Mourningbird (Empire of Masks Book 3)

by Brock Deskins

  “Lucas Weston!” Conner spat.

  Kiera furrowed her brow. “Who is that?”

  “That’s the name of the man who dropped you off at Wayward House when you were a baby.”

  “But who is he?”

  “He’s me,” Cleary rumbled from the parlor entryway. “One of me anyway. Been a long time since I used that name. Almost forgot it. Tried to forget it, but I couldn’t.”

  Conner turned as if in a dream. “What have you done?”

  “What I was paid to do. Mostly.”

  Conner pulled the sword from his cane and charged at Cleary. “You murdered my wife and daughter!”

  Cleary did not move as Conner staggered toward him. He did not even flinch as his former friend drew the blade back, ready to plunge it into his heart. “No, I killed your wife, but I saved your daughter.”

  The sword trembled in Conner’s grip. “Why?”

  “Because murdering a baby was too much even for me.”

  “Why did you do any of it?” Conner raged.

  “Like I said, because I was paid to. It’s what I did back then. It’s why I have been doing what we’ve been doing all these years. That night broke me. Broke the man I was. I couldn’t be him anymore. But it didn’t matter in the end.”

  Cleary took a letter from inside his coat and held it out to Conner. “The man who wrote this, giving me my orders, is likely the one who turned me over to the gendarme after I completed my task. Him or the one that told me to spare the child.”

  Conner snatched the page from Cleary’s hand and read it. It detailed the instructions to kill his wife and daughter. “But Kiera has the mark. Lilliana’s mark…”

  “Like I said. Killing a baby was too much even for me, so when someone paid me to take the girl to Wayward House instead, I took it. I don’t normally betray a contract, but I wanted a way out of that one. I bought the corpse of a girl of similar age and brought it to the house that night. I spoke to your wife. Told her why I was there and why I had to do what I was going to do. I gave her a draught to make her go to sleep. She didn’t suffer. I took the girl, your daughter, with me and gave her to the orphanage. It was the only mercy I could give her.”

  Conner’s mind reeled. His vision narrowed. It was all he could do to fight back the blackness closing in from all sides. “Who told you to take Lilliana to Wayward House?”

  “I don’t know. Someone who knew of the plan to kill them and disagreed with part of it. Given their appearance, my guess is one of Nimat’s people working on her behalf.”

  “All these years, you’ve been lying to me. Making a fool out of me while I searched for my family’s killer. All this time, and he was in my goddam house!”

  Cleary shook his head. “Everything I have done and said from the day you saved me from the gallows has been the truth. Other than that letter, which I have read a thousand times in search of clues, I have been earnest in my attempts to bring you justice.”

  “Justice?” Conner spat. “Justice is me running my sword through your black heart!”

  “Aye, it is, but incomplete. You would have killed me on the spot had I told you I was the one to set the fire, to kill your wife and hide your child.”

  “A child you let me mourn for the last fifteen years!”

  “You have no idea how badly I wanted to tell you. But what would have happened if I had? You would have killed me and hidden yourself and your daughter away in order to keep her safe from the person who ordered their deaths, allowing them to escape justice. Letting them do the same thing to the next person who got too close to their nefarious affairs.”

  “You knew all this time that Kiera was my daughter? That’s why you torched the records.”

  “I thought there was a chance after we looked into her. The timeline added up. I couldn’t change my mind about bringing her on to replace me without it looking suspicious.”

  “What was your end game? How could you reveal who was behind all of this without exposing yourself in the end? How did you plan to walk away from it?”

  Cleary wagged his head, his shoulders slumping under the revelation’s enormous emotional weight. “I didn’t. Once we found the man who hired me, I would have told you of my part.” He spread his arms out. “My life is yours. You are entitled to take it for what I have done. It is the least I can offer.”

  Tears of anger, pain, and remorse flowed down Conner’s cheeks. With a strangled cry, he drew the slender sword back.

