“You guys can decide who gets the beds and I’ll grab some extra blankets for the rest of you. Aaric, come with me. I’ll help you clean out that wound.”
My eyes fall to my shoulder where one of the Hunters had sliced me with his scythe. “Niykee, take one of the beds. One of you guys take the other. I’ll take first watch.”
Roman nods, looking like he was thinking the same thing. He knows as good as I do that we can’t let our guard down. Not here. Not anymore.
Malia’s cool fingers curl around mine and she brings me out to the bar where she gathers supplies to clean my wound. Ointments, a washcloth, a bowl of water, and bandages.
“Little ironic, isn’t it?” she asks, settling onto a bar stool to my left. She anchors her body to face me and tears my shirt where the wound is.
“What is?”
“You can heal everyone, but yourself.” Her brown eyes move up to mine, expecting me to recoil when she starts to clean out the wound. I don’t even flinch.
“Some wounds hurt much more than wounds of the flesh.”
I feel her eyes on me while she works. She’s watching me, trying to figure me out. Don’t waste your time, beautiful. It won’t get you anywhere you want to go.
“Tell me about these Hunters.” I say if for no other reason than to distract her from mentally picking me apart.
“What about them?”
“Well, it’s becoming abundantly clear that Theron Novak wasn’t teaching us anything we needed to know to survive in this world so, tell me about them. I know they’re immune to our powers and they hunt Zodiacs with a special hatred for my kind. But that’s it.”
This seems to make Malia angry. Her eyebrows go up and her nose scrunches. Then she shakes her head, irritated. “That is simply unacceptable.”
“So tell me.” I press.
Malia’s pretty dark eyes are thoughtful as she begins. “Have you heard of the Reapers?”
“Heard of them?” I scoff. “I was chased by a couple of them.”
“Chased?” Malia almost gasps, shifting that calm and coolly collected mask she dons so well. “So you’ve been to the Underworld?”
“Twice.”
The surprise in her eyes is gone, immediately turning to intrigue and, if I had to guess, I’d say just a hint of envy. “Well Hunters are merely humans born with the supernatural ability to hunt and hunt well. They possess enhanced strength, senses, and the ability to sense dark magic, nether magic more specifically. Their powers are derived from the Reapers, creatures who feed on the souls of the dead.”
“So, what? They’re like descendants of the Reapers?”
“More like blessed.” she corrects. “Hunters live in their own kingdom outside of Endecore, a place called Tethoris, ruled by what they call the Huntress, instead of a queen. They kill any Zodiacs who wander into their kingdom and they do proactively hunt us down inside ours, but they avoid crowded cities, entering mostly in the human villages and some of the more impoverished cities in Endecore where security is scarce.”
Like Baal.
“Has anyone tried to do anything about them?”
“Yes, but their immunity to our powers makes that difficult. And then there’s the whole Serpentarian issue. Bigger fish I guess.” Malia presses a bandage over my wound. “All done.”
“Thanks.” I flex my shoulder and lean back, waiting for the dull sting to fade.
“So what was that back there, with that one Hunter you killed?”
Of course she means the one I killed about ten times over. It dawns on me that those kills today in the woods were my first. What’s more disturbing is I don’t seem to care. Out here, it’s kill or be killed. Just like in there, in the palace. There’s no safe place. No time to dwell on the people we’ve killed.
“He threatened my sister. I—I lost it I guess.”
“She’s important to you. It’s understandable. But I do think you need to find a way to channel that rage.”
I shake my head, lost. “I don’t know how to do that.”
“I might.” she says, peering up at me. “Do you have to leave first thing in the morning?”
“Why?”
“I want you to come somewhere with me. It isn’t far, but there’s something I need you to see.”
I consider her proposal for a moment. “Can we all go?”
“No. Only you. For now. I don’t trust royals and you have a prince with you.” Little does she know she has two.
“If you try anything…”
“I’m taking a chance on you by doing this, not the other way around. But I think you might be able to make a big difference.”
