The Sparks: Book I of the Feud Trilogy

by Kyle Prue

  She smiled and checked her reflection in her knife and said, “Do you think your siblings are having an equally interesting conversation in the other tree?”

  “No,” Neil said immediately, “absolutely not. Rhys is probably enforcing the silence over there. And Jennifer doesn’t like talking to us, anyway.”

  “Your family is so close,” she said, a light, teasing sarcasm in her voice.

  Neil scoffed. “We’re a military unit. Not a family.”

  Bianca looked like she felt sorry for him. Neil wanted to defend his family’s arrangement, to proclaim that it was fine how it was, but he said nothing. His family was far from perfect. Rhys and Victoria felt like family, but the others were allies, nothing more. His father didn’t like him; Jennifer detested him. The older cousins didn’t give him the time of day, and the younger ones were fidgety nuisances. His aunts and uncles were unapproachably aloof. His mother was dead. He made sure not to complain too loudly when he was with Bianca. He knew that she hated talking about her parents, or lack of parents. He found it astonishing and admirable that she had been able to survive by her wits alone since the ripe age of nine, but she refused to discuss any of the circumstances that had put her there.

  Once Neil had met a girl in a bar that told him the Taurlum family ate and drank together every night, and for the first time in his life he’d been jealous of the brutes. He knew the Celerius family treated family customs with honor (but with them, everything was about honor. They got dressed with honor, ate with honor, went to the bathroom with honor and tied their boots with honor). He hadn’t realized that even the barbarians had closer family ties than the Vapros. The closest thing they had to an event like that was the tattoo ceremony, and even that was a celebration of their progress in the feud. However, there was never any real progress. They took steps forward and then steps back.

  As if reading his thoughts, Bianca said, “Do you remember when we were kids?”

  “Of course.”

  “There was that one thing you wouldn’t tell me.” It wasn’t a question, but he knew she wanted an answer.

  “How my mother died?”

  “You never talk about it.” He looked at her silently, hoping she’d rescind the question, but she didn’t. “You do owe me one…” she whispered quietly.

  He took a deep breath. “Childbirth,” he said finally, looking down.

  Bianca blinked. “Oh. That’s not what I thought it would be at all.”

  “No?”

  “I was expecting some kind of . . . I don’t know, horrible assassination or attack or something. Not just . . . an accident.”

  “Well, now you know.”

  Bianca put her hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she said sincerely, “but at least you had a few years with her.”

  Neil shook his head. “She died giving birth to me.”

  Bianca’s brow furrowed. “But Rhys—”

  “Rhys is my half-brother. When she died, my father had this big revelation. He realized we’re all mortal, you know? And he was afraid that if he died, he wouldn’t have enough heirs to keep our family going. He wanted more kids, more security for our family line.” Neil fiddled with the knife absently. “Rhys’s mother was a waitress from one of the taverns my father owns.”

  Bianca’s mouth fell open.

  “It’s called the legacy phase,” Neil explained bitterly. “He thought he had some kind of responsibility to pass on our powers to as many children as he could have. Because, I guess, he didn’t have enough faith in the kids he already had.”

  “Oh.”

  “Anyway, that’s why my father doesn’t exactly cherish me,” he continued dully. “Because I took his wife away.” He looked at Bianca with a small shrug.

  Bianca grabbed his arm and said, “But you have to know that your mother . . . it wasn’t your fault.”

  Neil laughed cynically. “Next time you come for family dinner, we can tell my father that. I’m sure it’ll convince him.”

  She looked like she wanted to hug him but held back. “Where is Rhys’s mother now?”

  “She’s dead. She came to a Vapros event when Rhys was five. The Taurlum raided it and killed her. He was there. I think that’s why he wants to be a doctor so badly, because he didn’t know what to do. One small consolation, he developed the ability to put people to sleep shortly after watching his mother’s murder.”

  Before Bianca could respond, they both looked toward the road at the sound of hoof beats. “Here they are,” Bianca murmured, poking his arm. The lavishly decorated carriage rolled down the road toward them, completely unsuspecting. The blue and gold carriage was a sitting duck.

