by Nina Walker
We mulled it over, neither one of us all too happy about it.
An idea popped into my brain, painfully obvious. “Do you think Hank knows anything?"
“I actually talked to him yesterday. He’s doing really good. Loves his new job training the baby alchemists.” He winked at me. “But he didn’t mention anything about a weapon. If it’s some big secret, I doubt he would know.”
“I need to call him,” I said, hand absently resting against the mostly unused slatebook currently resting in my pants pocket.
“You need to call him and call your family. Why do you always do this?”
I bristled. “Do what?”
“You push away the people who love you the most.”
Like I pushed you away for Mastin? I didn’t voice my thought. Didn’t want to go there. We kept walking as I burned with frustration at his accusation. Was Tristan right? Did I push people away?
“You have to give me some credit.” I kicked a pebble, watching it clatter ahead. “Lately, I’ve been trying to connect with people. I went back for Jessa, didn’t I? Even though it was totally stupid.” I gulped, pushing the fear at being vulnerable deep into my chest. “And I did what you said, I am seeing if I can make things work with Mastin.”
We stopped, gazing at each other. I couldn’t read the expression in his eyes as they peered back at me. “Relationships aren’t always easy for me,” I whispered, letting out a long-held breath.
“You’re right.” He smiled softly and pulled me into a tight hug, our tense bodies relaxing together in their familiar way. “I’m sorry. You’re doing great, kid. I’m just upset about something else,” his voice trailed off.
There were so many more questions left to be asked, so much I longed to know. I could feel those same questions rising and falling in him with the rise and fall of his chest against mine.
But in the end, I didn’t ask. And neither did he.
Sasha, a voice shot through my mind like an arrow. Can you hear me?
I stilled, frozen.
“What’s wrong?” Tristan asked, pulling back.
“Hold on,” I whispered. “Something’s happening.”
I closed my eyes and concentrated.
Jessa, I thought the words back at her, aware the telepathic connection was weak. But the fact it was there at all meant she had to be close. Where are you? I’ve been worried sick about you. Are you okay? Can I help you?
They caught me, she replied and my heart dropped.
Okay, where are you?
I’m in holding somewhere along the frontlines—or something, a military stronghold. I think. I don't really know. I’m scared. Lucas doesn’t even remember me!
Wait, Lucas is alive? That was good news, at least.
Yes.
Are you okay? Have they hurt you? My mind flashed to my own interrogations, and my stomach flipped. Jessa wasn’t strong enough to handle that kind of thing. If she broke, there’d be many people caught in the crossfire.
I need help. Her voice was laced with panic. I don’t have much purple left. I had a little hidden that they still haven’t found.
Okay, calm down. Tell me what you know.
I don’t know anything. They had me in the palace for a while and then they moved me south, but I don’t know where to exactly. I’ve been in a cell without windows.
It’s okay. I think I might have an idea of your proximity. We’ll get you out. It wasn’t going to be easy, might even be impossible. I wanted to promise it to her, but I couldn’t. If you see Branson, you can trust him. I think he’s there, too. I saw him not long ago.
I haven’t seen him. But either way, I need you to hurry.
I’ll see what I can do. I shook, and Tristan reached out and grasped my hand, steadying me.
There’s more. Jessa’s voice broke through the darkness, shrill as it faded, the connection wavering. King Richard just informed me that I’m to be executed.
Our connection severed. My knees gave out and I crumpled to the ground.
10
Lucas
I pressed my hand to the back of my head for no reason other than habit. The pain had subsided, but the day the doctor, nurse, and the alchemist left the orphanage was the day I knew I was in more trouble than I’d first realized. The memories hadn’t returned. Those people had done all they could, but ultimately they’d given up, and I was more confused than ever.
Now it was just me, the guards, the orphans, and the staff left to occupy the estate. They were busy with classes and projects, and I was completely bored out of my mind. I moseyed about the different rooms, reading books, people-watching, and when things got particularly bad, staring holes into walls. At the moment, I was doing just that. My thoughts rolled around in my head like an unwanted companion.
