When you said “all you knew,” you meant it, didn’t you? he thought. He couldn’t imagine how knowing of Lance’s unnatural fear of spiders might help his efforts, but Rebecca had scribbled it along with the rest of the information. He also wondered how she both obtained and remembered such factoids. Brad had once joked that Rebecca could list off the exact amount of forks in the mess hall at any given time. Kael thought there might be far more truth to that offhand statement than Brad realized.
The actual useful stuff was at the very end, and painfully thin.
Lance has spoken repeatedly of his disdain for New Galen’s creation. Edwin has said nothing on the matter, though privately he may speak more freely. Both brothers appear to be fully cooperating with the occupation, and have been careful to say nothing disparaging about Center or the Speaker.
Kael read over the note a second time, then tore it up into little strips. When he reached the grasslands just beyond Lowville, he scattered the pieces into the wind. Being searched prior to entering the holy mansion was a distinct possibility, and he wanted to avoid any awkward discussion about how and why he’d have a note containing such information.
The walk was long and boring, but at least it let him calm down from his talk with Nickolas. Kael did his best to focus on any possible interactions with Lance and Edwin, but it never stayed long. Instead he ran a seemingly endless number of meetings with Clara through his head. What she might say. How she might react. What he’d do if she were happy, or mad, or sad, or indifferent. He knew it was stupid, but he found himself far more nervous at how he’d react around her than the two current rulers of Weshern.
At last he saw the stone mansion, protected by a tall fence and bordered with dozens of trees trimmed so their rounded tops flattened at the bottom. The gate through the fence was closed, and two of Center’s soldiers stood before it, shields strapped to their backs and long spears held in hand. Kael frowned, quickly banished it while hoping neither soldier saw. No reason to let them know of his unease. The Willer house guards stood by the door farther in, but it was obvious who was considered to have greater authority. No one reached the Willer guards without first passing through Center’s.
“Need something?” one of the soldiers asked when Kael stopped before the gate.
“I’m a friend of Clara’s,” Kael said, purposely not giving his name. He didn’t want to know how the two men might react to hearing the name Skyborn. “I was hoping to visit her.”
Neither looked ready to believe someone dressed so plainly could be friends with the Archon’s daughter. Kael swallowed down a bitter remark, upset at how much that old wound still hurt.
“We’re friends from the academy,” he added. “Ask her yourself if you must.”
“No need for that,” said the other soldier. “We’ll let the house guards figure that out. You armed?”
Kael lifted his arms and spun in place so they saw he wasn’t.
“They’ll check you before they let you in,” said the soldier. “Go on ahead. For your sake, I hope you’re not lying. We won’t stop them if they decide to string you up.”
“Understood,” Kael said, wishing he could tell them he feared Center’s soldiers a million times more than any Willer house guard. The soldiers swung the gate open, and Kael crossed the stone pathway and up the stairs to the next blockade. One of the guards bore the tattoos swearing him to silence, the other did not.
“Name,” asked the tattooless guard.
“Kael Skyborn,” he said. “I was hoping to see Clara.”
He glanced to the tattooed man, who nodded and gestured inside.
“Wait here,” said the first.
Kael nodded, and he stood there, eyes at his feet. The remaining guard did a quick pat search, but he appeared bored with the matter, and finished within a few seconds. Kael crossed and uncrossed his arms as he waited. What might the other guard be doing? Confirming he was who he said? Asking Clara for permission? Would she give it? It seemed stupid to doubt it, given their time at the academy, but it was hard to remain certain as the minutes dragged on, just him and the house guard, who stood completely passive, spear in his left hand, right tapping against his thigh as he hummed a song so quietly only he could hear.
The door opened. Kael’s gaze shot upward, panic spiking as a hundred terrible scenarios ran through his mind, but then Clara shot through the opening, flung her arms around him, and kissed his lips. By the time the kiss ended, Kael’s face was sunset red. He glanced at the guards, saw that both were pointedly staring off in the distance as if they’d spotted something very, very interesting in the trees that needed their full attention.
Clara crossed her arms, her joy immediately replaced with displeasure.
“What took you so long to visit?” she asked. Clara had been pulled from the academy following the Speaker’s announcement that her parents would be imprisoned, and Kael hadn’t seen her since.
“I only returned home yesterday,” he said. “I would have otherwise, I promise.”
“You could have snuck out to spend time with me,” she said. “It wouldn’t have been the first time.”
Kael swore the humming guard choked down a laugh.
“You’re right,” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “But I’m here now. Can I come inside, or should we spend our time putting on a show for the guards?”
Clara’s mischievous grin made him wonder if she’d do just that to spite him, but then she grabbed his hand and tugged.
“Come inside,” she said. “It’s a long walk here from Lowville, and I’m sure you could use a drink.”
The first thing Kael immediately noticed upon stepping inside was how much darker the mansion had become. Sure, it had its share of windows, but at the winter solstice dance, the entire hallway had been lit with stone torches that burned with fire prisms. Now they were dark, the prisms missing. Kael kept a hold of Clara’s hand, letting her guide him as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.
“You’re the first to visit since… you know,” Clara said.
