BRAXTON HORNSBY
BRAXTON KNOWS HE’S headed east, but how far east remains a mystery. Over a day has passed since leaving Hanslow—wailing in pain, screaming in misery—behind. Braxton tries to block out the sounds bouncing around his skull, but his mind is cruel, forcing them to replay over and over again.
He stops in the middle of the forest, desperate for something—anything—to distract him. A bird soars overhead and, for a brief moment, he feels hopeful, like not all is lost. But as the bird comes into view, his heart sinks. It’s a kestrel, not a black falcon.
Hanslow’s desperate cries for help resurface. His hands shoot to his ears and he presses his palms against them, harder and harder, as if the sounds are something physical he can block out.
How he wishes that were the case.
After a few minutes of frustration, he lowers his hands. His gaze lands on an exposed pathway in the distance. With nothing to lose, he takes off toward the open area, arms pumping at his sides. The cries seem to quiet down some as he runs, but he can’t run forever. Eventually he has to stop.
Eventually they’ll start up again.
He unintentionally zigzags across the forest. When was the last time I ate? The last time I had water? The last time I slept? Although the cries have quieted down, new voices plague his mind. You’re not going to make it. You’re going to die out here.
“No!” he shouts. He’s panting, running for his life, running with no direction and no end goal.
Get away from the Savant. Far, far away.
He stumbles, tripping over his own feet, and tumbles to the ground. Although the forest floor is rigid and stiff, the bed of leaves and pine needles breaks his fall. He lies on his stomach for a few moments. His mind tells him to get up, but his body doesn’t listen. He’s gone far enough.
He stays there until, exhausted, he finally closes his eyes and succumbs to sleep.
Sunlight pours through the forest canopy. Braxton stirs, removing bits of pine needles and leaves from his chin and corners of his mouth. He has no idea what time it is, or how long he’s slept, but based on the position of the sun, it’s late morning.
Did I spend the night in the forest?
He pulls himself up to his knees, groaning as his joints crack and pop with the movement. A low whistle startles him, and he jumps, falling onto his rear at the sound. Frantically, he scans the forest until he spots a figure sitting at the base of a nearby tree. From the shadows of the spiked hair alone, he can tell who it is. He breathes a sigh of relief before saying, “Xerin, how long have you been here?”
Xerin shrugs and takes a bite of an apple. “Not sure, really. A while, I suppose.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
Xerin shrugs again, then tosses him an apple. “I tried. You were out. Stone cold. There was no waking you up.”
Braxton feels his cheeks burn. “It’s been an interesting couple of days.” Images of Hanslow and the sound of his cries threaten to resurface, but he pushes them down. “What took you so long?”
Xerin raises an eyebrow, clearly amused at the question. “How do you mean?”
Braxton pulls himself to his feet, then walks over to him. “You asked me if I wanted to join,” he lowers his voice to a whisper, “you know, the Caldari. And then you left and didn’t return.” He takes a bite of the mealy fruit. “Until now.”
Xerin throws his apple core to the side before standing. “I beg your pardon, but I do have other places to go and people to see besides you,” he scoffs. “You are not my only priority. Actually, I’m not even sure you’d make the list.”
His response angers Braxton, but he manages to keep his emotions at bay. “Well, I have an answer for you—”
“Let me guess,” Xerin interrupts, “you’d like to join the Caldari.”
Braxton closes his mouth, then nods his head.
Xerin gives him a coy smile. “I knew you would. What I don’t understand is why you didn’t jump at the opportunity when I first presented it to you.”
“I had to think—”
“Don’t give me that crap,” Xerin barks. “You didn’t have to think about it. You knew, from the moment I asked you to join, that you wanted to—that you were going to say yes.” He raises an eyebrow. “So why didn’t you?”
Braxton takes a step back. Even though he doesn’t know Xerin that well, his harsh nature seems a little out of character, even for him. “Are you feeling okay?”
