by Cait Ashwood
“That’s the last of them.” He stood with both hands on the lizard’s saddle, waiting. He had no idea what would happen next, though he was beginning to doubt they’d let him go. I could always phase back into my father’s territory. Under that much rock, they might not be willing to follow. That would be a jump out of the frying pan and into the fire, though. He should be trying to get as far away from his father as possible.
Zeche bent down and picked up a leather-bound tome, flipping through the pages before dropping it on the pile, apparently not able to make any more sense out of it than Stryker had. “What I want to know,” the assassin began, taking a few steps closer, “is why you brought these to us?”
Stryker shrugged, a stiff action. “You fight the taint. Maybe those can tell you how.”
One of the men holding torches spoke up. “He’s a traitor. He turned on his father, and he’d turn on us.” Agreeing murmurs swept through the crowd.
Zeche clucked his tongue. “And where is your commander now, hm?”
“Attending the vote.”
“Ah, yes, the vote. And who speaks for him when he is away?”
Uncomfortable silence descended over the men.
Zeche shook his head. “Seems to me your second got himself locked away, pending trial. So, what to do now?”
The men were at a loss, a few exchanging quiet comments in the descending darkness.
The assassin turned to Stryker, his face vibrant, as if he were feeding off this moment. “In the absence of a higher authority, I, Zeche of the Watchers, accept these documents in the spirit in which they were given, on behalf of the Seekers.”
What’s he playing at? There was something bigger going on here, but Stryker didn’t know what. “And? Am I free to go?” It was a stupid question, but he had to ask it anyway. His sense of self-preservation demanded it.
Zeche stared at him for a long moment, eventually glancing over at Rowan. The two men conferred in hushed tones. Stryker caught a few words here and there, but it was no language he was familiar with. Eventually, Rowan nodded and left Zeche. He walked over, approaching from the other side of the lizard.
“As much as the Order would prefer it to be otherwise, a child cannot help who he is born to.”
Disapproving murmurs swept through the crowd, and several hands moved to weapons.
Rowan ignored them. “By my sister’s own testimony, she did not suffer at this man’s hands. He followed orders, as much as any of us would. When it appeared she was in danger, he broke those orders.” The look Rowan gave him now was speculative, but Stryker refused to respond to it in any fashion.
“Harboring him would invite Zaddicus’ men down upon us. Killing him might invoke his wrath.” This was something the men around him apparently understood.
“Stryker, son of our foe Zaddicus, we wash our hands of you. You come to us in the future on pain of death.”
Did he just... wink at me?
Zeche took over where Rowan left off. “We leave you to whatever justice the world will impart. You were never here, and you will never return.” The assassin raised an eyebrow at him expectantly.
“I,” he paused, feeling his way through the situation. “I was never here, and I’ll never return.”
The assassin grinned, though the expression lasted but a second.
“It was a false alarm, men. Back to the Tower.”
Stryker watched in disbelief as men around him began phasing out, the field around the Tower slowly emptying of men. The watchers on the wall took longer to disperse, a few still watching the trio left on the hill.
Rowan’s eyes glowed for a moment, then he nodded. “We’re clear.”
“Ah, good. We can dispense with the theatrics.”
Theatrics?
“Boy. You’ve been a pain in our ass, but you haven’t acted without merit. If there’s anything you wish to convey to us in the future, you come to us directly. This sort,” Zeche nodded over his shoulder at the Tower, “eat honor for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The Watchers are more practical than that. If the lead is true, we’ll take it.”
Stryker slowly shook his head. “I doubt I’ll live long enough to pass on anything else.”
Zeche walked over and clapped him on the shoulder. “You might surprise yourself.”
“What--” a coin slid over the front of his armor and he caught it as the assassin walked away. It hummed with a faint energy that felt both familiar and oddly alien.
“That’s how you’ll find us. The Seekers do have some good tricks up their sleeve, at least.” Rowan extended his arm to Zeche, who took it.
