Nerissa nodded in agreement. She was still studying the faint pattern of lines and inclusions within the stone a few moments later when the door separating the two storerooms opened. A hopeful flutter sprang up in her chest as Rian peeked in and looked her direction, but his eyes shifted away before they could meet her own.
“I hope I’m not interrupting your experiments,” Rian said, keeping his attention focused on Raysel.
“No, not exactly. We were ready to break for dinner,” Raysel said in an overly cheerful tone that affirmed his awareness of the tension in the room.
Rian nodded, his stoic expression unchanged. “I found something in here that you both should take a look at right away.”
Nerissa followed Raysel into the room and immediately noticed that Rian had done some rearranging. The cloth-draped statues, sculptures, and boxes formerly occupying the center of the room had been moved to the perimeter where they were arranged in orderly rows in front of Amon’s stacks of paintings. The middle of the room was now completely open.
“What happened to everything in here?” Raysel asked.
“I decided to move some of the statues out of the way so that I would have a larger area to practice in,” Rian answered.
That explains the scraping sounds I heard earlier, Nerissa silently noted. Even though her pendant hadn’t reacted, she glanced at Raysel out of the corner of her eye. He didn’t seem to have heard her thoughts this time.
Rian knelt down beside a crate filled with softbound notebooks. “While I was moving things, I came across this box.”
Nerissa picked up the topmost notebook and thumbed through it. Each page was labeled with a date, and the contents were arranged in bulleted lists under the headers of “reports,” “old business,” and “new business.”
“These are meeting notes,” Raysel said as he skimmed through another one of the books. “For Amon’s organization, I suppose.”
“I think so too. I looked through several of them, and the records span many years,” Rian said. “For the most part, they are notes on the movements of various people, rumors of relationships between public figures, and records of assignments given to members. But I found something else mixed in as well.” He pulled out a notebook that was bound within a hard cover. “This is a treatise on the ‘ideal government,’ one in which the monarchy is abolished and administrative officials are chosen by the consensus of the common people.”
Before either Nerissa or Raysel could respond, someone cleared their throat behind them.
“I was wondering why you didn’t answer the other door,” they said. “I’ve walked in on a very interesting conversation, indeed. I’m glad I offered to bring this down tonight in Thea’s place.”
Three heads turned toward the doorway where Amon stood with their dinner tray in hand.
Rian waved the hardbound notebook in front of him, his blue eyes flashing. “Why do you have a book about abolishing the monarchy?”
Sensing his friend’s rising ire, Raysel clamped a hand down on Rian’s shoulder. “I think you’re jumping to unnecessary conclusions. There’s nothing wrong with having such a book.”
“It’s written in the same handwriting as the meeting notes,” Rian said, glowering up at both Raysel and Amon from his knees.
“Amon is a skilled translator. It may simply be a transcription of an old book,” Raysel countered diplomatically.
Momentarily forgetting about the awkwardness between them, Nerissa grabbed the notebook from Rian’s hand to compare the writing for herself. It was the same. As she skimmed over the text, it occurred to her that she had never questioned Amon about his group’s purpose. At the time, it had been enough to know they had a common enemy in Casimer. Now, it seemed she might have overlooked an important detail about their new ally.
Amon put the tray on an empty display pedestal and joined them in the middle of the room. “No, it’s not a transcription. It is exactly as Rian surmised—a treatise that members of the Revenant have written on our ideal form of government. I can’t say I’m particularly pleased to arrive and find you going through our records though. I thought all of them had been removed, but it seems, in our haste to prepare these rooms for your unexpected stay, Thea and I missed a box.”
“Considering what Casimer did to your father, I can understand why you would want to work against him,” Nerissa said. “But it’s not just Casimer that the Revenant is opposed to, is it?”
“You’re correct. As the subjects of a king, we are entirely at the mercy of our monarch—a ruler who is chosen for the position simply by being born into the right family. What are the people to do if a king doesn’t act in their best interests?”
Surprisingly, Raysel was the one to answer him. “Then it is the responsibility of the Ohanzee and the Senka to remove them from power. Removing those who are unfit to govern was one of the original reasons why King Gared created our shared predecessor, the Gullintanni. It remains our ultimate responsibility today.”
“Very well,” Amon replied. “And what happens when the Senka—or the Ohanzee—are in league with them?” Seeing the appalled expressions on Raysel and Rian’s faces, Amon raised his hands, palms spread in front of him. “I’m not saying that has happened, but it could happen. Because of that, the population as a whole cannot simply rely on your sense of honor and duty. Those ideals, as lofty and well intentioned as they may be, are subjective. Many of the world’s great evils have been committed by those with good intentions.” He looked to Nerissa for support, which she was not going to give. “The assassination of your family is a prime example. Casimer genuinely believes that, by taking over Chiyo, he is doing what is best for all of Renatus. He views it as bringing enlightenment and progress to a backward culture.”
Nerissa folded her arms across her chest and huffed.
