by Carol A Park
If she had only been more decisive, she could have been in and out before they had found her.
And gone.
Gone from this place, from the memories, from Vaughn, and Aleena, and everyone and everything she had left in the world that she had, against all odds, come to care about.
And she would still be alone in the cold and dark.
She pressed her forehead to her knees. If she didn’t move her head, the room didn’t swim as much. But that didn’t stop her thoughts from swimming.
Once upon a time, she had chosen a different sort of life in a deliberate effort to block out the misery of her former one. To master the art of control of herself and her emotions, to numb herself to pain and death—both that of others, and the painful and dead places inside herself.
It had worked.
Until Vaughn had first cracked, and then breeched, and finally torn down the walls that had protected her for so long.
That person no longer existed as she once had. And neither did the person before that one—the shattered, suffering, slightly-less-naïve girl.
And yet vestiges of both were still inside her. She could not undo the things she had done and seen. She would carry those memories with her forever, along with the blood-stained hands that still moved too easily toward violence, and the conditioning she had inflicted on herself that, to this day, still made hurting people a viable option.
Meanwhile, she could not undo the events that had transpired to bring her to that place. And the pain that she had buried for years, that she had beaten into submission and caged and walled in until it was no longer a threat, had never gone away. If anything, it was stronger than it had ever been.
The only person whom it seemed no longer remained was the one who knew none of these things—pain and suffering, bloodshed and death.
That was the only person she ever remembered being happy as, and she could never go back to her.
She could never escape this struggle. She would always be Sweetblade, and yet not, and never the person she had been before, either.
The struggle to be something different and new, without knowing what that could realistically look like, how to even make that person come to be, was tearing her apart.
She closed her eyes and drifted into the place between wakefulness and sleep.
She was tired.
So tired.
Ivana jerked awake to the sound of the cell door opening and then closing again. She sat up, groggy, trying to blink past the haze in her eyes to see who had entered. She was afraid to try burning aether; though the headache had lessened to more of a dull pounding than someone trying to stab out her eyes, the sudden movement still made the ground pitch as if she were on the deck of a ship in a storm.
She laid her head back against the wall and tried not to move.
“Vaughn let me bring you some things,” a voice said.
Her mind caught up. Aleena.
She stood in front of the closed door, as if waiting to be invited in, holding a bulging satchel to her chest with one arm and a lantern in the other hand.
Ivana blinked at her. Her tongue felt like cotton.
Aleena also had a bedroll slung across her shoulder, which she unrolled for Ivana. In the middle was a chamber pot, which she set to the side along with the lantern.
Then she settled down next to Ivana and silently unpacked the satchel.
Two blankets. A change of clothes. A book, a notepad, and a pencil. A candle and holder. A clean towel, a hairbrush, and a chunk of soap. Some fresh fruit, a skin of water, and a skin of wine.
Sadly, the wine would no longer help.
When the satchel was empty, Aleena folded it up and set it on her lap. She folded her hands on top of the satchel. “This is the last time I’m allowed to come see you,” she said. “Vaughn doesn’t want to keep you drugged or chained. But he says that means the door can’t be opened once the initial dose he gave you wears off.”
Smart. Once she was able to use her aether again, all that had to happen was for someone to open the door, and she could simply stop time and walk out
Aleena nodded toward the slot in the door. “The guards will give you your meals after this, and Vaughn’s instructed them to let you have anything reasonable you want and that can fit through that slot.”
“How generous of him. How long does he intend to keep me locked up?”
Aleena spread her hands flat on the satchel. “He only wants to keep you away from Airell, so I imagine he’ll let you go after the elections—whatever the result.”
Two weeks, then. It was logical, and she couldn’t blame him, but she ground her teeth together in frustration all the same.
She supposed it could have been worse. “He’s not so angry that he’s going to let me rot down here forever?”
There was a long pause. “He’s not angry, Ivana. He’s hurt.” Aleena tried to catch Ivana’s eyes, but Ivana looked away, refusing to be subject to that piercing gaze.
“I told him I couldn’t be trusted. He never could believe me. It’s his own damn fault.”
Aleena’s voice was hard. “Bullshit.”
“I-I’m sorry?”
Aleena turned her entire body to face Ivana. “You were carried away by your desire for revenge. None of us are perfect.”
Ivana snorted. “Yes, except when I’m not perfect, as you say, the result is a little more extreme.”
Aleena sighed. “Be that as it may…you aren’t the same person you used to be.”
Her words hit too close to her thoughts from earlier. “Aren’t I? It’s our actions that reveal who we are, and in the moment that counted…” She swallowed, her throat dry. She knew what that moment had been. “What did I do? Exactly what she would have done.”
“You didn’t kill the guards,” Aleena pointed out.
Ivana chuckled darkly. “Great. A pat on the back for not murdering or maiming anyone. I’m making real progress.”
“Our actions can also shape who we are.” Aleena touched Ivana’s chin and forced her to look in her direction. “Perhaps you need to stop waiting to feel different and simply be different.”
Aleena had caught her in those perceptive, penetrating eyes, and they drilled through whatever was left of Ivana’s shell to her soul, spitting out the detritus of her own self-loathing and fear as they went.