“We’ll see you around, boy.” And with that, the pair winked off, leaving Stryker standing alone on the hill.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“Quiet! Quiet please.” Amelina rapped the gavel until the chattering in the room gave way to silence. She waited a moment, surveying the crowd with a disapproving gaze. When every eye was turned toward her, she continued.
“In light of this most unexpected loss of our First, the honorable Audrey, who served us for many years, I hereby call into order an emergency vote to appoint a new First to our Order.”
Brana did her best not to fidget, literally sitting on her hands. She hated being the center of attention, and tonight was ridiculously uncomfortable for her. Her hair had been done up in an intricate, braided style, but all she cared about were the pins sticking in her scalp. They see me every day. I don’t see what all the fuss is about.
“As was determined upon our rescue these years past, all Firsts are required to be of pure blood.” Amelina unfurled a scroll and went through the motions of weighing down the corners on the lectern. “As of this date, there are only three women who meet this criterion.” Her eyes descended to the front row, where Brana sat with Lily and Paige.
“Would Lily, Brana, and Paige please step forward?”
The girls did as asked, though Brana refused to even look at Lily. Over two weeks had passed since her mother’s death, but she still couldn’t look at her half-sister without wanting to bring the girl to justice. She hadn’t spoken to Amelina or any of the council about everything she knew yet, and she couldn’t put her finger on why. She certainly didn’t believe in sparing her. Lily had made her bed full of bad decisions, and it was her job to lay in it.
“I will now discuss the qualifications of the nominees.” Amelina’s eyes traveled down the scroll before her.
“I reject the nomination.”
Brana looked up, her attention drawn to Lily against her will. What?
“I beg your pardon, girl?” Amelina stared down at her, her thin eyebrow arched in surprise.
“I-” Lily scanned the room, seeming frightened. Her voice wavered. “I reject the nomination.”
Amelina pursed her lips. “Very well. Do you wish to give an explanation to the assembled?”
Lily glanced at the women before her, then stared at her feet. “Um, no.”
The advisor sighed. “I see. Return to your seat, then.”
The redhead moved slowly back to her chair, her face flushed scarlet.
Gwyn waited for her to take her seat, then rose. “As much as my line is honored by the consideration, my daughter Paige is too young to be considered for this role.” Her smile softened as her eyes fell on Brana. “I would normally argue the same for Brana, in her mother’s absence, but we are all well aware that Brana was groomed for this role by Audrey. She may be young, but I believe with the support of the council, she will do well as our next leader.”
Amelina inclined her head and gestured for Paige to return to her seat.
It’s all happening just as they said it would.
“Brana, do you accept the nomination?”
She cleared her throat, her palms sweaty. “I do.”
The First Advisor nodded, turning her attention to the assembly. “And are there any here who speak out against our nominee?”
After some soft murmurs, Nya, one of her instructors, rose t
o her feet. “I would speak, not necessarily against her, but I would be heard.”
Amelina inclined her head. “Proceed, Instructor Nya.”
“It is tradition that only pinned Lilies may be nominated into this position.”
“That is true.”
Nya seemed reassured. “I have conferred with her other instructors, and we concluded that Brana has met, and in many cases exceeded, the requirements for earning her pin.”
“I would agree. What, then, do you suggest?” Amelina seemed almost humored by the interruption, but Brana’s heart still hammered in her chest.
“I would see her take her vows and receive her pin before confirming her nomination.”
Agreeing murmurs swept the crowd.
Oh, please, not another delay. The pins from her elegant up-do poking into her skull were already driving her to distraction, and if she had to endure another day like this before being sworn in, she might just scream.
Amelina rapped the gavel again to call for silence. “Has a pin been made?”
Nya smiled. “It has, Advisor.”
It... has? While the design was well-known, the pins were made as the girls finished their training, and not a moment before. They were typically presented at a graduation ceremony and pinned onto the girls by their mothers, or closest living relatives.
