The Complete Marked Series Box Set

by March McCarron

  “I’m not leaving your side.”

  She glowered, but dropped the argument. Melerre’s pompous manner was enough to divert her irritation.

  “Dear Chae-Na, I hope you—”

  “I do not recall, cousin, extending you an invitation to this meeting.”

  His mouth flapped soundlessly as he drew himself up. “As your betrothed—”

  “Our engagement was contingent upon your father providing three legions, as per the agreement signed by my brother. Only one has arrived.”

  “It would seem that Mr. Asher—”

  Breathe, she reminded herself. Breathe.

  “—Has, ah, gotten to them.”

  “So, two-thirds of your promised men will in fact be fighting against us? That is most unfortunate.” Chae-Na slipped the cold engagement ring from her finger, with all the relief of unlocking a shackle.

  Her cousin reacted as if struck. “Surely you can’t blame me—this Asher man—”

  Breathe, breathe.

  “—Has unnatural abilities. What could we have done?”

  Chae-Na held out the ring, and when he did not take it, she forced it into his palm.

  “It is not a matter of blame, cousin. Merely of agreements being honored. My hand came at the cost of three legions, not one. If you would like to leave with your men, you of course are free to do so. But given that you will find yourself under that man’s spell as soon as you leave these walls, I would advise against it.”

  “But it was your brother’s dying wish—”

  “This was not his dying wish.” Oh, Jo-Kwan, but you did have one, did you not? “You may go and report to your father.”

  His face had turned an unappealing shade of purple. “I should be the one questioning our arrangement, cousin, upon finding myself engaged to a common whore.”

  “You have my leave to feel yourself relieved at its dissolution, then.”

  He peeled back his lips into a false smile. “This is not over, Chae-Na.”

  She glided past him. “Yes. It is.”

  When she entered the room again, she indicated that they might all keep their seats. She surveyed the assemblage. There were many Chisanta: Bray, Yarrow, Peer, Dedrre, Britt, and a few unfamiliar to her; Zarra, the Adourran sword master and her husband; Mae, the Pauper’s Queen, and Arlow beside her; a number of officers in the military, such as Lieutenant General Petterton; as well as Veldon Gorberry and the heads of four other leading houses. It was an eclectic group. Certainly none like it had ever met in the palace before.

  As she circled the wide table, she could feel the heat of their gazes upon her. She lifted her chin. They would all have seen the news this morning, or by now would have heard of its contents. She had already resolved not to address these rumors. Not here, when they had issues of such import to discuss. Quade had hoped to make her appear weak and corrupted. Her best recourse was to present a face that was neither.

  Chae-Na lowered into her chair at the head of the table. She noted that it was several inches taller than the others, giving her the appearance of a height that she lacked.

  Ko-Jin did not sit, but remained on his feet behind her. She gritted her teeth—he always knew just the wrong thing to do.

  “Have a seat, General Sung,” she said, in a tone that was not quite pleasant. He was the leader of their military, not her personal bodyguard, for Spirits’ sake.

  “I would prefer to keep my attention directed towards the door,” he said.

  Her lips thinned. “Very well. This meeting has been called for the obvious reason that Quade Asher and his forces have landed in Daland and are marching on Accord. We have days before the city is under siege. Bray, if you would please elaborate.”

  Bray leaned forward, her fair face grave. “His numbers are considerable. Just this morning, I witnessed yet another ship of Chisanta arrive. There are, as best I can estimate, some five hundred Chisanta, as well as several thousand civilian militiamen, primarily from Adourra. However, his numbers grow by the day, and will continue to do so.”

  Chae-Na scanned the collection of bleak expressions around the table. “Thank you. Lieutenant General, how are the battlements progressing?”

  “Ah,” the silver-haired man said, his barrel chest inflating, “Quite well, Your Highness. We are at about eighty-five percent, with men working around the clock. The walkways should be complete by the week’s end.”

  “Excellent work, Lieutenant General.”

