by Claire Luana
Trick and Thom nodded grimly.
“Trick and I have been piecing it together. We think it’s why they tried to kidnap me before I joined you at the Guild,” Thom said.
“The night Callidus and I saved you?” Wren asked.
Thom nodded. “The king knew I was Gifted and wanted to get to me before the Guild did. Since they couldn’t have you, Wren, they were going to take me.”
Wren shook her head, struggling to comprehend the horror of King Imbris’s plan.
“Lucas, you need to try to talk some sense into Father,” Trick said. “This is madness.”
“He doesn’t listen to me.”
“But he listens to Mother. And Ella.”
“Wait. Ella knew about the Gifted, but not me?”
Trick shrugged. “She drank some of my infused wine when she was younger. You know how she got into trouble.”
Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose. “All right. I’ll go see if I can talk to Mother. Trick, you stay here. It’s not safe at your apartment; they might look for you. Wren, you and Thom should stay here too.”
“Someone should go back to the Guild,” Wren said. “We need to know what Beckett is planning next.”
“Not you,” Lucas said. “It’s too dangerous for you to return there. Between springing Hale and attacking the caravan, you’ll be under suspicion. They could know about your involvement in freeing Thom, Trick, and the others.”
Wren bit her lip. He was right. “What about Olivia and Lennon? Were they seen?”
Lucas frowned. “I think Lennon stayed back with the archers, and Olivia didn’t come out from the alley until the end. It should be safe for them.”
“Lennon’s sponsored by Beckett, so it would be natural for him to ask the grandmaster for information on where the guildmasters are being held and when they will be tried. Between Lennon and Olivia, they should be able to discover something. Then we can regroup and try to come up with a new plan.” Wren didn’t mention that she wanted to give her friends a chance to opt out of this whole messy affair. They weren’t Gifted. Sable hadn’t been their sponsor. This wasn’t their fight. Not like it was Wren’s.
Lucas, Thom, and Trick nodded, though Wren could see the doubt in their eyes. She felt it too. There was nowhere to go from here. She had no plan, no ideas. But they couldn’t abandon Callidus. Sable wouldn’t have given up hope, and Wren wouldn’t either.
Wren explained the situation to Olivia and Lennon, and after many tear-filled hugs from Olivia, the two had left Pike’s manor for the Guildhall, promising to retrieve what information they could.
Pike’s housekeeper showed them to baths and beds, finding places for all the former hostages.
Hale had wandered out onto the long dock and sat cross-legged and still in the moonlight. “Do you think he’s okay out there?” Wren had asked Lucas, looking out the window at his dark form.
“Let him be,” Lucas said. “He’s as unpredictable as a wild horse right now. I don’t want him lashing out at you.”
So she did as she was told, and after scrubbing all the blood off her hands and out from under her fingernails, she collapsed into bed, tears leaking onto the soft pillowcase. Sadness and despair and guilt overwhelmed her; she had Lucas’s arms to comfort her while Hale had none.
In the morning, Lucas rode for the palace, and she waited, haunting the driveway for him to return, to tell her his mother had a brilliant way of saving the guildmasters. She ignored Thom and Trick passing time playing a game of hazard, she ignored Hale, still sitting on the dock of Pike’s little pond like a statue. She even ignored Pike, who was hovering near death due to loss of blood, unconscious and pale. She knew that she should shower comfort on these other people, should show them warmth and love and leadership. But she had none to give, wrapped instead in sorrow and blood-soaked dreams.
But Lucas didn’t return. Not that evening, nor throughout the night.
Chapter 32
Rizio was the only person at the breakfast table the next morning. He sat reading the newspaper, a steaming pot of coffee before him. Wren hovered by the doorway for a moment, hesitant to bother him. The man had an edge that made her nervous, with his shrewd eyes and dark goatee and silver earring. Most of Pike’s men did, to be honest. They seemed…untamed. Unpredictable.
“You’re welcome to join me,” he said without looking up from the page he was reading.
