The Sparks: Book I of the Feud Trilogy

by Kyle Prue

  Jennifer redoubled her grip on her knife. “No helmet and no hammer?” she asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “All I need are my fists.” Darius charged her.

  She ran at him with equal vigor. Before Jennifer could rematerialize behind him again, Darius was able to make contact with her. The force of the blow sent her crashing to the floor. Breathing heavily, he grinned at her. “Tired yet?” he asked.

  She struggled to sit up. A few feet away, the sister was sobbing over her groaning commoner. Darius bowed mockingly to the fallen assassin and began to walk away. With a little cry, Jennifer leapt to her feet and caught his hand in hers. He felt the familiar burning sensation and threw her off, sending her flying into the opposite wall. It snapped apart at the impact, impaling her with splinters of wood. She didn’t try to stand again.

  Victoria gasped and ran to kneel over her sister. Wood stuck out of her back like spikes, but they hadn’t gone deep enough to pierce any vital organs. She rolled Jennifer over, clearly expecting the worst. “Jennifer?” she said timidly, shaking her sister’s shoulder.

  Her sister let out a groan of pain and brushed Victoria off. “I’m going to burn that bastard’s face off.”

  Victoria sighed with relief and relaxed visibly. “I’m sure you will,” she said soothingly, “he deserves it.”

  “I’m right here.” Darius murmured, still standing to the side shaking his burning hand.

  “You deserve it.” Victoria repeated timidly. She was crying.

  “Tell your boyfriend to visit a doctor,” he said. “His shoulder’s broken.” A stream of guards rounded the corner and Darius decided it was time to make his exit. He picked up his helmet from where it lay on the ground and replaced it on his head.

  He could hear Victoria yelling at the guards to take her twin and the commoner to a hospital. Darius listened bemusedly. She didn’t exactly seem like the type to be good at giving orders, especially due to the fact that there were tears streaming down her face. He swaggered from the Opera House, cloak billowing behind him.

  He had only made it a few paces down the street when he heard the telltale clamor of horses making their way after him. As he turned around, he came face to face with what seemed like an entire army of Imperial troops. The soldier at the front lifted a parchment. “Taurlum,” he said solemnly, “you are wanted for vandalism crimes against this building and the murder of the Captain of the Guard.”

  Darius’s jaw nearly hit the ground. “He died?”

  “By order of the Emperor, you are under arrest.”

  “Wait,” Darius said, holding his hands out in front of him, “the vandalism charge. It’s on the Vapros Opera House. You all . . . you never interfere in battles between the families.”

  “Times are changing.”

  Darius let out a stream of curse words and turned to see if he could run. More Imperial troops were flooding the streets, swords trained on him. Too late—he regretted not retrieving his hammer. He raised his arms in an enraged surrender as the troops moved in around him.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CELERIUS ESTATE

  LILLY CELERIUS

  Lilly Celerius rolled over in bed for the hundredth time that night and verbally cursed her insomnia. She should have been used to it by now. She hadn’t experienced a full night’s sleep since her brother Edward had been murdered unexpectedly in his bed three years ago. But tonight, the condition seemed especially merciless. She had been up all night, worrying about Anthony. She’d run out of tears a few hours ago, and now all she could manage was a dry hiccup once in a while. It must be nice, she thought bitterly while squeezing her eyes shut, to be able to escape into dreamland for a few hours.

  Footsteps outside her door made her open her eyes. Who else was awake at this hour? Maybe Jonathan was coming to check on her. She closed her eyes, listening for voices. The footsteps stopped outside her door. “Jonathan?” she dared to whisper. The word died on her lips as the person outside her room began to speak.

  “I think they’re in the west end of the house,” the low, gravelly voice said, and Lilly sat straight up in bed. This wasn’t the kind, familiar voice of her caring servant. This was an intruder.

  Another unfamiliar voice chimed in, “We’ll have a better chance if we spread out.” With a pang of fear, Lilly realized there was an entire group of intruders, as many as five or six, gathered outside her bedroom. She slid out of bed as quietly as she could and groped around in the darkness for her sword.