“But what if I can’t?” she found herself saying. “What if I try, and I fail?” Again.
Aleena held her eyes for a moment longer, and then nodded. “That’s the first true thing you’ve spoken since I got here,” she said quietly.
And with that, she gathered up her satchel and the lantern and left.
Alone, cold, and in the dark.
Ivana folded one of the blankets up to use as a pillow, drew the other one over her, and curled up on the bedroll on her side, staring into the darkness.
Chapter Fifty-Five
The Abomination
Commander Gered burst into Driskell’s newly constructed “cell”—a simple shack made of rysta wood so he didn’t have to be tied up anymore. The door slammed against the wall, making the entire structure shudder, and then slammed shut again.
“Time’s up,” Gered said. He seemed…agitated.
I’m a friend, Driskell projected immediately, also beginning his low burn of self-enhancement. He had continued to reinforce it over, and over, and over. He had no idea if his magical influence would wear off on its own eventually, and if so, how long that would take, so he figured it was better to be on the safe side.
“Commander?” Driskell asked.
It had been three days since Driskell had been captured. He didn’t know what Tanuac thought. Had they tried to rescue or retrieve him? Probably. Obviously, it hadn’t worked—or Gered had told Tanuac something that had stopped him from trying.
That he was a traitor, perhaps?
Driskell had a hard time believing Nahua would believe that of him.
Maybe Gered had told them he was dead—or S
edated.
He shuddered. Poor Tania. He sincerely hoped she knew nothing about it. There was still hope he could get out of this alive and intact, and he hated to think of her suffering for no reason.
“I’ve been patient with you, Dal,” Gered said, “though at times I find myself wondering why. It must be the way you remind me of my son.”
Driskell swallowed. He had tried to reinforce that, too, since Gered had brought it up.
“Now the time has come for you to prove your worth to me. Do you know a Vaughn? Thrax? Danton?”
“Uh…yes. Friends of mine.” No reason to lie. The more honesty he could inject into his manipulation, the easier it went over. He had learned a lot in those three days. Even so. “Former friends of mine,” he revised. I’m your friend now.
“Good. I’ve been given new orders.” His eyes flashed, and his annoyance was strong enough that it seeped out into Driskell’s bubble. “And you’re going to tell me everything you know about them and their plans on the way.”
Driskell felt queasy. “On the way to where?” he asked, though he knew the answer already.
The shack door opened again, with less force this time.
The bloodbane abomination stepped in, a sinuous sort of grace about its movements.
Driskell stepped back into the wall of the shack. That…thing.
Gered shifted, and Driskell felt his shudder in the aether bubble.
At least he wasn’t the only one who found it disturbing.
“What is it?” Gered snapped.
“You called for me,” it stated.
Driskell started. For some reason, even though it resembled a human, he hadn’t expected it to speak.
Driskell focused on Gered, determined to ignore the thing.
“A moment.” Gered turned back to Driskell. “I’ve just received word that Ri Airell has been effectively ousted by your Banebringer friends while the Conclave’s back was turned. Because this army is the closest, we’ve been ordered to head to Cohoxta to take back control.”
Oh, no. Marakyn could withstand a siege. The capital of Ferehar? Not so much.
“The entire army, Dal?” I’m a friend. Tell me your plans.
Gered snorted. “To subdue a tiny rebellion in Ferehar? Of course not. We’ll leave behind most of the army to continue the siege.”
Turn it into a list, Driskell, he told himself. He had to be calm. He had to stay in control. He had to find out all the details in the event he could escape and send a message.
“I see,” he said. “If I may presume, you seem agitated.” I can help. You can tell me. I’m a friend.
Gered hesitated.
A good sign. It meant Gered was speaking so freely because of Driskell’s magic, which meant it was still working.
“I was meant to subdue Marakyn,” he said, “not some backwater city that barely qualifies for the moniker. But the Conclave wants me on this because they know I’ll do what needs to be done, and, frankly, because my second is as competent as I am and can handle things here.”
That sounded ominous. “What needs to be done, Commander?” The abomination moved, and Driskell’s eyes drifted to it again.
Its head was tilted slightly to the side and turned in his direction, as if staring at him with those white, pupil-less eyes.
He shivered and quickly looked away.
Gered gave Driskell a fond smile. “Take heart, son. You came here to prevent needless bloodshed in the city you love? You’ve succeeded. In the interest of speed and efficiency, instead of a whole army…” He rose and jerked his head at the abomination. “We’re taking this thing.”
Driskell’s stomach dropped out from him.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Barriers
Vaughn stood at the window in Gildas’ office, leaning back against it with his arms folded and gritting his teeth together to prevent himself from biting anyone’s head off.
“Look,” Thrax said from where he sprawled on one of the loveseats, rolling a ball of fire up and down his knuckles. “All I’m saying is he should get out there and do something, you know, charitable or something. He doesn’t have much time to prove he’s less of a prick than his brother, and since he’s Gifted, he’s starting with negative points.”
