Remnants: Season of Fire

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  “You don’t care for it?” Keallach asked, looking at the goblet in my idle hand. “Should I ring for something else?”

  “No, no, it’s fine,” I said, moving on to the next painting. This was a vast canvas, as tall as I was, with a handsome couple in ivory clothing, which looked very much like what Keallach and I wore, and flanked by two identical boys just shy of their first decade. I studied their eyes and then looked to him. “It’s you and Kapriel. With your parents.”

  He nodded, but his demeanor turned sober and sad. Once again, I felt the grief in him, the longing. I turned back to the painting and saw a light, black fabric that had been draped across the very top of the frame and hung down about an arm’s length — an obvoius gesture toward mourning. Keallach was moving on, lifting his hand to the next, probably trying to distract me, but I stayed with his family’s portrait. His mother had a soft, warm look — ​clearly the boys had inherited her coloring, with their dark hair and green-blue eyes. His father looked stern and vaguely unhappy. Had he known, even then, what might become of his children? The division, the horror of one turning on the other?

  “Come away from that, Andriana,” he said, and there was an edge of warning to his tone. “I do not wish to speak of them. Not this night.”

  “But some night,” I said, following him. “You must speak of it, Keallach. Dig it out of the dirt. Expose it to the light. It’s like a wound, festering inside —”

  “I said I did not wish to speak of it!” he shouted, then winced and rubbed his forehead as if it ached.

  I held my breath and forced myself not to take a step away. The rage was so sudden, so white-hot, so surprising that I reeled inwardly. Was it this that Sethos had capitalized on, nurtured, until it could be utilized for his own purposes?

  “Do not press me, Andriana,” he bit out. “I get enough of that from everyone else.”

  “Forgive me, Highness,” I whispered flatly.

  He clamped his lips shut and stared at me, knowing I didn’t mean it — ​that I’d press him again at the first opportunity. For too long, this brother had been given sway, rather than toppled at his weak points and rebuilt like every other Ailith I knew. That had been our trainers’ sole goal — ​destroying what was weak within us; strengthening all that was good. Keallach had been coddled and cultured by Sethos, intent on turning a Remnant into his own servant. But Keallach wasn’t beyond retrieval. I knew it. There was hope in him, a longing so pure that I only needed to find the means to break him free from the gates of bondage so that he could fully embrace his calling. Kapriel would forgive him the horrors. I knew enough of him to know that. And if Kapriel could forgive him, who were the rest of us to hold past sins as the stubborn strands in the sticky web imprisoning him? I needed to free Keallach so that he could take his rightful place beside us. And if I could do that, I knew no one could stand against us. The collective power — ​

  “This is my great-uncle,” he said, pointing up to a portrait of a gray-haired man of perhaps seven decades. “He was a Community elder,” he said, “and he loved me and Kapriel. We spent many afternoons playing at his house. He had a way of teaching us that didn’t feel like teaching. Do you know what I mean?”

  I thought of my father. That was as close as I could come. “I think I do.”

  He nodded, and I felt the contentment in him covering the rage from a moment ago like water on smoldering embers. “It is good to be understood, Andriana. Known.” He took my hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing my knuckles softly. As gently as I could, I pulled away, but he didn’t seem to mind.

  We ambled over and ate from the mountain of food on the table. It could’ve fed twenty but it appeared to be just for us. I ate until the ribs in my corset protested, stuffing myself with cheese and soft rolls and most of all the fruits and vegetables. Keallach took great delight in naming those I’d never seen before. After a while I merely raised one or another and he’d respond, “Kiwi,” or “Jicama,” or “Artichoke.” On and on it went.

  “Is there nothing that doesn’t grow in Pacifica?” I asked, sitting back, hands unladylike on my belly.

  “Very little. Or that we cannot import.”

  “Why don’t you trade out these things to the Union?” I asked.