  “Ready to go?” Neil asked, unsheathing his knife.

  “Born ready.”

  Neil prepared to materialize down the tree, but before he could move, Jennifer was already upon the driver. Neil watched, mildly disappointed that he hadn’t made it there first, as she burned him to death and hurled his body to the ground. Neil materialized to the ground and Bianca landed next to him. Jennifer was smirking. “A little slow today?” she asked. A stream of smoke ascended from the driver’s body.

  Rhys appeared next to them and charged for the door, materializing every few steps. Neil never grew tired of seeing his family members appear and reappear. It looked as if a person had dissolved himself into ash, and then an entirely new person not too far away reformed himself out of the same ashes. The ability was gloriously beautiful. Rhys performed it effortlessly, barely taking notice of his change in location. Materializing was just like taking another step to him.

  Rhys then threw open the carriage door, brandishing his knife calmly. He was wise to prepare for an attack. Lilly Celerius herself lunged from the cabin, swinging her rapier viciously. With a little surprised gasp, Rhys materialized out of range of her weapon. She lunged after him. He jumped back, luring her away from the carriage. “Lilly!” Neil called, trying to help.

  Breathing heavily, she turned to Neil, weapon at the ready. “I’d address you by your name,” she snarled, “but you’re too much of a coward to show your face.”

  Neil pulled down his mask. “This ends better for you if you give up now,” he said. “Hand over what you’re transporting.”

  Lilly stared at him, eyes blazing, and hissed, “Neil, right?” He nodded, surprised that she knew his face. “I’ve heard of your stupidity and arrogance. Seems I was not misinformed. ”

  “I’m not arrogant,” Neil argued, but he was grinning as he added, “I’m self-assured. I have every right to be. Look around you. I have three allies. You’re alone. What’s so stupid about that?” He kept inching backwards toward Jennifer and Bianca, hoping she’d follow. She didn’t take the bait.

  “What is stupid is not your numbers,” she said, feet planted. “It’s the fact that you attacked our carriage with no idea of what was inside. Is it worth risking lives to you, Vapros?”

  Rhys cut in. “You seemed rather eager to move it. I calculated the risk. It’s worth it, if the bounty is important enough.”

  Lilly kept her eyes on Neil. “I think you will return home disappointed.”

  Bianca moved forward. “Let’s see what you’re moving then, shall we?”

  Quick as a whip, Lilly swung her arm around so her sword was pointed at Bianca. “Take another step and lose your head,” she spat through her teeth. “I make that promise to you, street girl.”

  Neil was slightly surprised by the off-handed insult, but Bianca took it in stride. She palmed her knife and prepared to throw it. “Speak to me like that again and lose your eye,” she said calmly. “I make that promise to you, rich girl.”

  A tense silence stretched over the entire forest as the two girls stared each other down. Jennifer smirked and folded her arms, but Neil was nervous. Suddenly, a small figure jumped down from the carriage and darted to Lilly’s side. Neil couldn’t help but chuckle as the tiny man waved around a tiny sword. “Jonathan,” Lilly declared. “Are you prepared to fight for the ho
nor of the Celerius family?”

  Jonathan gulped. “Yes.”

  Bianca whipped her knife at Lilly; she sliced it out of the air with a flash of steel. Bianca looked surprised. “All right,” she muttered, “you’re fast. I’ll give you that.”

  Bianca hurled a few more knives and was greeted with the same result. Neil tried to take Lilly by surprise, but she seemed to sense exactly where he planned to rematerialize and swiped at him, nearly slicing his throat. He staggered backwards, gasping, heart pounding from the close call. “Amateur,” Jennifer said to him with a smile. She jumped into the fray and lunged at Jonathan, her glowing hands outstretched. The diminutive servant closed his eyes and swatted blindly with his blade. She ducked around his weapon and struck him across the face with the back end of her knife. He yelped and hit the ground. Lilly turned at his cry and Rhys, seizing the opportunity, materialized behind her, grabbed the back of her neck and closed his eyes. Lilly’s eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed into Rhys’s arms.