“I don’t agree with him,” Amon stressed. “Many in Marise don’t agree with him, but there is nothing we can do to stop him. That is one of the reasons why the members of the Revenant believe that the monarchy allows for too much power to be held by a single person. Blunting Casimer’s power is only the first step in our plans. Our ultimate goal is to end the monarchy of Marise itself and replace it with a people’s government.”
Nerissa sighed heavily. She understood why safeguards were needed to prevent rulers from abusing their power. That was why there had been no guarantee she would be named Heiress. As Hania once told her, the Ohanzee had approved of her inheriting the title because she’d shown that she possessed the same traits and ideals that King Gared believed in.
“If you are so against the government—monarchies in particular—why are you helping us?” she asked, careful to keep her tone unaccusing. “Why would you want to help me regain the throne when I’m one of the very monarchs you oppose.”
“There are numerous reasons why we choose not to get involved with Chiyo,” Amon said. “Foremost is the fact that your mother, and your grandfather before her, believed in leaving the administration of day-to-day issues to the regional mayors and governors. They’ve been given the authority to run their regions with almost complete autonomy. In your country, those officials are put forward by the citizens and then approved by the Blood. While that practice doesn’t exactly match our ideals, it is very much in line with them. So, you should be able to see how helping you regain the throne is to our advantage.”
“I must admit, however, that we did recently interfere with Chiyo in a small way,” Amon added. “Shortly after Casimer’s attack, there were rumblings that a group of citizens was organizing an uprising. We intervened behind the scenes because a riot would have done far more harm than good.”
Nerissa remembered hearing a report about that incident from Hania. The Ohanzee had known a third party was involved, but at the time, they didn’t know who that third party was. Now she did, and she didn’t know how she felt about it.
“Even if I’m not entirely comfortable with your group’s ultimate goal—or the fact that you’ve already me
ddled in Niamh’s affairs—I do understand your rationale,” she said.
Amon inclined his head in acquiescence. “Likewise, I can understand why you feel that way. Unlike my uncle and the Senka, the Revenant have no intention on interfering with Chiyo’s sovereignty. Just as a king cannot presume to fully understand the needs of his people, we cannot presume to understand the needs of an entirely different nation.” He looked back over his shoulder at the dinner tray. “I didn’t come down here to talk about philosophy with you, though it is good we have reached an understanding. I wanted to tell you that I’ve been summoned to an audience with my uncle one week from today. Casimer will be leaving for his country estate at the end of that week to visit Echidna and Ladon. When he will return is uncertain. If there is a heavy snowfall, his stay at the estate could last indefinitely.”
Nerissa’s stomach twisted into a knot at the news. Suddenly, the sands passing through the hourglass in the other room took on a new meaning. Every grain that slipped through its neck brought them one second closer to the looming deadline that was now merely a week away.
Chapter 15
Marked
Nerissa
Nerissa’s head hit her pillow hard enough to eject a feather from the seams, sending the tiny plume fluttering away on a puff of air. She took in a deep breath and blew out as hard as she could, but her idle attempt to keep the feather aloft couldn’t prevent it from sinking to the floor a few feet away. It was a futile effort—just like her attempts to figure out the suspension technique. A cynical laugh escaped her, and she was glad neither Raysel nor Rian were nearby to hear it.
With three days remaining until Amon’s audience with Casimer, and in spite of all their hard work, their situation was utterly, hopelessly, frustratingly the same as it had been days ago. Even the strange thought-communication phenomenon hadn’t occurred since Amon’s last visit. At a time when they most needed to make progress, they had made none whatsoever. If they didn’t have a development soon, this golden opportunity would pass them by. How long would it be before another presented itself?
How foolish she had been to think they could rediscover in a matter of weeks a technique that others must have spent a lifetime perfecting. After all, the prophecy merely said she would suspend Casimer’s actions. It didn’t say she would do it now—or next year, for that matter.
She closed her eyes and tried to let the rhythmic clicking from the other room distract her weary mind. Even though it was late, Raysel and Rian were sparring as vigorously as if it were early morning. Nerissa suspected Raysel’s motivation to practice at this particular moment was more likely an outlet for pent-up energy than an example of his dedication. He was undoubtedly feeling the same pressure she was.
In the otherwise silent room, the swords’ steady cadence created a melody all its own, giving Nerissa the impression she was listening to the moves of a deadly dance. Every second of silence was a feint or a dodge. Every blocked strike was punctuated by a resounding clack. A wan smile came to her lips at the thought. It was the kind of romanticized idea that might be found in one of Charis’ favorite novels.
But a sword fight isn’t really like a dance at all, Nerissa thought as sleep finally started to seep into the edges of her consciousness. Although both involved knowing when to move, and where, and how, a sword fight was a struggle of opposition—a quest to break through the rhythm and land a blow. A dance was a united series of steps made in time with the music. It was only successful if both partners moved as one.
Something about the comparison tickled the back of Nerissa’s mind, but the idea came too late. She was already drowsily fading into the world of dreams, where snippets of another dance played behind her eyelids. Feathered wings. A dress the color of sunset. A hand taking hers, and a Dalmatian fading into the crowd. Drums counting out the beats of her heart while she spun in an endless swirl of reds and yellows.
Yet the image that appeared to her more than any others was that of a hawk with piercing blue eyes.