“Don’t disregard the work he’s been doing meeting directly with the representatives and other key figures,” Askata said, frowning at Thrax. “Overall, I think those meetings have gone well, provoking curiosity rather than contempt, and I have high hopes that the reception tomorrow evening will be a success.”
Vaughn tried hard to keep his face neutral. Meetings. Dozens of them. This Gan, that Gan, this noble, that noble—he had to be on his best behavior, playing the part of the noble perfectly—and despite how keenly interested everyone was in him, none of it was him.
He was dreading the reception.
“Regardless,” Askata went on, “I have a more hopeful view of his starting ‘points,’ as you put it. Airell is starting on poor footing as well. They hate him. They hate Banebringers. Teyrnon—I’m sorry—Vaughn probably won’t have to do much to prove he’ll be better, even as a Banebringer.”
“Maybe,” Danton said, wiggling his hand in the air. “But with all due respect, my lady, you haven’t lived as one of us. You don’t know how bad it is. You hear the mutters, but you haven’t been on the other side of a ravenous mob out for your blood.”
Vaughn wished, not for the first time in the past week, that he had some sort of magical ability to turn his ears off. He could turn invisible, but he’d still hear them. Besides, then they’d notice he was gone.
“Well, he can’t stay holed up in the palace,” Thrax reasoned. “The whole of Cohoxta probably thinks he’s in here sacrificing babies to the heretic gods or something.”
Askata’s musical laugh rang out. “Really, Dal Thrax. I think you exaggerate.”
There was silence in the room. No one other than his mother thought Thrax was exaggerating. “Well,” Vaughn said. “Some of the heretic gods might be pleased with that.”
Thrax snapped his hand over the ball, extinguishing it. “Yeah. You probably should leave that out of any speeches you give.”
Temoth, he missed Ivana. She had a level head. She’d be sure to offer some practical advice embedded in a healthy layer of sarcasm.
He clenched his hand into a fist, digging his fingernails into his palms.
He turned around. “Aleena, what do you think?”
Aleena was, by all appearances, intent on picking dirt out from under her fingernails. She shrugged. “Whatever you do, take some guards with you before you go wandering around the city.”
He sighed. She was still irked at him for keeping Ivana locked up. “Thanks. That was helpful.”
“Vaughn, your qixli is glowing,” Danton said, nodding toward the device sitting on Gildas’ desk.
What now? He’d already advised Yaotel of the situation. Yaotel was… Well, he obviously would have done things differently. The uncertainty of Vaughn winning the election combined with a hostile army living outside the walls of Marakyn had made Yaotel less than enthusiastic about Vaughn’s plans, but to Vaughn’s surprise, he hadn’t tried to order Vaughn to change them.
Vaughn picked up the qixli and waited. A moment later, Yaotel’s voice came through. “Vaughn, you have a problem,” Yaotel said without preamble.
“Tell me about it,” Vaughn muttered.
“One of Tanuac’s scouts just checked in from the pass. Looks like a unit has broken off the main army and is headed your way.”
Vaughn groaned. Well. That hadn’t taken long. Someone must have sent a pigeon to Weylyn City. Probably one of those damned guards who had been loyal to Airell whom Askata had let go. Or, even more likely, a Conclave priest. “When you say ‘unit,’ how many are we talking?”
“Scout estimated about two thousand.”
Two thousand soldiers. That wasn’t too bad. Cohoxta’s walls were hardly the wonder of Setana, but against a force that sma
ll, they shouldn’t have a problem defending them. They had more than a quarter that number of Watchmen alone, thousands more able-bodied men within the city who could be called upon, and reserves from the closest towns if need be.
What was this, then? A test of their defenses in preparation for a larger assault? That wasn’t a comforting thought, but there was nothing he could do about it at present.
“How long?” Vaughn asked.
“They’re marching double-time. I’d say you have a week, week and a half, tops.”
He looked at his mother. “Who’s in charge of the Fereharian reserve?”
She winced. “At the top? No one right now. Airell fired Gildas’ security advisor, and his own was useless, like the rest of his so-called advisors. Obviously, forming a new cabinet should be one of your first tasks.”
Vaughn frowned. “Suggestions? I need someone competent, obviously, but they need to be able to work with Banebringers.” He glanced out the window, which provided a spectacular view of the southern city gates, the bridge across the Atl River, and the large settlement beyond. “We should be able to handle this, but the last thing I need is our defense commander deciding to throw in his hand with Airell and sabotaging our efforts.”
There was a long hesitation, and he raised his eyebrow at his mother.
“Vaughn, this army… It’s a unit from the United Setanan. These are our people,” Askata said.
Vaughn snorted. “They’re not my people. Donians are more my people than these Conclave dogs. Besides, what would you have me do, open the gates and welcome them in? Surrender?”
Askata pressed her lips together.
Come on, he silently pleaded with his mother. She knew this would happen eventually. They had hoped later rather than sooner, but…
“I have the perfect man in mind,” she said at last.
“Good,” Vaughn said. “Can you find him and bring him here?”
Askata nodded, whirled around, and left the office.
It was only then that Vaughn realized the qixli was still glowing. “Vaughn, there’s more,” Yaotel said.
