The Fractured Empire (The World Apart Series Book 1)

by Robin D. Mahle

  "Gunther, there may still be something. We can't give up yet. Do you think we could find a way back into my penthouse?" I asked, unable to hold back the hope in my voice.

  It must have been contagious because a slow smile spread across his pale cheeks.

  "Should we brave going upstairs to tell them?" I asked.

  He grimaced but nodded.

  "I don't suppose you want to tell me what happened between them?” I asked.

  "It's just a lot to tell. And now probably isn't the time." He said it gently, as he did everything, so I felt no rebuke.

  “I understand,” I said as I hopped off my bar stool to lead the way upstairs.

  We shouldn't have been concerned about interrupting anything. Xavier and Clark were sitting on opposite ends of the deck, Clark at the helm, and Xavier staring out at the water from the bow.

  The gray clouds overhead mirrored their moods perfectly. Their postures were identical, though, ramrod-straight backs, tense shoulders, stony faces. They didn't look up at the sound of our footsteps. Gunther and I exchanged a look. Which of us would be the lucky soul to break into their silent treatment? When Gunther said nothing, coward that he was, I cleared my throat.

  "We need to get back to Central and find a way into my penthouse."

  Both boys turned to look at me.

  "Why?" Clark asked.

  Foolishly, I had been hoping he wouldn't. Now I would have to tell him there was nothing in the books and no point to the trip someone had died for.

  But before I spoke up, Gunther found his voice. "The books had limited information, but they pointed us to a final source. Luckily, Addie happens to know where the missing piece is," he said confidently.

  I barely resisted the urge to gape at him. That was overstating things. It did, however, confirm my assessment of Clark's mood that Gunther felt the need to sugar coat things so egregiously. It had jogged my memory also.

  "We also will likely need to get to the podium. We heard on the radio that Redshaw had confiscated all of the museum artifacts. We can kill two birds with one stone if I borrow the key from my father's home office."

  "Got it." Clark's voice still held no inflection. "I'm sure we can work something out. Or maybe Xavier already has a secret plan for that."

  Xavier glared at Clark, then turned back to the sea.

  This is going to be a fun trip.

  "For now,” Gunther said, “has anyone given any thought to where we're sleeping? I don't fancy cuddling up next to you two brutes all night, but I only saw one bed."

  I cleared my throat, my face coloring, and determinedly did not look at Clark as I carefully worded my answer. "Actually, the two narrow white couches below decks pull out into single-size beds," I admitted. I could feel Clark's gaze burning into me, but I kept my eyes firmly fixed on Gunther's. "It's a two-man job, though," I hurried to explain, "so whichever two of you aren't currently ready to murder each other can follow me down, and I'll show you."

  To my dismay, it was Clark and Gunther who followed.

  "Man the helm, arse face," Clark yelled over his shoulder.

  Without waiting to see if Xav listened, mostly because no one really needed to be at the helm now, I headed down the stairs. I pointed out the mechanism on the couch. It easily slid into a bed with only minimal effort on the part of the second person. And curse him, it was Gunther who commented on it.

  "That wasn't nearly as hard as you made it out to be. I think one person could do it in a pinch."

  "Yes," I lied. "It went much more smoothly this time. Last time, the prince and I wrestled with it for nearly half an hour."

  Gunther's face was confused, and when I finally dared peek at Clark, his was pure amusement. Well, at least he wasn't scowling. Indeed, his chest was pushed out and if it had been anyone else, I might have said he was preening.

  Men.

  I decidedly ignored how sexy he looked like that, his black hair windswept and a cocky glint in his cobalt eyes.

  When both beds were out, Gunther headed back upstairs. I started to follow, but Clark pulled my arm back. He lifted an eyebrow.

  "What? We had been drinking. I forgot," I said.

  "Mhmm," he said with a low, masculine laugh.

  I stalked off to join the others on deck. All traces of amusement vanished from Clark's face when he beheld his older brother. Well, that had been a short-lived reprieve.