  “Look for offices,” one of the voices said. “Anywhere they’d keep legal documents.” The other intruders grumbled in agreement. She heard the footsteps disperse and dared to relax. Then the doorknob turned. Her heart leapt into her throat as she whirled behind the opening door, sword held at the ready.

  A man poked his head in. An iron mask shaped like a snake concealed his face. Lilly bit her lip hard. She recognized that mask. It bore the emblem of the Brotherhood of the Slums, a cult of bandits that had appeared when the empire had taken an economic downturn. The cult member sauntered over to Lilly’s desk and began to rifle through its drawers, scanning each piece of paper quickly before tossing it aside. Summoning all her courage, Lilly moved through the darkness to stand behind the man. Quietly, she drew her sword. “Find anything?” she asked in a low voice.

  The bandit whirled around with a yelp and moved to pull a dagger from his belt. Lilly slashed her sword across his neck, her expression cold and hard, in spite of her pounding heart. The man gasped as he fell, clutching at the cut in his throat. He did not get up again. Lilly wiped her blade gently against the dying man’s grime-coated shirt, cleaning the blood away as best she could. Something told her she would need that sword again tonight.

  As she raced down the corridor to sound the alarm, Lilly collided with someone in the hallway. She hit the ground, bruising her elbow badly. She gritted her teeth and tried to ignore the injury. Luckily for her, nobody in the Celerius family felt pain for long. The figure she’d crashed into towered over her, leering from within his snake mask, and Lilly jabbed her sword upward, aiming for his throat. He dodged her blow and knocked the sword out of her hand. Lilly scrambled to retrieve it, but the bandit planted his foot on her wrist until he heard a telltale crack. The bones in her wrist began to repair themselves immediately, but Lilly screamed anyway.

  “Come now,” her attacker said soothingly, kicking her sword farther away from her groping hand. “Who are you? What are you doing out of bed so late?”

  Lilly kept screaming. Someone wake up! she prayed. Someone come help me!

  “Tell me who you are and I might let you live,” the bandit offered.

  “I’m a servant!” Lilly shouted.

  “A servant with a sword?” The man cocked his head and gave her a small smile. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

  “I took it from my master’s room!” she yelled. Nobody could hear her. Nobody was coming.

  The attacker leaned down and pressed his dagger to her neck. “I believe you,” he told her, "but I can't let you raise the alarm.” He pressed the dagger in hard and slit her throat. Lilly felt blood streaming down her neck and gasped for enough breath to let out a final scream, but all that came out was a weak moan. She closed her eyes. The murderer smiled, sheathed his bloody dagger, and walked away from the corpse.

  As he neared the end of the hallway, he heard fast footfalls behind him. He whirled around just in time to see the girl he’d murdered inches behind him and wielding her sword. The cut in her throat had faded into a thin scar. “No,” he said, eyes wide. “You’re not a servant—you’re—”

  Lilly cut him down with one expert flick of her wrist. “I’m a Celerius,” she told him as he died on the floor.

  Lilly tore down the hallway and up the stairs into the guard tower. She heaved on the ropes to sound the bells. The bells rang so loudly she was sure everyone in Altryon could hear them. Someone would come now. She was safe. It was over.

  One minute passed, t
hen two. Nobody came. She pulled the bell ropes again. The house stayed quiet. Lilly’s heart began to thud. She looked to the window of the guard tower and let out a gasp. The eastern tower of her family’s estate was in flames. That’s why no one was coming to help her. There were guards surrounding the flaming tower heaving buckets of water into the blaze. Down in the courtyard, two figures in iron helmets were sprinting for the exit. Jaw clenched, Lilly tightened her grip on her sword and flew down the stairs. She made it outside just before the bandits. “Stop!” she commanded, sword outstretched, barring the door.

  The two men turned to each other, grinning. “What a brave little girl you are,” one of them said, his voice raspy. "Coming after us in the middle of the night. You should be in bed,” he snarled.

  Lilly glared at them icily. “Find what you were looking for?” she asked angrily.

