Aris didn’t stand on ceremony this time. When she reached Dianthe, she gave the tall woman a quick, tight hug, ignoring the twinge in her ribs. Dianthe’s look of shock as Aris pulled away made her laugh.
“Disguising men as female soldiers . . . I hear that’s your new thing,” Aris joked.
Dianthe shot her a look. “Surely you’re not complaining.”
“Absolutely not,” Aris said. Dianthe’s skill in creating diatous veils had saved her life. In truth, it had changed her life. And it had saved their Dominion. “What will you do now?” she asked, her voice softer. “Will there be need for the veiling tech?”
Dianthe didn’t answer for a minute, as she surveyed the room. “I imagine not,” she said at last. “But I knew the second your true identity was announced after you rescued Ward Vadim that things would change for me.”
Aris’s chest tightened, but to her shock, Dianthe smiled. An actual, genuine smile. “Change isn’t always a bad thing.”
Just then, someone turned up the volume on the bank of monitors along the wall. They all showed the same scene: an empty dais in Panthea’s capitol framed by enormous flowering trees in gilded pots. A reporter said in a whisper that Ward Nekos was about to take the stage.
Commander Nyx stomped into the room and took a spot against the back wall next to Dianthe. Aris made her way back to her seat. She wished Milek could be here for this moment.
The room erupted in applause when Ward Nekos climbed onto the dais, followed by Ward Vadim and Ward Rossum. They were all elaborately dressed, Nekos in an emerald-green tunic heavily embroidered with gold thread, Vadim in a cobalt-blue gown with streaks of sparkling silver. Ward Rossum’s ruby dress was inlaid with swirls of white pearl. More importantly, they all wore matching looks of triumph.
When Ward Nekos stepped up to the podium, the room quieted abruptly. Dysis bumped Aris’s shoulder and they shared a look. Aris knew what Ward Nekos was about to say, but she still held her breath.
“People of Atalanta,” Nekos began, his voice strong. “It is with joy, reverence, and humble relief that I am able to announce the official cessation of Military operations against Safara. Atalanta and her allies are safe. At last, the war is over.”
Chapter 42
As the door slid open, Galena took a deep breath. Elom sat at the edge of the cot, facing her, in his usual manner. His gaze pierced through the space between them like a knife.
Before she stepped into the cell, she stood still for an extra moment, knowing she would enjoy what came next. Then she crossed the threshold, gesturing to the guard to leave the door open.
“This will be our last visit together, Elom,” she said, her voice mild. “The war is over.”
Something flickered in Elom’s eyes, but his expression didn’t change. “Oh, is it?”
“Ward Balias is dead.” The words echoed in the small room. “The weapon has been destroyed, as well as the lab and the technology with it.” His cheeks were reddening, his hands closing into fists. She went on, savoring the moment. “Castalia joined our final assault. Their troops have stayed to help establish an interim Safaran government. A temporary ward is already in place.”
“Why are you telling me this?” he asked through clenched teeth.
“Because I have always wished to hurt you the way you hurt me,” she said matter-of-factly. “And this is how I’ll do it. Elom, your dominion has renounced you. They have wiped their hands clean of you. You will not be put on trial. You will not be sentenced to death for your crimes.”
She took a step back, one foot over the threshold.
“You will be left alone, in this room, to rot.”
He stood suddenly, and lunged forward against his shackles. “You can’t do this.”
She shook her head, chin up, so her scars were on full display. “I didn’t. You did this. You helped Ward Balias destroy his own dominion from within, and then you tried to destroy me. You did this, Elom, and I will wake up satisfied every day for as long as you live, knowing you are here, alone, with life itself as your punishment.”
Elom gave a great yell and reached for her, his eyes breaking to show the evil and agony he usually kept hidden.
Satisfaction. That was the word for what she felt. Not joy, nor pleasure or pride. Just peace at the knowledge that, for Elom, justice had been served.