  “We find that the Trading Union doesn’t have the taste for them. Your people seem to want oranges, maybe the occasional apple, but not much more. And then there’s the difficulty of transporting and preserving them. Fresh produce doesn’t last very long. Particularly in crossing the heat of the Expanse.”

  “Hmm,” I said. “Seems to me that a people who have the technology you do could find some way. If you wanted to.”

  “Perhaps,” he said lightly. “If we were one land, a united people, there’d be no reason not to try.” He sat back and sipped from his goblet.

  “What is this called,” I said, lifting mine, still half full.

  “Champagne,” he said. “And you’ve not had much of yours.”

  “It’s … strange.” I stared at the drink dubiously, watching as streams of tiny bubbles lifted from the bottom as if bent on escaping. I’d only read about it once. “But I’m well aware of the aftereffects of your evening wine. If champagne produces similar results, I want none of it.”

  “It doesn’t. It simply serves to loosen any tensions you feel.” He reached forward and poured more in his goblet. “I find it helpful for softening the blow of events such as this evening.”

  “The ball?” I frowned. “You don’t care for your own parties?”

  “Frankly, the only thing I’m eagerly anticipating tonight is having you in my arms.”

  I ignored his flirtation. “So you’d rather be at Wadi Qelt.”

  “Indeed. But alas, the life of an emperor does not allow such hermit tendencies for long.”

  A knock sounded at the door and a servant appeared. “Highness, they’re ready to announce you.”

  “Right,” he said. “Thank you.” He rose, straightened his tunic, and reached out a hand to help me rise.

  I tensed, wondering what those on the other side of the wall would feel. I sensed their curiosity and their excitement, as well as a bit of dismay. Perhaps not all were eager to invite a Union girl into the inner empire. I tightened my grip on Keallach’s arm subconsciously, and he smiled down at me as though pleased. I opened my mouth to speak to him, but then the hallway opened up into a vast ballroom, the most stunning room I’d ever been in. All the women were in gowns of white and cream and ivory, but I noted with chagrin that most were plainer than my own. The men were in versions of what Keallach wore.

  “Ladies and gentlemen!” shouted the servant beside us to the silent crowd. “I present Emperor Keallach and his guest, Andriana of the Valley.”

  Keallach pulled away and lifted his hand to me, and I slipped my fingers onto his palm. Then we paraded forward, and the crowd parted and bowed or curtsied, leaving two chairs on the far end of the room, and three on either side, a step lower, to view. I gaped at the scene in horror. We were approaching a raised dais, and it was clear that we were to sit in them, side by side.

  And as I walked past one group of young women and then another, it wasn’t their whispering behind me that told me of their spite, it was their hearts. They undoubtedly saw me as competition, an interloper grabbing the most eligible bachelor in, well, anywhere. Even in most cities and villages of the Union, I knew that mothers would be pushing their daughters into Keallach’s view. He represented riches beyond measure, power, protection, all wrapped up in a handsome package. Which made him dangerous on every level.

  We finally reached the end of the long journey across the vast ballroom and I sank gratefully to the edge of the chair beside Keallach.

  “You perch there as if ready to flee,” he said under his breath, leaning slightly toward me. “They’re not as bad as all that.”

  “Aren’t they? There are women in this room who would like to eat me alive, I believe.”

  “Truly?” he said,
cocking a brow. “How fascinating. I didn’t think any of them had the gumption to have such feelings.”

  I thought about that as the Six were announced and strode down toward us, each with a woman on his arm who was later dispersed into a group near the dais. None of the Six were apparently allowed to keep their consort with them, which made me feel all the more awkward. But it was their combined distrust as their eyes slipped over me that made me more uncomfortable. The Six did not entirely agree with Keallach’s decision to bring me into this inner circle; that much was clear. Even if they might support our union in theory, they looked upon me as an enemy at worst, a conquest at best. And I supposed I was. At least the enemy part. I would never ever succumb to Keallach’s charms.

  I suddenly found it difficult to breathe. I shouldn’t have eaten so much. The bodice was too tight and the room too warm.