Xerin’s mouth pulls into a tight line. “Answer the question,” he demands through gritted teeth.
Not wanting to see his dark side, Braxton does as he says. “Fine, I knew. I knew that I would join all along.”
“Then why didn’t you immediately accept?” Xerin presses.
“Because the thought of potentially facing my father again is too much to bear.”
There. I said it.
A long bout of uncomfortable silence passes between them, making him wish he could take his last statement back.
Surprisingly, Xerin softens his tone. “Are you aware that your father has called the Savant?”
Braxton nods solemnly.
“Are you also aware that even if you didn’t join the Caldari that you’d run into him again, one way or another?”
Braxton hesitates before nodding again.
“Good.” Xerin inhales a sharp breath. “Now that that’s settled, it’s time for you to come with me.”
Just as he’s about to ask where, Xerin transforms into a falcon, flapping his wings until he’s more than twenty feet in the air. The bird screeches and Braxton can only guess that, in bird-speak, it means follow me.
Xerin leads him even further east (which he hadn’t thought possible) until they reach the end shores of Athia, where he morphs back into his human form and ushers Braxton onto a nearby ship. It’s nearly nightfall by the time they set sail.
Braxton has no idea where they’re headed, but, from the look on Xerin’s face, he’s almost certain he’s about to make some new friends.
ARDEN ELIRI
I KNOW TAKING the book probably wasn’t the best idea, but I couldn’t put it back, not after I’d laid eyes on that drawing. For the third time that morning, I curse myself for not bringing my pocket watch with me on the Lonia mission—but how was I to know that it would be my last?
I sit at the desk in my dwelling, poring over the image with a hand lens, but it’s too small and too blurry to make any sort of comparison. Not that I have anything real to compare it to—just the still image that’s ever so slowly fading from my memory.
I grunt and throw the lens down in frustration. The man looks just like me and he has a pocket watch. That should be sign enough, but then again, it may just be a coincidence.
I’m starting to feel like I’ll never know.
A knock on my door startles me. Juniper is curled up in her usual place by the crackling fire, and doesn’t stir in the slightest. I scurry over to my armoire and hide the book between some linen sheets, secure the cabinet, then walk over to answer the door. But when I open it, there is no one there.
Odd.
Just as I begin to shut the door, something presses against it. It’s a strength greater than my own, and I start to panic as the door is forced open. I stop resisting and jump back in a fighting stance. The door swings open but still, no one is there.
A shiver creeps down my spine.
Dark whispers push at my mind, and the more I try to force them away, the louder they become. Join us, Arden. It’s where you belong.
Without warning, I’m suddenly transported to a grassy meadow just outside Trendalath castle. It takes a minute to gather my bearings, but from a distance, I can see waves crashing onto a shore. A small figure near the water catches my attention.
Not knowing why, I make my way over to it.
A white-blonde head of hair comes into view. It’s a young boy. He’s fishing along t
he side of the castle. I feel the urge to tell him to run and get out of here—that it isn’t safe here—but a stronger desire overcomes me.
Kill him and the terror will be over. The Tymond reign will cease to exist, the darkness whispers.
My lips pull in a grim line as I pull my chakrams from their holsters. The boy is only twenty feet away from me. His back is to me, and it seems that he has no inkling that I’m watching him.
Or that I could very easily kill him.
Don’t listen to them, my mind urges. I attempt to pull the dark threads from my mind, but they’re wound too tight. What’s done is done. Killing him won’t do a thing.
I want to listen—need to listen—to my own instincts, but I can’t. Darkness has overcome me. I need to kill this boy, whoever he is. Just as I gear up to throw my chakrams, the boy turns around. Eyes the color of ice meet mine.
“Can I help you, Miss?”
I can only stare at him. It’s blatantly obvious that I’m holding weapons, ready to strike, and that he is my target, but his innocent face reflects an eerie sense of calm.
