by Jordan Rivet
“Do you think Brach will travel beyond the Rock to take the Sunset City?” Kel asked.
Sora started. She had almost forgotten he was there. “He probably doesn’t need to,” she said. “All he has to do is keep a regiment at the Stronghold to discourage the Far Plainsfolk from getting involved. I don’t think they’ll rush to Trure’s aid if Brach leaves them alone. He has to be overextended already.”
Brach’s risky strategies were paying off at the moment, but his winning streak couldn’t continue forever. Especially when the Lantern Maker finally entered the fray. For the first time, Sora saw the appeal of Rafe’s plan to bring Fire Weapons off the mountain. She pictured the Soolen forces falling before liquid flame as Vertigon’s best Fireworkers advanced, eyes blazing gold. Her blood pounded in her ears as she saw them wrapping up her mother and little sister in protective arms of Fire and bringing them home. Even the legendary Commander Brach couldn’t stand against Fire Weapons. How much longer before they’d be ready?
Stop. What was she thinking?
Sora crossed to the window and leaned her head against the glass. The cold, hard pressure on her forehead calmed her. She shouldn’t entertain the idea of using Fire Weapons against any army, even one that held her mother and sister. Some lines shouldn’t be crossed.
But what if he intends to hurt them? Would it be worth it then?
“Your family will be all right,” Kel said, as if sensing where her thoughts led. “Commander Brach wouldn’t hurt valuable prisoners.”
“I hope not.” Sora wished she felt more certain about that. She couldn’t help picturing her mother and sister locked in a cell, frightened and cold.
“I wonder if there’s any chance he’ll hand them over to the Lantern Maker,” she said. “Rafe was feeding Brach information, but they have to mistrust each other by now. Rafe wasn’t happy when the Soolens breached the walls of Rallion City instead of waiting out the siege.” She turned away from the window. “I wish I knew how they got connected in the first place.”
“It was the Rollendars,” Kel said. “Lord Von hired some of Commander Brach’s men—Captain Thrashe included—and he and Rafe were still allies at the time.”
“It must have soured Brach’s relationship with Rafe when the Lantern Maker’s wife killed Lord Von. I think it makes Rafe nervous that Commander Brach’s campaign has been so successful.” She looked up at Kel abruptly. “Do you think my family would be safer with the Soolens or with the Ruminors?”
Kel grimaced. “I honestly don’t know.”
Sora sighed, and silence stretched between them for a moment. This wasn’t how she’d wanted their rendezvous to go at all. The news from the Stronghold made her feel as if things were once again spinning out of her control. Every time she thought she was making progress, something else snapped like a bridge line. Worse, there was nothing she could do to help her family. She was terrified that it was already too late. The fear took over her senses, making her want to do something reckless—such as send Fire Wielders to take the Lands Below. She wished there was a way to bottle up her fear and worry and recklessness and direct it somewhere.
Abruptly, she turned to face Kel, and they both started to speak at the same time.
“Do—?”
“I—”
“Sorry,” she said, blushing slightly. “You first.”
“I forgot to tell you I ran into Jully Roven the other day,” Kel said. “You have quite the little spy network.”
“Yes. Jully treated it like a game at first, but they understand how important all this is.” Sora smiled. How did Kel know exactly what to say to comfort her? “They’ve been especially helpful for communicating with the nobles.”
“That’s true. Jully says the Nannings were speaking highly of you the other day. She reckons at least half of the noble houses are loyal to you over the Ruminors by now.” Kel met her eyes, his expression gentle. “You should be proud of your little insurgents’ work.”
“I am,” Sora said. Pride over what the young noblewomen had accomplished made her heart swell almost to the point of pain. A few months ago, she’d been a prisoner in her own castle. She wished she could focus on all the progress she’d made, but she was still fighting a losing battle. The Ruminors didn’t care about the political maneuverings in Vertigon anymore. “My sis—never mind.”
“What is it?”
