absolutely sure it was teleportation?”
“Yes, he definitely wasn’t moving. I don’t think he moved his feet once during our altercation.”
Poicus’s eyes closed as he sighed deeply. “Did you notice any other of the higher tier Psychic abilities? I know you learned about some of them in classes a few years back.”
She thought for a second and said, “He would close his eyes and track my movement through an extra sense.”
“Clairvoyance.” Debo had finally said something. No longer could he stand in silence . . . Not with all this news.
Poicus stood up and massaged his fingers against his temple. “This would explain Olivia’s disappearance. There weren’t just Dev soldiers in those stands.”
“Olivia is gone because of my shortcoming,” she said gravely.
Poicus leaned on his desk and looked at her sincerely. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“Yes, it is. He is the one who took Olivia.”
“It could have been another person.”
Yama shook her head. “During our confrontation, he said to me, ‘Same purple hair, but you’re not her.’ He also said, ‘You’re not my target.’” She glared at Poicus and asked, “Who else do we know with purple hair?”
He didn’t give the obvious answer, but instead, quickly turned on his heel and walked toward the window that sat at the front of the room. As he stood there with his hands behind his back, he said, “Thank you, Yama. Rest up and enjoy your day. You are dismissed.”
As she walked out the door, Debo quickly said, “This has become more serious than previously thought.”
“Indeed so,” mumbled Poicus.
“From what she explained, that sounded like a royal … maybe a Gefal.”
“Our timetable has shortened,” Poicus stated as he gazed at Phesaw’s campus grounds. “I will head out tomorrow. If it’s a royal, such as the king—or prince—whatever it is he wants to be called, then I shall fair well.”
“And if it’s a Gefal?” Debo warily asked.
The aging man turned to look at the Intel Director. The tails of his lengthy eyebrows became even whiter as the sunlight hit them. “It’s hard to believe a being of the Dark Empire would involve his or herself in such a peculiar matter, but if that is the case …” He trailed off as a soft smile formed. “Well, I’ve lived a longer life than most already.”
Debo nodded. “The Energy Directors will take good care of the school while you’re away. You better take care of yourself.” He extended his hand.
Poicus extended his own and gave a firm handshake. “This won’t be my first trip into the Dark Realm, Director.” …
Debo’s train of thought was broken by the front door slamming shut. “Bryson?” When he didn’t receive an answer, he walked to the front of the house and looked out the window.
Bryson was walking down the sidewalk with his hood over his head and every intention of making it to the palace tonight. With King Vitio and Princess Shelly arriving today, it would mean that Lilu was also there to welcome them.
19
Branian
It took longer than Bryson expected to reach the palace, but that was his own fault. His decision to take a detour by stopping at the hospital to see Rhyparia had slowed him down. Seeing her still in a coma stabbed at him. He had sat by her side and held her hand while reciting a prayer to the Bozani, proving that he was desperate enough to try anything.
As he walked toward the front gates of the palace, a bandana hung out of his back pocket. He had taken it from Rhyparia’s side table, wanting to have a piece of her with him. Figuring he already looked suspicious enough approaching by himself in the middle of the night, he decided to remove his hood. He gripped one of the gate’s rails and squinted at the grounds beyond, surprised at the absence of guards.
Then a question was shouted from above: “Who goes there?”
Bryson arched his neck, now realizing why it was empty below. A tower sat on each side of the entrance, and the guards were all stationed at the top.
“Bryson, Bryson LeAnce!” he shouted back.
It went silent for a moment, which left him standing awkwardly, wondering if he should just leave. Then a man approached from inside the gate. Bryson recognized the jawline and instantly knew who it was.
“Major Lars, how are you?”
The Intel Major looked disgruntled until he saw Bryson’s face, and softened. Looking up, he yelled, “Open it!”
As the entrance slowly creaked open, Lars replied to Bryson’s question with a smile. “It has been a wonderful night. Our king is back.”
Bryson suited up the fakest of grins as he lied through his teeth: “I can’t wait to see him.”
As they crossed the castle grounds, Bryson noticed that the previous gate was only the first wall of defense. A second, much higher wall was a couple minutes further in and—according to Lars—this one was lined with archers in its towers.
Once through the second gate, the palace dauntingly towered above them. They walked between two extraordinary marble fountains and up the front steps lined with intelights. The guards opened the main door, giving a courteous nod as the pair walked through.
The beauty of the palace’s interior overwhelmed Bryson. It was exactly what he would picture the headquarters of the most powerful kingdom to look like. There was gold everywhere, and the floor was a stunning green and red marble without a scuff or blemish to be seen.
“I’d give you a tour,” Lars joked, “but we’d be here for days.” Pulling out a pocket watch, he added, “Besides, you’re right on time to now be a surprise guest for dinner.”
Bryson quickly shook his head. “I don’t want to be a bother. I can wait till they’re done.”