“No,” I mumble as I lower my weapons. I secure them back into their holsters. “I suppose not.”
The boy smiles and turns back around to resume fishing.
I shake my head, closing my eyes to try to make sense of the conversation. When I open them, I’m standing in my hut, in front of an open door. With shaking hands, I rush toward it and slam it shut.
I stumble backward, eventually ending up on my bed. Juniper stirs and, with one look at my frightened expression, nuzzles up against my arm. I set her in my lap and stroke her white and black fur. My eyes stay trained on the door, but after calming my shallow breaths, my heart slows down and my breathing becomes normal again. I lean my head back against the wall and continue to pet the little marble fox.
Questions consume my thoughts. What was that? Who was that boy? Why would killing him end the Tymond reign? The interrogation swirls around in my mind, leaving me feeling exhausted and confused.
I’m not sure how long I’ve dozed off for when another knock sounds at my door. Juniper hops from my lap onto the floor and scurries into a corner. I rub the sleep from my eyes and, with a yawn, trudge sleepily over to the door. At first, I feel fine, until I recall what had happened earlier. Feeling wiser this time, I call out, “Who is it?”
“It’s Xerin,” a gruff voice answers. “Open the door. Hurry up!”
I do as he says. My gaze lands on Xerin, then quickly shifts to the man standing just a few paces behind him. Eyes the color of ice meet mine once again. My mouth goes dry as I realize who he is—who the young boy was in my vision.
King Tymond’s son.
Without thinking, I lunge for him with ferocious intent and yell, “You!”
Braxton cowers while Xerin throws his arms up to block me, catching my wrists in his hands. He crosses my arms and flips me around so that my back is pressed against his chest. His fingers squeeze my wrists with so much pressure that I yelp a little. I writhe against him, but he has me in a stronghold. I start yelling again for no reason, unsure as to what’s come over me, and, not long thereafter, I see Estelle and Felix barging through the back door.
Felix makes a beeline for Braxton, but Estelle comes straight at me. Her face is taut with fear as she looks from me to Braxton, then back at me again. “What in lords’ name is going on here?”
At the sound of her voice, I stop writhing and Xerin loosens his grip enough for me to break away. I stumble forward into Estelle who shoves me onto the bed. My eyes catch Juniper, who’s backed into a corner, eyes wide with fright.
Before I can process what’s happening, Estelle climbs on top of me and clamps her hand down over my mouth. I don’t even realize I’ve been screaming and yelling the entire time. She uses her free hand to press down on my left shoulder. “Shhh,” she whispers, trying to calm me down. “It’s okay, Arden. It’s okay.”
My chest is moving up and down at such a rapid speed that I feel like it’s going to burst and splatter all over the room. I look into her violet eyes, into her soft expression, and slowly begin to calm my nerves. It takes some time, but eventually my breathing evens out, my hands stop shaking, and my heart resumes its normal pace. Slowly, she moves off of me and sits down next to me on the bed.
Xerin ushers Braxton inside my house, then secures the door behind them. He marches over to where I’m still laying and Estelle is sitting. For a moment, he seems so angry that he might backhand me, but Estelle stands up in my defense.
Xerin bumps into her, their noses touching, then growls, “What the hell was that?”
Estelle doesn’t flinch. She places her hands on top of his shoulders. “Calm down.”
Xerin inhales a sharp breath before swinging his hand to break contact between them. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
I know I’ve caused enough damage today, so I sit up, even though I still feel uneasy, and say, “I’m sorry, Xerin.” My eyes flit to the older version of the boy in my vision. “And Prince Tymond, to you, I am also sorry. Regrettably so.”
He looks at me with a pained expression. “Please, call me Braxton.”
I nod. This exchange between us seems to lessen the tension. I notice shoulders drop and facial muscles relax as everyone moves to stand in a semi-circle. I rise from the bed and join them. It’s hard to take my eyes off of Braxton, and I can tell that he feels the same way about me. I don’t want to explain myself or defend my actions, but I can tell by the looks on everyone’s faces that I need to. So far, I haven’t made the best impression on the Caldari. If they were sensible, they would have kicked me out by now.