“I’ll talk to Roman, see if we can spare the time. You’ll have to get Auron to agree to let us stay anther night.”
“Done.”
Felix is a little more difficult to convince than the prince, believe it or not. Ever since Tristan died he’s a bitter, angry boy turning everyone who looks at him wrong into the enemy.
Luckily Bay is always our level head and he decides we can spare the day. Only one, even though the longer we wait the further away the Nexus could get. None of us has tried to scry for it. I think we’re too afraid to. For all we know it’s on the other side of the country by now.
Malia and I leave first thing in the morning. I’m hoping whatever this errand is won’t take up most of the day. I want to get back on the road, back to the Nexus.
“Where are we going, Malia?” I ask irritably when I see she’s stuffing pastries into a bag. How far are we going?
“I told you, it’s not far.” She shrugs her arms into the straps of her bag. “Just up past the forest beyond Baal.”
“Oh. So you’re taking me into the woods, alone.”
Malia just smirks. “Are you scared, Aaric Boudelaire?” she teases.
I smirk back. “You wish.” It doesn’t matter if she is leading me into a trap. No matter what element she has, ether trumps them all. All except for nether.
Malia and I fall into a surprisingly comfortable silence for being two strangers. It’s a silence I need to think of our next move. Somehow my subconscious senses that.
“Silly boy.” Amara’s voice is suddenly in my ear. Not my Amara of course, but the version of her my subconscious dredged up. “I wish you didn’t have to be so obvious, Aar. Following a strange girl into the wilderness just because she bats her pretty eyes at you. Will you ever learn?”
I sneak a peek at Malia. She’s ahead of me, walking with determination through the woods. She’s paying no attention to me.
“This isn’t about what she looks like.” I hiss under my breath. “I’d follow any stranger into the woods if it would help get Kara back, get you back. Maybe this will.”
Angrily, she says, “Then you’re a lot more naïve than I thought.”
I don’t respond. I’m not an idiot. I know Phantom Amara is just a manifestation of my guilt over all the mistakes I made, all I’ve lost.
“Ignore me all you want, brother. I’m not going away.” she says. When I don’t respond again she tries another tactic. “Figure out what I took out of that book yet?”
“So, Pop, father or grandfather?” I ask Malia abruptly, ignoring Phantom Amara before she can start in on the taunting like last time.
“Father.” she raises an eyebrow at me. “Does he look that old?”
“World of relatively immortal Zodiacs. Hard to tell. Is it just you and him?”
“And my brother since I was eight. Our mother died young.”
Oh. Not sure if dead is better or worse than abandoned. “I’m sorry.”
Malia throws her hands up, backing away casually. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“Swap war stories. Let’s face it. We’re not friends. We’re both using each other for something. You needed a place to stay and I…” she pauses, peering up at me, unsure.
“You what, Malia? What do you need?”
She’s silent for several painful moments
and then she looks up at me. “I helped your friends. I’m hoping you can help mine.”
My mouth damn near drops open when we turn the corner and I see exactly what she brought me here to show me.
Before me is what appears to be a camp site, right in the middle of the same woods me and Amara grew up playing in. Scattered around the opening are hovels, a form of housing you find in the poorer villages.
People—teenagers and children—run about while others work. Washing clothes, cooking food, swapping wares. A tiny society existing outside the rest of the world.
“What is this place?” I ask Malia.
“You can see it.” It’s not a question. She sounds relieved.
“Of course I can see it.”
“Because you’re Serpentarian. Only Serpentarians can see the camp. Courtesy of Piscean magic.”
“These are all Serpentarians?” Other than Clea, I’ve never met another ether user before. To think there was a whole camp of them just beyond my home is surreal.
“Not just Serpentarians, Aaric. Ether and nether both.”
I blink. “What? But I thought—”
“Amara was the last nether user? Yes, we’ve done very well to make the whole world believe we were extinct.”