Wren blushed, and she hurried to join him. She grabbed a mug from the buffet against the wall and sank into the chair across from him. Her need for coffee outweighed any awkwardness. Her head ached and her eyes were scratchy and puffy from crying and lack of sleep. But she knew she needed to pull herself together, to return to some semblance of functioning.
He closed the paper and folded it, watching her take her first sip.
“How’s Pike?” she asked.
“The doctor says he’s stabilized. He’ll recover. He hasn’t woken for more than a few minutes at a time, though. He’ll need a few weeks before he’s up to his old tricks.”
Wren breathed a sigh of relief. The first good news in what felt like years. “I’m glad,” she said.
“The news isn’t as good for your guildmaster,” he said, tapping the paper.
Wren’s temporary elation fled. “What?” She hadn’t heard any updates from Olivia or Lennon.
“They’re going to execute him. And the others. Four of the best guildheads and Gifted, and the king would destroy them, rather than have his power challenged.”
“What?” Wren exclaimed, pulling the paper towards her. She scanned the headline, her heart sinking into her stomach. It was true. Callidus and the others had somehow already been tried and sentenced to death. Their execution was scheduled for the next morning at 9 a.m. The whole Imbris royal family was scheduled to be present.
“There’s something else,” Rizio said.
“What?” She felt weary to her bones, so brittle a stiff wind might have blown her away. She didn’t think she could take more bad news.
“I have word that the Imbris family has been called back to the palace and is not allowed to leave. The king is expecting an imminent attack.”
Wren leaned forwards, resting her forehead on the smooth varnished surface of the table.
“I believe the Aprican threat is the gods’ punishment for King Hadrian’s hubris. He doesn’t deserve this nation.”
“No, he doesn’t,” Wren said, closing her eyes. Her list of allies was growing thin. Lucas and Virgil and even Ella were cut off from her. Sable… Her mind skipped over thoughts of Sable. They were like a black hole—she feared if she let herself go there, she might be pulled in and never come out. Hale wasn’t an option; he hadn’t moved from his position on the dock in the last thirty-six hours. Chandler and McArt and Bruxius were arrested, too; Pike was grievously wounded. There was just her and Thom now, a green confectioner who had spent the majority of his time in the Guild in captivity. How in the Beekeeper’s name was she ever going to save Callidus?
Wren sat up, pushing her unruly curls from her face. “There must be something I can do to save Callidus. If I come up with a plan, will you and your men help?”
“No,” he said. “Pike commands us, and I do not think he will be in a position to command us for some time. I would not commit his men to a cause without his blessing.”
Wren’s shoulders sagged. She didn’t have it in her to feel angry or disappointed. Pike’s men had already done so much. “I expected as much.” She shook her head. “I don’t know what to do.”
A bell began to toll in the distance, loud and insistent. Wren sat straight up. That bell meant the city was under attack.
Wren and Rizio rose in unison and hurried out the front door. There was already smoke rising on the horizon—it looked close.
“They are attacking from the south. The Industrial Quarter,” Rizio remarked.
“What should we do?” Wren asked, her eyes wide. Could this day get any worse?
“Your frie
nds are out on the back deck, eating breakfast. I suggest a meal and companionship, to start. These things always help brighten a dark day.”
Wren shot Rizio an incredulous look. She thought of the key hanging heavily against her chest. She had worn it every day since Lucas had given it to her. They could run. She could take Hale and Thom and flee. But running meant abandoning Callidus. And Lucas. And where would they go anyway? No, she wasn’t running.
Rizio turned back towards the house. “They will breach the walls or not. Either way, it doesn’t hurt to be well-fed.”
There was a certain strange sense in that, so Wren followed him back into the house, retrieved her coffee mug, and headed onto the deck.
Wren walked through the house, past a knot of the other Gifted who were eating their breakfast in the informal living room. She couldn’t bring herself to be social, to say hello to them. A set of double doors paned with glass opened onto a broad expanse of deck that overlooked Spirit Bay. Even with the smudge of smoke rising to the left, the scene was breathtaking.