  The musicians came to the end of their song and I studied them too. Never had I seen so many instruments in one place. At home there was the occasional fiddle or a guitar, but nothing as grand and varied as what the Pacificans had. I counted eighteen different instruments.

  “Do you like the music?” Keallach asked, rising and bowing slightly to me, then offering his hand again.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered, my eyes shifting left and right.

  “We are to lead off the dancing,” he said stiffly, “and you are behaving dishonorably, not taking my hand at once.”

  “But I do not know your dances, Keallach!” I returned. “I told you!”

  “Ahh, but you shall know them,” he said, a devilish smile quirking his lips upward. “Never have you had a dance partner who could move objects with his mind.”

  I laughed helplessly and put my hand in his, not knowing if I could believe him or not. But what did it really matter if I made a fool of myself here? They all knew I was from the Union, that I hadn’t grown up with these dances. They might even expect me to trip or fall. Maybe if I did it would ease some of the frustration and fear I felt among them.

  The people had moved to the edges of the room, leaving a wide expanse free that I assumed would be full of dancers in time. But for now, it was only me and Keallach, as he turned to me and firmly took hold of my waist. “Your other hand on my shoulder, please,” he whispered, as the music began. “Keep your eyes on me, Andriana. Only on me. Trust me. The women say that to dance with the emperor is to float on air. See if they’re right.”

  “You’ve used your gifting as a trick? A spell?” I asked.

  He smiled, ignoring my agitation. “I’ve found it’s softened many a woman’s heart,” he said roguishly. “See if you aren’t the next.”

  I shook my head but we were moving, then, my feet somehow shifting in time with his, moving backward or forward as if I’d been practicing these steps since I was barely able to walk. But I sensed his power moving in me, through me, something I both wished to sever and hold on to at the same time. It was intense, his ability. Already. Even before the ceremony, the cuff.

  “You’ve been holding back on me,” I managed to say.

  “I didn’t want to alarm you,” he returned.

  I considered that. It was alarming, the power he wielded, even without the ceremonial armband. What might he be able to do afterward?

  He smiled. “Don’t battle against me, Ailith sister,” he cooed, pulling me closer. “Work with me. Abide with me for a time, just a bit of time.” I could feel his warm palm on the bare skin of my lower back and felt the heat rising in my cheeks again. But it was true; as I gave him sway, I was floating, sliding, and gliding across the floor with him. It was like we were one of the instruments, knowing the notes in advance, moving to them. Gradually, as the dance went on, I was aware of others joining in, swirling around us like clouds in the sky, building into a storm. But I kept my eyes only on Keallach. I smiled at him and he smiled back. Pleasure, glory surged through him. Was it my own emotion or his? It was impossible to tell. It was like we were one. One mind, one heart, one body.

  Alarm screamed through me, then, and I pulled away.

  Keallach faltered and reached for me, but I stepped away again.

  Anger surged through him. Embarrassment. I knew I had to help him salvage how this appeared. And I didn’t want what I’d felt between us — ​our bond — ​to disappear. “I’m feeling … faint,” I said, lifting a hand to my forehead. “Might we rest a minute?”

  He put his hands behind his back and lifted his chin, listening to me, and his face softened. “Of course, of course,” he said. Then he offered me his arm and we casually moved back to the dais as if people weren’t staring at us as we went. “What’s the matter?” he whispered, when we were at last clear of the bulk of them.

  “Your gift,” I said. “It’s a bit … overwhelming.”

  “That is is,” he said, waggling a devilish brow in my direction.

  CHAPTER

  24

  ANDRIANA

  We sat down together and Keallach waved forward a servant who poured us tall, crystalline glasses of cold water. I drank greedily, aware that I hadn’t had any water all afternoon or evening. Only that bit of champagne.

  “Well, at least you know the basic steps of our core dance now,” he said, drinking his own glass down and then accepting a glass of champagne. He offered another to me, but I shook my head.

  “I wouldn’t say that,” I said, staring out at the others.