Lars dismissively waved his hand. “Not even I have ever attended a family dinner, but something tells me King Vitio would not hesitate to consider you—Mendac’s son—as family.”
His stomach churning from another reference to his father, Bryson ignored him.
Lars knocked on a large mahogany door. A deep voice boomed through, “What is it?”
“It is I, Major Lars. I have brought you a surprise guest, sir.”
“Lars, you know the rules about my family dinners.”
“I think you’ll be happy to make an exception in this instance.” Smiling at Bryson, the major opened the left half of the door, allowing the boy to step through.
As Bryson entered the dining hall, King Vitio leapt from his chair. “Bryson!” he blurted out with a gleaming smile. The burly king strode over to the boy. With an energetic shake of the hand, he led him to an empty seat. “Such a visit was unforeseen!”
“Well, I figured I’d welcome my kingdom’s royal family home,” Bryson lied as he sat down. He locked eyes with the beautiful girl sitting across from him—a
girl who had been occupying his dreams for the past few months. Lilu wore a charming smile, and her green hair was done up in an elegant bun with a daisy attached to the front. Bryson’s chest ignited as he found himself grinning wider than he had in weeks. For a brief moment, she caused him to forget about all the disasters plaguing his thoughts.
This chemistry didn’t go unnoticed. King Vitio’s toothy smirk displayed encouragement. Someone else, however, was not so happy.
“Quit gawking at my sister. You’ve been here for almost a minute now, yet I still haven’t heard you greet me.” It was Princess Shelly, and she was glaring at Bryson.
“Hello, Princess,” he said.
She turned forward and cut into her quail with a disgusted curl to her bottom lip, leaving Bryson to wonder why she pestered him for a greeting if she wasn’t going to even acknowledge it.
A voice from the other end of the table made itself heard for the first time. “Dear, aren’t you going to introduce me to our guest?”
The woman, whom Bryson presumed to be the queen, had the same intimidating facial expression that he had seen many times from both Lilu and Shelly. That’s where they got it from.
“I’m sure you know who Bryson is,” Vitio said with a chuckle.
Rather than join him, the expression that occupied her face when she slowly turned her head to Bryson was terrifying. She looked exactly like Lilu did when she was angry, but the lines of age on her face made her look even fiercer. “But he does not know who I am,” she said in a fake sweet tone.
“The queen,” Bryson said a little too plainly.
Vitio guffawed as the queen’s face flushed an angry red. “That’s quite a set of balls you have,” he said as he pointed his fork at the boy.
“I don’t know how you commoners do it, but when you meet someone for the first time in a royal setting, you are properly introduced,” she said coldly.
Bryson realized that this sort of thing must be a common occurrence when she was around other people as Vitio proved to be a very efficient conciliator, telling a joke at Lars’s expense that caused laughs to erupt around the table.
As Bryson enjoyed his dinner of turtle soup, buckwheat cakes with caviar and sour cream, and quail with foie gras and truffle sauce, Shelly struck a few conversations with him about the curriculum at Phesaw. She seemed to be becoming more accepting of his presence. This was good news.
During dessert, Bryson noticed Lilu shift uncomfortably in her chair, and he was reminded of the brace she had to wear.
“When do you get to take it off?” he asked.
“Two months,” she groaned. “I keep telling them I don’t need it, but they won’t listen.”
“I heard what you did for my sister,” Shelly said.
“What do you mean?” Bryson asked through a mouthful of sponge cake.
“How you saved her.”
He turned his head so quickly that he practically snapped his neck. “What?”
“When the restaurant collapsed,” she said with the rarest expression he’d ever seen from her—a smile.
“That wasn’t—ow!” Someone had kicked him under the table. He looked at Lilu, who was giving him a stare of death.
“Sorry, banged my knee,” he said, understanding that Lilu had lied to Shelly. It was Lilu’s way of making her sister feel obligated to Bryson—and help them get into Debo’s closet.
“It wasn’t a big deal,” he said to Shelly. “She’d have done the same for me—or anybody.”
Shelly shook her head. “She’s alive because of you.”
It bothered Bryson to hear that. Taking credit—even if it was for a greater purpose—felt like he was dishonoring Olivia. He vowed to tell Shelly the truth as soon as it was practical.
Over coffee, Vitio told several light-hearted stories about the escapes he and Mendac got into when they were young. Bryson was fine with this. He liked hearing stories about his father acting like a regular guy. What he didn’t like was hearing about how great his father was, how he received special treatment because of who his father was, or being compared to him. He was eager to learn about his dad’s personality. That’s what exposed who a person was—not their achievements.
Someone could save lives, but for the wrong reasons. Someone could destroy a kingdom, but for the right ones. A hero could be a bad person, and a villain could be a good person. It was all a matter of perspective: the world was never so black and white.