“I was just thinking my sister would have so much fun with Jully and the others.” To her annoyance, Sora’s voice broke at the mention of Selivia. Kel didn’t move any closer to her. She wanted to reach out to him, to seek comfort from him, but she didn’t know how to communicate that. She wiped her eyes on her sleeve and tried to smile. “She loves stories of intrigue and adventure.”
“She’ll be okay,” Kel said softly. “If she’s half as smart as you, she’ll scheme her way out of any trouble.”
“She’s clever, but her strengths are more in being adorable and charming rather than conniving.”
“Well, I think you’re adorable and charming,” Kel said.
Sora laughed, but Kel didn’t seem to be joking. Now he was moving closer to her. She felt suddenly shy. Why did he have to pick a moment when she had tears in her eyes to compliment her? She had cried on his shoulder before, but she was tired of feeling like a victim.
“I’d better get back to work,” she said, looking at the papers strewn across the table.
“Do you have to? I don’t get to be alone with you often enough.”
“Kel . . .”
“Did I misread something?” Kel took a step closer to her.
Sora froze. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“You don’t?” Another step. She looked down at his feet, judging the distance between the two of them.
“I mean— I know— But you— And we—” She clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from stammering.
Kel grinned. “Are you saying you don’t know how you feel?”
“I do— I just— And you— It’s complicated.”
“It’s always complicated.” He took another step toward her.
Sora stared at him, his kind face, his eyes fixed on hers. She’d hoped for some indication that he wanted to be near her, nearer than a friend or a guard or an ally. He had crossed most of the distance between them, but he still stood just out of reach. If someone walked in, there would be nothing inappropriate about where they stood. She struggled for a moment. It was complicated, but she couldn’t bear to do the appropriate thing, not when everyone she loved was in danger and the world had gone to ruin. All the worry and fear and emotion spun within her, building up. Couldn’t she be reckless, just this once?
Kel’s smile slipped a little when she didn’t move.
“I’m so sorry, my queen.” Now he was the one blushing. “I must have misinterpreted— I didn’t mean— And you—”
Sora closed the rest of the distance between them, flung her arms around his neck, and kissed him full on the mouth.
If Kel was surprised at her enthusiasm, he didn’t show it. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand on the back of her head, and held her so tight, it was almost painful. He held her as if it were the last thing he’d ever do. She pulled back a little to look at his face. He looked sad. She couldn’t bear it. Why should he be sad now? Why couldn’t he pretend, as she was, that nothing existed outside of this room?
“I’m sorry. I know it’s complicated,” she said, beginning to pull away. “I don’t know what will happen if the Lantern Maker—”
“Sora,” Kel said.
“Yes?”
“Let’s not talk about the Lantern Maker.”
She smiled through her tears, and he kissed her gently. Sora had never kissed anyone before. She always thought it would be nice, but she didn’t anticipate the way her whole body responded to the pressure of his lips on hers. It was as though she had stepped into a waterfall, but warm rather than the icy ones created by snowmelt each spring. The waterfall seemed to rush straight through
the core of her body and sent warmth all the way to her toes and back again.
She ran her fingers through the neatly trimmed hair on the back of Kel’s head, tentatively at first. She needed to do something to distract her hands. All she wanted to do was pull him closer against her.
The door opened, and Captain Thrashe marched in.
Kel stepped back nimbly, his reflexes as quick as if he were dueling. Sora straightened her hair and her dress, hoping the heat and dismay rushing through her didn’t show too much on her face.
They hadn’t move quickly enough. Captain Thrashe surveyed both of them with his single eye. The eye patch that didn’t quite hide the long scar on his face seemed to glare accusingly. He had seen them.
“Korran,” he snapped. “Out.”
“Captain.” Kel saluted and marched for the door, his hair still slightly messy.
“What is it, Captain Thrashe?” Sora asked, striving for dignity in the face of the Soolen captain’s disapproval.
“Madame Ruminor is on her way here,” Captain Thrashe said.