  “No!” Kiera cried.

  Conner looked back, the sword poised above Cleary’s heart ready to strike. Kiera had her hand clamped around Surri’s wrist, the Thuumian holding a slender, curved blade in a white-knuckled grip.

  “Please, no. Don’t kill him.”

  “He killed your mother! He took you away from me!” Conner wailed, his voice constricted with anguish.

  “He also saved me. He brought me back to you. That has to be worth something. Let him go, for me.”

  Conner’s mouth twisted and writhed as he fought to hold back his fury. He lowered his sword. “Get out of my house. If I ever see you again, I will kill you. But know this. You still owe me a life. You spared my daughter, and I spared you on the gallows. And now, I’m letting you live once again despite my deepest desires in this moment.”

  Cleary nodded, certain that anything he said, just a single word, would likely revoke his clemency. He turned and walked away, defeated, broken, but alive. Existing in such a state, death would have been a mercy.

  Conner felt a light hand touch his shoulder. The sword dropped to the floor, the only sound in the house was the clang of metal striking marble. He turned slowly and stared over the top of Kiera’s…Lilianna’s, head, not trusting himself to look down. When he mustered the courage to look into her eyes, his legs buckled and he fell to the floor on his knees, sobbing into her stomach as he held the daughter he barely knew.

  Kiera stood frozen, dumbfounded. A mix of emotions tore through her, and she had no idea how to even begin to process them. She simply stood there with her hand on her father’s head. She felt Surri’s arms drape over her shoulders and hold her from behind. For the first time in living memory, she had a family.

  CHAPTER 27

  Palace guards patrolled the halls and stood sentry at every outside door. Rastus had pulled scores of gendarmes off the streets to augment his security to the point that nearly every third person in the palace was a soldier or gendarme, and no one went about unarmed.

  Inside the secure war room, the city leaders gathered around a table with a map covering its surface much like the one destroyed the night before during the attack. Outside, a dozen soldiers stood guard just on the other side of the door with a score more manning the connecting halls with orders that no one not already cleared to enter be allowed access, and with the exception of Bertram, those people were already present. Anyone else who tried to approach the room and failed to follow orders to depart was to be considered a threat and shot.

  The faces around the table appeared drawn and solemn. There was genuine concern, and even fear, behind many eyes. These people, the most powerful in the realm, had nearly died at the hand of a creature of which they knew very little. Had it not been for Bertram’s quick thinking in turning the table over and sheltering behind it, they would almost certainly be dead.

  “I want to thank you all for your courage in gathering together once more,” Rastus said. “This is precisely the kind of attitude that will see us to victory. We mustn’t give in to the terror we have all witnessed, and I suspect whatever reservations you once held are now vanquished.”

  Esmerelda ran her finger around the rim of her teacup. “Yes, well, nearly dying will do that, I suppose.”

  Zibaran said, “We’re still no closer on agreeing what to do about it.”

  “That’s what we need to discuss. Now that we have all seen firsthand what we face, we must decide how to deal with it and prepare for a worst-case scenario.”

  “You speak of invasion,�
�� Krysten said.

  Rastus nodded. “We have to accept the possibility.”

  Esmerelda’s stern façade displayed a rare crack as she blanched and stared down into her tea. “One of those things nearly succeeded in delivering a devastating blow to all our cities. I can’t imagine what hundreds, maybe thousands, could do.”

  “I can,” Zibaran rumbled. “I spent all last night with the image running through my mind, and it is not pleasant.”

  A knock on the door sent every heart racing and hands reaching for weapons. The door opened, and a guard admitted Bertram into the room. His eyes were sunken, and angry red marks crawled up his neck and across his face.

  “I apologize for being late,” the inquisitor said. “I was slow to rise this morning.”

  “You probably should have stayed in bed,” his uncle said. “You have been through a lot and need the rest.”

  Bertram shook his head. “This is too important.”

  “Is it true?” Esmerelda asked. “Was Farelle your father?”

