Battles of Salt and Sighs (Rise of the Death Fae Book 1)

by Val Saintcrowe

  Onivia didn’t say anything.

  “You’re appalled,” said Marta, sounding regretful.

  “You’re the one who told me the worst thing we can do is to allow ourselves to develop feelings for them.”

  “True,” said Marta.

  There was nothing to say after that.

  From then on, Onivia worked harder to make her interactions with Larent at mealtimes seem genuine. She started to attempt to pretend he was Albus. She would think of the way she had looked at Albus, the way she had laughed when Albus said something amusing, the way she had longed for Albus to touch her.

  Of course he hadn’t.

  Only that once.

  Albus was too noble for such things, and the kiss had only happened because he’d thought she would marry him, and then…

  It hurt to think about Albus, but it was also a sweet relief, a remembrance of what things could be between men and women. Marta seemed convinced that everything was violence, no matter whether it was human or fae men, but Onivia knew it wasn’t. It wasn’t always forced. It could be good and lovely.

  Larent seemed to respond to her new manner, and he was more demonstrative. Now, nearly every mealtime, there was some kind of kissing, even if it wasn’t on the lips. He would kiss her neck or her cheek. His fingers would trail over her hip or the curve of her backside. He traced his thumb over her jaw, his forefinger down the notches of her spine. He smoothed his palm around her shoulder, and once, which made her gasp, around the inside of her thigh.

  One evening, she was in his lap when the meal was interrupted by a fae militus bringing in a human prisoner. He was a young man, not yet twenty, and his clothing was in tatters, his face dirty. Even so, Onivia recognized him, and she fought hard not to react.

  She didn’t want Larent to know it, and she was pressed into him, so she forced herself not to stiffen or start or do anything at all.

  It was Cassus.

  She hadn’t seen Cassus since the capital. It had been at least three years. He was older now. He was taller. He’d filled out, and he had a scraggly bit of growth on his chin. Still, it was easy to know him.

  Akiel slammed his goblet down on the table. “Why do you disturb our dinner, militus?”

  “We found this human skulking around the perimeter and we think he’s a spy,” said the militus. “Princep.” This was an afterthought.

  “Throw him in the dungeons, then,” said Akiel. “Get out.”

  “But, princep, if the humans are spying on us—”

  “Out.” Akiel slammed a hand on the table and all the candles in the room extinguished. It was a bit of a parlor trick, but it did illustrate his magic, and the fact that they were all plunged into darkness was a shock.

  Onivia felt unease blooming in her stomach.

  What was Cassus doing out there? Why had he even left the capital? She knew he was in the care of his elder brother, whose rebel sympathies would mean that he would have remained there. Cassus had always opposed his brother, but never openly. Had he been cast out of his household?

  If so, why hadn’t he gone to his grandfather, who was a senator? All those families had retreated to their villas and estates in the country, and surely Cassus would be welcome there. Unless Cassus’s family’s villa had been crushed?

  Again, she fought not to show her unease. She wanted to get out of Larent’s lap, but she couldn’t figure out how to do that. Then it came to her.

  She leapt up. “I’ll see to the candles, dominus.” Calling him this was easier now. It no longer hurt. It no longer felt like anything.

  He patted her absently, nodding his ascent in the near-darkness.

  She scurried off for flint and began to light candles. A few other women were up helping her.

  By the time the candles were all lit, Cassus had been taken out, presumably to the dungeon. Onivia wanted to speak to him. But how could she manage that?

  She was permitted more freedom than she had been before. The door was open during the day, and she was permitted to roam as she wished, though she never went anywhere other than the lower level where the other women who were not specifically assigned to a certain man slept.

  There were guards at all the stairwells and all the doors. Though they let her pass when she went between floors, they would certainly report her activity to Larent if it were deemed suspicious.

  It was hopeless.

  After dinner, she retired to Larent’s chambers. He sat at a desk, pouring over maps, mumbling to himself, scribbling on paper. This was what he did every night.

  Usually, she read the books on the shelves in the room, but that evening, she only stared at the pages, her mind wandering.

  She thought of meeting Cassus.

  It had been a warm spring day in the capital, and she and Magdalia had been out for a walk in Horta Park, which had still been deemed safe at that point. Well, perhaps it really hadn’t been, but her aunt was a stubborn woman, and they had lingered long in the capital, doing many unsafe things even after others had fled.

  Magdalia had found a cocoon hanging from a tree branch. She had wrapped her hand around it, closing her eyes, and when she’d opened her fingers, a magnificent butterfly had flown free from the cocoon.

  “How did you do that?” a voice said.

  It was Cassus. He’d been sixteen at that point, two years older than Magdalia, and he’d already been looking at her with that worshipful look in his eyes, the one that seemed to indicate the sun rose and set in her, at least in his mind.

  “It’s magic,” said Magdalia. “I simply sped it up. I made the butterfly grow.” It was fluttering around her head now. It was black, with a bright blue pattern on it, and the contrast was startling and beautiful.

  “You have magic?” said Cassus. “You are one of the Favored?”

