Phoenix

by Dawn Rae Miller

  Callum shoots me a withering look. "Really, Lark, that's what you're concerned about? Not whether or not you and Beck can be within feet of each other without wrecking havoc – yes, Henry, I've heard you talking - or whether the Channings will turn on you and lead the Splinter group right into your midst? It's amazing you haven't been overthrown yet."

  Henry spreads cheese over an apple slice. "Callum is correct. We still don't know how stable the two of you are."

  I give my uncle a pained stare. "You know we're fine. Look at us." But even I don't believe my words. Beck has barely spoken to me since my accusations against Ryker, and neither of us are the picture of health.

  "Please, Henry, trust me," I beg. "My magic is under control."

  Henry must notice the awkwardness between Beck and me because he says, "Perhaps, Callum, you should lead the procession with Annalise. You are the eldest of Malin's children. Have the Channings follow, then Lark and Beck. Does that seem fair?"

  My brother nods. "As long as it doesn't turn into the Lark and Beck show like everything else around here."

  After that, no one speaks, and we finish our dinner in silence.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I shove the windows open, allowing a brisk breeze to fill the front room. Up and down the street, houses glow in the night. In fact, all the homes on our street seem to team with life and vibrancy. Only mine remains shrouded in twilight, a reminder that the occupant is unwell.

  With a sigh, I turn from the window. What I wouldn't give right now to have Kyra here rattling on about celebrity newsfeeds or gowns or boys. Instead, she's locked away at home with Maz doing things I don't even want to think about. She's taking her time off too far, in my opinion.

  In the street between our houses, a group of well-wishers has gathered. I've yet to be seen in public, and Callum and Annalise have been handling all of the family's public obligations. But at some point, I'm going to have to parade myself across the newscasting screens.

  It would all be so much more palatable if Beck were with me, but everyone agrees it's best he not be seen until after the press conference. I furrow my brow.

  "I'm not changing my mind, Lark. No matter how much you pout." Henry sits near the fireplace, his left ankle resting on his right leg. "You are aware how dangerous you are to him? The two of you are still young, but Charles began to display erratic behavior as a teen. Granted, Charles didn't succumb to the madness until his early thirties, but still, when you are together, there is a marked change in Beck's behavior. I noticed it at Summer Hill, and I see it now."

  "He's fine, Henry, I swear." My voice sounds whiny even to my own ears. "We need to be together, so we can work on fixing the problem. Plus, I'm doing my best not to let my emotions overrun his."

  "That my be true, but it does not ease my mind. And it shouldn't ease yours either." My uncle taps his lips. "There's one other problem: Beck needs to stay out of sight until you convince the public he's no longer a threat or a Sensitive. That is, if you have any dreams of being together as a couple."

  With a little shake of my head, I say, "And how exactly do I do that?"

  "Admit you were wrong."

  "But the State doesn't make mistakes," I remind him. "Won't admitting fault make me seem weaker? I'm already on shaky ground with the Council." My fingers reach up to play with my necklace, back where it should have always been. Since visiting Beck, it no longer burns.

  "How did this happen?" I ask, more to myself than to my uncle.

  Henry thumps his fist against his thigh. "You've scared them, Lark. You organized a coupe and effectively overthrew the leadership." He stares me in the eyes. "You made that decision. Now you have to own it."

  As I toss myself onto the sofa, Miss Tully comes in with tea. Right now, seeing her is exactly what I need. From the minute I met her on my way to Summer Hill until now, she's been a comfort to me. Almost like Bethina.

  But she's not Bethina, and no one can ever replace her.

  Miss Tully sets the service on the low table before turning to me. "Lark, darling." She gently hugs me, filling me with a sense of safety. "I'm so glad you're going to be okay. A right scare you gave all of us." She steps back and wags her finger at me. "Don't do it again."

  I grin. My first real smile in days. "I don't plan on it."

  She pats my head. "Enjoy the tea. Call me if you need anything else."

  "Thank you," Henry and I say in unison.

  Henry prepares the tea and hands me a cup. "The sign of a good leader is knowing when to compromise."

