The guard on duty barely glanced at ours, but he sure stared at Devrak’s, then blinked at the man himself. “Right this way, sir. Proceed to sector A, and I’ll inform—”
“General Talia,” Devrak finished for him—an order, rather than a suggestion. He was leaving nothing to chance. “I would like to meet with her and General Gavros in private.”
* * *
My unease wasn’t alleviated when we were led on foot through several pairs of high-security checkpoints and down long, smooth hallways, into a room with a thick door. Anything this sterile gave me flashbacks to both the Treznor and Dracorte laboratories where royals had tried to dissect me and had cut into Arjan. Windows lined the room, the reflective kind that didn’t let you see out, only let observers see in. The only furnishings were a steel table and chairs, all seamlessly attached to the floor, perhaps to prevent someone from trying to break the windows with them…as if people were often kept here against their will.
Devrak announcing his departure at the door really didn’t help.
“I’ll be back as soon as possible, but likely only for you, at first,” he said to Nev. He had been careful not to use Nev’s name or title yet, or to give any other indication of who he might be.
Nev didn’t seem alarmed by our accommodations. He only nodded before Devrak left and the door sealed behind him. This must have been routine procedure or something. But Basra leaned against the table, arms folded, not looking happy about being locked in here, and neither Arjan nor I could keep still.
It took less than an hour before Devrak came back, but in that time, both Nev and Basra had tried to stop me and Arjan from pacing by catching our respective hands. And yet, when the door slid open, it wasn’t only my brother and me who betrayed our nervousness. All four of us spun or leapt up.
Devrak wasn’t alone. A dark, cynical part of me expected guards with photon rifles, or maybe even Bladeguards, to be accompanying him. But when he stepped aside, he revealed the last person I could have imagined.
Marsius Dracorte III was short enough to hide behind Devrak’s back because he was only eleven years old—and barely eleven, at that. Nev had only recently remarked, bittersweet, on the passing of his little brother’s birthday. Marsius peered into the room around Devrak, hesitant. His eyes widened when they caught sight of Nev, and even with Nev’s disguise, Marsius’s eyes immediately began to fill with tears.
“Marsius,” Nev said, choked. When the boy didn’t move, he added, “It’s me. Devrak, can I get rid of this?” He waved at his face. Devrak had barely nodded before Nev was already fishing out his contacts and popping his features back into perfect shape. His beautiful face blanched when Marsius only glanced back and forth between it and Devrak. “I didn’t…I promise it wasn’t me….”
“He has already heard as much,” Devrak said quickly, when Marsius still didn’t seem able to speak. “I just explained everything to an assembled panel of generals, and Marsius was in attendance. They now want to hear it from your lips, but first, I thought…” He looked down at Marsius, his forehead creasing in concern.
I was looking at Nev the same way. One harsh word from Marsius could break him; I knew it. I desperately wanted to take his hand now to comfort him, but I waited. We all did. The silence stretched another painful moment.
“You”—Nev swallowed—“you don’t believe I killed them, right, Marsius?”
The boy’s lips trembled, and then he was hurtling around Devrak and through the door. Nev opened his arms as his little brother flew into him, and it wasn’t long before Marsius’s strangled sobs echoed through the room, muffled in Nev’s neck.
“Shh, I’ve got you,” Nev murmured, eyes closed. He stroked Marsius’s hair, rocking him slightly back and forth.
Marsius tried to talk, but all I heard was a jumble of “Sol said it was you, but—Mother and Father—and then you were gone too—” between the gasps and sobs.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked away, blinking. The boy had lost his parents, and had lived until now thinking his own brother, his hero, had been responsible…when it had really been his sister. My fists clenched. I didn’t think it was possible for me to hate Solara any more than I already did, but I was wrong.
I heard a voice: “No.”
It was Nev’s. I turned back to him, but his eyes were still closed and he was murmuring to Marsius, “I’m here for you now. I’m here.”
