by K. G. Reuss
Sir Sangrey was like a father to me. Though, he was my father’s half-brother, he treated me more like a son than my own father had. He’d taken me under his wing early in my childhood when my abilities had started to rival his. As a powerful shifter, he was feared by many. His skills on the battlefield had wowed me at a young age, and I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. He was one of the people who truly pushed me to my full potential, and I owed him a lot.
When I didn’t answer him, Danan continued, “I heard you and the she-wolf have grown rather close. Her father has applied for a spot on the council.”
That was news. Amara hadn’t mentioned her father being interested in joining the Order. But it didn’t exactly surprise me, nor would him gaining the twelfth spot on it since it was open due to Sir Daris retiring to the Highlands—a plains region in the Fae realm where he hailed from.
“I hope Mr. LaCroix gets it,” I stated as the horses carried us to the capital.
“Perhaps you should put in a good word for him,” Danan suggested as we entered the gates to the sprawling city. I jumped from the white horse while Danan climbed off his tan one. As we entered the city, I looked around. The place was massive with stone buildings and cobblestone streets. It had grown darker in the last few years because the sunshine didn’t reach all the places it once did. Eric told me I was imagining things, but I knew I wasn’t. I blamed it on the war with the Cipher. It was sucking the energy out of all of us.
“Is that what you’re here for?” Danan’s voice broke into my thoughts.
“Excuse me?” I asked, having tuned him out.
“I asked if you were here to speak for LaCroix. I assumed since you and his daughter have been seeing one another, that was your reason. I heard that you two were… um… quite smitten. There’s even talk of a wedding.”
“What?” I frowned. “There’s no wedding on the horizon, and I’m here on Conexus business.”
“No wedding?” Danan grinned at me, infuriating me. “I hear things, you know. If LaCroix makes council, the sigil will want you to marry the she-wolf. You’re both Conexus. Both your fathers are powerful men. It would unite the weres with the shifters permanently—”
We’d reached the entrance to the Citadel, a sprawling building with towers and turrets. The Order met on the other side of the doors. And just beyond the massive building sat the castle, my home as a child. My heart clenched tightly in my chest. I didn’t come home often. With my mother no longer there, there really wasn’t a point in it.
“You’re not denying the wedding—”
“There is no wedding,” I snapped, glowering at the man as his incessant talking took me to the edge of my sanity. “I am not engaged to Amara. I have no intentions of marriage anytime soon, and even if I did, I choose my bride, not the council.”
“My apologies,” he replied, not looking the least bit apologetic as he sneered at me. I ground my teeth in an effort to avoid punching him in the throat.
“Your weapons, General,” two armed guards greeted me. I quickly unloaded all my knives, swords, and weapons, smirking at the fact they thought they were disarming me.
“You do realize I could take all three of you out with just a flick of my wrist, right? No weapon needed,” I snarled, already irritated for having to listen to Danan the duration of the trip into the city. The men flinched, knowing damn well I spoke the truth.
“Ah, our finest Conexus general!” a voice boomed out. I turned and grinned to see Sir Sangrey coming through the doorway with his lips tipped up and his dark robes billowing behind him.
“Uncle,” I greeted him with a handshake and a quick one-armed hug.
He pulled away from me and held me at arm’s length. “You get bigger every time I see you, my boy! I heard you dispatched an entire nest of carrion. Impressive!”
“I didn’t do it alone. I had my men with me.”
“Always the modest one.” Sangrey smiled. “I heard you out here threatening the guards. I figured I’d best come out and ensure you didn’t hold fast to your word.”
“I just don’t understand what disarming me will do. You know as well as I do—”
“It’s protocol, General. You know that,” Sangrey continued, his dark eyes shining with mirth. “Come. I know you have much to discuss if you traveled all the way here so quickly.”
I walked through the doorway with him.
“Your father is eager to see you.”
