“Come on,” I said softly. “Let’s get to the memorial.”
An obelisk of white stone stood at the center of the garden, lit by lights from above and at the base that made it appear to glow amid the feathered shadows. Names covered the sides. I scanned the lists, looking for Krank. I didn’t see it, but that didn’t mean it didn’t belong here.
Perhaps she’d had no one to write a memorial to her.
I pressed my fingers to the cool surface of the stone and shut my eyes. A shiver ran through me. We’d barely escaped with our lives. Many others did not.
A hand touched my shoulder.
“I’m sorry,” Valus said quietly. “I’m sorry for what he’s done.”
Everything that had transpired—Kit, Merelus, my capture and rescue, my mother, Laimila—washed over me, and a sob rose in my throat. I turned as the tears began to burn at the edges of my eyes, and Valus stilled at the sight of them. He hesitated, then stepped forward and hugged me awkwardly. I shut my eyes and let him. I wasn’t trying to buy time or distract him; I just wanted to be comforted, even if it was Valus.
He murmured something into my hair and patted my shoulder. His heart thumped against my ear. I took a few shuddering breaths and pulled away, embarrassed now. I stepped around the obelisk and looked around.
“We should go now,” I said. “We can take a public rail carriage. We won’t be seen.”
Valus followed me without comment. He seemed subdued after our hug, changed somehow. His eyes were softer, and he had dropped his smirk.
We skirted the edge of the garden sphere, sticking to the side paths because Valus didn’t know the Dron and Tallyn had already left. Greenery brushed against my arms. Beside my head, a seal swam lazily past, watching us.
We reached the gate and slipped out together toward the rail carriages that led back into the heart of the city. I had the directions to Annah’s home written down on a scrap of paper in my pocket. She lived in the center of Verdus.
We hailed a carriage, and I sank onto the plush seat. So far, so good.
Valus sat across from me, studying me. I turned my head. His gaze was unnerving now without flippant remarks accompanying it.
“I know you were already asked this yesterday, obnoxiously I might add, but was your capture... were you... are you all right?”
What did these people want me to say?
“I don’t particularly have any sensational stories to share,” I said wearily. “It was frightening. I escaped. I’m here now.”
“Capture is terrifying,” he said, his tone suddenly subdued, and I remembered that he had also been a prisoner until a few days ago.
Yet another thing we shared in common.
I shifted on the seat. The glass was cool as I leaned my cheek against it. “I’ve been a prisoner before, but it doesn’t get any easier. I couldn’t stop thinking about the people I cared about, the last things I’d said to them, and if I’d ever see them again.”
“At least you have people you care about to think of,” he said.
I gave him a glance. His eyebrows drew together in a slash as he said the words, and his mouth turned, but then he smirked angrily as if to make up for such a vulnerable admission.
“Your father invaded a city to find you,” I said. It was poor comfort, but I didn’t know what else to offer.
Valus snorted. “No, he invaded a city for his own political agenda. He wouldn’t pass up on an opportunity to retrieve me if he was in the vicinity, but he wasn’t there for me. I am, after all, his heir.”
Something about the way he said heir made me wonder.
“Did they torture you?” he asked abruptly. “Hurt you at all?”
“No.”
He nodded and looked out the window.
The carriage ride was silent after that.
~ ~ ~
A servant was waiting for us, and she let us in by a side entrance. She ushered us to a small room that overlooked the sea, with a painted ceiling depicting dolphins and mermaids. Valus clasped his hands loosely together and whistled under his breath while I resisted the urge to pace nervously.
Where was Kit in this house? I needed to see him.
Resolution hardened in my chest.
“Stay here,” I said to Valus.
Ignoring his protest, I opened the door and slipped into the hall alone.
The holding cells must be in a lower level, I supposed. I found a spiraling staircase that appeared to be for servants and descended it.
At the bottom, I found a narrow landing with two metal doors, one at one end. I crept to the door on the right and put my cheek against it.
“Kit?”
A faint rustling came from the other side, and a rusty cough. Was this Cress instead? Annah had also imprisoned one of my would-be assassins.
“Kit?” I tried again.
“Aemi?” The voice came from the door to the left. I crossed the landing and dropped to my knees beside the slot at the bottom. “Is that really you? You’re alive!”
“I’m alive,” I agreed, sunshine filling me at the sound of him. “I was with the Dron, but I’m here now. Are you well?”
His voice was muffled through the door. “I’m well. They’re feeding me. The food is very good, better than I’ve ever had.”
Typical Kit. Finding a rainbow in every storm.
“I’m going to do everything I can to get you out,” I whispered.
Footsteps were approaching. I jumped to my feet.
“I have to go. I’ll come back when I can.”
“I missed you,” he said quietly.
“I missed you too.” With that, I darted away.
Valus was fuming when I returned to the room. “Where did you go?” he demanded.
“I had something to take care of. Has Annah been here?”
“Not yet, but don’t you dare go running off again.”
The door opened before he’d finished speaking, and my grandmother stepped inside. Valus quieted.
