“Milo Banks,” Coscoros said. The sound of the boy’s name made his pulse rise and the skin of his face go tight with rage.
Iolus seemed amused by the reaction. “You’ll have him,” he said. “Every drop of him. All I ask is that you appear when I summon you, and that you do as I command from now on.”
“With pleasure, my lord.”
Coscoros left his new master’s quarters with a hidden smile burning inside of him. He wanted to flash that smile at everyone he passed. More than anything, he wanted to flash it at the boy, Milo Banks, while he watched the life bleed out of him from a belly wound he delivered personally.
Coscoros enjoyed his fantasy all the way to the stables, where he packed a carriage and left for the land of the Acolytes.
CHAPTER 12
M ilo and Lily soared hundreds of feet above Theus Academy.
They had strapped themselves into a leather harness on Zander’s back, though Milo felt he didn’t need the straps. Riding Zander was as easy and comfortable as walking, and it felt just as natural. The pressure of Lily’s arms around his waist kicked his confidence up several more notches.
“What do you think?” he shouted into the wind.
“He’s perfect!”
They had been flying for almost an hour when Milo remembered the lunch he had packed. Silently, he willed Zander toward the mountains. The levathon veered. Minutes later they were flying over green valleys and stony peaks.
They came to a soft landing in a valley filled with yellow flowers.
“Go relax,” Milo told Zander.
Zander nodded and limped away to explore the terrain.
“I can’t believe you did this,” Lily said as Milo pulled a bedsheet out of his pack and flapped it open. It settled on the grass just right, and he gestured for Lily to have a seat. She made herself comfortable while he pulled out a bottle of nectarwine he’d stolen from Sevarin—not without leaving a note of explanation and a wad of cash, of course—and some sandwiches.
They admired the landscape as they ate, drank, and made small talk. The wine quickly went to Milo’s head, inspiring in him a rare sort of confidence—one that made him a bit too impulsive, he later decided.
“Have you ever dated anyone before?”
Lily blinked at him, mouth full of sandwich. “Huh?”
“You know. Dated. Someone. In the past.”
She swallowed, considered his question for a moment, and then gulped down the rest of the wine in her plastic cup.
“Easy there,” Milo said.
“Sorry.” She let out a small burp. “It’s just that I didn’t know what you meant at first. I was thinking ‘carbon dating,’ like when you—”
“…determine the age of an object by measuring its radiocarbon activity?” he finished for her. “Sorry. I was just trying to impress you.”
“Consider me impressed.” She smiled. “We’re such dorks.”
“Isn’t it great, though? That we know that and don’t care?”
Lily went about refilling their cups. “I always thought you did.”
“Maybe. Maybe I don’t anymore.”
“To answer your question, I went on one date once. We were both fourteen. He was another orphan at Ascher’s ranch.”
Milo frowned despite an attempt not to. “Who was he?”
“No one you know. His name was Jet, or at least that’s what he called himself.”
“Jet,” Milo said. “I’m sure he was a real winner.”
Lily gawked at him. “Are you jealous?”
“No way. You were just kids.”
“We’re still kids. Sort of.”
Milo scoffed at the remark. “I’m almost seventeen years old. Same as you.”
Lily raised her cup to hide a playful smile. This time she only sipped her wine.
“Whatever happened to him?” Milo asked. “To Jet.”
“He joined the Forge and took off. I never heard from him again. First, he took me on a picnic by the pond, then told me I was his girl, kissed me, and then just left. Fourteen years old. Can you believe it? He was my first kiss.”
She sighed and looked off into the distance.
“It still bothers you,” Milo said.
Lily shook her head. “He was just some stupid boy. But I promised myself I would never kiss anyone else unless it was for real. I don’t like it when people I care about just walk out of my life. It’s easier sometimes to just…”
Her gaze fell. Milo had never seen her look so glum.
“I know what you mean,” he said. “It’s easier to keep people at arm’s length. Just in case the worst happens.”
Lily nodded, still not meeting his eyes. Milo decided not to drink anymore and set his cup on the grass. He stood and looked around at the beautiful scenery.
“How about you?” Lily asked. “Have you ever, you know—dated someone?”
He shrugged. “I came pretty close once. But my radiocarbon scanner freaked her out before I could get a sample.”
Lily barked out a high-pitched laugh and covered her mouth in embarrassment. Milo grinned at her.
“Now you’ll never know how old she was,” Lily said.
Milo shook his head. “Guess not.”
A moment of silence passed between them, but it wasn’t awkward in the slightest. Milo walked over and sat next to her. Lily seemed to understand what he wanted and leaned toward him so he could drape an arm across her shoulders. The clean scent of her hair was intoxicating.
She tilted her head back, a sleepy look in her eyes. Milo inched his lips closer to hers.
His Araband began to trill.
“Someone’s calling,” Lily said, pulling away.
Milo breathed out a curt sigh. Who could it possibly be?
It was Emma.
“There’s been another kidnapping,” she told Milo, looking uneasy. “Come to the Hall of Champions. The Archon’s going to make a statement about new city-wide measures, whatever that could mean.”