  “You’re being modest,” he chided, taking my hand and lifting it to his lips with a smile. I fought the urge to pull away again.

  His eyes chilled, and he pretended to follow through as if all was merry, well aware that something was wrong. “What is it, Andriana?” he said, setting down my hand and caressing the back of it. “Surely you cannot be so unnerved by your fellow Remnant’s gifting?”

  I studied him. That he might be so powerful, even before he obtained an armband … It did frighten me. “It was like I didn’t have a thought of my own in my head,” I muttered, trying to sort it out as much as explain. “Only your thoughts. It wasn’t a leading or encouragement I felt. It was more like you were compelling me. That is not of the Maker. That is the sorceror’s way.” I let out a sound of exasperation. “At least some of it. Some of it feels familiar, right.” I took a breath and turned more fully toward him. “Keallach, listen to me. It’s all mixed up, within you.”

  I glanced around and found Sethos partway down the hall, talking to two matronly, fawning women. As if he sensed me, his head lifted and he glanced back at us. The women followed his gaze and then the three of them smiled and resumed their conversation. Perhaps it had only been a coincidence.

  “How is my gifting not of the Maker?” Keallach asked, sipping from his crystal glass. “When you cast emotion, is that not of the Maker?”

  I frowned, troubled by his logic. But then I shook my head. “I awaken emotion in another. Not drive out any other emotion at all.”

  “But if you could, wouldn’t it be convenient? Wouldn’t your power be even more potent?” He leaned closer. “Think of it, Andriana. Between my power to control a body’s motion and your power to control their emotions, who could stand against us?”

  I stared at him in mute horror. “You’ve been misguided, brother. You speak of power. Our gifts are gifts, and the Maker could take them away as easily as he bestowed them. They are of him and for him. To use them for our own gain —”

  “But he has not revoked them, has he?” Keallach said, cocking his head. “Might we not assume that he is still showing me favor?”

  “No,” I said. “We should not assume that.”

  Keallach sighed and didn’t even bother to cover his frown.

  “Highness, please pardon my interruption.”

  We turned to look upon Lord Maximillian Jala, looking as perfectly dressed and groomed as usual. “Will you join me for a dance, Andriana?”

  I hesitated. That was the last thing I wanted. I was exhausted, as if Keallach had drained every ounce of my energy in ou
r partial dance.

  Keallach leaned toward me. “It is required, Andriana. Any consort of the emperor must dance with the Six.”

  “Every one of them?” I said dully.

  “There are only six,” he said, his tone telling me he would tolerate no further debate about it. And we were getting to the crux of the matter between us. If I lost him now … Just get through, I told myself. Just get through.

  I nodded numbly and accepted Maximillian’s hand. Maybe after a few minutes away from Keallach, the Maker would give me the words to reach my brother, to counter the logic. Just after I sorted it out for myself.

  “I must warn you, m’lord,” I said, “I have no experience with your dances.”

  “That’s all right,” he said. “I am a good leader. And Keallach taught you the basics.”

  He placed his hand on my hip and I placed my other hand on his shoulder as the music began. “Don’t look so glum, Andriana, or you’ll destroy my reputation.”

  “I doubt that.” I concentrated on the steps, fighting the urge to watch our feet. Forward right, forward left, left, backward left, backward right …

  “Already the hall murmurs with echoes of your impact. They all want to be you, you know, be Keallach’s favored one.”

  “Yes, well, lucky me.”

  He withdrew a few inches, studying my face as the hint of a smile danced around his eyes. “If it helps, I am not sure that I concur with the emperor that it is the best idea to have you here.”

  “Oh? Did my attempt to kill you make you jaded?” I said wearily.

  “Perhaps,” he said lightly. “But be aware — ​the faster you acquiesce to what the emperor wants, the easier this all shall be.”

  I stared into his eyes then. “I was not born to acquiesce.”

  “No, you were born for something far grander. To join us, rather than fight us. Together we can do much good.”