I wondered if she’d heard him.
“Aemi,” she said, somehow knowing it was me as she always did. “And the son of the traitor.”
“Valus,” he said.
“I won’t mince words with you, Valus. I’m doing my granddaughter a favor by simply listening to you. You say you have something that can be of value to us, and you think your safety can be assured by offering it up?”
“Yes,” he said. “I think so.”
“Well, by all means. Enlighten me.”
Valus took a deep breath. “You are familiar, of course, with the story of Trulliman?”
“Yes, yes,” Annah said. “The savior of our ancestors.” She waved a hand as if she didn’t much believe the story.
“My father very much believes in him. He is determined to find his lost city.”
“That’s a myth,” Annah said. “Is this what you came here to tell me?”
“It’s not a myth,” Valus said. “At least, there is a city. It was the first Itlantean city, the one that started the Cataclysm. My father is searching for it. He believes if he can find it, he will possess the weapons from the Cataclysm... and I believe he’s right. No, I know it.”
Annah was silent after Valus said “weapons of the Cataclysm,” in a way that made me wonder what she knew about that. I’d expected her to scoff, but she did not.
“What else can you tell me about this?” she said finally.
Valus licked his lips. “He has had men searching for the city since before he made the move on Celestrus. I’d overheard him discussing it once, talking about what he knew.”
“And how does he expect to find this city? Just scour the seas until it is discovered, like a shell on a beach?”
“No, there is a key.”
“A key?”
“A person, actually, whose mind contains the location.”
“And who is this person?”
Valus looked at me. “It’s Aemi,” he said.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I STA
RED AT Valus in shock. Was he mad, making a joke like that in a moment like this, or merely stupid enough to trifle with his chances of protection?
But he wasn’t smirking or laughing. His eyes were clear and cold.
“It’s why Nautilus wants you so badly,” he explained.
“But I don’t know anything about some secret city!”
“You do,” Valus insisted. “You just don’t remember.”
“I... what?”
“The memories were implanted,” Valus said. “Then hidden using a process devised by the Arctusean scientists. They’ve been experimenting on it for years, according to my father’s sources. If they’re triggered correctly, you’ll remember them.”
“Implanted? Who implanted them?” I demanded.
“How do you know this?” Annah asked. Her brow knit with concentration.
Valus answered her question, not mine. “I overheard a scientist explaining it to my father. I’ve been listening to his conversations for a long time now, gathering information that might prove useful to me.”
“Who implanted memories in me?” I repeated, more angrily this time.
“I don’t know,” Valus said.
“And these memories of Aemi’s could lead us to the weapons of the Cataclysm?” Annah asked, her expression shrewd and thoughtful.
“Yes.”
She was silent a moment. “I will need to speak with the other senators about this. We will meet again tomorrow. I’ll send word to you. Until then, say nothing else of this to anyone.”
~ ~ ~
Deep in thought, I stared at the city flashing by beneath us as we took a carriage back to the gardens. My hands rested numbly in my lap. My legs felt icy. I was in shock. If this was true—and it felt like a huge if—was this the reason for the attacks on my life?
Ask your betrothed, Cress had said.
Was this why Tempest wanted me dead? Because of forgotten knowledge I carried in my memories?
What had Coral said? You’re dangerous... It’s not what you could do. It’s what you contain.
How many people knew about this?
I turned to look at Valus. He met my eyes and didn’t speak. He seemed to be waiting for me to go first.
“Why didn’t you tell me before now?”
“It’s hardly the sort of thing you say to someone when you’re first introduced. Hello, did you know you carry a deadly secret in your memories? Besides, I hadn’t decided what I wanted to do with the information yet. I needed the right opportunity.”
I ground my teeth together. “This is all for your own protection, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” he said coolly. “No one else is going to look out for my safety. I’m only being intelligent in doing so myself.”
“You’re going to buy a great deal of loyalty with that attitude.”
“Loyalty,” he spat. “That word holds no meaning for me. I was abandoned by my own father when it suited his purpose. I don’t have the luxury of hoping for loyalty. I need powerful people who owe me favors.”
I was silent as he turned away to hide the pain so plainly written across his face.
And like a droplet of water splashing into a still pool and sending out concentric circles, empathy rippled through me. I understood him completely. Only months ago, I might have said the same thing. But my life had expanded in ways I had never dreamed, and I was surrounded by people who came for me when I was in peril, who fought for me against threat of harm, even their own ideologies at times.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
Valus stiffened. “I don’t want your pity.”
“No, I mean—it’s terrible. You’ve been treated terribly. Of course you don’t trust anyone, but I think maybe if you could trust me...”
“Maybe I could trust you,” he conceded. “But not the others. Not your friends.”
I sighed. If he were correct about my memories, we would need his cooperation. But I cared more than from a harsh and pragmatic standpoint. Something inside me had warmed to the pain of this unfortunate former betrothed of mine, and I wanted him to understand it. I scooted forward on the bench and reached for his arm.
“Valus.”
He flinched but didn’t pull away.