And now for the first time in his life, he was learning about how his father carried himself. Did he have a sense of humor? Was he raunchy or straight-laced? Compassionate or malevolent? Did he possess self-restraint? He received the answers to only one of these questions through Vitio’s stories—that he knew how to laugh—but it was enough to leave him satisfied.
As the clock approached half-past eleven, and Vitio, Lilu, and Bryson were winding down in an intimate little room near the royal chambers. It was mid-December, so a small fire crackled in the fireplace. Bryson found himself sitting on a loveseat with as much distance as he could put between himself and Lilu. It was a bit uncomfortable with her father in the room.
Vitio smiled. “You two are on opposite ends of the couch, but I can tell that’s not what you want.”
Lilu and Bryson filled the room with an awkward silence. “Young love,” the king added with an air of reminiscing.
Lilu blushed. “Director Venustas teases us too. But you’re both wrong.”
“My family owes you deeply,” Vitio said to Bryson, apparently deciding not to embarrass them any further. “Very much so like we did your father.”
“Actually, Father,” Lilu said, perking up her posture. “About that. You see, there’s something very dangerous inside of his house—something that shouldn’t be there.”
Vitio’s eyebrow rose. “And what is that?”
“A light,” she said. “A dangerous light.”
Vitio looked at Bryson with a look of shock. He must have known what Lilu was getting at. “Why? How?”
“How doesn’t matter,” Lilu said. “However, why does. It’s being used to hide something and has put Bryson in danger. We need a Bozani.”
Vitio leaned back in his armchair and took a sip of scotch. “That wasn’t exactly the kind of favor I was expecting.”
Bryson leaned forward with a look of hunger in his eyes. “I need this.”
Vitio studied him for a second. “Your father got that same look when he wanted something.”
“Only one person can get us a Bozani though,” Lilu said.
The king called for a servant and instructed him to fetch the princess. “The difficult part is getting Shelly to go through with it,” Lilu said while they waited.
Vitio took another sip from his glass. “She will do as I say.”
“But will he do what you say?” The question came from the now open doorway. It was Princess Shelly, dressed in a golden nightgown. Her pixie-cut was flattened out.
“We’ll do some convincing,” Vitio said as he waved her in.
Shelly didn’t sit, just took a couple steps into the room after closing the door behind her. “He doesn’t have to do as we say. He is a Bozani. To him, even we royals are commoners.”
Vitio flushed. “Yes—it will take some convincing.”
Shelly looked at Bryson and said sternly, “Only because you saved my sister.”
“Thank you.”
“Understand this. What you’re about to experience is not of this world—and by law, it isn’t something you’re supposed to experience at all. Keep this to yourself.”
A ball of white light formed next to her, and Bryson instantly recognized it as what she had fought with against the Archaic Prince in the royal suites. It was what had the Adren King so angry at the two of them.
As the light glowed, Bryson felt himself breathing easier. The air felt as if it was being purified. His mind also felt unclouded, while his heart began to lift inside of his chest. It was euphoric, and he wanted to be trapped
forever in this state of freedom.
The light took shape as it slowly shifted into a human’s body. It was a young man with greasy hair of a color just like the flames in the fireplace. He wore a long robe that blanketed his entire body. A scimitar was strapped diagonally across his back, which meant that he was once an inhabitant of the Adren Kingdom. So royal first-borns can have a Branian who isn’t native to their kingdom? Bryson wondered.
The Branian scanned through all the faces around the room until he paused on the unfamiliar one—Bryson. “He is not a royal.”
King Vitio stood tall and gave a deep bow out of respect for a higher being. “He is a dear friend of ours and needs the help of a Bozani, Suadade.”
Suadade answered quickly and sharply. “No. I am an assigned Branian for the royal first-born of the Intel Family.” He gave Bryson a cold stare. “Not some random kid who needs help with straightening out his life.”
Bryson stood up and bowed deeply. “I am honored to be in the presence of a Bozani—someone whose energy was pure and strong enough to be reborn into a second life. I know I seem like nothing to you, but I must ask for your help. My name is Bryson LeAnce—”
“LeAnce?” the Branian repeated as he cocked his head at Bryson.
“Yes, LeAnce.”
“Then I will help you.”
20
Behind the Light
A couple more weeks passed, and with it came the New Year. It was now 1499 K.H., or Known History.
Bryson found himself inside of a lavish horse-drawn carriage and accompanied by two women he had seen a lot of lately—Lilu and Shelly. Today, Lilu’s flower was a rose, and her dress was a matching blood red.
As Bryson pulled back a curtain and observed his house’s street, heads turned to stare at the royal carriage. For these citizens, this would be the only time they’d ever see royalty. A royal first-born entering the capital’s suburbs was frowned upon. The risk of a kidnapping or regicide was too high.
The Jestivan (Erafeen, #1) Page 19