  "Mother never compromised."

  "Malin lacked the skill. She simply forced her will on everyone. That isn't leadership; it's dictatorship." He blows into his cup. "You don't want to be a dictator; it's more work than you can imagine."

  "So you think I should go back to the Council and ask for their help?"

  Henry takes another sip of tea. Then a third.

  "Are you going to answer me?" I ask, thumping my foot against the edge of my chair. "Or are you going to blow on your tea all day long?"

  Henry takes one more sip, and I nearly lose my mind.

  Finally, he says, "I think you're fighting too many fronts right now and need help wherever you can find it. If the Council can alleviate some of your responsibilities, I'd use them."

  I purse my lips. There's wisdom in Henry's words, but now that Beck is back by my side, I'm confident he can help me fix the problems with the Light witches and hopefully the food shortages.

  But then there are the civil and foreign wars in which our Society is embroiled. Not to mention people starving in my Society, and a Splinter group determined to kill me – or at least torture me for fun.

  And why are they doing it? To take over the government? Or rule over all witches? Are they trying, as Mother once told me, to turn our young Dark witches Light? Is that even possible?

  What exactly is their end game?

  That's not to mention Ryker, who still roams about freely. He swore to me through tears that when the time came, and I became too uncontrollable or dangerous to Beck, he'd kill me. It was an oath I made him take, and one I wish I could take back.

  "Who do you think orchestrated the attacks?"

  "There are so many choices," Henry responds. "We need to discover that information quickly before there are any more."

  "Do you think it was Ryker?" I ask. "He's a trained assassin. He could have slipped past Dawson and the wards."

  "Despite your former mate's training, I don't think he's behind this. At least not the attacks."

  "He promised to kill me if I became too much of a threat."

  Henry shakes his head. "It wasn't him. Even with his promise to you, I don't think he would have attacked Beck. Still, it was someone who could slip past the guards. Someone in your inner circle."

  "Again, that's Ryker. He was my mate. He had every reason to be in the garden with me. Plus, Kyra, Maz, and Beck all saw him with Eamon."

  "Lark, I think you're looking in completely the wrong direction here."

  I clink my teaspoon around my cup and stare down at the swirling liquid. Two names keep circling my brain, two I don't want to believe. "Annalise," I say. "But she was first on the scene, and she's done nothing but prove herself to me time and again."

  "That's true." Henry sets his cup down. "Despite her mourning over Oliver, she's shown no ill will toward you."

  "So that leaves..."

  "Kyra."

  I gulp and clench my jaw, not wanting to suspect my best friend.

  "Why?" I ask, even though I know the reasons. I just need to hear them said aloud by someone other than myself.

  "You condemned Maz. You were increasingly erratic. You threatened her safety." My uncle ticks off my transgressions as if they were nothing. "It's possible she attacked the two of you and used Ryker to help Maz escape."

  "She wouldn't. When I attacked Lena, she was horrified." I exhale loudly. "Plus, Kyra doesn't have that kind of...anger inside her. She'd never kill Dawson
and turn on Beck and me."

  "Sometimes, Lark, the people we suspect the least are the ones who are the most dangerous."

  "Not Kyra."

  "You sound like Beck now when he defends Ryker."

  I cross my arms tightly and say nothing.

  Henry leans forward in his chair. "You have to consider every option. Every one."

  "Including you and Eloise," I sass. "Neither of you rushed to help. And you're both Light witches."

  Henry squeezes his eyes shut. "I wondered when you'd get to that conclusion."

  "So you admit it's possible."

  "Anything is possible, but we need to start by ruling out suspects. I still believe Ryker shouldn't be on that list. He's too obvious."

  I bite my lip. "What about you and Eloise?"

  My uncle's shoulders tense. "Eloise was still too ill to carry out such an elaborate attack. I, however, shouldn't be trusted for all the reasons you listed."

  My jaw drops open. Henry is saying not to trust him?

  "I...I didn't mean..."

  "Of course you did. And you should. I'm a suspect and should be treated as one."