“Wren!” Thom turned when she approached, but his smile faltered as he caught sight of her grim face. “Any word?”
“Nothing good,” she replied.
“What is it?” Trick asked. He was sitting next to Thom, an empty plate on his lap.
“Let me sit down and I’ll tell you everything.”
So she did, falling into a chair with a heavy thud. When she was done, Trick stood, his wide mouth set in that determined Imbris way. “I’m going back to my Guild.”
“What?” Wren said. “You heard what Lucas said yesterday. It’s not safe.”
“I have allies there still. Friends who disagreed with giving in to the king’s demands. I’ll be careful. Only approach the right people. If they can help me get Lucas out, maybe they can help us free the other guildmasters. We need all the help we can get, right?”
“Trick, it’s not safe. Your brother wouldn’t want you taking that risk for him,” Thom said.
“No, but he would take the risk for me. Plus, I’m an Imbris. Even if I get captured, my father isn’t going to outright kill me. He’s just holding everyone.”
Wren bit her lip, considering.
“I’m not asking permission,” he said. “I’m going.”
“Then I’m going with you,” Thom said. Wren felt a pang at how quickly Thom volunteered to leave her to help Trick. But he and Trick had been held together. Perhaps they had formed a tighter bond than Thom had in the few days he had been with his own Guild.
“No,” Trick said. “It’ll be easier for me to get where I need to go alone. You and Wren stay here and figure out a plan. I’ll stay safe, I promise.”
So Thom and Wren hugged Trick goodbye and made him promise to meet them back here as soon as he had any news.
When he was gone, they looked at each other, so many words unspoken. Thom rubbed his neck awkwardly. “You look like you could use some breakfast. I’ll rustle you up a plate.”
Wren let out a sad little laugh, but her stomach chose that moment to yowl in protest. “I guess that’s a yes,” she said. “Thanks.”
She sat in the chair Trick had vacated, rubbing her arms against the morning chill. Her coffee was only lukewarm, but she swallowed the rest, grimacing at the bitterness on the bottom. She set it down on the wooden planks of the deck and noticed a thick black notebook under Thom’s chair. Curious, she picked it up and flipped through the pages. It was a sketchbook filled with drawings in charcoal pencil. The early pages were filled with drawings of a family—two handsome older parents, a tall willowy man with Thom’s gentle eyes, and a shorter, plump woman with bountiful curls. There were children, lanky sons and cherubic-faced daughters. They were laughing, eating. Often eating. At picnics, sitting around tables ladened with a feast worthy of royalty. As she continued to flip through the pages, the drawings changed. The Guildhall stood, stark and real as if she stood before it, with its ridiculously large steps and graceful columns. Wren felt her throat tighten. Would she ever go back to that home? Then the pages turned to faces she recognized. Her own, rendered sweetly, so she looked elfin and mischievous. Was this how Thom saw her? Hale came next, strong and brash, Callidus, reserved with keen eyes and graceful fingers. Thom had been kind to his eyebrows, giving them a little more space than reality garnered. There they were eating dinner the first night, playing cards with Lennon in the library, passing the gin bottle. Wren had to move the journal out of the way as the tears began to fall, so they wouldn’t splash the pages. Then there was Sable. As lovely as a saint, a portrait with her hair curling around her, her swanlike neck, her arching imperious brows, her full mouth and large dark eyes. She was so powerful, so alive in that sketch; Wren wished she could pull her out of it and set her back down on the deck.
She turned the page, her heart keening too much to linger on that image for long. The images turned darker—to the orphanage—Wren recognized the austere walls and patterned floors. But there was Trick, with his mischievous smile and slightly too-large Imbris nose, looking as handsome and regal as ever. She flipped the pages, and there was more. Trick, Trick, the pages were filled with Trick, every possible combination of poses and angles, as if Thom had been performing a study of Trick, watching him as a hunter watches his prey. No. She realized. As an admirer watches his beloved.
She closed the book with a sad smile and jumped to find Thom standing just steps away, holding two plates piled with food.