  “We still only have three beds,” Gunther said.

  I again avoided looking at Clark, but it was his voice that spoke up behind me.

  "I'll sleep on deck tonight. Someone should guard the boat." He didn't sound as though he thought that was necessary any more than I did, but I didn't argue. If he wanted to spend the night sleeping on the rock-hard deck, so be it. I ignored the small stab in my gut. It felt suspiciously like rejection, and that made exactly zero sense. Besides, I would sleep much better without him beside me there. Obviously.

  The Renegade

  In the two years that had passed since Xavier boarded the General's naval ship, we had fought as often as we got along. Father said all brothers did that, that he wasn't worried about it. That didn't stop him from giving us some much-deserved lashings when our arguments went too far or interfered with our duties.

  I remember the day our constant fighting came to an end. Father returned from what was supposed to be a peaceful island stop. By most accounts, it was. Everyone who left came back, and all but one was smiling. My father looked murderous. He carried a small red headed boy in his arms. The boy's bones stuck out at jagged angles with no fat to cushion them from his skin. My father gestured for Xav and me to follow him into our cabin. When he unclasped the boy's hands from behind his neck to set the frail child down, Xavier and I both gasped aloud. Father shook his head, telling us with his eyes not to outwardly react.

  I tried to school my expression, but it wanted to slip back into a mask of horror. The boy's tiny, pale hands were raw and red, covered in crisscrossing lashes half scabbed and half still leaking blood. Some were inflamed with infection and oozing pus, as well. Father's expression when he had boarded made sense now.

  "Hello," I tried, but the boy didn't look up or acknowledge me.

  "What's your name?" Xavier tried. Still no response. I didn't know what we were supposed to do, but Father was looking at us in expectation.

  "Well," I said, touching the boy's arm. He looked up, startled, and skittered back. I didn't move further but kept eye contact as I continued. "Until we know what to call you, I'll just call you—"

  I stopped to think of a name, but the boy was staring at me like he wanted to know what I would say. So I blurted out the first name that came to mind, a hero from a book the literacy tutor had made us read. "I'll just call you Gunther."

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Clark

  While Addie and Gunther had been downstairs, I had cornered Xavier and demanded answers. He had continued insisting that now was not the time or place, and that he didn't want to risk "the girl" overhearing us. I considered beating the answers out of him, but we both knew I had never bested him in hand-to-hand combat, so that wasn't a real option. Finally, I had given up, and we had resorted to not speaking to each other.

  To be fair, he wasn't the only one keeping secrets. I still hadn't told either of my brothers that our father was alive, or that I had a lead on where he was. The difference was, my secrets hadn’t nearly gotten them killed.

  Langston had said there was a port for the cylinder, and I could think of only one place we might have a shot at finding Levelian tech. Right now, I needed to get to Redshaw’s vault as much for my own sake as for Addie's.

  Of course, I had been keeping secrets from her as well. Somehow it never felt like the right time to say, "My father is the man you blame for killing your family, but he didn't do it. I'm starting to think your father did."

  Yeah, that would go over just swimmingly. I put my head against the wheel and ran my fingers through my hair, groaning. Xavier didn't
look my way.

  The scene at the mansion played through my head on repeat. Aegis showing up. Langston getting stabbed. Xavier and Gunther coming. I was trying to make sense of it, but it was like a puzzle with missing pieces and nothing was fitting together. It just made me want to punch Xavier more.

  He was my brother, and I trusted him. But he had a strong overprotective streak, and this wouldn't be the first time he had lied for what he purported to be mine and Gunther's own good. It was frustrating enough when we were kids, but downright infuriating now that we were adults.

  Since Addie, Gunther, and I had come back upstairs, no one had spoken much. Gunther had made a few valiant efforts at breaking the silence, but even Addie was strangely subdued. She had brought up a blanket and was sitting wrapped in it off to the side, staring out at the gentle waters of the dark blue sea.

