Phoenix

by Dawn Rae Miller

  James gasps. "Good word! How did you survive that?"

  "Luck, strength, and amazing healers." I sound breathless. Too nervous.

  "I'd say." James arranges himself so he's leaning so close to me his manicured beard could scratch my cheek. His breath smells of fresh mints, and his gray-green eyes probe mine, as if searching for something deeper.

  Sweat runs between my cleavage. At least he hasn't asked me about Ryker.

  Tell him about the attack in the garden. Describe it the best you can. Beck's voice fills my mind, and my eyes flit to the area offstage where I know he hides.

  "The attack was a truly horrifying experience," I begin timidly, but then I remember Henry's admonishment and add force to my voice. "One minute I was listening to the nightingale's song, and the next I found myself crawling over the gravel toward my house. My guard didn't answer my cries. Of course, I know now he was brutally murdered."

  James adjusts himself. "I'm sorry to hear that. What was his name?"

  "Dawson," I answer with a hitch in my voice. Tears now would make me look weak. "He was the second guard I've lost in as many months. We lost Oliver in another unreported attack with Sensitives."

  James reaches forward and touches my trembling hand. "Two separate attacks? And yet you press on, determined to protect us all from the Sensitives. Truly remarkable." The small group allowed into the pressroom claps. "Where do you think you found the strength to keep fighting?"

  "So many thoughts flashed through my brain, but the one that stands out the most is the memory of love." I inhale deeply to steady myself before leaning forward in my chair. "Have you ever felt a love so strong, it kept you going, no matter how hurt you were?"

  James shakes his head. "That must be a remarkable bond you have with your mate Ryker Newbold. Did he rush to your aid?"

  I pause, unsure of what to say. "No." This is not a line of questioning I want. Ask me about Beck, I think. Ask me how I'm going to deal with him.

  "Tell me, Lark, what do you plan on doing with Beck Channing now?"

  Careful, Birdie, Beck says. Don't overwhelm them.

  "After careful review of the case, the Council and I believe it's impossible he led the attack against my mother. Or against me. The Sensitives doing this are attacking Founder descendants. For what reasons, we're still unsure. But I swear we will get to the bottom of this.

  "As for Beck Channing, after strenuous testing, we've concluded he is not and never was Sensitive. He was framed."

  James gasps. His hand flies to his cravat. "But the State," he stutters. "The State doesn't make mistakes."

  Oh no. This isn't a going well.

  I throw my head back and laugh it off like I'd seen Mother do. "Oh, Darling James, the State didn't make a mistake. A human did. The test was perfect, but someone – an unclaimed Sensitive perhaps – tampered with the results."

  He relaxes into his seat, and his energy tells me he is content that all is right in the world.

  "I have to ask," James says. "Could the culprit be someone in your inner circle?"

  I freeze. It's almost like this man is reading my mind, but Annalise assured me he is an ordinary human.

  "We can't rule out anything," I answer, my voice growing strong and steady.

  Can't you ask me about my job or something easy?

  "Now, I have to ask, since you're mending so well, when do you plan on returning to your government duties?"

  What in the world? Everything I think, he says. Am I somehow controlling him? The thought dances around my brain. If I am, I'm in total control of this interview.

  "I plan on resuming work tomorrow." I have no idea if that's the right answer or not, but I want to seem strong. "In fact, I've already begun working with my team on ways to increase food production." It's a lie, but again, I need to seem like a leader.

  "Oh? And who makes up that team?"

  "Ummm..." Way to go, Lark. "Henry Trevern, Eloise Decanteure, and Annalise Greene are my core group of advisors. Along with the Council, of course."

  "And Beck Channing? Now that he's been cleared of all wrong doing, what will his role be?"

  "Beck will be my mate and co-leader."

  Dead silence.

  From the wings, I hear Annalise cough, a sign I need to change the direction of the conversation.

  Ask how I feel, I beg in my head, testing out my theory.

  "Can you elaborate on how you feel right now?"

  It worked. Somehow I'm doing it - controlling the conversation.