“So now you know my dirty secret,” he said, his voice flat—cautious.
Wren held out her hand for her plate, and he handed it over, sinking into the chair next to her. “I’m sorry I looked. But it’s a beautiful secret. Not dirty at all. And it’s one I will keep. As long as you’d like.”
Thom smiled gratefully and nodded.
“You’re very talented,” Wren said. “And clearly obsessed with food,” she said, trying to lighten the mood. “All the drawings from when you were younger seem to have feasts in them.”
He smiled, taking a bite of sausage. “We never had enough. I guess my drawing was wish fulfillment back then.”
“I know the feeling.” Wren took a bite of one the scones Thom had selected for her. It was buttery and warm. Her stomach growled again, not yet content.
“What’s your favorite part of being a confectioner?” Wren asked. She hardly felt like a confectioner these days. She hardly felt like herself. Just a shadow of a girl, the rest of her borne away on wings of grief and sorrow.
“Seeing the faces of the customers when they get their ice cream. Not most of them, mind you. Most are rich brats who have five-course meals of the finest cuts every night. But there were a few, who when they came in, it was a rare and hallowed treat. A special slice of heaven on Earth. And seeing their faces the first time they took a bite…that was what made it worthwhile.”
Wren smiled wistfully. “That is one of the best parts, isn’t it?”
“I come from a big family—five kids. We had less than nothing; my father works on the docks as a stevedore, my mother did laundry. But they would save their money each year for each of our birthdays. Money they couldn’t spare, money that should have been set aside for a pair of shoes to replace the outgrown ones or new shingles to patch the roof. But they would save their money and on each of our birthdays, they would take that kid on a special outing to get ice cream. We looked forward to our birthdays all year.” He chuckled. “Those ice cream cones are some of my earliest memories.”
“Your family sounds wonderful.”
“They are.”
“Thom, I’m so sorry we pulled you into all of this. We thought you would be safer with the Guild, but look what’s happened.” She shook her head.
“I’m not sorry,” he said. “Part of me always felt that there was supposed to be more to my life than making ice cream. This has been the wildest few weeks of my life, but it also feels the most real somehow. Like the rest was just a dream. Now I’ve woken up. I just wish…I don’t know. I
hardly got to know Sable.”
Wren swallowed thickly, the scone sticking in her throat at the mention of Sable. “I know. She was so enigmatic. She intimidated me. There were only a few moments where I felt like I saw the real her.”
“I’m not sure I saw any of those,” Thom said.
“How’s Hale doing?”
“He’s still sitting down on the dock by the little fish pond. We’ve brought him food and water, tried to talk to him…”
Wren sighed. “He loved her. He’s in mourning.”
“You all are.”
Wren closed her eyes. “They’re going to execute Callidus and the other guildmasters they arrested. I keep trying to figure out how to stop it, but everything seems like a dead end. Pike’s men won’t help us, Lucas is under house arrest…”
“Do you think they’ll really be executed? Or will it be like yours, where they pretend to kill them but keep them around in secret?”
Wren kicked herself. She should have thought of that, after Thom had shared his intelligence from the orphanage with her. “I don’t know. Hopefully it’s the later, then we’d have more time to regroup and rescue them. But…what if it’s not? Can we risk waiting?”
“No,” Thom said. “Do we know where they’re being held?”
Wren shook her head. “I presume the Block. I don’t think we could stage a break-out there even with all the help in the world. It’s…a fortress.”
“Maybe when they transport them for execution?”
Wren rubbed her temples wearily. “Everything went so wrong when we were rescuing you…I just don’t think we could pull something like that off. The king is going to keep tighter security now that he lost his hostages.”
“But the city is under attack; maybe he won’t be able to spare many men from the wall. Maybe he’ll be too busy with the Apricans to go forward with the executions.”
Wren froze with a bite of omelet halfway to her mouth. She put her fork down and pulled the chain out from beneath her dress, resting the heavy key in her palm. “Thom, you’re a genius.”
