Half-Born (Half-Blood Chronicles #1) (The Half-Blood Chronicles)

by Ivy Baum

“So long as Atameus is in power, you will not survive this ordeal.” A pause. “We can protect you.”

  For a moment, I said nothing. Of course, I understood why he’d been sent in. He was supposed to soften me up.

  “You want to know who Tacitus is.”

  He nodded. “We need to pull the rug out from under Atameus. And to do that, we need to know what kind of secret we’re dealing with.”

  “Once I tell you his name, I have nothing.”

  “You have our word.”

  “And why should I trust you? For all I know, you aren’t even my father.”

  “You think we’d—” He shook his head, incredulous—then looked resigned.

  When he spoke again, he sounded weary. “You’d really rather take your chances on the Exemption? You lose nothing by working with us.”

  “Maybe I don’t care. Maybe I’d just as soon see Blood Right burn this place to the ground.”

  “What about the rest of the world? Would you see it catch fire, too?”

  I stared past him, bitter—and uncertain once more.

  I thought I’d made peace with the idea of allying with the purebloods. I had come prepared to do exactly that.

  But now that I was here, I wasn’t so sure. Maybe this wasn’t the right thing to do.

  Meeting my father, my real father, was supposed to make sense of everything.

  It was supposed to fix everything that was broken.

  Six months ago, in a tiny exam room, as my mother and I waited for the results of blood drawn over and over, my life had shattered.

  I didn’t know it then, and wouldn’t know it for a long time. Not until the pieces began to fall away. Dad. Sydney. Rain.

  But then Sol had showed up. And I’d been so sure that, even though my world was now an upside-down jumble, I could gather the pieces and a new picture would emerge.

  This man, Vissarion, was supposed to be the final piece. The one who would make the entire picture make sense.

  Now I knew better.

  It wasn’t going to make sense. Not now, not ever. All along, I had been gathering the pieces, forcing some together and discarding others.

  The picture I was making had been one of my own creation.

  The realization left me feeling unmoored. But also free.

  I looked at the door through which Dr. Sotheby and Elihu had exited. Did I trust them?

  No.

  Perhaps more importantly…did I hate them?

  The answer to that was less certain.

  All I knew was that, for now, my options were very limited, and I couldn’t see a clear path ahead.

  There is no path. Only the one you choose to forge.

  I pointed to the door. “Bring them in. I’m ready to talk.”

  When I told them, the room was so quiet that I thought I could hear the sound of dust motes landing on the sleeve of my robe.

  I’d spoken the words quietly. I was acutely aware of their explosive power.

  Lukanthos of House Knossos. Atameus’s own son.

  Dr. Sotheby didn’t want to believe it—at first. I guess it was because the entire thing made him look like a fool.

  But as I wove the story for them, showed them the clues that had led to my own epiphany, they gradually began nodding their heads.

  And then they looked excited.

  Finally, Vissarion looked at the others. “This changes everything.”

  Elihu regarded me with a new respect. “This isn’t a bargaining chip after all. This is a bomb, and we’re going to set it off in the middle of the Assembly.”

  Chapter 58

  “Kestrel Adler.”

  I flinched as my name boomed through the cavernous space.

  I had been warned that some sort of magical amplification would be at work, but I wasn’t prepared for just how overwhelming that effect would be.

  This place was called the Arena. Row upon row of stone benches rose around me, and as far as I could tell, every seat was occupied.

  I had never felt so alone.

  You’re not alone. Before leaving my cell, Vissarion had pulled me into an unexpected hug.

  I’ll be waiting in the Outer Gallery for news of the trial, he told me.

  And then he’d gotten quiet, almost shy. After this is over—maybe we could keep in touch. If Atameus is out…

  Then I would be alive.

  I didn’t say it, of course. I didn’t have to.

  Now I focused on the faces of Atameus and the Council of Elders, who sat across from me. They peered at me with cold disdain.

  “You have submitted a petition for Exemption. By the rules laid down in the Convention of 365, this petition must be adjudicated by the entire Assembly of Nobles, with the supervision of this honored Council of Elders.”

  My neck was getting stiff from the way I had to angle my head back to look at the robed figures. Then again, maybe I wasn’t meant to look at them.

  The stone platform upon which I stood was clearly designed to force its occupant into the role of lowly supplicant. Maybe I was supposed to bow my head.

  But I didn’t want to look down.

  The disc I occupied was only a few feet across. If I’d tried to lay across it, my head and feet would have dangled over the edges. Fifteen feet below was the hard stone floor, where Azoros and a pair of guards stood by.

  I’d had to climb a ladder to come up here. And once I’d done so, they had taken it away.

  Dr. Sotheby, who seemed uncannily aware of my fear of heights, had tried to prepare me for this during the last moments of our strategy meeting.

  He’d described the giant scale of the Arena, the high stone dais where the Council of Elders would sit, and the little stone platform where I would be expected to stand for the duration.

  It used to be worse, he said. At the Old Capitol, before most of us fled to the new world, there was a cage for any half-blood who was unfortunate enough to undergo such a hearing.

  Atameus was still droning on about the formalities of the hearing. I forced myself to tune in.