I did a quick check for any visual hallucinations. For a split second, I thought I saw a dark outline of a person standing in the window’s reflection, near where Nev would be, but then I blinked, and it was gone.
Luckily everyone was too focused on Marsius to notice any strangeness in my behavior. When my gaze returned to them, Nev was standing, surreptitiously wiping his own eyes with one hand, the other holding his brother to his side. Marsius’s face was red and splotchy, and he dragged the sleeve of his deep-blue uniform, military cut, across his nose. They were an endearing likeness of each other, separated only by years and responsibility.
“I believe you know at least Qole and Arjan,” Nev said, squeezing his shoulder. “This is Basra, Marsius, a good friend of ours.”
Marsius blinked his shiny silver-gray eyes and looked at our little group with uncertainty. The three of us probably weren’t the most comforting sight.
“Hello,” Basra said in return, his tone oddly tentative, for him. His expression was even more unusual—mildly perplexed and maybe even reluctant, as if Marsius were a potential buyer to whom he had no idea how to make a pitch.
I could guess why. Marsius had heard Nev wasn’t responsible for any of his heartbreak, but the last time we’d seen him in Dracorva, we’d left parts of his home in smoking ruins. Basra had also single-handedly threatened to financially ruin his family. I couldn’t imagine what Solara had told the boy about us. Like Basra, I waited for Marsius to make the first move, so I could follow his lead. And Arjan, I imagined, had no desire to indulge a member of the royal family who’d hurt him, no matter how young or innocent the kid was.
Or maybe I was wrong.
Arjan rolled his eyes, muttering, “Ancestors’ sake, you two,” and extended his hand to Marsius. He hadn’t spoken to me in that warm, chiding tone in ages, and I’d never heard him use it with Basra. A lot louder, he said, “Hey, kid, I missed you.”
Nev’s brother went right for him. Instead of simply taking Marsius’s hand, Arjan seized him in a one-armed hug, clapping him heartily on the back, and even lightly slugged him on the shoulder afterward. Devrak tensed, but it drew a startled laugh from the boy who’d just been crying his eyes out.
Basra and I exchanged a glance, probably looking similarly sheepish and relieved. Maybe it was just that neither of us knew how to act around children. Nev caught the look between us and swallowed a laugh behind his hand.
“You’re taller already!” Arjan exclaimed to Marsius. “You’ll be old enough to come Shadow fish with us in no time.”
“Could I?” Marsius said.
“Of course,” Arjan replied, without even pretending to defer the question to Nev or Devrak.
Ancestors, he was good. Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised. Arjan was an older brother, like Nev, and had grown up with me to care for. As the youngest in my family, I’d never been around many kids. Perhaps Basra hadn’t, either—a thought that made me wonder for the hundredth time what his childhood had been like, and how he’d ended up here in this room on Aaltos with me and my brother.
“Did you practice those knife tricks I taught you?” Arjan continued, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to converse with eleven-year-olds. About knives, no less.
“Yes! But, hey, what happened to your eye?”
Arjan glanced at Nev. “It was an accident, but I’m fine now. Honestly, I think the eye patch is pretty swift.” He even used the slang that younger kids were using on Alaxak. “
What do you think?”
“Swift, yeah,” said Marsius, trying out the word.
The kid, at least for now, didn’t need to know his dead father had been something of a monster. Nev didn’t hide the appreciation in his eyes when he nodded at Arjan behind Marsius’s back.
This relatively private visit from his little brother had probably been a gift from Devrak. But it was because of Arjan that Nev could see him happy again this soon. Nev’s expression was so soft, I could see that too was a gift without measure. I knew Arjan had done it for Marsius, not Nev, but still, there might be hope for this crew yet.
Except, of course, Nev wasn’t my crew anymore. He was a king, and he was about to go declare himself so to a pack of generals.
As if remembering himself, Devrak cleared his throat. “I’m sorry for how brief this reunion must be, Your Majesty, but we must depart. Marsius, you can at least accompany us to watch the trial.”