“I’m going to do what I can.”
He breathed in, his shoulders rising a little. He jerked his head in a nod. “Well, so am I.”
“Please,” I said. “Trust me?”
He didn’t answer.
I kept my hand on his arm, because sometimes the best thing was a simple reminder that one wasn’t alone, even if only in a physical space.
~ ~ ~
When we reached the gardens, I took one of the outer paths to the center again with Valus trailing behind me. In the middle of the garden sphere, we found Tallyn and the Dron waiting beside a fountain and a grove of tall grasses. Tallyn and I gave each other a faint nod to indicate that we’d each accomplished our respective missions. My heart thudded as I thought of the things I’d learned.
Annah had warned me to say nothing to anyone, not yet. I knew that included Tallyn.
I didn’t like it.
“I’m sorry we got separated,” Tallyn said. “We should head back to the estate, I’m afraid.”
He was probably eager to hear my side of the experience. I wondered how the meeting with Annah had gone for the Dron. Their expressions were unreadable. Nol watched me, and his brow furrowed as he looked at Valus. I schooled my face into something neutral, afraid I was betraying my own unease from the things I’d learned.
In my stomach, nervousness danced, a flighty partner to every question still running through my head.
I needed to learn more. The pryor, a library—anything I could get my hands on. I needed to know about Trulliman and these weapons of the Cataclysm.
“Yes,” I agreed. “I am getting tired. Let’s go back.”
As we walked, Tallyn drew close to me. Under the guise of lifting a branch that dangled across the path out of my way, he leaned over and put his lips to my ear.
“The senate has agreed to send representation to meet with the Dron. The meeting will happen. We were successful.”
I almost gasped in relief.
I knew he was waiting for my report on the exchange between Annah and Valus, but I didn’t know what I could say about that. I moved forward to walk with the others.
I needed more time to think.
~ ~ ~
When we reached the house, the butler met us at the door.
“Your mother is waiting for you in her study,” he informed me, and then he waited to escort me.
The need to immediately seek out any information I could find on Trulliman and the Cataclysm threatened to overwhelm me, but I had no reason to refuse to see my mother, and I might as well get it over with. I gave Tallyn a look to indicate that I wanted to speak with him soon, and then I followed the man down the hall.
My mother’s study was located at the center of the house, the door between columns. The butler stopped and opened it with a bow.
I stepped through the door, and it clicked quietly behind me. My mother stood with her back to me, facing a wall of windows that overlooked the kelp forest. She had her hands clasped at her waist. She stiffened as I entered, and when she turned to face me, her expression was grave and her mouth a thin line of displeasure.
“What are you doing?” she demanded without preamble.
“What?”
“Don’t play stupid. I know you’ve been to see Annah. Why are you sneaking to meet her?”
I stared at her, trying to mentally catch up with this unexpected statement.
“I—”
She didn’t let me finish. “Your grandmother is a shrewd woman. She always has an agenda. You cannot trust her.”
Ironic words coming from my mother. I held my tongue.
She let out an exasperated sigh, the most emotion I’d seen in her since I’d come to Verdus. “You don’t trust me.”
What was I supposed to say
?
“This family has many secrets,” I said. “Perhaps if there was more openness, there might be more trust.”
My mother snorted at the word trust. “The secrets keep you safe,” she said.
“Do they?” I asked, thinking of the attempts on my life, thinking of my capture, thinking of the newest information that had been dropped in my lap less than an hour before. “I think they keep me manageable and weak. Dependent.”
“Are you trying to insinuate that I keep you ignorant to control you?”
I bit my lip. I looked at her without blinking. “We are Graywaters,” I said.
“Trust is an insidious concept. Invest it in the wrong person, and you lose everything.” Something flashed in her eyes as she spoke the words, and I wondered who she was thinking of. Annah? My father? Someone else?
“Refuse to trust and you could lose everything anyway.” I was thinking of Laimila. Of Valus.
My mother crossed to her desk and sank into the chair behind it. She reached for a pen and scribbled a note. “I surmise you suggested this gala in order to distract me while you made whatever rendezvous with Annah?”
I was caught empty-handed at her perception. How could she know this?
She waved the pen at me. “Well, I shall take advantage of your scheming and insist that we have it anyway. I will send out invitations this evening.”
Now that I knew about a potential life-altering secret I carried in my own head, the threat of harm from Tempest weighed on me. “I’m not sure that it’s a good idea anymore.”
Was I mad to discuss this with her, given that she could be the very force behind the attacks against me? Annah didn’t trust her. For all my brave words about trust, I didn’t either. But perhaps I could play her at this game anyway.
She drew her eyebrows together in a forbidding expression. “Oh?”
I breathed out. “I’m concerned about the attacks on my life.” The admission was quiet, forced.
My mother cupped her chin in her hand. As always, I could not determine what she was thinking, but her posture changed slightly, giving me indication that my words were at least unexpected. She’d gotten honesty instead of deflection, and I don’t think she’d been expecting it. “Hmm,” she said. “Why admit this to me?”
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