  Bertram turned his eyes to the floor. “He was, though I only recently discovered the truth.”

  “Did you know, Rastus?” the duchess asked.

  The duke sighed, his eyes steadying on his nephew. “I had my suspicions. My sister was a very private woman and did not confide in me or anyone else that I am aware of. But that is a private matter Bertram and I can discuss at a time of his choosing. For now, let us focus on the imminent threat.

  Rastus looked at Esmerelda out of the corner of his eye and could practically see the gears turning in the woman’s head as she tried to think of how such a revelation could strengthen her position.

  “What can you tell us about the creature?” Rastus asked Bertram.

  “We all saw his martial prowess. The magic he wields is like nothing I understand or have read about. It appears to be very different than what I understand the sorcerers once used. We found the…skin of powder master Arnaud Newell. I believe he wore it, as my uncle warned us. I’ll speak to his wife later in hopes of narrowing down the time Sah Arnaud was taken.”

  Bertram looked at Esmerelda. “I just learned on my way here that the body of Sahma Adele Wiebe was found in one of the small corner gardens. The guard who found her informed me that it appeared as though she had fallen, or was hurled, from the balcony not far from where we were attacked.”

  Esmerelda’s hand flew to her lips. “She must have run into the creature on his way to us. The poor dear. At least now she is with her son.”

  “Can you tell us about your battle with the monster after chasing it from the palace?” Rastus asked.

  “I was able to engage it several blocks from here. As we saw in the meeting room, it can use what appears to be shadow or some other dark power as a weapon.” Bertram scratched at his neck. “He turned my own blood against me. Had someone not intervened, he would have certainly killed me.”

  Rastus’ eyes flicked toward Esmerelda once again. “Your mysterious benefactors?”

  Bertram shook his head. “No, just a very brave, concerned citizen.”

  Zibaran said, “As much as I wish you had killed it, we are all glad you survived. But this thing is still alive, and we have to decide how to deploy the fleet.”

  Rastus stood and leaned on the table as he began moving tiny airship models around the map. “We have to divide the fleet. The forward squadron will defend Nibbenar. The rear squadron will form a picket west of Velaroth and patrol the area between here and Vulcrad.”

  “Why divide our forces and weaken them by half?” Esmerelda objected. We know they will come across the Tempest Sea.”

  “We know no such thing,” Rastus replied. “They could already be across and waiting in the northern Deadlands for word of our mass assassination. They could come down and sack Vulcrad or Velaroth, bypassing you completely. What good are your ships if there are no cannons with which to arm them or powder to make them fire? We cannot take on an invading force with oversized yachts, which is what your airships will be if we lose our manufacturing ability.”

  “My uncle is right,” Bertram said. “To commit our forces to one city leaves the others undefended and invites disaster. The only advantage we might have is our guns, and we cannot lose that.”

  Krysten spoke in a lazy drawl. “I suppose if they decide to come for Glisteran and simply starve us out, we will throw tomatoes at them.”

  “Glisteran is the farthest point from any source of invasion,” Rastus countered. “And we could send the entire fleet your way if that happened long before we starved. The time for bickering is at an end. This is what I am ordering be done whether or not you agree.”

  “You do not have the authority to command the navy on your own!” Esmerelda shouted.

  “No, but I have the officers willing to carry out my orders. Do you have a better plan for protecting the whole of Eidolan and not just yourself? Then we are agreed,” Rastus declared when no more argument was forthcoming.

  ***

  Surri’s sharp voice intruded upon Kiera’s dreamless sleep. “Wake up, you are late for training.”

  Kiera turned her face toward the voice and opened her eyes to slits. “I fought some creature and almost died last night. I think that deserves an extra hour of sleep.”

  “Your victory was not decisive, and that means you failed. You must train harder so that next time, you will not fail.”

  Kiera groaned, rolled out of bed, and pulled on some loose workout clothes. “I thought maybe you would start being nicer since we are family and all.”