Emma ended the call before he could respond. Milo looked back at Lily, thinking they could stay up here a bit longer, but Lily was already packing their things.
He whistled for Zander.
CHAPTER 13
Barrel met Kellan in the study hall of the Alchronos building.
The structure was a looming, Gothic abomination made of dark stone and colored glass, with charcoal-colored spires that rose from the rooftop like spikes. Three thousand years ago, brothers from the Low Order had complained about discrimination and tried to integrate their dark arts into the academy’s curriculum. The Champions blocked their efforts, adamant that blood magic was and always would be illegal on campus. A few sympathetic professors rallied successfully to have a building erected in recognition of their place within Astrican history. Now, the Alchronos building was home to courses regarding the study of the Low Order, but without the actual practice of casting such spells.
Despite being more a museum than anything else, Barrel felt uneasy as he made his way down the dark, stony corridors. They reminded him of his death back on Taradyn, of what it has been like to visit the underworld before Emma succeeded in pulling him out.
Kellan was already seated at a table by the window when Barrel arrived carrying an armload of books. He was looking out the window, tilted back on the legs of his chair like he often did when bored.
“Why this building?” Barrel asked, setting the books on the table.
Kellan shrugged. “I like it here. It reminds me of the terrible things people do.”
“Terrible things?” Barrel frowned. “What do you mean?”
Kellan looked at him. It felt like he was looking through him.
“You know,” he said, “raising the dead, causing plagues, stuff like that.”
Barrel chuckled a bit nervously. “Don’t tell me you feel more than just academic curiosity toward those things.”
“Of course not.” Kellan dropped his chair on all fours and joined his hands together on the table. “Ca
ll me a history buff. It’s the only subject I’m actually good at, anyway.”
Barrel took a seat across from him. “Ready to begin?”
Kellan dismissed the suggestion with a wave and slumped in his chair. “I was thinking we should do something a little different today.”
“Like what?”
He gazed out the window, absently scratching a spot on his chest right over his heart. It was one of his weird habits. Barrel had noticed quite a few, like the way Kellan would sometimes stare vacantly at him without a word or even a nod to show he was listening; or the way he would sometimes levitate one of his books and flip it over on Barrel’s head to tease him when they were supposed to be studying. The scratching habit was more frequent than the others, almost like a tic.
“I was thinking we could go on a hike,” Kellan said, still lightly scratching the spot. “Study the ferns and plants we’ve been reading about.”
A sarcastic tone had glossed the words ‘ferns and plants.’ Barrel cleared his throat in irritation. “I hope you’re taking these lessons seriously. After all, you were the one who approached me for help.”
“Baraltimus,” Kellan said, levitating one of the books with a raised hand and wiggling his fingers to make the book wobble, “studying with you is a privilege. I just think it might be nice to get some fresh air, talk a bit about our lives while we’re at it. We don’t always have to study. We can just hang out, you know.”
Barrel gave a sigh of defeat. Kellan was giving him that patronizing—though frustratingly handsome—look that always managed to disarm his doubts. The funny thing was, even though Barrel understood they weren’t real friends, the thought of hanging out with someone like Kellan, maybe even attending a party together someday, made him feel slightly giddy. Kellan was like royalty in this city, and as far as Barrel knew, he had few close friends. Mostly they were just people who clung to him for a boost in popularity.
Which raised a disturbing question in Barrel’s mind. Was he just another clinger, too?
“Fine,” Barrel said. He glanced up at a clock on the wall. “But just for an hour. Then we come back here and study for your exam tomorrow. It’s important.”
A smile slid across Kellan’s face. It made Barrel think of a snake moving through grass.
“I appreciate it. You’re the best friend I’ve got.” His voice cracked slightly with emotion. “I’ve told you before that I have few friends who actually care about me. They just like the idea of who my father is.”
“But how do you know I’m not like them?”
“I can tell. You have a way about you. I feel like I can trust you.”
“I feel the same way, I guess. Shall we get going?” Barrel grabbed his book bag and slung it over his shoulder.
Kellan dropped the book he had been levitating and practically jumped out of his chair. “I’ll lead the way.”
“As you command, future Archon of the High Republic of Theus,” Barrel teased.
Kellan shoved him, chuckling at the joke.
CHAPTER 14
T he Hall of Champions buzzed as everyone gossiped about the latest kidnapping victim.
Milo and Lily joined the other orphans at a long table in the corner. An Acolyte girl named Clara from Emma’s Lectures in Healing Spells for the Beginner course was sharing what news she had. The victim had been a young woman named Akkara Liparth, who had worked as a waitress at a restaurant in downtown Theus.
“She was only twenty-five years old,” Clara said, oddly excited. “They say it happened after one of her shifts. She left to take out the trash and never came back.”
Clara dug a crumpled flyer out of her backpack and showed them Akkara’s solemn face beneath the word missing. The orphans passed it around. They were all present except for Barrel, who had left a message on Emma’s Ara that he would be studying with Kellan that afternoon.
“This is ridiculous,” Emma said. “Theus is the most advanced city in the realm, and they can’t catch one bad guy?”