  “Yes,” said Magdalia, smiling at him. She always loved it when people were awed by her. In fact, when people weren’t, she was annoyed.

  There were introductions then, and that was when they discovered that Cassus was the grandson of the Senator Olirius, but that he lived with his older brother, who was a businessman in the capital. His brother sold imported silk, apparently.

  Cassus wanted to know if they often walked in the park, and when they said that they did, he was always there whenever they came. He learned their schedule and waited for them, and he fawned over Magdalia. He wrote her poems and picked her flowers and never hesitated to compliment her.

  Albus was gone by then, and she had ignored it, finding it childish and silly and yet somehow painful.

  Then there was that incident at the end of it all, in the late fall, when she and Magdalia had walked to the market in Silvtown on their own, only with their personal maids as accompaniment.

  They used to do it all the time, and they thought nothing of it. Back when they’d first arrived in the city, the streets were safe at all hours, with parties often held in the evenings, and carriages of the aristocrats going to and fro hours after midnight.

  But things had been slowly changing in the city, and they should have realized that to walk to that market would take them through the area of Brillton, which had been practically destroyed in a recent riot. The storefronts had been vandalized and looted, and though there was talk of rebuilding, the place was currently a wasteland.

  They hurried through, clutching each other’s hands, and Onivia remembered thinking to herself that on the way back from the market, they must go around this, even if it took them an extra ten minutes to get back.

  The shattered glass windows and the graffitied walls were sobering.

  And then Cassus had appeared, coming the opposite direction, and Magdalia had cried out. “Over here! We’re here!” She had reached high above her hand and waved.

  Onivia had grabbed her, shushing her. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I invited Cassus to meet up with us and go to the market,” said Magdalia. “I know Aunt Toria says that it’s the height of impropriety for girls to meet bo
ys in the streets, but I can’t see what could possibly happen out in the open, can you? And besides, I would never do anything improper with Cassus of all people.”

  It was true. Cassus might have adored Magdalia, but the feeling was hardly returned. Magdalia enjoyed being the object of his affection, but that was as far as it went.

  “Quiet,” said Onivia. “This isn’t the part of the city to be calling attention to ourselves.”

  Cassus agreed as he approached. “Not so loud, dominissa. I should have insisted that the two of you meet me elsewhere. I hadn’t realized things were so very…” He looked around at the silent streets, which were littered with rubble.

  “We need to get through this area quickly,” said Onivia to him. She glanced back at their maids, who were staying close. They looked alarmed as well.

  “Agreed,” said Cassus.

  “Oh, you two are overreacting, just like our aunt.” Magdalia shook her head at them. “I’m not frightened, even if the two of you are both cowards. Why, what is there really to harm us here? A bit of broken glass? Some dilapidated buildings? There is no one here.” She linked her arm with Cassus. “Now, I am very happy to see you, and you will give me the account of your brother’s dinner party that you promised, since we are denied the fun of dinner parties ourselves.”

  Cassus beamed at her. “Soon, dominissa, once we are past this part of the city. We will go quickly and then I will tell you all once we are in to the market. And I will also buy you some fresh berries, as I promised.”

  Magdalia squealed in delight. “Yes, you will, Cassus.”

  “Quiet,” hissed Onivia.

  But it was too late, because the rebels were already slinking out from behind the buildings. Most of them were humans, for there were less fae slaves in this part of the empire, most of them concentrated in the Eeslia. They were dressed in clothes that indicated they were lower class, however, and they walked with the upright defiance that the resistance members had lately taken on, because they were no longer afraid of anything, and they squared their shoulders and lifted their chins to dare the aristocrats to challenge them.

  Onivia was shot full of terror. These men were dangerous, and she could not protect her sister. What were they going to do? Should they run?

  Cassus’s eyes widened, and he removed his arm from Magdalia’s grasp. “Let me handle this,” he whispered frantically. “Magdalia, not a word.”

  She opened her mouth.

  He put his forefinger against her bottom lip, his eyes flashing.

  Magdalia was shocked at his demeanor and fell silent.

  Cassus stepped forward, spreading his hands, grinning at the men. “What do you think? My sisters are quite like dominissae, are they not? We stole the lot—the dresses, the jewels, even the combs in their hair, and none are the wiser. It’s better than those aristos deserve, of course. What gives them the right to hoard the wealth?”

  The men on the street were armed with clubs and boards and other makeshift weapons. “Who are you?”

  “We are revolutionaries like you,” said Cassus. He brought his arm against his chest, making a fist, which he pounded under his opposite shoulder. “Brothers in oppression.”

  The men made a similar gesture, all together.

  “Brothers in arms,” came a resounding chorus.

  “Liberty in fraternity,” said Cassus, letting his arm drop.

  The men all relaxed, dropping their weapons, their postures easing. They and Cassus spoke together easily, asking questions about this supposed clothes heist, where they had gone to steal the clothing, what their association with the revolution was, and Cassus had answered each of the questions without any hesitation. His answers were well received by the others.

  Eventually, they let them go, hooting in their wake at what they had supposedly accomplished.