***
Galena met Pyralis at a tiny restaurant hidden in a corner of the city on the riverside. The dark paneled walls and candlelight gave the place an intimate feel; the large, scalloped panels between tables offered additional privacy. Tonight, though, there was little need for them. They were the only patrons.
The muffled pop of fireferns filtered through the restaurant’s quiet music. There were pockets of Atalantans celebrating in the streets all across the city. Throughout the evening, the news vids had shown footage from villages doing the same. Most began their revelry with a vigil for those lost, sharing a moment of silence over flickering candles.
Galena and Pyralis held their own vigil as they sat across from each other, the candle burning between them. After everything they’d been through, what was there to say?
Finally, Galena broke into an awkward laugh. “Maybe you were right.”
“How do you mean?” Pyralis lifted a brow, smiling. His golden skin glowed in the dim light, his brown eyes warm as melted chocolate.
“We don’t seem to have anything to talk about now.” She meant it as a joke, but a thread of unease ran through her all the same. They’d acknowledged their feelings for each other, yes. But how much of their connection had its roots in their shared history, and how much in the necessity of fighting a war together? Without the war . . .
“Of course we do,” Pyralis said. “Forgive my silence. I was admiring your beautiful face in the candlelight.”
Galena ducked her head. She wasn’t ashamed of her scars, but beautiful?
A server swept up to their table with dishes of sweet nut bread and savory peshka, its green basilis sauce swirled artfully on the white plate.
“Thank you,” Galena murmured.
When they were alone again, Pyralis reached across the table for her hand. “Elom won’t hold this power over you forever. His crimes—”
“He holds no power over me,” Galena interrupted, raising her chin. “He has nothing left. And I have everything.” She squeezed Pyralis’s hand. “I won’t be visiting him again.”
They were more than words. They were freedom.
Pyralis’s face broke into a huge, happy grin. “I’m happy to hear that.”
He’d told her that he’d visited his wife at the prison the day before, but she’d refused to see him. Their marriage breaking wouldn’t be final until next year, but Pyralis had begun the process the day he learned of Bett’s involvement in Galena’s abduction. In a year or so, if they wanted, Galena and Pyralis could marry. She was glad they would have that time forced upon them. She wouldn’t have been able to make that kind of decision now.
“Will you be heading back to Sibetza soon?” Pyralis asked, a little too casually.
Galena wanted to say no, but her job there wasn’t over. “My focus must be Ruslana now. Our fight has forced me to neglect my own dominion for too long. After my visit to Milek tomorrow, I’ll be heading back— ”
“And there will be no reason to return to Atalanta for some time,” Pyralis finished for her.
She tightened her grip on his hand. “I was going to say, ‘but I imagine there will be a need for many diplomatic trips to Atalanta in my future.’”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm. “Ah, the joys of diplomacy.”
The night unfurled before them, rich with the strains of soft music, the flavors of fine food and spicy wine. Their conversation meandered. Easy. Unhurried.
And Galena basked in it, let it envelope her. This . . . this was
joy.
This was peace.
Chapter 43
In the airy kitchen of Aris’s parents’ house, her mother Krissa flitted about like a madwoman. The long slate counter heaved under endless platters of starberry pie, olive sandwiches on crisp thin-sliced bread, thick chunks of feta and tomato doused in silky basilis sauce. The scents of roasted potatoes and browned butter drifted through the rest of the house and into the high-walled courtyard.
Aris hugged her mother from behind, her strong arms holding the woman still for a brief moment. Krissa craned her head back to kiss Aris on the cheek. “I’m so thrilled you’re here, my doll,” she said. “Now let me cook.”
Aris laughed.
She and Milek had arrived in Lux late the night before, three and a half weeks after Ward Nekos announced the end of the war. It had taken that long for Milek to heal enough to travel, and for their leave to be approved. They’d been granted a month’s vacation. A whole month. Aris couldn’t wrap her head around it.