I still didn’t have a slatebook. Unfortunately, Celia had come back for hers the next morning after our…little conversation. I’d given it to her without question, and she’d agreed not to tell anyone I’d used it if I kept her secret. She didn’t want anyone to know she’d entered my room like that. Shaking on the agreement had felt like making a deal with a viper. By then, I’d seen the footage of her attacking Jessa.
Didn’t matter. I had more important things to worry about. Namely, getting my memories back, or at the very least, getting my life back, but I’d barely had a chance to talk to my father. He hadn’t stuck it out in this new office for more than a couple days; no surprises there. He’d said there were only so many things he could oversee remotely, but he would come to visit as soon as he could.
I wasn’t counting on it.
And he still kept my slatebook from me, kept all technology from me. It was all based on some medical advice from the doctor about not putting too much information into my head while I was still suffering from the memory loss. Considering I’d already secretly read everything I could that night using Celia’s slatebook, I wasn’t holding my breath. Even with all that, all the news stories about Mom, all the twists and turns with my two engagements, the public alchemy exhibitions, I still had amnesia. And I was still without answers.
“How are you doing?” One of my favorite workers, Martha, smiled pityingly at me as she approached me in the main family area. Since the kids were in classes, I was alone. My hips ached from sitting here like a lump. I rolled my eyes congenially at her and patted the armrest of the seat beside mine.
“You already know I’m going crazy with boredom,” I said as she sat in the plump velvet chair. “How do you do it out here? I mean, don’t get me wrong. I have always loved a short visit. But to stay? The isolation is awful.”
We leaned back in our chairs, strategically placed next to the large window. The room was cozy, with wood-paneled walls and floors, plush rugs, and chairs throughout. A few wooden block toys had been left outside of a toy chest tucked away in the corner. My gaze flashed to the outside world, one blank as a canvas. We’d had another snow storm last night, and everything was once again covered in the stuff. A shiver ran over my arms, despite the fire crackling in the fireplace nearby.
The older woman laughed, her plump body bouncing jovially. “It’s not so bad. I’m used to it. It’s lovely in the summer. And besides, some people prefer the country to the city.” She smiled, mossy eyes lighting in amusement, gray bun pulling at her ruddy cheeks.
I guess I could understand that. There were times in my life where I would have agreed with her, but then again, I wasn’t much of a country boy, especially in the middle of winter.
“You really won’t let me use your slatebook?” I asked, already knowing her answer. It was the same she’d given me day in and day out since my arrival. Still, I kept asking; I might eventually wear her down.
She shook her head, eyes crinkling. Her round cheeks balled as she smiled at me, clearly finding my persistence amusing. That wasn’t going to get me very far.
I needed to find a way to convince my father to reintroduce me to society again. Whoever tried to kill me could face my guards, if
needed; I wasn’t going to live my life in hiding, especially over an incident I couldn’t even remember. The war had started a few months ago and, for all anyone knew, it could last for years. I wasn’t about to spend years hidden away in this place, no matter how much I loved the people.
“What about this.” I flashed Martha my best smile, turning on the charm. “I won’t go onto any of the feeds or check the news or anything like that. I only want to use the slatebook to call my father.”
She eyed me warily. “Lucas, I don’t know.”
“Just one call, that’s all I’m asking for. Let me talk to him one time. Let me lay out my case. Whatever he says, I’ll take it. And I’ll stop pestering you about the no tech rule.”
“I really shouldn’t—” Her voice faltered—I had her.
I leaned in, wrapping her round shoulders in a side hug and looked down on her with big, sad eyes. “Please, Martha. I really need this.”