“I very much doubt that,” I answered dryly. My father and I had a rocky relationship. I never wanted what he wanted. If not for Sangrey, I probably would’ve rebelled against him and just been content staying in the background. My father wanted to parade me around like a prized show dog while I wanted to remain in the shadows. Having people know I was his son made me feel like I’d be judged by that rather than my own abilities, so we agreed to keep it under wraps with only the Order knowing who I was. Them, and my Conexus members.
“Did you hear LaCroix is up for councilman?” Sangrey asked as we walked down the stone hallway.
“I did,” I answered tightly.
“He could use your vote. I assume you’ll give it. It’d be a good idea considering you are dating his daughter.”
“Dating, not marrying.” I wanted to clarify that. Marriage was the furthest thing from my mind.
“For now,” Sangrey commented mildly.
“What are you talking about?” I came to a halt.
“Your father is in talks with Benton LaCroix about your marriage to his daughter. I thought you knew that…” His studied me with his dark eyes, the fine lines around them crinkled, concern written on his face.
“I was not aware,” I growled. “And I am not interested.”
“Forgive me, I thought you loved the girl.”
“I do not. She keeps my bed warm, Sangrey. I haven’t felt nor spoken the words to her that all women desire to hear. Nor will I.”
“I see.” Sangrey nodded. “This is a problem, I’m afraid.”
“Not for long,” I started walking again, now with two pieces of business to address.
Chapter 7
I was not in a good mood by the time I reached the Circle, the place where the Order met within the Citadel. The curved front of the circular room was where the various factions of the Order sat. There was space for other members of our world to gather whenever there were trials.
“General, it’s a pleasure to see you. We were expecting you,” Sir Broderick proclaimed as I stood in the center of the room facing them. They looked so official with their dark robes in place.
“I’d hope so,” I growled. “I sent two fire messages. I didn’t receive a response, so I figured I’d just pop in and see if the Cipher had finally torn this place down stone by stone.”
“As always, full of charm and wit,” Sir Broderick replied, his lips tight beneath his graying beard. The man came from a long line of pure blood locks, something he liked to remind people of whenever he got the opportunity.
“General, we received your fire messages,” Sir Malek, an elderly Fae with long silver hair said from his seat among the panel, his dark eyes curious.
“I heard,” I answered dryly.
“We assumed you’d make it a point to simply pay us a visit since that’s usually your way,” Sir Parsons, another lock, chimed in from where he sat. “But we planned on replying if we didn’t hear from you by today.”
“Good thing I’m so punctual,” I said evenly, my gaze leveled on him. He gave me a small smirk.
“You have questions,” the man in the center stated. He had hair black as pitch, just like Sangrey. However, smatterings of gray were sprinkled throughout. I looked at him and nodded. My father. We didn’t have a close relationship. He liked to give orders, and I hated taking them, but it seemed to become one of my better habits as of late—taking orders without question. Our relationship had only gotten worse since the death of my mother. She was the one who held us together. Without her, we were just two angry men wh
o blamed one another for her demise.
“The girl—Everly Lucia Torres—I suspect without question is a Special. I want to know if she’s registered on our list of Specials. And if so, I want to know why she hasn’t been brought to Dementon to have her skills honed. The girl suffers and has for years.”
“The girl is not registered. But more importantly, General, how do you know she’s suffered for years?” My father cocked his head at me. I swallowed hard and let my eyes wander over the councilmen who were all looking at me peculiarly. She wasn’t registered. Something was wrong with that picture.
How had she slipped through? She had to have old blood. Specials just didn’t happen without magical blood somewhere in their family.
“Because…” I breathed out deeply, hating myself for what I was about to tell them. Suddenly, it felt wrong. She needed me, and I felt like I was about to betray her. I knew if I could just get her to Dementon for help then maybe she’d be safe. Maybe she’d find herself and turn out to be worth the sacrifice. I’d be able to protect her more easily. Watch over her. We would keep an eye on her—all of Conexus. She could be trained. In that moment, I decided she needed to come prove herself at Dementon, and if this was the way to do it, then so be it. I had to tell them what she was, that she could see and speak to the dead. “Everly is a whisperer. I’ve been drawn to her since I was four years old.”