“It’s because of the stupid election,” Owen said, passing along the flyer and shaking his head. “That’s the only thing anyone’s paying attention to these days.”
“She’s so pretty,” Lily said, casting a forlorn look down at Akkara’s face. “Her family must be so worried.”
Clara caught sight of a few friends at the other end of the room. With a hurried, “Be safe, kids,” she grabbed the flyer and went off to join them.
“I’ve had it,” Sevarin said, addressing Milo and Emma. “When your uncle gets back, we should talk to him about taking action. We could find this scumbag if we really wanted to.”
“And skip more class?” Emma asked him.
“Are you joking?” Sevarin said. “People are going missing. Why is class so important? Besides, it’s not like I’ve been skipping because I’m lazy.”
“Then why do you keep doing it?”
Sevarin shrugged but said nothing as he picked at a bit of leaf stuck to the shirt of his uniform. It reminded Milo of how dirty Sevarin and Oscar used to get back at the ranch, after playing soccer outside in the afternoon.
“That’s why,” Milo said, slapping his hand against the table. “That explains why you’re always covered in dirt and leaves when you come back. You’re not going out to the woods to have fun—you’re going out there to look for Oscar.”
Sevarin looked away, letting his broad shoulders slump. Emma put a hand on his arm.
“Is that true, Sev?”
He pulled his arm away. “What do you expect? We haven’t seen him in weeks. What are the rest of you doing to find him? He’s one of us, and we’re just moving on with our lives like he didn’t just up and disappear!”
“He’s with his dad,” Gunner said, “isn’t he?”
“And his Araband isn’t even in his room,” Owen added. “That means he took it with him, or Andres took it. And they took my dagger, too.”
“Your Tiberian dagger?” Sevarin said. “Are you serious?”
Owen shrugged. “I don’t really mind as long as they’re putting it to good use.”
“But if he has the dagger and his Araband,” Milo said, “why isn’t he picking up when we call?”
“Maybe he’s done with us,” Emma said. “He didn’t get into the academy, so he might think we don’t want to be his friends anymore. He’s afraid of rejection, so he’s avoiding us.”
“That’s crap,” Sevarin said. “No offense,” he added after seeing the Emma’s wounded expression. “But seriously, guys, you really think he would just not say anything to us about where he is—to me, of all people? We’re pals.”
Milo rested his elbows on the table and sat hunched over them, looking thoughtful and determined. “There has to be some explanation. Maybe it has something to do with Uncle Manny. He isn’t responding, either.”
“Andres, Oscar, Emmanuel…” Lily said.
Gunner finished her thought. “They can’t all just be gone, right?”
“And now Barrel’s starting to disappear on us, too,” Owen said glumly.
The chatter in the cafeteria lessened as cadets turned on their Arabands and flipped to the news channel, gathering around the various floating broadcasts to watch.
“The Archon’s speech,” Emma said. “It’s starting.”
Lily ignited her Araband and floated the display above the table. She set it to be semi-translucent and double-sided so those seated across from her could watch.
A brown-skinned woman with a shaved head, bright red lips, and wearing a tunic of the latest fashion, was in the middle of introducing the story.
“…Archon Rogarth’s devotion to the innocent people of his city. Critics also question his so-called ‘aggressive’ methods, which include having wardens randomly stop and search citizens on the streets of Theus.”
A montage followed in which upset citizens recounted their experiences of being victimized by overly aggressive wardens.
“He put his rifle right in my face,” said a young,
winged man with a lip piercing and a goatee.
An orange-eyed woman spoke through tears that streamed down her face. “They even searched my tail. Pulling on it and—and examining it like they were searching for fleas, which I’ve never had, by the way.”
The female broadcaster reappeared. “And now, on Scribe Seven News, live coverage of the Archon’s response to the latest kidnapping.”
The Archon stood behind a podium in a large conference room. A variety of colored spheres bobbed in front of his chest, representing the different news outlets. He ignored the cameras floating and flashing around him and spoke forcefully into the spheres.
“Thank you all for gathering, and please excuse my lack of formality as I get right to the point. Many of you have heard the news of the most recent disappearance. Twenty-five-year-old Akkara Liparth went missing around ten-thirty last night. According to rumors, she left the restaurant where she worked at the end of her shift and has not been seen since. I want you to rest assured that our wardens are doing everything they can to resolve this situation. I will not tolerate this kind of behavior in my city.”
The Archon paused as a female aide scurried over and whispered something in his ear. She handed him a plastic bag containing a folded piece of paper.
“This is unexpected,” the Archon said once the aide disappeared, “but I believe we have an update on the kidnapping of the young Ms. Liparth.”
He removed the paper from the plastic bag, unfolded it, and cleared his throat before he began to read.
“Dear everyone…” he began.
As he read the note, Milo looked around and saw everyone in the Hall of Champions watching with their mouths open. The place was completely silent except for the Archon’s voice, which filled the vast room thanks to the dozens of Araband projections.
“…Again, I apologize to my friends and family, but we’re in love,” the Archon continued, reading intently, “and I have no plans to return. Please understand that I have been planning this for many months…”
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