“I don’t want to just watch. I can testify, I can—”
“Trial?” I said, interrupting Marsius without meaning to. “You mean Nev still has to prove his innocence, even before the Forging thing he has to do afterward to make everyone happy?”
“Your concern is touching, Miss Uvgamut,” Devrak responded sincerely, “but it’s a matter of protocol…something His Majesty must undergo.”
“And what about us?” Arjan asked, keeping his tone in check—again, probably only for Marsius’s sake. “We can’t come?”
I imagined it was more out of discomfort at being locked in this room or maybe mistrust for what Nev might say about us, rather than a show of support.
“Yes, Devrak, why wouldn’t they be able to come too?” Marsius asked, clearing his throat to make his voice deeper and more even. The change in him already was astonishing.
“Perhaps they can meet us at the trial in a short while, Your Highness,” Devrak said to the boy. His tone grew gentle in a way I hadn’t yet heard. “But Nevarian needs to speak for himself first. The others can join us after that.”
Nev frowned, mirroring my own expression. “But they surely needn’t stay in here in the meantime.”
Devrak blinked. “Of course not. Not anymore. I’ll have someone show the three of them to our guest quarters.”
“I could have shown you if I weren’t going to the trial,” Marsius said confidently, and then added, apologetic, “Not that the rooms are very nice, but they’re better than this.” He obviously had no clue where we’d just come from.
Basra’s voice was quiet, but it carried. “Since we’re all acknowledging whom Nev is now, I don’t think I need to remind anyone that Qole is his critical ally as the leader of Alaxak, not a common guest.”
The words were careful, but they were nonetheless a warning meant for Devrak’s ears. I didn’t want any special attention, but still, I was absurdly grateful to have someone looking out for me.
While Marsius might have been young, he wasn’t stupid by any stretch, and his eyebrows scrunched at the sudden shift in atmosphere.
Devrak looked both embarrassed and slightly beleaguered. “A reminder isn’t necessary, no, but this is a military base, and all quarters are appointed in a similar…utilitarian…style. I’ll be sure to give word that you’re all to be treated with the best we have to offer.”
Basra shrugged. “That’s all I wanted.” The best, he meant. He waved a hand at the door, as if he were in charge here. “Carry on.”
Arjan and I met each other’s eyes. Maybe it was the stress, or the endless absurdity of our situation, but I could tell we were both ready to burst out laughing.
And then, for a moment, I loved them all so much it hurt: Arjan, Basra, Telu—I couldn’t think about Eton, because it hurt too much in a different way—and Nev, most definitely Nev. They were all my family, if not my crew. And, hell, if my crew could include my impossible brother and one of the richest people in the galaxy, why not a king?
Whatever Arjan and I were feeling, it was good we held it in, because it wouldn’t have lent Basra’s assertions much credit. I was supposed to look the part of a world leader, facing the king of many worlds. I managed to meet Nev’s eyes with the right amount of soberness, if only when I remembered where he was going.
Nev, for his part, took me in with his gaze, as if this were the last time he might see me. I hoped with all my heart that that wouldn’t be the case. Even so, I had to resist the urge to hold on to him, no matter who was watching, just like I’d had to resist laughing a moment ago.
Even Shadow didn’t make me feel as unstable as Nev did.
But before I knew what was happening, Nev took three powerful strides across the room, seized my face with both hands, and drew my lips to his. I forgot everyone then, and even my own craziness. The world shrank to his mouth on mine, until he pulled away. When he did, I had to steady myself on his arms, blink to regain my focus. Basra characteristically appeared unmoved, Arjan was staring at his toes in embarrassment, Marsius was grinning enthusiastically, and Devrak…
Devrak didn’t look happy. But I didn’t care.
“Make it work,” I said to Nev, a little breathless.
A wince flickered across his face, and I wondered if he’d read something else into my words. But when he responded, his voice was steady. “I’ll try my hardest.” He backed away, his hand trailing mine for a lingering moment, and then he was out the door with Devrak, Marsius on his heels.