  One of the men held up a few rolls of parchment and sneered gleefully. “We did, and now it’s time for us to go. Step aside and we will let you live.”

  Lilly didn’t budge. “Do you two know what lies beyond Altryon?” she asked stonily.

  “Nobody’s ever been outside these gates,” the taller one scoffed.

  “Move aside, girl.”

  “My brother has been outside!” Lilly shouted. “He goes outside every day to fight the savages and protect everyone within the city—even you two. And this is how you repay him? You rob his family? You burn his house?” She was breathing hard. The bandits looked nervous.

  “Just move aside,” the one holding the parchment said angrily. “Don’t make me hurt you.”

  “You couldn’t hurt me if you tried,” Lilly spat. “Know this about my brother, the one who protects you. Before he became the leader of the military, he taught me how to fight.” She flipped the sword expertly. “My name is Lilly Celerius; you will yield.”

  Without warning, the shorter man charged at her. She leaped aside and flicked her sword with lightning swiftness as he ran past. He landed on the ground with a cry. “Ready to join your friend?” Lilly asked the remaining intruder, cleaning her sword on his comrade’s shirt.

  The bandit reached for his pistol and fired a shot straight into her shoulder. She didn’t even flinch. The wound bled for only a few seconds before the skin laced back together. The only evidence that the shot ever occurred was the smoking gun in the bandit’s hand. He dropped his pistol and turned to run. He didn’t make it far. Lilly’s cold steel sliced into his back after only two steps. She could thank her Celerius speed for that. He fell to his knees and dropped the documents into the mud. Lilly walked around him and positioned her sword under his neck so she could look into his frightened eyes. She leaned in close. “Who sent you here? Why did you come?” she growled.

  The bandit spat in her face. His saliva was mixed with blood. He gurgled, “I’ll tell you nothing.”

  Lilly raised her sword in a high arc and brought it down hard on the man’s neck. His head rolled into the mud after the parchment. Kneeling, Lilly wiped her sword clean and then began to gather the documents. It only took her a moment to realize what she was staring at: the architectural plans of the Celerius house, documents about banking and finances, figures she couldn’t comprehend. The bandits had been after everything that made the Celerius estate run smoothly.

  She looked back at the house and saw the fire was now under control. She pulled the snake-like helmet off the bandit and went inside, lost in thought. It was time to find her father.

  “Lilly,” Sir Celerius said, looking down at the papers spread across his desk, “I know you’re worried, but this isn’t anything for you to be concerned about.”

  “No?” Lilly sat in the high-backed chair in front of her father’s desk and twisted her hands together. “I think it might be.”

  Sir Celerius set the papers aside. “We should just count ourselves lucky that the thieves didn’t get away with any of our valuables. Or our lives,” he added. Her father came around the desk to take the hand of his only daughter.

  Lilly licked her lips. “That’s what I don’t understand,” she said. “Why didn’t they try to take our valuables?”

  “I’m more concerned with this rumor about your brother.” Sir Celerius lowered himself into the chair beside Lilly. “Tell me again what you heard?”

  Lilly swallowed. It wasn’t the first time she’d relayed the story, but that didn’t make it any less painful. “They’re going to execute Anthony. They want someone else in power, someone who isn’t from our family, so they're going to kill him in order to send a message: the families aren’t as powerful as the empire. And if he tries to resist, they’ll come here and kill us instead.”

  Sir Celerius’s eyes were blazing. He shouted, “They won’t get away with this! I will make sure of it! It isn’t right! It isn’t honorable! How sure are you that this is legitimate?”

  Lilly paused. “We’ve had scares like this before, what with the Vapros and their rumors. It could be a trick to get Anthony not to trust his men, or to distract us, or Anthony could be overly paranoid… but I’m not sure.”

  Sir Celerius said angrily. “Either way, I’ll have some spies in the military get closer to this. I’m willing to go to war with the emperor over it.”

  Lilly focused very hard on the documents on her father’s desk. “I’m scared, Father,” she said quietly, even though Celerius never admitted they were scared. “I’m really, really scared.”