  I sit up in my chair and smile at the camera. "Perfect. Healthy. Ready to govern."

  Suddenly, maybe in a fit of madness, I say, "There's someone here I want the public to see."

  I extend my hand to the wing, and Beck steps from the shadows. He pauses long enough for Annalise to express her concern before walking out onto the stage. He is, as promised, dressed in the uniform of a diplomat: fitted, flat-front trousers and a snug v-neck sweater under a sport jacket. Dressed like this, he looks years older than eighteen.

  The audience gasps and unease ripples through the room. My magic percolates inside me, growing in intensity as the crowd becomes more confused and concerned.

  Beck slides up next to me and laces his hand through mine. He lifts our hands to his mouth and gently kisses the back of mine. I love you, he says in my brain.

  Flustered, I find my voice. "Beck Channing is no more a Sensitive than I am. He's a Founder's descendent and my rightful mate."

  Be calm, I think and the audience relaxes.

  "But what of Ryker Newbold, Lark? The law says--"

  While still holding hands, I say, "I lied to my mother. Beck and I were bound while at Summer Hill. She had no idea when she selected Ryker for me.

  "As for Ryker, he is on assignment, searching out the Sensitives who attacked Beck and me.

  "From this point forward, Beck will be overseeing our diplomatic relations while I handle our domestic affairs. We will be running the Society jointly just as our ancestors, Caitlyn Greene and Charles Channing did. We are a team."

  James mouth hangs open, but he snaps it shut. "Beck, tell me how it feels to go from condemned criminal to a leader of our Society in a mere few days."

  Beck squeezes my hand. "My duty has always been to the State." He leans in and kisses my cheek, sending a nervous titter through the crowd. "And to Lark. Always to Lark."

  "Do you feel your training prepared both of you for the task of running a society as large as ours?"

  I fight the urge to suck on my top lip. "Absolutely. We were ranked number one and two at school. We both performed 'excellent' on our assessments. And let's not forget our ancestry. We were born to do this."

  Desperate to change the line of question, I beg, Ask me about the upcoming Founder's Ball.

  James smiles at the two of us, and scrolls through his tablet. "Do you think you'll both be healed enough to attend the Founder's Ball Masquerade? That's a lot of dancing for two people so grievously injured such a short time ago."

  I beam. Somehow, I'm controlling the interview. I'm not sure how, but I'm doing it. I turn my eyes toward Beck and smile. "I already have my dress selected."

  CHAPTER TEN

  As soon as the press conference ends, Annalise calls a meeting with Mother's remaining security detail and the Council to discuss my and Beck's protection, along with the new structure of the State.

  "No one gave you permission to announce Beck's role in the State," Annalise accuses. "No one." A faint redness colors, her face and her blue eyes flash. "You should have consulted with us first. The plan was to claim him as your rightful mate, not elevate him to co-leader."

  "Am I not the Head of State? Am I not allowed to make decisions on my own?" I counter.

  "That's what the Council and your advisors are for, Lark. To prevent you from doing whatever you want."

  "Prevent me?"

  "Yes, prevent you. You're still learning and need guidance." She watches me closely. "Don't forget, alienating witche
s can lead to new members for the Splinter group."

  "Is that a threat?" I ask, deepening my voice. I haven't forgotten that she may well be behind the attacks.

  Annalise pauses and re-adjusts her stance to something less threatening – less offensive. "We don't have time for this. We now need to discuss how the Splinter group managed to stage such an elaborate kidnapping right under our noses and what we're going to do with Beck."

  "What do you mean, 'Do with me?'" Beck asks. "I think Lark made it clear. I'm to co-lead with her."

  The room breaks into chaotic noise as everyone speaks at once. I close my eyes and tune out. Right now, I'm more upset with Annalise than worried about the Splinter group. I did what I was supposed to, but it wasn't good enough. As usual.

  The anger that normally boils inside me is but a slow simmer. Manageable. I fold my hands together and breathe deeply.

  Nicely done, Birdie. You didn't lose control.