**************************************
Nerissa awakened some time later to the sound of a door closing. When she gazed up through half-closed eyes and saw Rian, she pretended to still be asleep. He must have been returning from the bath upstairs because his long hair still glistened with water.
“You’ll want to change shirts in case she wakes up,” Raysel said, so softly Nerissa could barely hear him. He sat on his bunk facing away from her with the antique books containing the prophecy spread out in front of him. He, too, must have recently returned from bathing, for he had tied his hair in a bun on the top of his head the way he always did after washing it.
Rian glanced down at his white linen shirt. “Thanks,” he murmured. “I didn’t notice it was showing.” Before he also turned his back to her, Nerissa caught a glimpse of a dark spot on his chest where his wet hair had made the fabric of his shirt transparent. She wondered what it was. A bruise? Had he been injured the night the Senka ambushed them?
“The mark has faded over time, but it’s never going to go away, is it?” Rian muttered as he shrugged the wet shirt over his head.
“No, they’re not meant to,” Raysel answered quietly.
It’s not an injury, Nerissa realized. If the dark mark wasn’t a bruise, what was it?
Rian dropped his head and a mirthless laugh reached Nerissa’s ears. “You didn’t have to answer me. It was a rhetorical question anyway. I know I can’t be rid of this mark, any more than I can be rid of my father’s legacy—no matter how hard my mother worked to escape from him.”
“You really should give her a chance,” Raysel said after a short pause. It didn’t occur to Nerissa until he spoke again that he had changed the subject, and that she was the “her” Raysel was referring to. “I’ve noticed the tension that’s sprung up between the two of you ever since Nerissa told you her real name. You’re both my friends, so I’ve abstained from getting involved, but I don’t understand why you are treating her differently. It’s obvious she doesn’t understand either. What is going on? You’re not her personal guardian, so there’s no prohibition against a relationship between you.”
“That isn’t the issue,” Rian said. “You know I have always felt responsible for my father’s role in leading the Senka’s attempts against the Royal Family of Chiyo. Now that I know who she really is…” he paused, seeming to struggle for what to say. “Considering what my father has done to her and her family…” Once again, his words trailed off.
He stopped to take a deep breath, and when he finally spoke, his voice was rough with emotion. “I don’t deserve her.”
Nerissa held her breath, suddenly afraid that making any sound would reveal that she was awake and bring a premature end to their conversation. Stubborn, proud, arrogant Rian felt like he was unworthy of being with her? That was the reason for his change in behavior? He’d already told her who his father was—on the first night they had watched the stars together. It made no difference to her that he was the son of the Senka’s chief, and she had told him so at the time.
“You can’t control your father’s actions, but you can control yours. You’re making a bad decision by pushing her away—one you may sorely regret in the future.” There was something in Raysel’s matter-of-fact tone that made the statement sound like a warning.
If his intention was to provoke a reaction from Rian, it worked. Rian yanked a dry shirt over his head and whirled around to face his friend. “Is that your way of saying you’ll step in?”
“I suppose it is, though not in the way you’re interpreting it,” Raysel said. “I will always be at Nerissa’s side—as her guardian and as her friend. If you continue as you are, you won’t be either of those.”
Rian’s blue eyes narrowed. His hand went to his hip for Bane, but he grabbed only air. The sword was still propped against his bed.
Raysel chuckled softly. “Some things never change. You always go for that sword when you get angry, and this time you don’t have it to pull.�
��
“T-that’s not what I was reaching for,” Rian protested, flustered “I forgot my sash upstairs.” With that said, he stormed across the room and disappeared through the door.
If you forgot your sash, then why is it draped over the edge of the bed beside Bane? Nerissa wondered. She allowed her eyes to close the rest of the way, and a warmth radiated across her chest. It made her heart feel lighter to know Rian’s change in behavior was not a personal rejection.
“I have a feeling he might not be coming back for a little while,” Raysel said, seemingly to himself. Then, a second later, he said, “How long were you listening to us, Nerissa?”
Nerissa froze. As much as she wanted to ask Raysel about the mysterious mark on Rian’s chest, she didn’t want to admit she had been eavesdropping on a private conversation—especially when they had been talking about her. So, instead of admitting the truth, she stretched her arms over her head and pretended to blink the sleep from her eyes. “Oh? Is it already time to wake up?”
“It’s a good thing you’re the Heiress because you’d make a terrible actress,” Raysel said, smirking as he came over to stand beside her bed. He raised the pitch of his voice in a mimic of Nerissa’s. “ ‘If you forgot your sash, then why is it draped over the edge of the bed beside Dragon’s Bane?’ ”
Stunned, Nerissa’s jaw dropped and all pretense fell away. “It happened again?”
“Given away by your own thoughts,” Raysel teased. “I think this strange new form of communication might be my favorite ability yet.”
Nerissa sat up and waggled a finger at him. “Gloat all you want. Your accidental insights into my thoughts will only last as long as it takes for us to figure out how it’s happening.”
“Hmm.” Raysel rubbed his chin and then turned away. “If that’s the case, then I should probably keep my most recent observation to myself.”
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