I was greeted with silence. A palpable silence.
“Are you certain?” Sir Broderick asked breaking the silence.
“I’m pretty sure,” I snapped. “I was tugged from my bed at four and visited her daily until she was twelve.”
“Really? And why did the visits stop?” Sir Malek, a were, asked while the rest of the councilman stared at me.
“I don’t know,” I answered helplessly. “She blocked me. I was unable to find her. She moved. Her abusive father was taken away. Maybe she didn’t need me beyond that time.” I didn’t tell them I blamed her for my mother’s death, so maybe it was me who ended the visits. I didn’t know why they ended, but it was probably a good thing they had.
“And now? You must have found her again, General,” my father said easily.
“I felt her,” I murmured. “It was a strange feeling. It washed over me. Drew me to her. Pulled me in. I had no choice in the matter. She’s moved. She lives with her mother now. Wraiths were around. One was in her bedroom. It attacked her. I sent it back to the void.”
“A wraith?” Sir Malek asked, surprised. “Are you certain?”
“Do you really need to ask me that question?” I demanded angrily. “I know my void walkers. It was a wraith.”
“Wraiths are rare… They follow commands… Interesting,” my father murmured with the councilmen.
The thought hadn’t slipped my mind. Wraiths didn’t just wander around for fun. They always had a purpose.
“What are you asking of us?” Sangrey asked, his deep voice booming out and silencing the room. He stared impassively at me. He didn’t like for the Order to know of his loyalty to me.
“I think you need to bring her to Dementon.”
“No,” Sangrey stated without explanation.
Staring hard at him, I asked, “Why not?”
“Well, General,” Sangrey continued, steepling his fingers as he surveyed me. “Do you not know the Old Words? I’d think someone of your position would be well-acquainted with them.”
“You mean the texts pertaining to the Wards?” I asked, frowning as a sickness washed over me. Eric, Damien, and I already discussed this. I didn’t want it to be true. God, I didn’t.
“Yes. Those very ones. You said yourself that Everly’s a whisperer.”
“Those prophecies were recorded by the Fae long ago. Who knows if the Wards are even accurate? I mean a mancer hasn’t been born in hundreds of years, and the last one never had a reever, so when she died she stayed dead. A reever has never existed. Ever.” I referred to the Old Words, stories of how a mancer—a Special who could commune with the Veil—coupled with a reever could raise an undead army. The two would create a never-ending cycle of life between the two of them. But Everly couldn’t be a mancer. The thought of her being forced to live her life running from ghosts made me ill. A fresh wave of protectiveness like the one I used to have for her rushed over me.
“Think,” my father growled at me, sitting forward in his seat. “You’ve been pulled to the girl. You know yourself to be different. Stronger. More. Don’t you think it’s odd that we have a Special with such strong abilities surface all of a sudden like this? We should probably keep a close eye on the situation considering what it could mean if the two of you are part of this prophecy. If you two are even remotely close to being what the prophecy spoke of, we all need to be keeping a closer eye on things. A mancer in the hands of our enemy would be very bad indeed. And you, what if you had to go simply because she was taken? We don’t know how this works. We have to be cautious. We only know what some old fool bellowed out during a trance. We know that she fits what we know. She was born two hundred or so years after the death of the fourth mancer. Her birthday is in May. She’s a whisperer. And we know she could be very dangerous. These things all meet the Rule of Five from the prophecy. As for you, you’d have to follow her to death unless you decided she wasn’t worth saving.”
I swallowed hard and drew in a deep breath.
“I am no reever,” I snarled in denial. “If that’s what you’re thinking, you’re wrong. I’m a general. Someday a councilman to the Citadel. A sigil. I’m no answer to prophecy. I refuse.”