  Until Beck says that, I don't realize what I'm doing, but it's the first time I've actively kept myself in check with no nibbling urge to blow things up or set anyone on fire. Just normal irritation.

  Maybe I am finally getting control of myself. I catch Beck's eye and smile - despite the angry words flying around us. If the Council wants to make themselves hoarse arguing, who am I to stop them? It will just make things easier for me when it's my turn to talk.

  Still, after twenty minutes of non-stop bickering, I've grown tired of listening to them, so I stand up and pound my fist on the table. "Enough. Something went wrong." I point my finger around the table, "and all of you are responsible. Accept that and move on. As for Beck, Ryker, and me, I now consider it a private matter. I did what I had to do to stop the gossip feeds."

  Mother's former Security Chief Landon's mouth falls slightly open, and his eyes grow wide, but he says nothing.

  I step away from the table and begin circling the room. "I have three main concerns right now: Stopping the Splinter group; ending the food shortages; and finding Ryker. He threatened my life, and he remains a danger."

  Beck frowns and says to me, If he is responsible, it's because you asked it of him.

  Maybe so, but as you pointed out, I'm fully in control of myself now. He needs to know that.

  Beck clears his throat. "We also need to deal with foreign Societies. We cannot handle attacks from both within and without for much longer."

  Minister Sun-Wei raises his hand. After I nearly crushed his throat during the coupe, his voice is now a hoarse whisper. "We could start by releasing the foreign dignitaries we hold." I lean closer to better hear him. "Malin thought we needed them for ransom, but perhaps it would show good will on our behalf. An olive branch, so to speak."

  Beck grits his teeth, and tension ripples off him. It fans around me, consuming me with its white-hot fury.

  "Are you suggesting we give up our only bargaining power?" he demands. "Where is the wisdom in that?"

  Sun-Wei shakes his head. "Not at all," he whisper-speaks. "I'm simply pointing out that Malin's way didn't work, and perhaps it's time we try something new."

  Beck's rage sits heavy in my core. I breathe in deeply and release it in an attempt to keep our emotions separate. To keep Beck's anger from overwhelming me.

  He tilts his head, studying me. What do you think?

  Maybe return a few, but not all? Can you go to the Eastern Society and negotiate? I ask.

  With his arms firmly on the table, Beck says, "Sun-Wei, I want you to assemble a team to travel to the Eastern Society and negotiate the return of some – not all – of the dignitaries. I will work with you on a list of appropriate names."

  Sun-Wei settles back into his chair, seemingly content with this turn of events. "It would be more effective if you accompanied us, Beck."

  "Why?" I ask.

  Sun-Wei's face pales. He's still afraid of me. Good.

  "Why?" I ask again. "What will Beck add to such a trip other than putting himself in danger of becoming a hostage?"

  "Having Beck on the trip would boost morale. It would also give the Eastern Society the assurance that we are serious about negotiating a truce and re-honoring our treaties."

  Beck's eyes focus on something distant. I don't want to leave you.

  You may have to.

  "Very well. We can discuss this later. For now, I want you to plan as if Beck were not going," I say.

  Sun-Wei's face falls.

  "I haven't ruled it out, Mr. Minister, I simply need to confer with my advisors and Beck. We can't make hasty decisions."

  Some in our group grunt their approval while others stare down at the table, clearly unhappy with how things are going.

  "If any of you happen to read gossip feeds," I glance down the table and several attendees wear sheepish looks. "You'll know I was heavily criticized for the elaborate meal at the Opera. Until farther notice all such public meals – except the Founders' Ball – should cease. We can't let starving people see us with such abundance, it just gives the Splinter group more ammunition. Makes it seem like we aren't concerned about our starving Statespeople and their families."

  "Are you saying we should close down our entertainment centers because a few people out in the middle of nowhere haven't any food?" a woman named Daria asks. "You're going to take away our food and our distractions? How is this wise?"

  I gnaw at my lip. She has a point. "No, the clubs and Opera can stay open, only they must serve simpler fare. Things they're eating in other parts of the Society – like soups."

  "This is your answer for dealing with the food shortages?" Daria snips. "Serve us soup?"