“Thank you, Captain. That will be all.”
He didn’t move. “You should take more care when you arrange trysts, my queen.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“You could do worse for a companion than Korran,” he said. “His dueling antics are foolish, but . . .” Captain Thrashe shrugged, tugging his eye patch straight. “Madame Ruminor warned me to keep an eye on him. If you are caught, he will pay the price.”
Sora gaped at the man, all pretenses of royal dignity forgotten. He was warning her to avoid getting Kel fired? Captain Thrashe didn’t intend to reveal their secret to the Ruminors? And he approved of Kel as a . . . a companion?
Before she could say anything, the door opened again and Lima Ruminor entered. Sora was so surprised at Captain Thrashe that she didn’t even feel nervous when Lima stalked toward her.
“Have you finished with those papers?” she asked without preamble.
“Almost.” Sora returned to the table, wishing she’d had just a little more time alone with Captain Thrashe. Or with Kel. That would be much nicer. What had the papers been about again? “I want to check General Pavorran’s latest supply order. He’s requesting a lot more funding than normal. What’s this about?”
Lima’s lips thinned to a razor line. “Captain Thrashe, leave us.”
As soon as he was gone, Lima took a seat and waved for Sora to join her. She never stood on ceremony or used honorifics with the queen. She saw little point in upholding the charade when no one else was around.
“Let me see.”
Sora pushed the relevant papers across the table. Lima glanced over them then rubbed a hand across her forehead. She looked tired, and for a moment, she lost the larger-than-life aura that she usually wore like a mantle.
“Spring is upon us, child,” Lima said. “You must know what that means.”
“Invasion,” Sora said. “General Pavorran is preparing to take the army down the mountain.” She knew she should be worried about the prospect, but she couldn’t help feeling a grim smugness at the chance to strike at the army that had conquered her grandfather’s kingdom and imprisoned her mother and sister. The Soolens wouldn’t know what hit them. “Will the Fireworkers be ready in time?”
Lima nodded. “Rafe wishes to strike before the Soolens are too entrenched in Trure. They haven’t cooperated as we would have liked.” She glanced at the door where Captain Thrashe had disappeared. “Brach must be dealt with.”
“Is the Lantern Maker going with them?”
“Yes,” Lima said. “I will remain here with you.”
“Wonderful,” Sora said.
“Watch your tone,” Lima said, but her voice didn’t hold its usual vitriol. Sora wondered if the pinch in her lips and the furrow in her brow were due to her characteristic unpleasantness—or if this was something else.
“Are you not sure this is the right thing to do?” Sora asked.
“Rafe is the most powerful sorcerer in generations,” Lima said. “He deserves to seize his rightful position above Vertigon and the Lands Below. But he has been distracted since the Fire began to surge. The Well already produces enough power for all the Fire Weapons he needs to conquer Trure. But he is pushing it even further.”
“And he’s dangerous with too much power, isn’t he?” Sora said. “Too much Fire, I mean. It changes him.”
“It doesn’t do anything that wasn’t in him to begin with,” Lima said. “Rafe was destined to rule. But he has enough now, and I worry about the consequences of disturbing the Spring and causing . . .”
Lima suddenly seemed to realize that she was confiding her fears in Sora. She stared at her for a moment then stood, knocking her chair back roughly.
“You must give the army a proper send-off when the time comes,” she said. “You will express your enthusiastic support for General Pavorran and his men. Is that clear?”
“You’re sending my people to die,” Sora said. “Vertigon prospers without disturbing the affairs of other kingdoms. Why can’t we leave the Lands Below alone?”
Lima stared at her for a moment. Something in her expression confirmed Sora’s suspicion: Lima wasn’t certain this was the right decision. In fact, she thought her husband was making a terrible mistake.
Without a word, Lima left the library. The door banged shut behind her.
14.