  “See?” he said, lowering her to the ground gently. “Not even a little risky.”

  Neil walked over to the fallen servant, who had his hands clamped over his cheek. He was groaning and rolling from side to side. “You’ll pay!” he cried as he saw Neil coming. He struggled to sit up, but ultimately failed and fell onto his back. Neil planted his foot on the servant’s chest. “Is Lilly...” Jonathan asked fearfully.

  “She’s alive,” Neil assured him, “but she’s napping. However, you and I need to have a little chat.”

  From the back of the carriage, Neil could hear Rhys’s voice: “Common documents? Architectural plans? Bills? Why was there so much fuss over this?”

  Neil repeated the question to Jonathan, “Why so much fuss over these documents, servant? You were moving them quickly. Why are they important?” Jonathan tried to squirm away. Neil pushed down harder with his foot and called out, “Jennifer, come here. He doesn’t want to talk.” Jennifer would never take orders from her younger brother, Neil was well aware, but Jonathan didn’t know that.

  Jonathan let out a squeak. “Keep her over there,” he cried. “I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you!”

  “Good choice.” Neil smiled a little. “I don’t like to deal with her either,” he said as if it were a big secret. The humor escaped Jonathan.

  “Last night we were attacked,” Jonathan said. “By the Brotherhood of the Slums. They were after our documents. Lilly managed to kill them but we found this on one of them.”

  He pulled a small paper from his coat pocket and tried to hand it to Neil. Neil looked at him skeptically for a moment, then met him halfway to retrieve the parchment. As he began to read it, his expression shifted from curiosity to confusion to fear. “Rhys!”

  Rhys materialized next to them. “What is it?”

  Neil handed the paper to him. “We have a problem.”

  Rhys squinted and brought the paper close to his face. Neil sighed. The kid needed spectacles. Rhys gasped. “Yes, we have a problem.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  IMPERIAL MILITARY OUTPOST

  CARLIN FILUS

  “We have a problem,” Carlin said, slamming his fist against the table. The soldiers sitting closest to him jumped as the noise echoed through the war room of the Imperial Military Outpost. “The situation outside the wall has become dire, and ….” he trailed off. Nobody was listening. He coughed loudly to regain their attention, but everyone at the table was either staring at the general or at the floor. “We could be outnumbered in the West! One thousand men are too many to ignore!” Carlin said loudly. One of the soldiers glared at him; the rest remained motionless. A palpable tension hovered over the table like a thick fog, and Carlin eventually stopped trying to break through it and resorted to muttering under his breath every few seconds.

  Finally, General Anthony Celerius cleared his throat. “Dismissed,” he said shortly.

  Nobody moved. One of the smaller men raised his hand slightly. “Sorry, sir?”

  Anthony met the man’s eyes and offered him a small, weary smile. “You are all dismissed. This meeting is adjourned.”

  The men rose and filed from the room, sneaking glances over their shoulders at their general. Carlin stayed in his seat. “I said you are dismissed, Carlin,” Anthony said with all the conviction of a man who has given up hope.

  “Forgive me, sir, but I think you and I have more business to discuss.”

  “Then discuss it.”

  “You and I have private business,” Carlin amended, shooting a glare at the corner of the room where a single soldier remained.

  Anthony met the eyes of the man in the corner and barked, “Virgil. I already dismissed you.”

  Virgil Servatus, third in command to Anthony and only one rank below Carlin, removed his golden helmet and shook out his shoulder-length brown hair. “I will not let this happen,” he said.

  Anthony looked at him for a long time with an expression Carlin couldn’t quite read. “I don’t know what you mean,” he said finally.

  “Don’t lie!” Virgil cried, turning to Carlin in a rage. “Carlin, you’re my oldest friend. Listen to me. This is wrong. There are other ways!”

  Carlin scoffed, but this time there was a shiver of pain in his voice. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Virgil,” Anthony pleaded, “just go. It’ll be okay. Trust me.” He looked at the man with wide eyes.