“Really?” Kael asked. “No one else?”
“Not from the academy. I think everyone’s scared to come here. Worried they’ll join my parents in some secret theotech dungeon, I guess.”
Kael winced at the bitterness and sadness tainting her every word. He squeezed her hand, wishing he could reassure her in some way. Once out of the entryway, they walked the long hallway, his feet sinking into the thick cerulean carpet.
“A valid worry for me still, given the fun I’ve had the past few days,” Kael said.
Clara froze, and she pulled him close, voice dropping to a whisper.
“Never say anything like that again,” she insisted. “My family’s not alone in here, not anymore.”
Kael nodded, feeling foolish for speaking so carelessly. Just because the only soldiers from Center he’d seen were at the outer gate didn’t mean there weren’t more scattered throughout the mansion.
“Understood,” Kael whispered back.
Clara kissed him on the cheek, a quick peck.
“You’ve met the resistance,” she whispered, eyes lighting with life.
Kael answered with a nod.
“Once we’re in my room,” she said, “I want to hear all about it.”
They resumed walking down the hallway, then hooked a right toward the interior. The hallway itself was incredibly narrow, with Kael and Clara just barely able to walk side by side. It was a defense against invading Seraphim, he knew. Anyone bearing wings would have to attack single file, and they’d have little room to maneuver against the shields and spears of the house guard. The construction also gave the mansion a claustrophobic feeling, a feeling aided by the dim light and lines of shadows cast by the bars protecting the windows.
After crossing several halls, they passed through an expansive set of double doors into what appeared to be a dining hall. A single long table filled the center of the room. The table legs were carved like those of the fabled tiger, da
rker stripes cut into the sides and long claws sinking into the carpet. Curtains hung along the walls. The high ceiling was most impressive, covered with a painting of a sprawling battle between silver-armored Seraphim and the supposed demons of the old world.
Two servants stood by the doors, and without need of orders they quickly bowed to Clara and then raced away, fetching something to eat and drink, Kael assumed. Kael and Clara sat near the middle of the room in chairs so stuffed and oversized that Kael felt like a child who’d gotten lost on his way to the small table.
“Hope you’re hungry,” Clara said. “Because you’re about to have more food thrown at you than you’ll know what to do with.”
A glass of water was delivered first, chunks of ice floating at the top, and Kael slowly sipped it.
“All this for just us?” Kael asked when the doors opened again, and more servants arrived carrying trays, bread pans, and soup bowls.
“My brothers should join us soon,” Clara said. “Honestly, I’m surprised they’re not already—”
The doors on the opposite side of the room burst open, and three men entered at once in a loud, angry procession. Clara’s brothers, both vaguely familiar from the time Kael met them at the solstice dance. Lance led the way, his face clean-shaven, while the younger Edwin grew a short, cleanly trimmed beard. The brothers wore matching dark pants and blue jackets, similar in style to military uniforms, yet softer, more decorated with silver buttons and black tassels.
Kael’s mood soured when he caught a good look at the man with them: Vyros Longleaf, the bald theotech who’d administered the seventh-day services. Clara’s warning about their family not being alone was now all too clear. While the brothers looked upset, Vyros appeared as calm as could be.
“You can assign us blame all you want, but it changes nothing,” Lance said over his shoulder, his cherubic face red with anger. “We’ve done everything in our power to quell the riots, and it never seems to help.”
“If anything, it makes matters worse,” Edwin chipped in.
Kael followed Clara’s lead and rose from his seat in respect.
“No matter how hard you protest, both New Galen and the people surrounding it are under your supervision,” Vyros said as he took a seat at the long table. Servants flitted about, offering food and drink to the three. The theotech accepted a tall glass of water and nothing else, and he sipped it before continuing. “You may believe you’re saying otherwise, but what I am hearing is that you are incapable of maintaining the peace.”
Lance started to protest, but he realized that Kael and Clara were there, and he nodded toward them in acknowledgment, granting them permission to sit.
“Kael,” Lance said. “You live near New Galen. Is the mood as dour as our theotech friend insists?”
This was hardly an argument Kael wanted to be thrust into the middle of, but there didn’t seem much hope of escape. Swallowing the last bit of the biscuit he’d eaten, he cleared his throat to stall as he scrambled for an answer. Sure enough, he’d heard plenty of gossip from his aunt about the people of New Galen stirring up trouble, setting fires and threatening to spill violence out beyond the town’s borders. Aunt Bethy had insisted it was merely proof of the Galen people’s violent tendencies. Having witnessed the death of former Galen man, Elijah, Kael thought differently. But to get into all that, with the brothers watching? No, he wanted to remain unnoticed and ignored as much as possible.
“I don’t know how Vyros has described it, so I cannot say whether he is right or wrong,” he offered. “But dour is a fair word to use to describe the attitude on both sides.”
“Stubborn is another,” Edwin said. His voice was lighter than his older brother’s, and more biting. He grabbed a roll from an offered platter, looked at it mistrustfully as if it were diseased. “Though I don’t understand why anyone acts surprised. Our most hated enemy has been given a parcel of our own land. Did no one think those who lost their homes might have a few issues with the matter? Our people want their homes back, and their people would rather see our island crash into the ocean than live peacefully among us.”