  I glance out the window. "I need a change of scenery. I'm going to Kyra's."

  Quickly, before Henry can stop me, I transport to my friend's home.

  I blink my eyes, allowing them to adjust to the light of the foyer and take a moment to smooth my hair. Transporting often leaves me looking windblown.

  There's no one in the chilly, main foyer. I want to yell out for Kyra, but pause. Not that I believe it's possible, but could Kyra be behind the attacks? If so, I just put myself in harm's way.

  Don't be ridiculous, Lark, I scold myself.

  I yell out, "Kyra?"

  "Lark?"

  "Yes."

  "Up here!"

  I scurry up the steps. "Where?"

  "In my sitting room."

  Like at school, her private sitting room is an explosion of purple and glitter and mirrors. I bounce on the balls of my feet and hundreds of me bounce back in the reflection. How she finds this relaxing is beyond me.

  "Why so deso?" she asks tossing aside a tablet. The surface is covered with gossip feeds.

  "Why do you think?" I answer. "I'm stuck at home all day, and you didn't even come to say 'hiya'."

  "Annalise told me to stay away until you felt better. She said there were plenty of guards. Besides, I'm on administrative leave until my test results come back."

  "What tests?"

  "From the attack and kidnapping. They want to make sure I'm still capable of protecting you."

  I playfully nudge her arm. "They obviously didn't see you take on Eamon. That was impressive."

  "Thank you!"

  "What was it you said? 'Don't underestimate me?'"

  She giggles. "Something like that."

  "I'm lucky you're not just my best friend, but you're a pretty good guard too." I give her a tight hug. "But really, are you okay?"

  "I'm totally okay. I promise. They only stunned me when I came to Dawson's aid."

  I scrunch up my nose. "I thought only Annalise responded to the distress call?"

  Kyra shakes her loose curls. "I was there. I swear to you, I was. Dawson was bleeding everywhere, and they stunned me before I could reach you." She pauses to take a breath. "I've already told Annalise all of this. They got Maz and Beck from their cells. I overheard them say that they had a guy on the inside."

  My brain aches.

  "You okay? You look pale." Kyra stares hard at my face. "Let's get you home. I'm sure you're not completely healed yet."

  I want to tell her that my head is spinning. Annalise knew how Kyra was captured, but she gave me the impression it had to do with Maz. How could she forget such important information?

  And why?

  Instead, I change the topic. "What's on the feeds?

  She tries flipping the tablet over so I can't see, but there in big letters is what we've been trying to avoid: Beck Channing: Love Interest or Mortal Enemy? Followed by: Ryker Newbold: Too Hot for Lark to Handle?

  "I'm sorry, Lark. I thought maybe you knew?"

  I shake my head. "Have you shared this with Henry or Annalise?"

  Kyra drops her eyes. "No."

  "Well, hand it here. Let's see what people are saying."

  She reluctantly gives me the tablet. There are over a dozen feeds – all about Beck, Ryker, and me. How dangerous is Beck? Who is on Team Beck versus Team Ryker?

  "Seriously," I say. "As if there is any competition. Beck loves me, and Ryker wants to kill me."

  "You have to see this." Kyra giggles. "This one has the best charts. Look at all the pro's Beck has. My favorite is that his eyes match yours. It's so romantic."

  "Oh, nutter," I say looking at the lists. "Ryker gets a pro for looking handsome in his Enforcer uniform?" I blush as I toss the tablet aside, remembering the way the fitted suit hugged his muscular body. "This can't be real."

  "It's what everyone is talking about. Forget the food crisis." Kyra throws her head back and laughs. "Ryker gets points for being part Asian. Beck gets points for being so good with his lacrosse stick. Ohhh...now that's something I've been meaning to ask you, how good is he with that stick?"

  Heat sears my cheeks. "Kyra!"

  "What? I tell you everything."

  "You tell me more than I want or care to know."

  "And yet you never say to stop. Why is that, Lark? Hmmm?"

  I roll off the bed and onto the floor. "I don't care if you never tell me about your sex life again."

  "Prude."

  "Maybe so, but I think some things need to stay private."