  “Because of the extreme circumstances required for an abdication of law, no Exemption shall be granted unless it receives the vote of a two-thirds majority.”

  Two thirds majority. The dread that had been coursing sluggishly through my veins surged to life.

  There was no way I’d get that Exemption.

  My fate depended entirely on the success of this plan.

  And on my allies keeping their word.

  I heard a sharp crack. Atameus had overturned a large, old-fashioned hourglass on the stone bench.

  The grains of sand were already falling.

  He glared at me, his dark eyes remote and cold. “You have one hour.”

  This was the part where I was supposed to speak. But as hundreds of pairs of eyes stared down at me, my voice froze in my throat.

  They’d prepared me as best they could. They’d even coached me, given me suggestions on how to drop hints and tidbits of information.

  But when you came right down to it, I didn’t have much to offer. A single name.

  Besides, nothing could have prepared me for the vastness of the Arena, the sea of faces—all men—gazing down at me dispassionately, too removed to even show contempt.

  Finally, I managed to force out the line I had rehearsed.

  “I wish to negotiate a trade.” I had expected little more than a squeak, but my voice came out shockingly loud—that same magical amplification at work.

  My words were met by a thunderous silence.

  “In exchange for my life, and a temporary halt to hostilities between purebloods and half-bloods, I will provide information.” I swallowed hard. “I will reveal the true identity of Blood Right’s leader.”

  A faint buzzing arose from the sea of faces.

  Atameus brought down his gavel, looking bored. “I believe we covered this at trial.” He regarded me coolly. “Our purpose here is to uphold the Sacred Covenants. Petty bargaining will not be part of the proceedi
ngs.”

  The voices had mostly quieted after Atameus banged the gavel, but I could sense a new restlessness.

  Of course, I would need more than that to get out of here alive.

  A man on an elevated platform turned in my direction. He was dressed in a dark, elaborate tunic and had one of those white beauty-pageant sashes. This, I knew, was the Moderator.

  Elihu had warned me about him. “Telemon’s in the bag for Atameus. He’s not supposed to take sides during the proceedings, but I can assure you that he will definitely not be on ours.”

  The Moderator’s lips stretched in a grotesque imitation of a smile. “Perhaps you would like to express something that might sway this Assembly toward clemency?”

  There were a few scattered jeers.

  I said, “Blood Right is growing more powerful. I saw it with my own eyes. They destroyed Sanctuary.”

  Telemon scoffed. “Anyone could’ve taken out Sanctuary.”

  “But it’s just the beginning. They’re building an army, and they’ve already started to go after human targets. You’ve seen the news, haven’t you? What happens when the human government takes notice and comes after the rest of us?”

  Through the Arena, I heard a rustling. Whispers. Mutters. People shifting in their seats and standing to get a better look at me.

  They were interested. But that wouldn’t be enough.

  The Moderator recognized another House.

  He was one of the few purebloods who seemed to be over fifty, and he seemed unintimidated by the proceedings.

  “I, for one, would like to hear what she has to say. I say the life of a single half-blood is worth the information.”

  Several Nobles nearby shouted him down—but there were others, I noticed, who silently nodded.

  Telemon said, “For all we know, the half-blood came here to spread disinformation. To weaken us from within.”

  The man looked unimpressed. “Even disinformation can be useful, as it tells us what our enemy wishes us to believe.”

  Nearby, several small arguments had broken out.

  When to play the trump card?

  You have to save it until the time is right, Vissarion had told me.

  But he hadn’t told me when that would be.

  Just as I was gearing up to signal Telemon that I wanted to speak, he recognized someone new.

  House Karpathos—Elihu had warned me about them, too.

  He was tall and lanky, with wild black hair and thick eyebrows. But his voice was cultured and precise.

  “I would like to assure the Assembly that we on the Security Council take these matters very seriously. In fact, we have invited one of our Hunters and his team to speak at this proceeding. If the Moderator will allow it,” he added with a stiff bow in Telemon’s direction.

  Both Telemon and Atameus seemed unsurprised by this. In fact, I got the feeling that they had known this was coming.

  Perhaps Atameus had heard that House Orikon and the progressive faction were planning to make a move on him. Maybe this was his way of striking back—before they got anywhere.

  I had a very bad feeling about this.

  And so, as Telemon started to reply to House Karpathos, I interrupted him. “Can I say one more thing? Please?”

  Telemon’s gaze cut almost imperceptibly to Atameus.

  Atameus’s lip curled. Clearly, he thought he had this in the bag.

  Telemon turned back to me. He threw his arms wide in a gesture clearly meant to humiliate me. “The half-blood wishes to speak!”

  Now the audience was restless again, shifting in their seats and muttering.

  Someone shouted, “Bring out the Hunters!” The sentiment was echoed by several others.

  I tried to wait until the noise had subsided. When it became clear that that wasn’t about to happen, I barreled on anyway.

  “Tacitus is not just another discontented pureblood. His father is one of the most powerful men in the Capitol.”

  That got them to quiet down. A little.