  Virgil dropped his helmet on the table and let the sound resonate through the room. “Are you really going to pretend that this isn’t happening?” he shouted, taking a step toward Carlin. “This man gave us everything, Carlin. Could you really strike him down?” Virgil demanded. “Could any of us strike each other down? We’ve grown together, spilled blood together, changed this world together, for better or worse… Could you really murder your brother, Carlin?”

  “Brother?” Carlin hissed, furious.

  “Am I next?” Virgil continued. “Where does your ambition end?”

  Carlin looked like he wanted to speak, but he couldn’t. Anthony held up a hand for silence. “You know your orders,” he said firmly, “and you know your place. Don’t worry about me. This is not the end. I will say it one more time: you are dismissed, Lieutenant.”

  Virgil gave Anthony a long look. “Forgive me,” he whispered, scooping up his helmet and heading towards the door. “Forgive him,” he said softly as he left.

  Anthony watched him go. “I do,” he whispered.

  Carlin stood and drew his sword. “Well, General,” he said with a forced smile, “that was a touching little scene. The temporary loyalty that these men have shown you is inspiring. It’s almost tragic.”

  Anthony sipped his wine and traced a river on the war map with his fingertip. “If I let you do this … my family will be safe?”

  Carlin said, “You have my word. The emperor is just looking for a shift in power.”

  “I can see into your soul, Carlin,” he said tiredly. “And it is lost.”

  Carlin leaped forward and pointed his sword between Anthony’s eyes. The general didn’t flinch. “Don’t give me those Lightborn lies,” he hissed, “I know you mighty Celerius think you’re impressive with your advanced abilities, but all you can see is what’s on the other side of a wall. You know nothing of my soul.”

  Anthony met the other man’s eyes and addressed him quietly, “I don’t need advanced abilities to know you’re lost, Carlin. Your actions alone are enough to prove it.”

  Carlin narrowed his eyes. A moment later, the smug smile was back in place. “It’s truly flattering that you’re so concerned with my soul’s well being, General,” he said casually as he lowered his sword to the level of Anthony’s heart. “But you don’t need to worry. I don’t have a soul. Neither do you. They don’t exist, you know.” Argue with me. Tell me I’m wrong. Go on. Give me a reason.

  Anthony bowed his head slowly as he whispered, “I pity you.”

  Carlin’s smile twisted into a
maniacal sneer of rage as he plunged the sword forward. The blade slid easily between the general’s ribs and came out on the other side, piercing the chair. With a gasp, Anthony snapped his head up and instinctually groped desperately for his own sword. It was as if he suddenly realized that giving up was a mistake, as if there was something else he could do. Skewered against his chair, he couldn’t quite reach the hilt. Carlin pulled his sword out and began to wipe it clean of Celerius blood. “Long live the Emperor,” he said quietly, walking away with a calm little smile as Anthony slumped forward over the table, knocking over his glass and spilling wine across the war map.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE ORCHARDS

  LILLY CELERIUS

  Lilly Celerius’s first thought upon waking on the side of the road was that she had never experienced such a deep, peaceful sleep in her life, and she probably never would again. Her second thought was that the Vapros brats had undoubtedly stolen her precious cargo. She jumped to her feet. “Jonathan!” she cried, peering inside the carriage. To her relief, all of the boxes appeared to be inside. “Jonathan?”

  A loud cough came from the other side of the carriage. “I’m here,” he said, flat on his back and desperately trying to dust off his oversized military jacket.

  “What was the point of all this?” Lilly wondered aloud. “They didn’t even take anything. And why would they bring that . . . that poor girl with them?”

  Jonathan tried and failed to stand up, but managed to ask, “Do you know her?”

  “She sneaks into parties a lot. I didn’t know she could throw a knife.”

  Jonathan finally made it to his feet. “Just because she’s poor doesn’t mean she’s useless,” he said quietly. “I’m from the slums, too.”

  “You don’t live in the slums,” Lilly said with an eye roll. “You live in my guest house.” She rifled through the papers. “I think everything is here.”

  “Not everything,” Jonathan admitted. His face grew red. “I gave him the paper.”