She left her mother to her work and headed into the living room to check on her father, who had taken the day off. She found him perched on the back of the white sofa, stringing twinkle lights along the wall, Milek uncoiling and handing them up to him. Milek’s left arm was still heavily bandaged, but he was slowly increasing his range of motion each day. On the floor nearby, Samira’s son, Jaff, watched them, transfixed.
“Have you seen Kori?” Aris asked, leaning against the white-washed wall. “Dysis and Jax will be here any minute.”
At the sound of her voice, Milek turned and shot her a smile.
From his precarious position atop the sofa, Gus said, “I think he’s in the courtyard with Samira and Hazel.”
She lingered a few seconds longer in the doorway. Watching Milek and her father work together on a task so normal felt like she’d entered another dimension. Or a dream.
She didn’t want to wake up.
Aris reached the courtyard just as a Military wingjet soared overhead and slowed. It made a sweep and then drew into a hover above their private landing pad. She hurried to Kori, who leaned heavily on his crutch in the corner of the courtyard, watching the wingjet. She couldn’t believe, after everything, that this moment was actually about to happen.
She crouched in front of the boy. His golden-brown eyes kept flicking toward the archway leading to the landing pad. “How are you doing? You okay?” she asked.
His eyes focused on her with an effort. She could see through the cracks in his defensive armor as he shrugged. Beside him, Samira put a hand on his shoulder.
“You’ve got this, kid.” She ignored Aris.
As soon as the wingjet landed, Aris ran through the archway, her short blue dress fluttering against her legs. “I owe you big-time for this. Thank you for finding them!”
Jax grinned as he disembarked from the flyer’s seat. “Of course. I told you I would. It was easy, now that official channels are open. Ward Vadim helped grease the wheels.”
There were still pockets of fighting within Safara, but between the influx of Castalian troops and the steadiness of the interim ward, peace was coming quickly to the dominion. It would take longer to rebuild the infrastructure; Ward Balias had severely strained the dominion’s resources and left many of his people without food and clean water. The irony was that with aid groups flooding the dominion with resources, Safara was now benefitting from the very things Balias had claimed he was fighting for.
Dysis jumped down from the gunner’s seat and gave Aris a hug. “Hey you.”
Together, they ran to the back of the wingjet. Aris helped a slim woman carrying a small child from the back of the cargo bay. The woman’s flowy, patterned dress threatened to swallow her as the cliff breeze caught it.
“We’re so glad you came,” Aris said, holding tight to the woman’s arm.
“My Kori is really here?” she asked, and Aris felt tears prick her eyes.
Jax stood off to the side with Dysis. Aris pointed toward the archway, where Kori stood frozen, his angular face caught in an expression somewhere between disbelief and anxious hope.
Slowly, Aris led the woman and her daughter to him. Jax and Dysis followed, giving them some space.
“Kori?” The woman’s tremulous voice carried on the breeze.
Aris held her breath.
Kori paused another moment, and then he jerked forward and wrapped his scarred arms tightly around his mother and sister. The woman began to weep.
Aris smiled back at Jax and Dysis. She’d promised Kori she’d find his family at a time when she was grounded in Safara and couldn’t even find her own way home without help. She’d had no idea if it could be done—if his family was even alive—but Kori’s pronounced limp and fiery defiance had spoken to something deep inside her. That this moment was actually happening . . . that Jax had actually found them . . .
Aris couldn’t quite see clearly through her tears.
“When will the refugees go back to Safara?” Dysis asked, her voice soft enough that it didn’t interrupt the reunion.
Aris sniffed, trying to pull herself together. “A few weeks, maybe a month. Might take longer for those here in Lux, as most of the children don’t have homes to go back to. But Ward Nekos has set up a task force to help return the child soldiers to their parents, so hopefully there will be more scenes like this soon.”