  That the city had been walled, some hundred years before—by an ancestor who’d had a mind to end smuggling in a most cost-ineffective manner—now seemed a tremendous blessing. It was only a matter of adding walkways and merlons, and the capital would be as siege-ready as the castles of old.

  “Master Elver, how are the new recruits progressing?”

  Zarra, whose milky, unseeing eyes were directed towards the ceiling, bobbed her shoulders. “Some are learning quickly—all are much improved in this past month. But there is only so much that can be done in such a brief stint. I can take away some of their stupidity, but I cannot make them into proficients, let alone masters, in so many weeks.”

  “I understand. We are grateful for your efforts,” Chae-Na swept her gaze around the table. “Very good. I am pleased with the preparations we have effected in so short an interval,” she said. “Once Quade”—breathe, breathe—“and his armies are at our doors, we will split our focus in three directions.” Chae-Na braced her hands on the table’s surface and pulled her shoulders back, hoping to exude queenly confidence. “First, the defense of the walls. With our newly constructed walkways, we shall be able to keep ready patrols. I need not remind you, I’m sure, that a breach in our defenses will be the end—the instant Asher’s influence has contaminated the city, all will be lost.

  “To that effect, patrols within the city will be our second focus. Quade’s ability to teleport means that we are not entirely safe, even if the walls are maintained. Which is why our patrols will soon be armed with Mr. Alvez’s singular new weapon. Do you believe ongoing marksmanship training will be necessary?”

  The old Cosanta’s mustache twitched. “Training up aim is never a bad idea, but the accuracy on these pistols is far superior to previous models, and reloading is straightforward. For the most part, it’s as simple as pointing and pulling a trigger.” He did not sound terribly pleased by this fact. Chae-Na could understand why—it had been bullets fired from one of his guns that had killed those two young women now buried in the royal cemetery.

  “The Pauper’s people have joined us in this undertaking. Peer, I trust that you and Ms. Bearnall can work together to coordinate your efforts.”

  “Mrs. Bowlerham,” Arlow interjected. His wife elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Our third focus will of course be the termination of Mr. Asher. The Chisanta have already begun organizing a new assassination effort. However, should anyone have a shot, do not hesitate to take it.”

  Ko-Jin did not wholly agree with this declaration, she knew. She heard him shift behind her. For her part, though, she regretted not plunging a blade into the man’s heart when she’d had the opportunity. Any problems that survived him could be dealt with in time.

  “Does anyone have any relevant information or questions at this juncture?” she asked.

  Ko-Jin’s friend Yarrow cleared his throat. “If the city should fall,” he asked. “What should be our course of action?”

  “If it becomes apparent that Accord is lost…” Chae-Na swallowed. “Plug your ears and flee. To decide upon a rendezvous location would be unwise, as any of us could betray that information to Quade.” Breathe, breathe. “Better to hope the Spirits are on our side, and that some resistance might be able to regroup.”

  The room sat in an uneasy silence. Chae-Na tried to smile. “It is a poor plan, which is precisely why we cannot let it come to that. The capital must be preserved. We all have our tasks. If no one else has anything to contribute, I suggest we see to them.”

  As th
e group rose and dispersed, Chae-Na stood. “Mr. Bowlerham.”

  Arlow, who had been whispering in his wife’s ear, looked around, and the smile slipped from his face. His dark eyes danced in a moment of uncertainty, or perhaps guilt, before he approached and bowed.

  “Your Highness?” he said, darting a kiss on her hand. “How might I be of service this fine day?”

  She shook her head at his absurd gallantry. “Your wife, I assume, will need to meet with Mr. Gelson now. I wondered if I might claim a little of your time?”

  He squinted at her, as if hoping to read her intentions from her countenance, then inclined his head. “Certainly. One minute, please.”

  Chae-Na took her seat once more and watched as Arlow spoke briefly with his wife. People filtered out of the room in twos and threes.

  Ko-Jin leaned close to her ear and whispered, “You did well.”