“We?” I don’t miss a thing. “You’re a nether user?”
“I am.”
“And this place…”
“Is a refuge, from Hunters, from the Zodiacs who fear us, who would see us dead. Here we’re safe.”
Now I understand fully why she didn’t want Roman anywhere near this. His father is part of why we have to hide. Good as Theron is, he’s still part of the problem. He still fears Serpentarians and what we can do and as long as that’s true Theon Beleros will not stop fighting.
Neither will I.
“Why would you trust me with this? You don’t even know me.”
“No, you’re right about that. I don’t. But I saw how you fought, Aaric, and how you believe wholeheartedly that your sister is good, even if she is like us, like me. You’re exactly who these guys need to hear from. With the attacks by Theon Beleros on the palace, they’re discouraged. Beleros is so determined to free our people, to give us equality among the rest of our kind that he’s gone and done exactly what made them fear us to begin with.”
“Used our magic to hurt.” I say, realizing. It wasn’t something I had thought of myself. I’ve been so preoccupied with getting the girls back that I forgot all about the war unfolding around me. It’s the reason Amara is in the mess she’s in, though the reason has never mattered much to me. It’s the task. Get her back, make her safe again.
“Exactly. You are one half of the most infamous Serpentarian twins to date. They’ll listen to you.”
“You want me to speak to them? They don’t even know me.”
She thoughtlessly presses a hand down on my shoulder and holds me in her dark gaze. “They know enough. Just…come meet some of them. You’ll see what I mean.”
Malia brings me over to a small river where there are a couple of teenagers our age, one girl and one boy, and a small child dunking a bucket into the river. She’s probably about five or six.
“Willow,” the boy says to the child, narrowing dark brown eyes on her.
Willow rolls a set of big green eyes. “Fine.” She places the bucket down at her feet and then steps back, hovering both hands over it. After a moment it starts to float into the water, dunking down to fill it up. Then she uses the same magic to float the bucket over to the boy.
“Good girl. You’re never gonna learn how to control your magic if you never use it.”
“Aaric, I’d like you to meet Tavin, his wife Revilie, and their daughter Willow. Guys, this is Aaric Boudelaire.”
“Aaric Boudelaire?” The little girl gasps, swiping at the thick brown locks of hair that tumble into her face as she moves. “As in Amara Boudelaire?”
Her enthusiasm makes me laugh. I had no idea we were so famous. “She is my sister, yes.”
The mother, Revilie, says, “We heard of her bravery at the Zodiac’s Ball. How she escaped the clutches of Theon Beleros. We were so devastated to hear of her capture at that poor boy’s funeral.” Revilie shakes her head, sad green eyes cast down at her little girl. I know she must be thinking of my parents and how devastated she would be if someone came and took her little girl away like they had my sister.
Tavin looks at his wife and then at me. “We only know what some of the Vakrovians have told us, but from what we hear she was as displeased with the engagement as the rest of us.”
“Engagement?” Is he still talking about my sister? “What…engagement?”
“To the king of Vakrov’s cousin.” Revilie says it as if I should already know about this. “You didn’t know? I believe his name is Keenan something.”
“Keenan Volterra?” I choke out.
“Yes, that’s the name. According to some of the Vakrovians here he and Amara are engaged to be married. Soon I suspect.”
“Keenan Volterra is no prince.” I scoff. “The boy can barely tie his own tie. He—he can’t. This can’t—I need to go. I need to see Roman, now!”
Malia doesn’t have a chance to react though. A boy not much older than us comes running over in a panic. “Hunters, at the gates.”
“Hunters are here?” Willow gasps and whips around toward her parents, but Tavin is already scooping her up into his arms, pressing her face into his chest. It’s as though he thinks that if he hides her eyes she’ll never see one bad thing in her lifetime.
If only that were true.
“I thought you said only Serpentarians can see this place.” I say to Malia.
