by CM Raymond
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Throwing the gown on the corner chair and pulling on her bedclothes, Hannah could finally breathe again. She’d wiped the caked-on makeup from her face and dropped the mystical disguise. She’d hardly felt like herself since they had returned from the Heights—maybe since William died. But she was willing to give up her life for the cause—to see Adrien suffer and die in the process. Ceding her identity for a few weeks, or even months, was nothing. She’d go much further if she had to.
Sal followed her up and laid on a makeshift bed in the corner. He had outgrown sleeping at the foot of her bed weeks ago. He stared up at her with unblinking eyes.
“What the hell you looking at?” She smiled at her beast.
She knew that he could feel it, too—the coming war. He was also ready for action.
She remembered the look on her dragon’s face after it had killed the remnant, saving her life in the process. Black blood dripped from Sal’s fangs, and Hannah could almost see her pet smiling.
“You certainly have come a long way, you little squirt,” she said, scratching the top of his head. “You remember when we fought that scary-as-shit lycanthrope? You ran so fast, I thought you were part chicken—literally. You’re almost big enough now to take on that thing yourself.” At her praise, the dragon fell to his side, wanting his belly scratched. “Maybe not,” she laughed.
Suddenly, Sal sprang to his feet, his attention at the door. Moments later, Hannah heard a loud knock.
“Good watch dog!” Hannah said to her dragon before turning to the door. “Who is it?”
“It’s Adrien. I’ve come to make sweet, sweet love to you,” Parker’s voice said through the door.
“Well, get your ass in here, you randy son of a bitch.” She laughed.
The door squeaked open, and Parker stepped in. “Sorry to disappoint. But I figured it would get me past the door. I know how you nobles stick together.”
“Trust me, if Adrien shows up, all the magic in Irth wouldn’t be enough to stick him back together.”
Hannah pulled her legs under her and sat cross-legged on the bed. Patting the spot next to her, she invited Parker to join her. As he sat, she said, “Careful, my little Salamander has been acting incredibly protective lately.”
Sal shot his forked tongue out of his mouth and back in. The dragon almost seemed to purr as Parker scratched under his chin. “Noted,” Parker said with a smile. “Gregory tells me you kicked ass all over the Winter Ball tonight. When’d you learn to dance?”
“I’m a woman of great mystery,” Hannah grinned. Parker made her feel a little more normal and a lot more like herself. “But, yeah, I kicked a little ass. It was a deserving ass, too.”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” Parker said with a smile. “I know you’d never hurt a fly—unless that fly had it coming. Like Adrien.”
A chill ran across Hannah’s spine. “It freaked me out—seeing him tonight, being that close. I thought he’d figured me out. Kind of wanted him to so we could just get on with it. But he doesn’t know—I’m sure of it.”
“Really? Why so confident?”
“Adrien doesn’t mess around, Parker. If he knew, we’d be done already. The fact that I’m sitting here, that any of us are here, means he’s clueless. But enough about that dickhole. What about you?”
“Me? My dickhole is just fine, thank you very much.”
Hannah couldn’t hold back the smile. “Trying to be just a little too badass, aren’t you? Don’t forget; I knew you when you were pissing your pants and playing with my dolls.”
“Nothing wrong with dolls. You kind of looked like one tonight, your highness.”
“Screw you.” She punched his bicep. “Really, how was your trip?”
“It was… cool. I mean, the trip out with Karl was intense. Had to do a little ass-kicking of my own. But I think you would have approved.”
Parker described his fight with the bandits along the road. He spoke animatedly, walking her through each step in the action.
“Damn! Good thing Karl was with you,” Hannah said.
“Weren’t you listening?” Parker asked. “It was a good thing I was there. Karl needed me… I took down the biggest of the bandits. But don’t tell Karl I told you that. Might embarrass the old rearick.”
Hannah smiled, knowing her friend was probably exaggerating. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You were right, though,” Parker said with eyes wide. “The Heights were an out of this world kind of glorious.”
“I know, right?” She smiled, thinking of the majestic peaks.
“Yeah. A little let down we didn’t come back with a small army, but we did what we could do. Funny thing is, I thought that they were all gonna be like Karl. He’s the only rearick I’ve ever really known.”
“If they were all like him, we’d be kicking ass and taking names.”
Parker nodded. “But we came back with nothing.”