Together, they watched Kori pick up his little sister, his slight body already seeming stronger. Aris had never seen him smile before, and the expression gave his whole face new life.
New life.
That’s what the end of the war had given them all.
“Do you want to take care of the other thing now?” Dysis asked, glancing pointedly at Samira, who stood inside the courtyard, close to where Hazel played in a pool of shade created by the large, leafy palms that arched over the high wall.
Aris swiped at her face and straightened her shoulders. “Yes, please.” She threaded an arm through Jax’s. “Samira can be prickly. I don’t know how she’s going to react.”
Jax smiled, his eyes sparkling. “Oh, I know. It’s one of my favorite things about her.”
Aris let out a little laugh. She’d forgotten Jax had spent a lot of time with Samira and Alistar when they’d first come to Lux. He’d been the one appointed to question them about the flaming scorpion.
She, Jax, and Dysis wove around Kori and his family into the courtyard. As Aris passed, Kori looked at her, really looked at her, his gaze steady. His defensive armor was gone. When he smiled, she almost started crying all over again.
Samira watched the group approach, arms crossed over her chest. The sunlight brought out the slight red in her dark braids. “More requests? I went to Castalia, as you demanded. My brother died for your victory. There’s nothing more your dominion could possibly want from us.”
“That’s true,” Aris replied. The night before, she’d told Samira how sorry she was about Alistar, how much she’d respected him. How he’d try to save her and Milek, how much she owed to him. Samira had left the room without a response, her face tight. “But there’s something my dominion would like to offer you.” Aris nodded to Jax, who removed a shining gold medal from his breast pocket and held it out. “Atalanta has given your brother a posthumous award for bravery and selflessness. They’d like to hold a ceremony to honor him, but I said I would talk to you first. It will be up to you if you’d like Alistar’s actions made public.”
Aris remembered how she felt when Milek had come to her and offered her a promotion and a place in the military as herself. He’d given her a choice. She wanted to give that to Samira now.
For a few seconds, Samira stared at her, emotions flitting below the hard lines of her face. She reached for the medal slowly, as if she expected it to bite.
“A ceremony,” was all she said.
“Also, a fund has been set up for
you and your children.” Aris glanced down at Hazel, who was sitting on a soft blanket, playing with a stack of leaves. “If Alistar were an Atalantan soldier, dying in service to his dominion, his family would be supported. Ward Nekos thinks you and your family should be, too.” Before Samira could respond, Aris added, “You don’t have to stay in Atalanta. The fund is yours to use how and where you see fit.”
For a long time, no one said anything.
Samira’s husband and brother had been killed in the same war, on opposite sides. She and her children were caught out of place, out of time. She’d been living in someone else’s home for weeks. Aris knew Samira wasn’t one to accept help lightly.
At last, Samira shifted and cleared her throat. “Alistar deserves recognition for what he did. I told him he was stupid for risking his life like that, and I was right. But he saved his people, and yours.” She eyed Aris warily. “I’ll accept whatever your dominion decides to pay for his sacrifice. I won’t act like I’m ashamed, or like he betrayed Safara. He may never be honored in my dominion like he should be, but at least he’ll be honored here.”
“Samira—” Aris began, but the woman wasn’t done.
“I want to use the money to care for the orphans here,” she said, her chestnut eyes blazing. “Will you find out who I need to meet with to split it into trusts for all of these children, Hazel and Jaff, too? Can you do that?”
Aris nodded, and Jax stepped up, closer to Samira. “I’m staying in Lux for a while, as your liaison,” he said. “Whatever you need, I’m here to help.”
“Thank you,” Samira said, her expression softening a hair.
Aris wanted to hug the woman, but she knew the contact wouldn’t be welcome. Instead, she said softly, “My family is your famiy. You are welcome here for as long as you need.”
Samira nodded, and a swift, unacknowledged understanding passed between them.
Torn Sky (Rebel Wing Trilogy, Book 3) (Rebel Wing Series) Page 20