She sighed, resigned. “Fine.” Weathered hands shaking, she pulled her device from the pocket of her floral housedress. The slatebook wasn’t nearly as advanced as mine, but it would do just fine. “You better mean it, Lucas. One call. And you’re doing it right here. I can’t afford to have you run off with this. Your guards were in the hallway when I came in here.”
My guards could shove it.
Okay, truth was, I didn’t really want anyone to hear this conversation, Martha included, but I wasn’t about to argue with her logic. The slatebook was in my hands now, I couldn’t waste this.
It only took two minutes to get what I needed.
Two minutes. One phone call.
And just like that, I’d conjured up the exact words to convince my father that he absolutely had to have me with him.
I shut the device down and smiled gleefully at Martha, who stared back at me with worried eyes. The poor woman probably wasn’t expecting to hear that. Oh, well. I was leaving this place—that’s what mattered.
And I wasn’t going home. The palace would have to wait.
No. I’d be joining King Richard on the frontline. That was fine by me; I wanted to be a part of the action. Who better to question Jessa before her execution than the man she supposedly claimed to love? I stood, patted Martha on the shoulder, and strode from the room. I had to get ready to leave since I’d be on the road within the hour.
I had a few pressing questions for my wife.
Gravel rumbled underneath gargantuan tires as we pulled up to the military stronghold. Rain pelted the metal siding, drowning out any sound from the outside world. The black armored vehicle had tinted windows, presumably so that the soldiers here couldn’t get a peek at me inside. From my vantage though, I could see everything. The setup was much more established than I’d been expecting. The brick and metal buildings weren’t hastily done or makeshift. How long ago had Richard built this place? With freezing rain pelting down in a torrential downpour, there wasn’t much else to see. Aside from the stationed guards and patrols, nobody was out here.
What would they make of it if they could see me here? According to Richard, he’d already had a small, closed casket funeral for me. He wasn’t ready to let all that hard work go to waste and reveal me to unsuspecting soldiers.
If only he knew about my white alchemy, this could make things so much easier. I could just go about my business, here, at the palace, wherever, and nobody would be any the wiser. But no, I had to keep that to myself. And maybe I could use a little bit to get around this base while I was here. I just hoped that in the last year, I’d still managed to keep my secrets my own.
I leaned back in my heated leather seat, rubbing the side of my stubbly cheek.
The driver was a bulky, quiet man, known for being discreet—one of our regulars. He carefully maneuvered the vehicle into a large storage shed. Soldiers slid large metal doors closed behind us, and he cut the engine. He slid from his seat, pacing the space of the small garage. Burly shoulders relaxing in satisfaction, he trotted to my door and swung it open.
“Your Highness, you’re requested to enter through there.” He pointed to a heavy steel door on the far end of the garage, a lone guard stationed in front. “Your father has accommodations below ground for his safety."
“Makes sense.” I slid from the car, feet dropping to the concrete floor, and shook the driver’s cold hand. Then I steeled myself and strode to the door.
The guard in front stood tall, eyes forward, as if ordered not to acknowledge me. I shrugged and reached for the door, swinging it open with ease. A wide set of concrete stairs led to another door several stories underground. The long staircase was lit by low-hanging light bulbs, reminding me of our unused bunker back at the palace. I’d never liked that place.
“Here goes nothing,” I mumbled to myself, and took the first step.
As I descended, the already-cold air grew colder, goose bumps rose like pinpricks on my skin, and a gnawing sense of importance gripped me like a fist.
I couldn’t screw this up.
The door at the bottom waited. I tried the handle, but it didn’t budge. Locked. It appeared to be as thick as a bank vault door, metal and cold as ice. I pounded on it, not sure what else to do. A slight jab of pain ignited in my wrist, but I ignored it, pounding harder.
A crack echoed through the hallway, the lock unhinging. The door pulled open, my father standing on the other side, lips lifted in a bemused smile.
I sighed and stepped inside, warming instantly as heat blasted, vision adjusting to the change in light.
“Well, it’s not the palace, but it will have to do,” I said jokingly, taking in the vast room sprawled out in front of me.