  His breath raised the small hairs on the back of her neck. “Thank you,” she said, but the words came out curtly, which was not how she had meant them. Ko-Jin took a decided step back, and Chae-Na pinched the bridge of her nose.

  Breathe in…

  She heard the chair legs scrape as Arlow seated himself on her left, and she straightened.

  He laced his fingers together and sat with his black brows raised expectantly.

  “I was impressed with that bill you composed, Arlow.”

  He cocked his head to the side, his lips twisting sardonically. “A secret passion for fishery legislation, have you?”

  “No.” She smiled tightly. “I was referring to the quality of the document itself, the clear and precise wording. I take it you have studied legislation?”

  “A bit.”

  “More than a bit,” Ko-Jin added.

  “I should like to ask for your help in drafting a proposal. If you would be willing.”

  “My willingness will depend on the proposal.” He flashed a smile.

  “It is something that my brother wished for dearly.” His dying wish. “Something which I did not agree with, personally. But I find myself…changed.” Chae-Na regarded the ceiling, in search of resolve. “I see no need to speak vaguely, as you were there and you know already. Quade Asher intended to use kidnap and rape to gain power. If he were another man, there could even now be a risk of pregnancy.”

  Shock crossed Arlow’s features, making her wonder if he had not actually apprehended this for himself. Or perhaps it was her blunt words that surprised him.

  “And what political proposal do you imagine would…” he trailed off. His mouth twitched in sympathy, which she did not like.

  “Jo-Kwan believed that the people of Trinitas deserved more from its leadership. I did not agree with him, then. But it seems to me that a system in which sexual violence is an effective means of transitioning power, is not a very good system. The people, myself included, should have something more sound.”

  “Something like…?” Arlow asked.

  Chae-Na prompted Ko-Jin with a look, and he delved within his robes. He placed Jo-Kwan’s leather notebook onto her palm. She clenched the diary in her hands for a second, loving the man who had poured his heart onto its pages.

  “The ability, should it be deemed necessary,” she slid the journal to Arlow, “to call for an election.”

  Beyond the dorm room window, the setting sun bled the sky red. Yarrow, seated on a thin mattress, arranged the various notebooks and volumes before him in a semicircle. He rolled his shoulders and frowned down at the mass of paperwork—notes and books retrieved from his former room at the Cape, written in a hand that was apparently his own. There were also stacks of new, unread transcripts from the most recent Fifth. Seeing it all laid out before him, he realized he had no notion where to begin.

  He cracked open the notebook with the earliest date. Scrawled in the center of the first page, like an epigraph, was an unfamiliar quotation:

  In all of life’s battles, truth is my sword and knowledge my shield.

  Lim Po

  Yarrow bit down on his lower lip. That such a quote would have struck his younger self, a student of truth-sayers, made a lot of sense. It appealed to him even now. Was he not still compelled by the search for understanding?

  From the corner of their small room came the steady sound of a blade scraping a whetstone. Yarrow peeked up at Bray. She was focused intently on the throwing knife in her hand, her brows drawn low in concentration. She sat on the desk chair with her feet pulled up to the seat, as if crouching. Her copper hair was tied in a tail at the base of her neck, but one too-short lock fell forward. She blew at it, and grimaced when the curl fluttered back into the same place.

  Yarrow’s mouth tugged into a slow, unconscious smile. A warm sensation spread through his chest. In a life plagued with uncertainty, the dogged pull he felt towards this woman was his one, his only, simple truth.

  “You said you wanted to read,” Bray said, a kind of joking accusation in her tone. “And yet you sit there, eyes not even on your books.”

  Yarrow stifled a grin. “Your presence is surprisingly distracting.”

  She set her knife and sharpener aside, placed her feet back on the floor and bent forward. “Me? I’m just sitting here, perfectly innocent. Maybe you’re tired.” She gave a loud, false yawn, her nose wrinkling like a cat. “It is rather late. We might as well call it a day and go to bed.” There was a wicked glint in her eye. He very much wanted to push his mountain of papers aside and pull her to him.