* * *
As Devrak had promised, guards—without their photon rifles at the ready—directed us to spacious, if simple, rooms shortly after that. They were merely doing their duty and filling in where there would have been servants in a place like the Dracorte citadel. So I was relieved when, unlike servants, they left me by myself in front of one room and both Arjan and Basra by another, at the latter’s insistence. He obviously wasn’t bothered by anyone knowing he and my brother were together, and Arjan was happy to join him. I might not have wanted guards or servants around, but I felt a pang to face my own door alone, after seeing them vanish inside together.
If I’d hoped for strangers to let me be for long, though, I was disappointed. A firm knock sounded throughout my apartment after I’d barely had time to take a quick shower. I’d been pleased to discover there were showers instead of ridiculously oceanic bathtubs like there had been on Luvos.
I opened the door with wet hair and only a towel wrapped around me. A woman stood outside, slightly taken aback.
I blinked right back at her. I had no idea who she was, but she was wearing a well-decorated blue military uniform and was carrying a garment bag folded over one arm, her hair pulled up into a tight golden bun.
She regained her composure and held out her hand. “Miss Uvgamut, I’m General Talia. His Majesty is finishing up with the others, but Devrak took me aside to mention that you may have arrived without proper attire.”
It took me a few seconds to realize what she’d said, because I was too busy noticing she’d called Nev His Majesty—which meant they believed him.
But then my mind caught up. “What? You brought me something to wear?”
“Oh good,” she said, letting herself in. “You are about my size.”
“Thanks, but…”
She took in my offended tone, my wet hair, and my clothes discarded in a pile next to the washroom door. “Let me be blunt, Miss Uvgamut. Clothes are like armor to a Dracorte, and your measure taken from them. Forgive me if Devrak thought you might wish to feel more at ease in this regard, or if I cared enough to come in person to guarantee it. After all, I should be listening to His Majesty speak on both his behalf and yours at this very moment.”
“Then why did you come?” I asked, gathering my towel self-consciously around me. “Why do you care?”
“Because I already believe His Majesty and what he has to say about you. And I know what it feels like to be a woman in a
room mostly full of men, with every single one of them taking your measure with their eyes.” She held out the garment bag.
“Oh,” I said, forgetting everything I had been about to say. “Well. Thank you.”
I took the bag from her. She didn’t seem to be going anywhere, so I unzipped it right there.
I was expecting some showy gown, like the one Solara had stuffed me in on Luvos, but instead there was a sharply cut black jacket over a narrow knee-length dress. It was almost like a military uniform in its simplicity, but elegant enough for a diplomatic envoy. She lifted the black leather boots she’d been holding under the garment bag. They were sleek and shiny, similar to my old pair in name only, and an exact fit for the dress.
“Huh,” I said. “This is kind of perfect.”
“I thought it would be.”
It suddenly occurred to me that she and Jerra might like each other. I had to swallow yet another laugh at the absurd thought. Talk about worlds colliding.
“I can also put your hair in a twist,” she offered casually, as if she did this every day as a general. “Neat, nothing flashy.”
Great Collapse, what all had Devrak told her? That not only were my clothes hopeless, but my hair was too?
“No, thank you.” My usual braid would be just fine.
At least I knew she wouldn’t try to put any makeup on me, because she didn’t wear any herself. I hadn’t minded it, exactly, when I’d worn it once in the Dracorte citadel, but it had made me look like someone I wasn’t. Talia didn’t seem to want that. She wanted me to look like myself, just in different clothes. And I was surprisingly grateful.
* * *
After I was dressed, and my long black hair was back in its braid, I followed General Talia down the stretching, plain halls into something resembling a courtroom. The boots were too tight, so I was a mixture of relieved and nervous to finally make my way inside the high double doors. The room was huge, carpeted in deep blue and lined with flowing silver benches, but it was only dimly lit along the floating shelf-edge of the ceiling, casting an almost sinister glow over the faces arranged in a line at the end.
Shadow Call Page 20