“Not nothing. Hadley’s with you.”
Hannah noticed Parker flush, and she felt her own face get warm in response.
“Yeah. You’re welcome for that,” he grinned. “Glad I could bring back something of value.
Hannah crinkled her nose and then laughed. “Sounds like somebody’s jealous.”
“Jealous of that mental masturbator? Not a chance. Down here, off the mountain, my cunning and good looks go a lot further,” Parker said, raising a brow.
She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and cocked her head. “Funny. But you should remember that pleasing a woman is ninety percent mental… Not that you’d know anything about that.”
Parker’s mouth dropped open, but he was speechless. Finally, he gave her a little jab in the thigh. “Get some sleep, my lady. You’re going to need it!” he croaked before standing to leave.
“Hey, Parker,” she called after him.
Turning at the door, he waited.
“I’m glad you made it back.” She gave him a smile that could melt the Frozen North.
He nodded. “Me, too.”
****
Adrien paced down the hallway lined with administrative offices toward his destination. To his right was a line of windows looking out on the quad. The night sky had turned cobalt blue, marked with even darker blue clouds. Another day had passed—another day closer to his plan taking shape. Even knowing of the progress, the Chancellor was growing impatient, and Elon needed more magicians—and he would get them, one way or the other.
Without announcing himself, he pushed through the Dean’s door and into her office.
Amelia stood, pulling the spectacles from her tired eyes. “Chancellor, I wasn’t expecting—”
“Amelia, please, sit.”
She glanced out the window, orienting herself to the time of day. The life of the Dean was rigorous. Add a heaping spoonful of colluding with the local rebellion and hiding it all from your boss, and you end up with a full calendar.
Amelia leaned back in the chair behind her desk. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m here about the Scholar’s Program. You’ve given me some great students—”
“I’ve given you the best,” she said politely. “How are they doing, by the way? I haven’t heard a peep from them since.”
Adrien nodded. “Of course, you haven’t. They’ve been studying with me and getting some, well, practical experience. Arcadia is doing well, Amelia. We all know that. Sure, we have some issues in the streets, but this place had become much like my dear mentor wanted it to be.”
He paused and looked at her. A chill crept through her body.
He continued. “But we don’t want life here to be good, do we?”
“Sir?”
“We want the Arcadian life to be heaven on Irth. And we have an opportunity to usher in that utopia. Don’t you agree?”
Amelia smiled. “Adrien, you moved me into this position because I am a practically minded woman. I pay no heed to imagined republics or heavenly re
alms. Instead, my work is to train these students, what they do after is up to them—and, I imagine, you.”
“Yes,” Adrien said, “some of us dream and others do the work necessary to make those dreams a reality. I guess that is why I put you in the chair you're sitting in now—because I trusted that you could do the work sufficient to carry out all my dreams. Like finding me young scholars for my program.”
She rubbed her eyes with the balls of her palms and looked back up at the Chancellor. “I’ve given you so many.”
“Yes, you have. And now… I need more.” A smile crept across his face. “I know you have so much to give, Amelia my dear.”
Amelia flips through pages on her desk, stalling. “I’ve given you my strongest candidates. Maybe it is time to consider your team sufficient for now. These new students are so young, we should let them develop a bit before they undergo something as... rigorous as your scholarship. By late spring, I am sure some more will rise to the top, but if we keep pulling the best out of the classroom—”
Adrien slammed his open hand on the desk. “No!”
Amelia jumped, and Adrien could see the concern in her eyes. “Forgive me,” he said. “It’s just that my work is so important. I really can’t wait. There are students here who would fit the bill. I don’t even care if they’re your best students—it’s potential that is important. Power. Pure sheer passion. No need to wait for the professors to develop it. Give them to me, and I’ll see that they are put to the best possible use for Arcadia”
Amelia could feel sweat rise on her forehead, but she didn’t want him to see her wipe it away. She nodded. “All right. I will do what I can. Give me a few days, and I’ll have more names. But I can’t guarantee that they’re great students.”
He nodded. “I don’t need them to know the damned parlor tricks that August teaches them in the classroom. Might be better if they are unrefined. I can draw out of them what I need.”
Amelia’s eyes were locked on Adrien’s. She swore to herself that she wouldn’t look away. She swore she wouldn’t give any indication of the rebellion, and the fact that she knew what he was doing. “It will be done.”