  “It’ll be all right, Lilly.” Sir Celerius leaned over to embrace his daughter. “It’ll be all right.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  IMPERIAL PALACE

  NEIL VAPROS

  The following morning Neil paced the floor outside the emperor’s throne room, wishing desperately that he were somewhere else. Last night had been a whirlwind of confusion. A few minutes after he and Rhys made it home, Victoria burst into Sir Vapros’s office in tears. Apparently there had been a scrape with Darius Taurlum at the Opera House, and Jennifer was in a hospital with minor stab wounds. Sir Vapros had pressed her for details, and Victoria let it slip that she’d been with her lover, and the rest of the night had been yelling and tantrums. When Sir Vapros calmed down enough to focus on the matter of the Imperial soldiers, he sent Rhys to spy in the markets and Neil to schedule an audience with the emperor himself. And so, Neil found himself here, pacing the halls of the palace.

  He pivoted on his heels and faced the giant throne room doors. They nearly reached the ceiling and were made of what appeared to be ivory with gold embellishments. Neil remembered that this was the same palace where his ancestors had originally ruled, and if legend were to be believed, it was also where they were gifted with their powers. Neil focused on the empty space in the room and tried to picture a glowing deity floating in the air. He could almost see the Man with the Golden Light. Shining. Radiant.

  The door to the throne room opened loudly and Neil’s heart leapt to his throat. The emperor was unsettlingly cold, and he had a cruel sense of humor. Neil would give anything to be in the markets with Rhys. “Sir,” he said, bowing hastily, but as he looked up, he realized with relief that he was looking at the empress and her personal guards. “Your highness,” he amended, bowing again.

  “Neil,” she said, with a careful smile, hurrying toward him. The empress may have been a noble, but she was still a woman. Her hair bounced around her face in loose curls as she curtsied and flashed him a smile as she welcomed him. Suddenly, she halted as if she remembered not to get too close to him. She took a step back. “How are you? How is your father?”

  He smiled hesitantly, noticing her sudden reservation. “We are well, thank you.”

  “I assume you are here to see my husband?”

  “I am. We have matters to discuss regarding the city.”

  The empress looked at him, a newfound interest sparkling in her eyes. “The city? How … interesting,” she commented. She seemed to be choosing her words very carefully.

  “It’s just a passing rumor,” he said trying
to keep his voice free of suspicion. “Nothing too monumental.”

  She gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “It’s always something monumental with your family.” She invited him inside the throne room. . “Remember, Neil,” she said thoughtfully running her hand over her husband’s golden throne, “If you focus on the sparks, you might come to ignore the fire.”

  Neil nodded in agreement, but he wasn’t quite sure what she meant about sparks, or fire. She was acting very strangely. Never before had a rumor concerned him like this. “If it were up to me,” he said with a smile, testing the waters, “I’d be in the markets.”

  The empress looked up at him. “Chatting with the ladies?” she asked knowingly.

  “Is there anything else to do?”

  She threw back her head and laughed. “Not for a boy your age, I suppose.” She turned and began to walk toward the door. She stopped and looked back at Neil for an uncomfortably long time, a strange expression on her face, before finally hurrying away. “I’ll tell the emperor you’ve arrived,” she said, pulling the door shut behind her.

  Neil was sorely tempted to try sitting in the great golden chair before him. The empress would probably have let him do it if he’d asked, but she seemed so distant today that he hadn’t bothered. Normally she was always jovial and excited, but today something clearly weighed on her mind.

  The door opened again, and Neil whirled to bow. “Been waiting long?” asked the slow voice of the emperor. He strode toward his throne, followed by a trembling servant.

  “No, your highness,” Neil said. “I’m here to discuss some concerns.”

  The emperor reached his throne and sat without making a sound. The servant sat beside him in a small wooden chair. Neil glanced over a few times, but the servant wouldn’t meet his eyes. His arms and face were covered in large purple bruises and he peered at the floor from behind his dark, matted hair. Neil felt a surge of sympathy for the poor man. It was a well-known fact that the emperor beat his servants.