Truthfully, it was more impressive than I’d been expecting, and much bigger than the bunker below the palace. The two of us stood side by side, studying the family room and kitchen suite. Gleaming stone countertops, dark wood accents, leather sofas and patterned rugs, complete with framed oil-painted landscapes hung artfully on the off-white walls. Along the main wall was a series of oak doors, leading to what I assumed had to be equally elegant bedrooms and bathrooms.
The place looked like Mom could have decorated it, and my heart pinged painfully at the mere thought. She should be here with us.
“Welcome to your new home.” Richard smiled, narrowing his eyes. “Since you couldn’t sit still at the last place, you’ll just have to make do here.”
I stifled a breath, already feeling enclosed by the four walls.
“I brought her to you.” Richard motioned to one of the closed doors with the quick flick of his wrist, and I froze.
“You brought her to me?” The question sounded strained and confused as it left my mouth.
“Jessa. Yes, she’s here. Locked in one of the bedrooms, all the color removed ahead of time. I can’t have you walking around the prison quite yet, that’s where she has been staying up until now.”
He looked up at the ceiling, eyes growing thoughtful. “I haven’t decided how I’m going to reintroduce you to the world…or when.”
“Great,” I mumbled, spinning in a slow circle, my gaze traveling high and low as I picked up on smaller details of the space. There weren’t any windows. I sighed; at least at the orphanage, I’d had windows.
“Aren’t you going a little overboard?” I questioned.
Richard glowered at me from across the room, arms folded over his broad chest. “No. You’ve almost died multiple times. You’re my only heir, Lucas. We have to be more careful.”
“If you say so,” I grumbled. I eyed the door to Jessa’s newest prison cell as I toed my way toward it. “I guess now is as good a time as any.”
“I’ll wait out here. At least, for your first meeting together.” He grinned, eyes far-off, as if remembering something funny. “But be quick, and don’t let her manipulate you.”
“What do you mean?” I stopped to study him, something about his tone causing me to falter.
“Remember what I told you, Lucas. It’s the truth.” He nodded toward the door. “Tha
t girl is Resistance. You can’t trust her. You should only try to get names out of her.”
“Obviously.” I smiled. I already knew all that, he’d explained it to me when I’d first asked about my supposed wife.
“Don’t get smart with me,” he snapped back, but there was a playful glint to his eyes. “And don’t make me regret letting you go in there alone.”
I shrugged. “It’s probably better if you’re not there. I assume you and her don’t have the best relationship?”
He barked a laugh. “You could say that. But I mean it, Lucas. You can’t trust everything she says.”
“I don’t have to trust her. She just has to trust me.”
I pulled open the door without a second glance in his direction.
The light was on, but she was asleep, her lanky body curled up in the corner of the bed, arms tucked against her chest. A wad of white sheets gathered between her legs, her body wrapped up in them, leaning on them for support. Her unruly, dark hair spread out around her like a halo, a stark contrast against the white pillow.
I stepped closer, searching her face. A purple bruise had blossomed across her chin, creeping up toward her eye. I sucked in a breath. Why hadn’t they healed her? She’d obviously endured some beatings. I shouldn’t have been surprised, or even upset, she was an enemy of New Colony. She’d gotten less than she’d deserved. But still, seeing someone so young and innocent, sporting bruising like that, made my protective instincts flare. The urge to punch a wall, to scream, to do something, anything, rocked through me. It caught me so off-guard, the visceral reaction so stunningly intense, that I had to catch my breath.
I kneeled next to the bed to get a better look, careful not to jostle her. The girl laying before me had tender, full lips softly parted as she slept. Her eyelids had a soft purple hue, framed by dark lashes. They fluttered as if she were dreaming. She smelled of soap and something floral. Lilac? Her smooth and pale skin had a slight pink flush just on her cheeks. Oh yeah, she was beautiful.