“Good,” Adrien said, licking his cracking lips. “Now, enough business. What do you say we have dinner on Friday—in my private apartment? There’s something else I’d like to straighten out.”
He winked, and Amelia’s stomach churned.
“It would be a delight,” she said, and then she watched the man she swore to take down leave her office.
****
Standing over his drafting table, Adrien was happy to be alone. With all that was going on in the city—between the Prophet, the anti-Prophet, and that bitch magician—he had precious little time to attend to his most recent project.
It had taken him years to work out the plan for the war machine, but the time he had allocated there was worth the while. His airship would make his armies unstoppable. But there was still one thing that nagged at his mind.
Adrien was confident that he could beat Ezekiel in a fight. When Adrien was young, Ezekiel was a force of nature, unmatched in his abilities. But that was half a century ago. The Founder was ancient now, and Adrien had spent years improving his martial skills.
But there was no reason Adrien couldn’t give himself a slight advantage. After all, he hadn’t maintained his position this long without taking extra precautions.
“It has to work,” he whispered into the lonely tower as he made the final pen strokes on the drawing he would give to the Chief Engineer—a special suit of armor for a special purpose. If Ezekiel is fool enough to test me, it will be the end of the Founder.
A knock on the door interrupted his contemplation.
“Enter,” he shouted, annoyed by the disturbance.
The door flung open, and Doyle stood in the space, looking like he’d been to hell and back.
A smile formed on Adrien’s face. “I will assume that since you are here, there has been success abroad.”
The man nodded, beaming with joy, despite his exhaustion. “Yes, sir.”
Adrien grabbed two glasses from the bar in the corner of the room and poured the mystics’ ale. “Well, then, we should toast to your victory—Arcadia’s victory. Come, Doyle. Sit.”
He shoved a glass into the man’s hand as he dropped into the leather chair. Doyle’s eyes were hollow and his face pale.
“We’ve brought back the artifact. I’ve only just dropped it at the factory. Elon is looking at it even as we speak.”
Adrien crossed his legs. “How?”
“We all but died retrieving it. The Frozen North is every bit as terrible as they say. But it was where Elon—where you said it would be.”
“Excellent! I had no doubt that you would succeed. And Stellan? What about our mysterious friend?”
Doyle paused, staring at his glass and turning it in his palm. It was Stellan who found the artifact, not Doyle. The Chancellor’s assistant had no reason to distrust him. And yet, he made Doyle look like a fool in front of the other men.
“Spit it out, man” Adrien cried.
“I think you were right about Stellan, sir. He was acting strangely; I think he might be your spy.”
Adrien scowled. “I thought as much. It was probably those damned mystics. I bet they turned him. Or maybe it was his own greed... Your contact, are they still following him?”
“Yes, sir. They also report that he is acting strangely, although they were unable to discover any concrete proof.”
“Find out,” Adrien barked. “I don’t care what it takes, how much it costs. If Stellan has turned, then he is working with someone. I want to know who that is. Have your source stick close. I want to know everywhere he goes, everyone he talks to. Hell, your person should be able to tell us when he takes a shit and if it comes out easy.”
A warm pleasure filled Doyle. He thought about the look on Stellan’s smug face and imagined it in pain once the Chancellor got a hold of him.
“Absolutely, sir. I’ll get to the bottom of this. Stellan will be unmasked—and we’ll find out everything he knows. You can count on me.”
“I know I can, Doyle,” Adrien said with a smile. “I know I can.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Gregory removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes. They had grown weary after staring for hours at the plans for Adrien’s machine. He had the blueprints unrolled on his workbench in the basement of the mansion, trying to decipher their exact meaning. If anyone on the team held the ability to keep Adrien’s mighty airship on the ground, it was him. But he had hit a wall.
Tracing his finger over the parchment, he outlined the shape of the ship itself. His father’s perfect drawing created an oblong body that was several times as long as it was wide—like a cucumber from a farmer’s field.
From either side, there were two fins that stretched out. Each was nearly as long as the body of the craft. There was also a dorsal fin on the back, which contained a large magitech mechanism. Gregory knew that these wings would assist the ship in steering once it was airborne.
But Gregory still couldn’t figure out how the hell they were planning on getting the thing off the ground.