“That’s true, but Hunters can sense our magic. The wards hide us from being seen, but not from being sensed. This happens a lot. Hunters come by, sensing our magic, but see nothing, but woods.” Malia looks up. “Go, get inside. We’ll be fine.” she assures Tavin and his family.
Around us everyone rushes into their homes, concealing their children, their loved ones, clearing out the center of the camp until there’s nothing, but dirt left behind. They do all of this as silently as they can.
“Come on.” Malia takes my hand and tugs me behind one of the hovels.
At the center we watch as a group of Hunters walk through, peering around at all of us, but seeing nothing. It is an incredible skill of illusion. They walk through and see only woods, but with Serpentarian blood running through my veins I can see it all. The camp, the people, the magic.
They press on, feeling us out. But they don’t stray from the path. They have no reason to. All they can see is empty wood. There are no trees to check to see if we’re hiding behind them. They begin to retreat when Willow in the doorway to the hovel beside me loses her balance and falls forward.
Overwhelming fear throws me into action. The Hunters can’t see Willow, but they heard it. They inch toward the hovel, not knowing it’s there. If they step too close they’ll be able to feel something there that they can’t see. At least I think they will. I’m not entirely sure how this Piscean illusion works.
I act without much thought of my own safety and I step into the dirt path while Malia tries desperately to grab my arm to stop me and fails. I purposely step on a thick tree branch that snaps under my heavy boot. All of their attention—there are six of them—fly to where I’m standing. Still, they can’t see me, but their attention is off of Willow and onto me.
The Hunters inch closer, bodies stark and vigilant, ready for any attack that may come. I remain perfectly still. They spread out, moving around the center, trying to locate the person who made the noise. They’ll never find anything. Perhaps they realize that because one says, “There’s nothin’ here. Move out.”
One by one they file out of the camp, going back the way they came. The people wait for Malia’s go-ahead to come out of their hiding spots. All at once they go back to their work, their play, their home.
Tavin and Revilie rush over to me with Willow at their
side. “Thank you so much for what you did.” Revilie says, clutching Willow’s hand like she might disappear at any moment.
“It’s no problem, really.”
“You saved our girl. Thank you.” Tavin chimes in. “If you ever need anything, you let us know.” He runs his hand over Willow’s head and then starts to pull both his girls away when Willow pulls from his grip and rushes over to me. When she reaches me she throws her tiny arms around my waist.
“Thank you, Aaric.” she says, squeezing me tight.
I drop a hand to the back of her head. “You’re welcome, little one.”
Once we’re alone I turn to Malia with the answer to her request. “I’ll talk to them.” I promise her. “But I need to be able to tell the others. Roman and I promised no more secrets and I have to honor that.”
She doesn’t argue. “Okay.”
“And, in the spirit of honesty, I have to ask, you knew about this marriage business with my sister?”
“Vakrovians love to gossip. The thing about their gossip, it’s rarely wrong. I knew.”
“So you know that I’m the prince of Llìria.” It’s not a question. “You told me that you don’t trust princes and yet you trusted me with all this. Why?”
“You weren’t born a prince, Aaric. It is the royals who weren’t raised as royals that make the best rulers. Because they have the honor a prince, or king, should have. You don’t feel entitled to your title and so you deserve it.”
“I need answers, Malia.”
“I don’t know much about how your friend ended up in Vakrov, but I can tell you with certainty that Keenan Volterra is royalty. The son of the former king of Vakrov’s sister.”
It begs so many questions. How did he get all the way to Vakrov without any of us knowing about it? How did a prince of Vakrov end up in a small village in Limacore? What is my best friend up to?
—CHAPTER SEVENTEEN—
AMARA
SUBTERFUGE
Bastian is Tristan’s trigger.
Or at least me being alone with him is. When I was alone with Bastian, in danger of getting tortured again, I’d heard his voice. He’d warned me to run, sensed my danger, found a way for me to hear him. If he can do that than he can do more.
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