  Maybe what happened at the mansion had gotten to her more than she had initially let on. She seemed to be nearly unflappable. Still, this was a lifestyle my brothers and I had chosen, and even we could not always remain unaffected by its carnage.

  By the time we dropped anchor, the wind had been favorable enough that we had already hit warmer waters. I loaned Gunther a short-sleeved shirt that hung loosely on him, but Xavier was too stubborn to ask. I hoped he was sweltering.

  Addie went below deck to change into a short-sleeved, flowing blue dress with a wide leather belt, and once again opted for no shoes. At times like this, it was hard to deny the attraction I felt to her. She was dangling her feet over the side of the deck, her head on her arms, which rested on the metal railing. Her dark hair fell in waves down her back and shifted with the breeze.

  She was never still. Even now, she kicked her feet and twirled her hair and shifted her weight, little signs of the thoughts I suspected were constantly rapid-firing in her brain.

  I felt a weighted gaze, and saw Gunther looking at me thoughtfully. He cleared his expression when I caught his eye, but it didn't matter. I knew what he was thinking, and I also knew that whatever I did or didn't feel for the stubborn girl was inconsequential at this point. At any point, really, considering who our fathers were.

  Once it was clear we were finished sailing for the night, Addie stood up and made to go downstairs, but Gunther stopped her.

  "Wait," he said. "It's tradition. We always end the night by telling stories when we're out at sea." He looked to me.

  I groaned. Technically, he was right. Every night after dinner, one of the men on the naval ship would take a turn at telling stories. On the rare occasions we had been at sea in the last few years, transitioning from one post to another, we had kept it up. But now wasn't the time.

  "Do you honestly think that's a good idea tonight, Gunther?" I said, weariness evident in my tone. I glanced to Xavier, sure he would object as well, but he continued to say nothing.

  "Please," Gunther said. I tried not to look at my youngest brother and failed. He made a familiar gesture with his hands, and I wondered if he was using the entreating signal we hadn't used since we were children just to play me. His expression was too innocent. That was definitely the case.

  When Gunther had come to us, he hadn't communicated for weeks. The doctor on board had confirmed he was deaf the night he was brought in but didn't have many suggestions as to where to go from there. Gunther would raise his hands as though to gesture, then hurriedly hide them behind his back when he realized what he was doing. It hadn't taken a genius to figure out how his hands had gotten damaged.

  Weeks of encouragement and time for his hands to heal, and he finally felt safe using gestures. The three of us devised our own signals to communicate. For young boys, it was fun and exciting to have our own language, and for Gunther, the gestures were essential as we tried to meet his needs.

  Later, specialists and tutors hired by my father at Gunther's request would help Gunther learn to speak. Gradually, he stopped using the hand signals as much when he got immersed in his projects because his hands were usually preoccupied. But we still used the more basic ones regularly.

  The stupid prince's boat had so much deck lighting, I couldn't even use the darkness as an excuse to ignore him.

  "Fine," I said. "But you have to go first."

  "No," Xavier said. "I'll go first." He had a hard look to his eyes, and Gunther looked warily at him, but nodded.

  Addie sat down on her blanket, eyes wide.

  Xavier began. "Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived in a village. He was happy there. The village was peaceful, and they lived together like a family. As the oldest of four siblings, it was the boy's job to protect the younger ones from danger while his parents did the hunting and other village tasks. Not that another person would have harmed them, but there were snakes and wildlife, quicksand and poisonous bugs. The boy took this job seriously and was happy to do it.

  “Then one day, when the boy's parents were home to take care of his siblings, the boy took advantage of the rare freedom to go off exploring on his own. And here's where the story gets interesting." Xavier's voice hardened. "You see, if the boy had gone West, he might have seen the ships that carried the invading forces, might have been able to warn his village. But the boy went East, and so he saw nothing, heard nothing. When the boy came home, it was late evening, and he was sure he was going to be scolded for staying gone so long. But there was no one left to scold him.