Headquarters
SIV put his shoulder down and leaned in. Latch thudded into him, but instead of flipping over his back, he braced his legs against the wooden floor and kept his balance. Siv heaved, trying to hurl the fellow over his head. Latch just spread his feet and slid along the ground. Why wasn’t this working? Siv would have been flat on his back by now.
“Momentum,” Latch said with a grunt. “No point trying to complete the move now. You’re wasting energy.”
Siv abruptly changed tactics and hurled himself forward, hoping to knock Latch to the ground. The Soolen didn’t budge, standing as still as a darkwood bedpost. Siv cursed under his breath. Latch was shorter than him and a bit broader in the shoulders. They were pretty evenly matched. Why couldn’t he knock the guy over?
“I told you,” Latch said. “Center of gravity.”
“Easy for you to say.” Siv pulled back and bounced on the balls of his feet, sweat soaking the neck of his shirt. “It’s hard to remember all that when you’re in the thick of a pen fight. You wouldn’t understand.”
Latch scowled and dove forward. This time, Siv was ready. He bent low, and Latch flipped directly over his back, hitting the ground with a smack that made the whole house shudder.
“Got you,” Siv said.
Latch uttered a Soolen curse Siv hadn’t heard before. He grinned. His friend still had a chip on his shoulder about not being allowed to compete in the pen. Siv actually felt bad for him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t use that frustration to beat Latch in a fight.
“That one was okay,” Latch said at last. “I shouldn’t have charged.”
“You’re easier to read than you think,” Siv said airily.
“Humph. Not that it matters. Kres still hasn’t changed his mind.”
Latch lay in the middle of the pentagon painted on the floor of the house where the pen-fighting squad lived and trained. Siv flopped down beside him. Time for a break. It felt as if they’d been practicing that move all damn day.
“Are you sure he was ever planning to let you compete?”
“Maybe not,” Latch grumbled.
“But he said you could when you met?”
“He knew who I was early on,” Latch said. “I told him about my situation, and he was sympathetic. Said we’d be friends.”
“Friendship seems to mean something different to Pendarkans than it does to the rest of us,” Siv said.
Khrillin the Waterlord had invited him to dine in the Port District that very day. The message came wrapped around a bottle of fine wine. Dara had told him about Wyla’s warning
, but he wasn’t inclined to avoid Khrillin just because Wyla didn’t like him. Wyla had ensnared Dara, which put Khrillin ahead in his estimation. That didn’t mean he trusted him, of course. Besides, Khrillin knew who he was, and he couldn’t let that become common knowledge.
Siv wished he didn’t need to court powerful friends at all, but it was becoming increasingly clear to him that he needed a lot more gold than he could earn in the pen. And he didn’t want to wait another two months until Dara’s term was up to leave Pendark. Rumors suggested his mother and sister had traveled to the Far Plains Stronghold before the Soolens took Rallion City—and news had just broken that Brach’s army had taken the Stronghold itself.
“Hey, Latch?”
“I’ll be ready for another round in a second.” Latch was still lying on his back, catching his breath from the sparring session.
“I wanted to ask you about your father’s—”
Latch immediately overcame his need to rest and stood to leave.
“You have to talk to me,” Siv said.
“No, I don’t.”
“I get that you feel all angsty about your father,” Siv said, getting up to follow him, “but I need information. Especially about how he treats prisoners—and how far he means to take things.”
“How far?” Latch rounded on him, and Siv swore literal storm clouds formed over his head. “The man led a large portion of the Soolen army beyond its borders without the permission of the ruling family. He occupied Cindral Forest, a peaceful land that has kept to itself for centuries. He’s leading a full-scale invasion of a foreign land and has already occupied its capital city, imprisoned its king, and captured its strongest fortress. And you want to know how far he’s willing to go?”
Siv grimaced. He knew Latch didn’t agree with his father’s actions, but he needed any information he could get about Commander Brach. He just needed to wade through the surly Soolen’s ire.
“Look,” Siv said. “I just need to know if he would kill women.”