  "Does this mean you don't want to read this article about '34 Ways to Please Your Man in Bed'?"

  My blush deepens. "Never!"

  She snickers. "Okay. I'm done messing with you. Let's get the boys and go out. I haven't had fun in ages, and I'm bored."

  "Annalise won't allow it," I say. "I snuck over here without permission."

  Kyra lifts an eyebrow. "Naughty, naughty, Lark. She's going to be all over you now."

  I sigh. "I know. I can't go anywhere. Besides, I can't be seen with Beck." I twist my ponytail around my finger. "But I do need to put these rumors and gossip to sleep." I rub the base of my neck. "Henry and Annalise want me to do a press conference in a few days. I'm beginning to think they're right. "

  "Good luck with that, Miss Sunshine."

  "What does that mean?"

  Kyra gives an exasperated huff. "Only that everyone thinks you've gone completely deso."

  "So I'll smile more. Would that make it better?"

  Kyra shrugs. "I don't know, but I do know you have an image problem, and we need to fix it."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Step one of Kyra trying to fix my image problem: act as the third wheel to her and Maz at the Opera. It only took endless pleading on both our parts to get Annalise to agree. However, I must not talk to anyone and sneak in after the final seating call. I can be seen, but not heard. And I must travel with a full guard of six.

  I thought coming-of-age and being in control of the State would give me more freedom. Little did I know.

  My retinue and I transport in to the secure zone just after the final seating is signaled. My dress tonight is a gauzy fuchsia number Kyra picked out. It floats around me as I walk, and I worry a little about tripping on the hem and tearing it.

  "You look gorgeous," Kyra says. She smiles at me, waiting for a return compliment.

  Her dress is made entirely of gray ombré feathers. It's stunning.

  "You are the height of fashion as always," I say, a little envious of her dress. Mine is just a normal dress – nothing overly special - but hers is a showstopper. I need to remember to pick my dress before Kyra gets her hands on them.

  Unlike the last time we went out – when I set the underground nightclub on fire -- the Opera is full of Statespeople and a perfectly acceptable place for the Head of State to be seen. I catch a glimpse of myself in a g
ilded mirror. I may not be wearing feathers, but how can they miss me in this color?

  Step two of Kyra's plan: have me smile and court the cameras, but don't talk to them. We agreed on this with Annalise. The less I say (nothing), the better. At least until after the press conference.

  Our private box is cozy and overlooks the whole of the Opera. Below me, Statespeople turn toward our box and pretend not to be interested in the fact that I'm standing here. But their hurried glances and whispers give them away.

  Behind me, Kyra and Maz hide in the shadows, groping at each other. It's a little uncomfortable to say the least, and you'd think they'd be past that phase by now.

  Every so often a camera flies into my view, and I smile into the blinding light, pretending like there's nowhere else I'd rather be.

  "Kyra," I whisper, so the cameras don't hear me. "Does the performance start soon?"

  She untangles herself from Maz. "After they serve the first course." It's a dinner Opera and something I've never been to before.

  "And when is that?" I ask

  "Soon."

  I'm not sure if I can take much more of the Kyra and Maz show happening next to me, but I'm stuck. To get up and leave would look bad.

  All around me Statespeople buzz with excitement. My box - Mother's former spot - sits in the prime location, middle of the room, directly before the stage. To my left is Minister Sun-Wei's, and on my right, which is empty tonight, is a box labeled 'Special Guests,' most likely for visiting dignitaries.

  There's a knock on our door, and Maz leisurely reaches to open it, but Kyra blocks him and orders, "Who's there?"

  One of my guards on the outside responds, "Minister Sun-Wei to see Miss Lark."

  Kyra gives me a questioning look, and I nod my head giving her permission to allow Sun-Wei in.

  The door swings open, and the Minister stands before me. "Lark," he says in his hoarse whisper voice. "It's so good to see you up and about."

  I'm supposed to talk to no one, but surely Sun-Wei means me no harm. "Thank you, Minister. You look dapper this evening."

  He bows his head. "Thank you."