  “The smoke was his first clue. Seeing the black plume from a distance, he sprinted full-out for the village. Strange voices served as a warning, so as he got closer, he hid in the shadows and behind trees. The smell was the next sign of something being off. It was one of charred meat, but his village rarely ate meat. Finally, it came into view.

  “In the center of his beloved village, where he and his siblings had run around with the other village kids, getting in the way of the hustle and bustle of daily life and being gifted with baked fruits and seasoned nuts by their neighbors, there was nothing but charred ruins and a pile of bodies. The village had been slaughtered. Men stood around, laughing while they set fire to everything that remained. And there, at the edge of that pile, the boy saw three tiny bodies, still huddled together. He hadn't protected them.

  “Maybe he couldn't have, even if he had been there, but he could have at least had the decency to die alongside them. The boy decided to do just that and readied himself to charge the smirking monsters when a firm hand grasped him. The boy went to yell, but a different hand clamped over his mouth.

  “'Steady, boy. That is no place for a child,' the man said. 'We will take care of this. Now, I'll move my hand if you promise not to scream and give away our position.' They were still far enough away that they hadn't been spotted and shouldn't be heard over the raucous celebrating soldiers.

  “Still, the boy nodded. The man removed his hand. The boy could see him now, tall and broad-shouldered with a grim expression. Then the man asked if his family had been in there, and again, the boy nodded. The man nodded back, as though that was the answer he was expecting. The rest of that night was a blur for the boy. The soldiers who had come with the man eliminated the forces who had slaughtered his village. The boy returned to the charred remains of his house until the man found him and convinced him to go on his ship.

  “It turned out the man already had one son and would soon come by another. Both were younger than the boy, who’d had his seventh naming day. The man told the boy that he could never replace the family he had lost, but now, he would have brothers who would need his protection. And that day, the boy looked the man in the eye and swore he would do anything and everything to protect those brothers. He would not fail this time."

  "Even if it meant betraying them?" I asked. I wasn't unaffected by his story, having only heard the briefest version before, but it felt a lot like an excuse for whatever he had done.

  "Anything and everything," my brother answered. Then, he got up and went below decks.

  Gunther followed. It was clear story time was over. Addie muttered something
about bed before she left as well. She left the blanket for me to sleep on. It was a nice gesture, but there was no way I was resting now. I went to sit where Addie had been sitting before, feet dangling above the water.

  I don't know how long I sat there staring at the sea before light footsteps sounded behind me. I didn't bother to turn around. I knew who it was. The clink of a bottle and glasses hitting the deck rang out. Then Addie sat down next to me, so close I could feel the heat from her body, but not quite touching me. She poured out two glasses and handed me one.

  "This feels familiar," I couldn't help but say.

  A short laugh bubbled out of her. The heaviness in my chest lifted at the sound. She seemed to have that effect on me when she wasn’t being completely unbearable.

  "That it does, but I promise no funny business this time. You just looked like you could use this. I couldn't sleep anyway. Not that your brothers seem to be having any trouble." Addie rambled like this when she didn’t know what to say, I had noticed.

  I felt a genuine smile tugging at my lips.

  "They never do," I said. "Well, Gunther can stay up for days working on a project, but he can sleep when he wants to. And Xav—" I started, then stopped. I didn't want to talk about Xavier right now. Neither of us spoke for a moment while we sipped at our whiskey. Then she took a deep breath.

  "I don't know what happened, but you should forgive him, whatever it was."

  "Oh, yeah?" I challenged.

  "Yeah," she said. "All this time you're spending not speaking to each other? You will never get it back. And I promise you, I promise you, that there will come the day that it will haunt one of you. You will not both be around forever. Xavier's story proved that."

  "And yours?" I asked, deliberately turning the tables on her.

  "Fine, you win. We don't have to talk about personal things," she said. "And yes, I know that's what you were doing."