“The people of New Galen are your people now,” Vyros said, anger leaking into his words. “They are not your enemy. That you continue to think of them as such only shows why you’ve been so ineffective at disarming the situation.”
Edwin waved his hand dismissively. Kael had a feeling this conversation had repeated itself a dozen times over the past week, and no one looked ready to change their position. Vyros was at least right on that last remark, though. Despite the strip of red cloth Kael carried with him still, he did not think of the people of New Galen as fellow citizens. They were strangers, outcasts, displaced and unwanted. As much as he hated their mistreatment, it still felt strange to consider them part of Weshern.
“The people are mistrustful of New Galen because they’re afraid,” Clara interjected. “And they’re afraid because their Archon and his wife are imprisoned in the holy mansion’s dungeons for crimes they never committed.”
Kael was stunned by her audacity, but it appeared such a display was not uncommon for her, based on the eye roll both brothers gave. Vyros sipped at his water, showing no hurry to respond.
“Weshern’s citizens are indeed afraid,” he agreed. “But Isaac and Avila’s imprisonment isn’t why they’re afraid. The change from one figurehead to another doesn’t inspire fear in and of itself among the populace. No, it’s the worry that a new figurehead will abuse their power over them. Despite rebellious Seraphim acting against us, have we given the common folk any reason to believe us a danger?” The theotech glared at the brothers. “The people of New Galen, on the other hand, have many reasons to fear abuse. Isn’t that right?”
Elijah’s face flashed before Kael’s eyes.
“All hearsay and nonsense,” Lance said, a blatant falsehood he put forth no effort in selling. “This whole business will settle down in time. Change is difficult, but people adjust. It’s basic human nature. If you’d just be patient with us, Vyros, you’d see this was the case.”
Vyros pushed away from the table and rose to his feet.
“I have been patient,” he said, smoothing out his red robes. “But now I hear of demands being posted throughout every Weshern tavern and meeting hall. The situation here grows worse with time, not better. We do not desire bloodshed, but your former Seraphim appear all too eager to cross blades. Save your excuses, both of you. Soon you won’t be explaining your incompetence to me, but to the Speaker himself. I assure you, he will be far less patient than I’ve been.”
The brothers stood as well, bowing in respect. Once Vyros was gone, Edwin sank back into his seat, but not Lance. Lance grabbed Vyros’s half-empty glass of water by its long neck, turned, and flung it at the door. The glass shattered, water splashing across the deep-stained oak. Kael winced, the noise startling in the quiet.
“One of these days I’m going to lose it on that bastard,” Lance said.
“It wouldn’t help any,” Edwin said, nibbling on his own biscuit. Crumbs sprinkled across his beard, and he gently wiped them away. “When has a theotech ever admitted they were wrong in the history of existence? Never. Just keep making promises and kiss their asses, and it will all quiet down.”
Lance sat back down, and he glared at Clara.
“It would help if a certain member of the family would stop antagonizing Vyros.”
Clara flushed but refused to apologize. Kael sank into his chair, wishing they’d sent someone else to handle this task. He felt completely unwanted, a stranger in the midst of family.
“What do you expect?” Edwin asked. “She’d rather fly and throw ice than maintain a civil lifestyle. The academy teaches people how to kill people. I doubt manners is on the curriculum.”
Clara was clearly hurt, but she kept her mouth shut, her jaw clenched so tight she looked like she were trying to shatter her own teeth.
“Taught,” Kael corrected, unable to keep silent. “It taught us how to k
ill, but no longer. It was burned to the ground, in case you didn’t notice from here in your mansion.”
“We’re well aware,” Lance said. “I signed off on its closure.”
“You did?” Kael asked, stunned. “Why?”
“Because the sooner we show the Speaker we’re no threat, the sooner we’ll have our kingdom back,” Edwin said. “Marius wishes no harm for Weshern. If he wanted to, he could have publicly executed our parents and burned the mansion to the ground with a legion of angelic knights, but he didn’t. He’s here because Galen’s fall scared the piss out of him. I doubt he knows who, if anyone, is responsible, so he’s making a show of blaming us.”
“So meanwhile we play the repentant scapegoat until the matter passes,” Lance said. “At least, it would pass, but fucking Argus won’t back down. List of demands? Goddamn, what an ignorant ass. We’ll never pose a great enough threat for Marius to even consider caving.” He glanced at his plate, then pushed it away. “I don’t have time for this. I’ve got shit to do.”
Kael stared at his food, not wanting to look at Lance as he left lest he risk saying something that’d get him in trouble. Clearly neither brother sounded willing to aid with the resistance. If anything, they’d turn Argus and Rebecca over to Center. His coming to the mansion was a gigantic waste of time.
He glanced at Clara, immediately felt guilty. No, not a waste at all.
“So what is it you’re up to now that the academy’s shut down?” Edwin asked, nonplussed by his older brother’s abrupt exit.
“Not much,” Kael said, glad he didn’t have to lie. “Mostly helping my aunt with her work in the fields.”
Fireborn Page 9