  “You thought wrong. Now that I know my blood runs through you, my expectations have greatly increased, and my tolerance for your poor performance drastically reduced.”

  Kiera rolled her eyes. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun.”

  “No, fun was your life up to this point. Now begins the pain of achieving perfection.”

  “Does the pain start in my ass? Because that’s where I’m feeling it, and I’m not talking about my cut.”

  “Such a smart, funny girl,” Surri said over her shoulder as she walked out. “You get that from your mother. The pain, you’ll get that from me.”

  She shook off the emotional blow Surri’s words landed and countered the only way she knew how. “I thought it was pretty smart and funny dragging that creature down the street behind a horse. Maybe we can move training to the mews today and I can show you.”

  Kiera trailed after her aunt. It felt weird thinking of her in that way, of having any kind of actual family beyond Wesley and Russel. The mention of taking after her mother, of having such a biological connection to someone, had shaken her, and it took a great deal of effort to suppress the emotion.

  She was so lost in thought that it took a moment before she realized that Surri was leading her to the dining room instead of the training room. Kiera froze in the doorway and stared at Conner standing behind a large cake illuminated by what looked to be at least a hundred small candles. The light from the candles was so bright she could barely look at them straight on.

  “What’s this?” she asked.

  Conner, her father, beamed. “Happy birthday!”

  “What? It’s my birthday?”

  “Technically, it’s not for a few more days,” Conner said, “but you’ve missed so many of them. Besides, this is almost like a resurrection or rebirth, so I thought today would be your new birthday. The day you came back into my life.”

  Kiera took a few small steps into the room, blinking away the motes of light brought on by the candles’ assault on her eyes. “I’ve never had a birthday before. I don’t even know what to do.”

  “You don’t have to do anything except blow out the candles and eat your cake.”

  The corner of Kiera’s mouth curled up and she cocked an eyebrow. “That’s an awful lot of candles.”

  “One hundred thirty-six,” Conner answered with a nod. “It’s for all the birthdays you’ve missed. Happy sixteenth birthday.”

  Kiera stared
at the small, flickering flames. “I’ll pass out before I can blow all of those out.”

  Surri handed Kiera her necklace with the arcanstone pendant. “Do not use your lungs. Call the wind to do your bidding.”

  Kiera took the choker. “But you said I couldn’t be a wind caller.”

  “I also said that my expectations of you are much higher now,” the Thuumian replied with a smile.

  Kiera latched the choker around her neck. “What do I do?”

  “Feel the air around you, filling your lungs, and tickling the hairs on your body. Focus on the energy within the stone. Use it to shape the air and direct it with your mind.”

  Kiera thought about the night before, how the stone had sent energy tingling through her body, or so she thought. It might have just been the storm or she had simply imagined it. But the feeling returned almost immediately, and she felt heat emanating from the stone. She split her attention between the air and the arcanstone and felt the hairs on her arms lift and her flesh pebble in response.

  She turned her eyes to the candles covering the cake like a tiny city on fire and willed the wind to do her bidding. Kiera felt a breeze as if from an open window. The candles’ flames danced on the invisible currents but stubbornly refused to be vanquished.

  “Are you going to blow them out or wait until they burn out on their own?” Surri asked.

  “I’m trying!” Kiera snapped back.

  “Like you were trying to fight the Necrophage while it killed people around you?”

  “Surri,” Conner said.

  “No! For all her smart words and violent outbursts, she lacks confidence and conviction. Your mother drank poison and let herself be burned up in a fire to save you, and this is all you can do, Lilliana?”

  Rage burned within her. She saw her mother in the candle flames. Saw Cleary exchanging her for a dead baby and taking her away from a family that had loved her, would have protected her from every terrible thing that had ever happened. She should have grown up in a nice home like this one and gone to school and never known the pain of hunger and the constant fear of becoming just another nameless corpse lying in the gutter.