  He sighed. “Tempting,” he said, and meant it. “But I really did promise Ko-Jin…”

  It was possible that somewhere within the transcripts of the Fifths there might be an answer, a way of beating Quade and protecting the city. With his forces a mere day from the gates, they must grasp at any and all possible avenues for salvation.

  “An hour,” Bray said, sinking back into a languorous position. “That’s all you get.”

  “Generous of you,” he said. He picked up a notebook from the stack of new transcriptions. He glanced one last time at Bray’s face, now that her attention had returned to her knives. She was acting as if all were well, putting on a brave face. But he could sense the ragged feelings lying just beneath that veneer. The death of that young woman, Su-Hwan, and what had happened to Chae-Na, were both weighing heavily on her mind.

  Yarrow settled himself into a more comfortable position, the box spring squealing beneath him.

  He looked down at the collection of transcripts in his hand. The volume had fallen open at the middle point, and he made to flip back to the beginning, but paused.

  His heart thudded louder as his eyes scanned—the Fifth, this most recent Fifth who had evidently died only months ago—seemed to have incanted the same bit of truth over and over again. His eyes darted down the page. He flipped hastily to the next, and found that the repetition continued. He skipped ahead. It would seem the scribe had grown weary of jotting down the same words again and again, as on the fourth page he or she had switched to ditto marks.

  Yarrow let the book fall to his lap, his eyes reading hungrily:

  Brother in truth stops the bleeding. Brother in truth stops the fire.

  Brother in truth stops the bleeding. Brother in truth stops the fire.

  Brother in truth stops the bleeding. Brother in truth stops the fire.

  A hard something lodged in his throat and he tried to swallow it back. Stops the bleeding…

  Yarrow leaves slowed bleeding, and he, Yarrow, was a healer. Who would a Fifth refer to as a “brother in truth” save for another Fifth, a male. Him. He had already seen that future, a vision gifted to him by the Spirits themselves.

  And he had failed to avert it, in failing to kill Quade. The only question was what fire this prophecy referred to—was it a literal fire, or perhaps a metaphor for Quade himself? The man did spread and destroy like a blaze in a dry field.

  “Yarrow, is something wrong?”

  Yarrow drew a deep breath. He looked up to meet Bray’s concerned gaze and tried to
appear calm. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Certainly.”

  “The first two sacrifices,” he swallowed, glancing down at the text, “why did I make them?”

  He was fairly certain he had reasoned out his motives for the third, but the former two were a mystery to him. Who would willingly sacrifice the ability to touch?

  Bray leaned deeper into her seat, a crease forming between her russet brows. “Well, the first one was so that we—you, me, and Ko-Jin—could escape from Quade, and warn the Chisanta of what he had done. Up until then, everyone believed that the marked were naturally dwindling. We had no idea that they were being abducted.”

  “Why was I the one to make that choice; not you, not Ko-Jin?”

  She shrugged. “I can’t speak for Ko-Jin, but as for me—doing something like that, it simply wouldn’t have occurred to me. I’m so used to confronting problems head-on…”

  Yarrow accepted this with a nod. “And the second sacrifice?”

  “I was shot when we freed Peer. You gave up your ability to touch to save me.”

  Yarrow entwined his fingers, his expression thoughtful. This circumstance he could understand—he could see himself making that same choice again. “Peer is your oldest friend. He loves you too. And yet it was I, not he, who made the sacrifice. Why do you imagine that is?”

  “Peer is like me. Straightforward. You—you seem to be more tapped into the mystical side of things, the old ways. More so than any Chisanta I’ve ever known. And you put others before yourself, always. Even your first gift…”

  “You’ve told me that I grew up as a part of a large family. That I helped my father and took care of my younger siblings. Perhaps that is why I became so selfless?”

  He was hoping this was true, because he could no longer remember those people, or that childhood. If it were that alone, then his inclination to suffer for others might be a trait he had successfully shed.

  “Maybe…but I doubt it. I’ve met your other siblings, and none of them seem to have developed that trait. I think it’s just who you are, a part of your makeup.”