  Cassus led them through the streets, and it wasn’t until they were blocks and blocks away from the ruined part of the city, almost to the market, that any of them had spoken.

  “You were very brave,” Magdalia observed.

  “How did you know those things?” Onivia broke in tersely.

  He turned wide, ashamed eyes on her. “I never wanted you to know, I suppose, how deeply it is that my brother is associated with these rebels.”

  Onivia let out a sigh. “I suppose we should have guessed. Why else would he feel so free to have dinner parties at a time like this?”

  “I am not with him,” said Cassus fiercely. “But if I openly oppose him, he will turn me out, and I wish to stay in the city because of the company here.” His gaze fell on Magdalia.

  “I think Cassus was brilliant,” said Magdalia, looking at him in admiration for the first time ever. “I don’t see what the fuss is about.”

  Of course her sister wouldn’t understand anything about the idea of honor.

  “If you say anything about what I’ve done, I will of course, declare myself,” said Cassus. “I don’t wish your aunt to think—”

  “We’ll keep it to ourselves,” Onivia promised.

  But then the atmosphere in the city had worsened and even her aunt could not deny that it wasn’t safe there.

  Before winter came, they had all been packed off onto the train, traveling to the south, and then onto ships, and then back to their home on Quinta Island.

  Onivia had not known if they’d ever see Cassus again.

  What was he doing here?

  “You’re not reading.” Larent spoke, shattering her thoughts, bringing her back to the present, where she was a captive in this sitting room.

  She looked up from the book. “Hmm?”

  “You haven’t turned the page in twenty minutes.”

  She turned the page. “Of course I have.”

  Larent snorted. He was twisting around in the chair at his desk to look at her. “You recognized that human they brought in. Is he a spy?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “If you recognized him, I doubt he’s a spy.” Larent got up from the desk. “I doubt you were much acquainted with any of the imperial legions.”

  “I once was quite associated with a legatus,” she said, and then cringed. Why had she volunteered that?

  Larent sat down on a couch opposite her. “Is that so?”

  She swallowed, shutting her eyes. I am so very stupid. Why can’t I hold my tongue? “It was nothing, and he never really spoke of his military efforts.”

  “Who is he?”

  “The legatus?”

  “The human that you recognized.”

  “I didn’t recognize him.”

  “Get up.”

  She only stared at him.

  He stood up from the couch and approached her. First, he plucked the book out of her lap and tossed it to land next to her on the couch. Then, he pulled her to her feet.

  “You couldn’t have let me mark my place in that?” she demanded.

  “You weren’t reading it,” he said.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do.” He raised his eyebrows at her.

  “I don’t know who he is.”

  “We’re going to go and pay him a visit,” said Larent.

  “Why would we do that?”

  “You’re going to say to him that you waited until the guard changed and were able to sneak down without anyone knowing. I’ll be listening, but out of sight and he won’t know I’m there. If you indicate to him in any way that I’m listening, I will know, and you’ll regret it.”

  Her lips parted.

  “I can make you regret it, domina.” There was something hard in his voice, and she had never really heard it before. She realized that this was who he was when he was the centurion, this was who he was when he was the military strategist. He had been someone else with her, though. He had been a man, and she had been a woman, and he had been…

  She swallowed. “No.”

  “Do you wish me to explain to you how I can make you regret it?”

 
She cast about for some other way to convince Larent. “He’s not important.”

  “So, you do know him.”

  “He’s definitely not a spy.”

  Larent took her by the arm. “Let’s go.”

  Anger pulsed through her. “Please.” She was begging him, as if he cared about her, as if he would do her favors. What did she think? Just because she’d pretended he was Albus when she let him kiss her didn’t mean he was Albus. He was nothing like Albus, and he didn’t care about her.

  But there was a flicker in Larent’s expression. His voice softened. “Apologies, domina. But this is necessary. Let’s go.”

  “Listen, I wouldn’t have the slightest idea why he would be here, but I don’t think it has anything to do with… with the war. He’s probably just… I don’t know why he’s here.”

  “I believe you,” he said. “But he’ll tell you, and he won’t tell me or any of the fae. So, let’s go find out together.”

  “I don’t want to trick him,” she said. She was still begging.

  “You don’t have a choice, domina,” he said. “You can take comfort in that.” He pulled on her arm, and she was compelled to walk with him.

  Together, they left the room, descending downwards, to the dungeon.

  THE DUNGEONS WERE old, having been built hundreds of years ago, and they were made of stone, buried deep in the earth. They were damp and clammy and unpleasant. They were dark.

  “Onivia,” whispered Cassus as he peered out of the barred window of his cell.

  She could only see his face, and she couldn’t see what the cell was like inside.

  “You came to me?” Cassus looked left and right down the hallway, but Larent was just out of sight, around the bend. “I saw you at dinner there, and I was horrified. I looked for… for Magda, but I didn’t see her. Where is she?”

  “She’s not here,’ said Onivia. “She’s with the Croith.”

  “Isn’t the Croith here? I heard that he was. It was good intelligence, from my brother’s friends. I listened in on their conversations and they didn’t know. But now, my brother will likely disown me.”