And yet, here I remain.
“I had a sort of vision,” I blurt out, “and he, Prince Tymond, was in it.”
Estelle tenses. “What kind of vision?”
I don’t know how to tell them that the darkness speaks to me, nor do I want to, so I say, “I saw Prince Tymond as a young boy. He was fishing in the ocean on the side of the castle.” My gaze flickers to him and his eyes grow wide, as if I’m somehow recalling one of his childhood memories. “I was told that if I killed him, the terror would be over.” My voice croaks as the next words come out. “That if I killed him, the Tymond reign would cease to exist.”
The room falls silent for a long while.
“Who told you this?” Estelle asks, her voice a mere whisper.
I shake my head, knowing better than to reveal my secrets. “I don’t know.” I look at her with sad eyes.
My answer lingers in the air. No one says anything. No one moves. Stillness surrounds us.
And then, in a surprisingly lighthearted tone, Braxton speaks up. “You probably should have done it then.”
My head snaps up from the ground and I realize that he’s smiling. Felix lets out a low chuckle, followed by a small laugh from Estelle. I’m relieved that Braxton isn’t upset, and as much as I want to smile, Xerin’s stone-cold expression stops me.
“We do not attack our own,” Xerin says with extreme superiority.
“Our own . . .?” My words trail off as I realize what he’s talking about.
Holy lords. The son of King Darius Tymond is one of us.
Illusié.
The realization is enough to make me lose my footing, but Estelle is right there to catch me. “Are you okay?” she asks.
I nod, even though I’m not.
The prince sighs. “I would really prefer if you call me by the name I’ve had for the past ten years, which is Braxton Hornsby. I don’t want anything to do with the Tymond name. No association. Nothing.”
I stay silent, but continue to stare at the prince. He looks so tormented, so sad. All I want to do is walk over to him and give him a hug and apologize over and over again. But I know my actions won’t fix anything. Braxton’s fighting his own demons.
Aren’t we all?
I can tell Xerin wants to say something, but he keeps quiet. Just as I
’m about to try and pull it out of him, Felix pipes up. “Well, now that the majority of us are here, I guess it’s time we start on our training.”
I look around at the group. I seem to be the only one wearing a confused expression. The majority? Who are we missing? And what training, exactly?
“Let’s start first thing tomorrow morning. Be in the common area at 0700 hours.” Xerin groans, but doesn’t bother proposing a new time. Felix nudges him in the shoulder. “Oh, come on, Xerin. I would have thought you’d be the most excited to see what everyone can do.”
I swallow the large lump that’s formed in my throat as everyone turns to exit my house. Estelle’s the last one out. She winks at me before shutting the door. And then I’m alone.
It’s just me and Juniper.
I nestle back in the bed and pull the sheets tightly around me. Juniper hops up near my face and circles around my head until she finds a comfortable position.
My thoughts drift to tomorrow morning. In the past, I was never nervous whilst training with the Cruex. I knew my abilities, my strengths, and my weaknesses like the back of my hand. But this . . . this is entirely new to me. How can I show them what I can do when I don’t even know what I’m capable of?
The thought sits with me until Juniper’s rhythmic purring lulls me to sleep, reassuring me that it’s tomorrow’s problem.
I suppose it is.
RYDAN HELSTROM
VISITS FROM HIS new handmaiden have become less and less frequent, and Rydan finds himself desperately needing company, even if that company is of the strong, silent type like Gladys. When she does visit, she hardly ever speaks, just watches him with that unsettling gaze of hers. Normally, Rydan is babbling about something, droning on and on, just happy that he’s being heard. He’s never considered himself an extrovert, or even someone who enjoys social settings in the slightest, but after being locked up, for lords knows how long, with no one to talk to, he craves it.
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