  I struggle under the onslaught of negativity. My hands twitch, and I grit my teeth determined not to lose control. I don't want to rule by fear, and that is exactly what will happen if I lash out again. Lucky for Daria, Beck's emotions have steadied or else she would be facing a fate much like Sun-Wei's.

  "No," I say slowly. Carefully, like I'm talking to children. I turn my hands over and place them in my lap. "I'm going to travel to Summer Hill and try to persuade the Light witches to return to the Ag Centers." This is my attempt to try to keep the meeting moving forward. "We have to feed our people, and by doing so, we'll cut off the Splinter groups main weapon against us – civil uprising."

  "Shouldn't Beck accompany you, then?" Landon, Mother's old guard says. "After all, he's the Light witch." He nearly spits out the last words, reminding me that getting our two sides to work together is another of my challenges.

  My eyes rest on Beck. Since the attack, there's something darker about him – his smile, while still bright, lacks the warmth it once held. And his once famous even temper seems more and more elusive. At the moment, he seems to have control over it. At least I hope he does. I'm teetering on the edge of control, and I don't need him pushing me over.

  "Perhaps he can do both?" I know I should make it a statement, but the question sneaks into my voice. "We'll discuss the matter privately."

  Beck nods absentmindedly. His eyes are still fixed on the far side of the room.

  I turn my attention to Annalise. "Finding Ryker is your number one priority." I lock my gaze on my sister-in-law. "Beck and I can take care of ourselves now that we know what we're up against."

  Annalise shakes her dark head. "Absolutely not. Your protection is my job-"

  "Then I fire you."

  Redness creeps into her milky white cheeks. "You can't. At least not without the Council and your advisors' permission."

  You've got to be joking. Do I have any real power, or is it all a façade?

  "She's right, Lark," Beck says, having apparently found his voice. "We're both stronger, but we have no idea who is coming for us. Other than Eamon and a few others, we don't know who the Splinter group is. We need our guards. We have too many other things to worry about. Let Annalise do her job."

  I grind my teeth. The last thing I need is a dressing down in front of my subordinates. "Fine. But Annalise needs to locate Ryker."

  And if
he's with the Splinter group, heaven help him.

  Are you threatening my best friend? Beck asks.

  Stop being deso, Beck. He's an assassin. It's his job to kill people – people like me. Us. He's trained to kill people like us.

  "Meeting adjourned." With a flip of my hand, I storm out of the conference room, leaving a small fire burning on the table. Gasps follow me down the long hall toward my office. Good. Let them see I haven't completely lost my edge.

  Maybe I do want them to fear me.

  God, this is so hard. So much more difficult than Mother ever let on.

  But the truth is, if I want to be seen as a leader, I need to act like one. And I need those around me to treat me like one. Starting with Beck.

  "Hey, Birdie, wait up."

  I spin on my heels, anger filling my heart. "Do not ever question me in public again. Do you understand?"

  His glance slides coolly over me, and my skin crawls. "Maybe you should try listening for once instead of demanding things."

  "Maybe you need to learn your place," I shout, not caring who hears us.

  "My place?" he retorts. "My place is as your equal. You yourself said so."

  My fingers tingle with magic, but I fight the urge to hurt him and shove my hands into the pockets of my dress.

  "You're still not fully under control, are you?" he asks.

  "Are you?"

  "Yes." He avoids my gaze, a sure sign he's lying.

  Air rushes out of my nostrils. "Didn't feel that way in the meeting," I say, recalling the way his anger simmered inside me. "I, at least, can tell the difference between our emotions. I know what's mine and what's yours. Can you say the same?"

  "Are you worried I'm going to set someone on fire? Or maybe blow up the meeting room instead of leaving a little memento? Or maybe you're worried you'll do it to me?" he taunts. A slow smile plays across his lips. "I'd like to see you try to pull something like that. Don't forget, my magic rivals yours."

  "Does it?" I challenge. From inside my pocket, I flick my fingers and a tiny bolt of energy zooms toward Beck. Nothing that would cause more than a tiny shock.