“Very well. Brana, have you memorized your oath?”
She knew the words, but she hadn’t practiced them. Oh heavens, what if I mess up? She hadn’t been expecting this, though it was clear the women around her had planned for it. A warning would have been nice. “I have, Advisor.”
“The pin, Instructor Nya?”
Lily stood hesitantly in the first row. “I have it, Advisor.”
Lily? They would dare give it to Lily, of all people? Brana fumed, but did her best to keep her face in a neutral expression. They shared a parent, it was true. I guess she’s my closest living relative, but I can’t do this.
“Advisor, if I might make a request?” She couldn’t believe she was speaking out about this publicly, but she’d rather never take her vows than have the person responsible for her mother’s death pin her.
“You may request, Brana.” Amelina’s tone was disapproving, a warning in itself.
“I would like to request that Instructor Nya pin me. There are matters I have yet to bring to the council regarding my half-sister Lily and her involvement in the First’s death, and I would prefer that the shadow of those events not cover me on this day.” There. I made it sound proper, just like Mother taught me.
“Lily? You are her closest relative. What say you?”
Lily swallowed, her face pale. “I believe Instructor Nya is an excellent choice.” She moved with grace toward the woman, pulling a green velvet pillow from within her robes to hand to her.
Brana sighed with relief. I just can’t make myself do it. She felt dirty, as if she was being needlessly petty, but the reaction was too visceral for her to handle. Her nerves were already shot over this entire affair. Lily being a part of it would push her over the edge.
Amelina seemed surprised at the turn of events, taking a moment to compose herself. “Very well then. Your vows, Apprentice Brana.”
She ran through the words in her head, the rhyming scheme helping to assure her she had them in the right order. “Yes, Advisor.” She took a deep breath, Nya’s reassuring smile helping to soothe her nerves. “I am a Lily, the first and the last. Through my veins runs the burden of the past.” And isn’t that the truth? She hurried to continue. “Ours is a life of privilege and honor. Service and patience will make us all stronger.” She stared at Lily before reciting the last stanza. “The future is heavy, but we bear it with grace. For ours is the stewardship of the whole human race.”
Nya’s smile was radiant as she stepped forward, the gold pin in her hands. Brana stretched her neck up so Nya had free access to the collar of her robes. Her hand was cold as it slipped beneath the fabric, pulling it up just enough to ensure she didn’t prick her as she pinned. The clasp closed and Nya straightened the fabric.
“You did well, Brana. Congratulations.” The words were spoken softly, for her ears alone, before Nya stepped back.
“It is done, Advisor.”
“Well and good, Instructor.” Amelina surveyed the rest of the Order. “If there are no other objections?”
She left the floor open for the required time, then banged her gavel. “Then I would like to present to you the second leader of the Order of the Lily, First Lily Brana.”
The room erupted in applause and Brana stared at them. The young and the old, those needing canes and the babies still nursing. They had varying amounts of the taint in their blood, but every face turned to her, smiling, proud. She stood with her feet rooted to the ground, despite a very real desire to run away from those gazes.
She found a few friendly faces in the crowd. Ace and Jasper were there, standing next to Gwyn. No matter how many times she searched the crowd, though, she never spotted her father among the assembled. She’d known not to expect him, but his absence hit her hard anyway. This was the beginning of the rest of her life, the first step down the path of her destiny, and he wasn’t here. She felt lost without him, her only family an estranged half-brother and a half-sister that didn’t bear mentioning.
Jasper’s warm gaze sought her out and she managed to plaster a smile on her face for him. He understood; he always had.
The women began lining up to congratulate her. They passed in a blur to Brana, face after face, empty words just as meaningless as idle chatter. There was nothing to congratulate. She hadn’t run against someone and won; she’d been their only option. The only reason she stood here was because her mother was dead, not through any virtue of her own. This was no victory, but the beginning of her trial. In three years’ time, she would run for real. Maybe then, their words would mean something.