  Telemon turned to me. His smile had turned icy—and dangerous. “Yes? And who is this privileged brat? Please do reveal him, so that whoever of us fathered him can go give him a good spanking.”

  There was some chuckling in the audience.

  I raised a shaking finger and pointed it straight across the Arena, to Atameus.

  “His real name is Lukanthos of House Knossos. Your son.”

  Chapter 59

  There was a moment of silence—as though everyone was holding their breath.

  Then the Arena erupted into chaos.

  I risked a look at Atameus, who was pale and silent. He muttered something inaudible under his breath.

  Telemon stared daggers at me. “Lies. She should be executed on the spot.”

  The man from House Karpathos seemed taken aback. But his reaction was more moderated. “Of course it is a lie. The Council Leader’s son is our most fearsome Hunter. Our best asset. He has single-handedly disposed of more half-breed brats than the other Squads combined.”

  There were sounds of agreement, and more jeering. But beneath that, furious whispers had begun to spread. House Orikon and his allies had obviously done their work.

  Telemon called for their attention. And got it—mostly.

  “Enough. We are nearly at the appointed hour. Let us take our vote and dispatch of this unpleasant duty. We have more important matters to discuss.”

  I stared. He’s talking about executing me.

  Someone in the audience began chanting again. Bring in the Hunters.

  More than a few seemed to agree with this sentiment.

  But others were looking dissatisfied.

  The man from House Dystos called for the Arena’s attention. “This allegation is serious, and must be treated as such. We owe it to ourselves to investigate the truth of the matter.”

  House Karpathos turned his wild eyes on me. “Tell us, half-breed, how this Hunter, who has disposed of more Unmarked than anyone else, could possibly be the leader of Blood Right?”

  “He was disposing of them,” I agreed. “But not in the way you think. He wasn’t killing them. He was recruiting them.”

  Another argument broke out in the audience. This time, neither Atameus nor Telemon could quell the crowd.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a group of men stand at once, nearly in unison.

  One man addressed Telemon. “House Orikon wishes to address the Assembly.”

  Telemon recognized him—though with obvious reluctance.

  The man was small and spare, and to my surprise, almost completely bald. “I move for an immediate Vote of Expulsion. Our current Council Leader, Atameus of House Knossos, cannot continue in his current position under this cloud of suspicion.”

  It was as though a bomb had gone off.

  The man from House Orikon raised his voice. “At least until we determine the nature of this half-blood’s claims. If they do indeed turn out to be lies, Atameus will, of course, be reinstated.”

  The Hooded Guard was getting restless. They had lined the room in silence. With their faces obscured in shadow, they were inscrutable. Now I sensed that they, too, were nervous.

  There was a commotion near the front as the massive doors opened. The guards immediately surrounded the newcomer. I peered down from my perch—and was relieved to see that it was only a clipboard-toting clerk.

  Atameus beckoned him up to the Council Dais.

  When the man was done speaking with him, Atameus rose to his feet, his face stony.

  “Due to an urgent matter which requires our attention, these proceedings must be postponed.”

  This was met with outraged cries. Others were whispering amongst themselves, speculating.

  The man with the long silver braid stood and addressed the Assembly. “Please exit the Arena in an orderly fashion.”

  The Hooded Guard had finally stirred to life. They fanned out, approaching the seating area. But there were barely two dozen Hooded Guard, and hundr
eds of Assembly members. None of whom wanted to leave.

  A voice shouted, barely audible above the dull roar of the crowd. “What about the Vote of Expulsion?”

  The cry was soon repeated by others.

  I crept to the edge of the platform, trying to get a sense of where things were going—and what would happen to me. Azoros caught my eye and mouthed something.

  Go.

  I stared, not quite sure whether to believe my eyes.

  Some people were now trying to exit the Arena. But it was not an orderly process, and they soon came into conflict with those who wanted to stay.

  I looked back down to the main level, hoping to catch Azoros’s eye once more. I blinked, then looked around.

  He was gone.

  Then I did a double-take. The ladder, which had been withdrawn from the platform once the Assembly had started, was back in place.

  I was now free to go. Well, more or less.

  As I contemplated making my escape—and the likelihood of success—there was a commotion and the great doors were flung open once more.

  When I saw who it was, my blood ran cold.

  Lucan—accompanied by a small retinue of men.

  They looked like Hunters. But I was sure that they were loyal to Blood Right, not the Capitol.

  Lucan strode confidently into the Arena. He was headed straight for the Council of Elders.

  The crowd parted before him. Some of the Nobles returned to their seats, while others backed away.

  From atop the Dais, Atameus stood very still. He was staring down at his son with an unreadable expression.

  Lucan peered up at the Council of Elders.

  “Atameus,” he drawled. His voice was smooth, and echoed effortlessly across the Arena. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask everyone to stay a little longer? We have some business to attend to, and I’d like all these fine Nobles to witness it.”

  Chapter 60

  The man from House Karpathos stepped forward. He looked rattled, but managed to get a handle on himself.

  “Lucan. Now that you’re here, you can dispel this ridiculous rumor.”

  “A ridiculous rumor? About me?” Lucan let out a long laugh, and his Hunters followed suit.