“Well, I don’t believe you get a choice in it if it turns out to be true,” Sangrey chuckled softly, sending a shiver of foreboding through my body.
“So, is that why she’s been kept from Dementon?” I demanded. “Because of what she might be?”
“No.” Sir Broderick sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. “She has been on our radar. And her abilities did disappear at twelve. With whisperers, it’s different than with other Specials. Some Nattie children can see into the Veil. Usually that gift disappears as they grow older. We assumed that Miss Torres was simply a Nattie whose abilities left her as she aged. The fact that she’s tugged you back and the creatures are back for her, even the nasty ones like the wraiths, means what I fear—that she’s stronger and an actual Special who is untrained. She does need to be brought to Dementon. It’ll just be very late in her education which means she’ll have to have extra training. That is, if we agree to allow her to attend. I feel like we need more information on the girl before we can make that decision. Perhaps she truly is nothing. And we don’t want to waste our time or resources on a nothing Nattie.” It was no secret that some of the councilman thought very poorly of the Nattie world, Sir Broderick being one of them.
“I agree,” Sir Moran, a shifter who’d been silent, finally spoke up with a nod of his head, his beady eyes focused on me. “We cannot have an untamed Special, especially if she’s what we think she might be, running amuck out there. If the Cipher get wind of this, it could spell disaster. Even if she isn’t the Mancer, the girl may require help honing her abilities. She could be a very good asset to Conexus. You only possess one of the psychic faction within your ranks, correct?”
“That is correct,” I said through clenched teeth. Eric was from the psychic faction. He wasn’t all that great at predicting or seeing, but he had skills where they mattered with his telekinesis and stitching—the ability to stop time for a moment. I didn’t want Everly in my ranks. The thought of her out there fighting, killing, made me sick. I didn’t want my life for her. She deserved freedom and happiness. I didn’t want her near me past her being within Dementon’s walls. “I don’t believe there’s another psychic out there worthy of Conexus ranking.”
“You and me both. Eric Craft is a rarity all his own. He’s unrivaled.” Sir Broderick nodded. “It’s rare to find one that’s gifted enough to be considered more than an entertaining way to pass the time. However, if this girl develops these
gifts—true psychic gifts—she’d be an asset to more than just Conexus. She could turn the tide of the war for us. Her predictions could enable us to be a step ahead of the Cipher.”
There was a general murmur of agreement within the group of men. My jaw clenched as I ground my teeth. It was bad enough inducting and training new members every year. It would be even worse with someone like Ever. She had zero knowledge of anything. It would be a nightmare.
“Have you spoken to the girl?” Sir Mathis, another shifter, asked, dragging me from my thoughts on how to keep her out of Conexus.
“Only once. When we were twelve. The last time I saw her. I told her I’d protect her. It was the only time we’ve ever spoken.”
“I see.” Sir Mathis sat back in his seat, steepling his fingers. Silence filled the room. My pulse roared in my ears. I was about to lose my cool with these guys.
“And what’s more, our dear general here may be her reever,” Sir Sangrey said, calmly breaking the silence. I looked at him and frowned. An unfamiliar glint flickered in his eyes. He seemed almost… happy about the situation. “There’s really only one way to find out if you two are what we think you may be.”
“You want to kill her?” I demanded, my hands beginning to twitch. “Just to test her? To test me? And if you’re wrong?” Sangrey was never so bold. He was pissing me off, a rarity between the two of us. I should’ve been angrier at myself because only hours before I’d had my hand on my own blade ready to end her life. I was disgusting. My actions made me sick as I listened to the men before me devise a plot to reveal what she was. Hearing it from the other end made me realize how insane I’d been.
“Then she dies. She’s a just Nattie who didn’t make it. If you bring her back, then she’ll become Order property.” Sir Broderick nodded thoughtfully, completely unaware of the terror churning in my soul. Abuzz moved around the Order. “Besides, I can’t imagine living her life is much fun. Killing her might do the poor thing a favor. And if she comes back, it’ll be a bonus.”