When it was finally over, Nya came up to her again. “There’s the feast to see to, but you only need to be there for the beginning. Your new quarters are ready for you when you wish to retire, dear.”
Instructor Nya had always understood her too, though they were too far apart in age to truly be peers. She’d heard what all those girls who congratulated her called her when they thought she wasn’t listening. They might be acting happy now, but most of them hated her. One phrase stuck in her mind though. “My... quarters?”
Nya’s eyes shone with unshed tears, and her smile was forced. “The quarters of the First, Brana. Those are yours, now.” The reminder was gentle, but hurt all the same. The rooms she’d spent her infant years in, before she was old enough to train. The rooms she’d nursed her mother in, praying she’d eat something while they searched for Lily. The rooms her parents had shared before she came along, and for years afterward. Those were hers now, and all she felt was the finality of loss.
She knew her father wasn’t coming back to reside in them, but the very concept was alien to her. All she wanted was her small room, with its cozy walls and just enough room for all her things. Her new room would be spacious, with audience rooms and public areas, and partitions to quarter off her more private chambers. There was too much space, and not enough things to put in it.
Jasper came up behind her, taking her arm in the crook of his elbow. “Don’t worry about the rooms. I helped with the redesign.”
She wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse, but she smiled at him as he led her to the feast. At least she’d have his help to get through this next portion. She wouldn’t be sitting up there alone.
Brana stared at the door to her mother’s--no, her chambers. She’d escaped the feast at last, and Jasper had promised to join her shortly. Two simple doors hung on well-oiled hinges, but they were so much more than that. The power of the Order rested within. I’m not sure that’s me. Jasper’s simple observations showed her just how little she knew of leadership and command, and she’d never doubted her ability to lead them more than she did in this moment.<
br />
I’m not alone. She took a deep breath and pulled the doors open.
It’s... completely different. Before, the room had been done up in regal shades of green and gold, but the entire feel of the place had changed. The ceiling was a pale sky blue, and holes had been drilled through the stone. Brana wandered in, staring up at the stars through the panel of glass at the end. They would allow sunlight into the otherwise gloomy chambers during the day, and she couldn’t believe no one had thought of this sooner. The green remained, but the gold accents had been swapped for silver.
The biggest change, however, was the layout. Whereas Audrey had focused on large meeting spaces and a rather open floor plan, the space before her was sectioned into smaller areas with various purposes. Furniture and fabric had been arranged to give the place a cozier feel. The dining area’s table had been replaced with a smaller set that would seat, at a maximum, six persons. Plants grew in stands in the corners, and a large skylight was centered over the table. The map table appeared to have been moved to an entirely different area. When Brana stuck her head in, there was seating here for nearly fifteen, with the benches pressed against the wall until they were needed. Everything was insular, and each space had a specific purpose. The audience chamber remained relatively unchanged, only mirroring the alteration of the color scheme.
With hesitation, Brana turned to her least favorite part of the room. Audrey hadn’t minded a lack of privacy that much, using fabric stretched over frames to delineate her personal areas from the rest of the suite. Ana’s jaw dropped when she saw what had been done.
New masonry had been installed from floor to ceiling, cutting off a large portion of the suite. A proper door insulated her private chambers from the public area, and she headed toward it, a bubbly feeling in her belly. The door didn’t swing, but instead pushed into the wall, almost disappearing. The large bed that had dominated the space had been changed out, something she felt immediately thankful for, as that had been the bed shared by her parents. In its place was a masterpiece that had Nya’s handiwork all over it. Her bed frame was literally grown from strong grape vines, rooted in a deep tray in the floor. They wove in an intricate pattern for the head and foot boards, sprouting leaves along the top and bottom. She went over, leaning on the bed and testing it. It held her weight, though it did sway a little. A giggle escaped her; she couldn’t help it.
