Edwin popped a strawberry into his mouth.
“So no gallivanting off with members of the resistance, then?”
He should have known the question was coming. He should have hid his guilt better. He didn’t.
“They’ve approached me,” he said, deciding he’d never get away with a complete lie. His earlier talk with Nickolas proved that well enough.
“I hope you did the sensible thing and told them no,” Edwin said. “Getting yourself killed helps no one, and certainly not Weshern.”
“Some would argue that working with Center won’t help Weshern, either,” Kael said.
“So I’ve heard,” Edwin said. “Not from anyone wise, of course.” He pointedly looked to Clara. “Just youthful troublemakers with more fight than sense in their heads.”
“It’s not hopeless,” Clara insisted. “Mom and Dad are innocent, you know that as well as I do, yet they’re imprisoned here in our own dungeon. Is it so wrong to demand their freedom, and to fight for their release if Center refuses?”
Edwin ignored her as a servant took his empty plate and replaced it with one containing a thick slice of cheese drizzled with berries and a dark sauce.
“It’s good you’re here to keep her company, Kael,” he said. “Maybe if she’s not so bored she’ll stop making things worse for us.”
Silverware rattled from Clara’s fist smacking the table, and she rose so fast she knocked over her chair.
“I’ve had enough,” she said, voice strained, a dam about to burst. “Let’s go, Kael.”
Kael stood, and he forced himself to give Edwin a respectful bow. Then he was off, chasing after Clara as she slammed open the tall doors to the dining room and hurried down the hall. Kael followed her through the winding corridors, saying nothing. Clara stopped as abruptly as she’d started, pulling a thin iron key from her pocket and unlocking a wide white door. She yanked it open and stormed inside, and Kael stepped in after.
Clara’s bedroom was surprisingly small. He’d thought she’d have a sprawling area for herself, but this was no bigger than his own bedroom back in Lowville. That didn’t mean it lacked luxuries, though. Her bed was big, with a thick, soft mattress. Two drawers lined the wall, and he saw a shut door he guessed led to a closet. Most impressive was the view from the window. The holy mansion formed a hollow rectangle, and in the very center grew an expansive garden. The room’s curtains were pulled back, revealing a beautiful stretch of roses and tulips growing just outside. Clara sat on her bed, grabbed a pillow, and held it to her face so she could scream.
“I’m sorry,” Kael said. Empty words, really, but he didn’t know what else to offer.
Clara fell pillow-first onto the bed, face mushed within it. A muffled sigh escaped its confines.
“It’s hardly your fault,” she said, rolling onto her back. “I’ve tried being more tactful with them, but they dismissed me as if I’m still five years old. Vyros has my brothers wrapped around his finger. If he told them to strip naked and run through the streets, they’d be out there in a heartbeat, bare asses to the wind.”
Kael sat next to her on the bed, and she shifted so she could lean her head in his lap. He gently stroked her short blonde hair, staring at the green of her eyes, the short curls of her eyelashes, and the soft curve of her chin.
“I’ve missed you,” she said, much quieter, her anger draining away. “All of you. It was so much easier to feel like I had friends at the academy. But here? I’m cooped up, alone, and with nothing to do. The worst is knowing my parents are so close, yet I’m not allowed into the dungeon to see them, speak with them, even know they’re all right. I may not be in that prison with them, but some days it feels like I am.”
“I’ll break you out if you’d like,” Kael offered. “Shouldn’t be too hard. A pickax, a shovel, and a few nights’ digging and, poof, tunnel to freedom leading right here.”
“You don’t want to free me. You just want direct access to my bedroom.”
Kael felt heat building in his neck, along with certain other awkward places, given the placement of Clara’s resting head.
“Either way, it’d be worth the effort,” he said.
“It’d piss off my brothers,” Clara said. “That alone makes it worth it.”
She laughed, and she lifted herself upward while wrapping her hands about his neck and pulling him toward her for a kiss. Kael was all too happy to oblige.
“You know, the door is locked,” she whispered when he pulled back for a breath. “And I can think of a few other things that would piss off my brothers.”
At first it felt like Kael’s heart would stop, and then it hammered at a speed faster than any Seraph could fly.
“Is that so?” he asked.
Her mischievous grin spread ear to ear.
“It is. Now get back down here and kiss me.”
* * *
“How long until dark, do you think?” Kael asked, glancing out the window above him.
“Why, you have somewhere to be?”
She’d asked it sarcastically, but when he hesitated to answer, she sat up, her entire face narrowing. Her blanket fell to her waist, exposing her chest, and it took a tremendous effort for Kael to meet her gaze instead of letting it linger elsewhere.
“You do,” she said. “Is it the resistance?”
Kael shook his head.
“No, not exactly. I’m not supposed to tell anyone…”
Clara crossed her arms and gave him an incredulous look.
“You’re going to keep secrets from me?” she asked. “After what we just did?”
He laughed.
“Fine,” he said. “I need to be home before the midnight fire begins. I’m, uh, supposed to meet someone.”
She gestured a hand, urging him to continue.
“You won’t believe who,” he said.
“Try me.”
Kael shrugged.
“Fine. Johan. I’m to meet with Johan.”
Clara’s eyes spread wide.
“I’m coming with you.”
“Wait, what?”
She was already off the bed, pulling open drawers and grabbing a change of clothes from within.
“I was with you when that disciple, Marrik, predicted Center’s invasion, remember?” she said, sliding on a plain brown skirt. “If Johan was right about that, I want to know what else he predicts will happen. Lance and Edwin may not believe it, but I want to protect our nation just as much as they do.” She vanished into her closet, then reappeared sliding a plain white shirt over her head. “And to protect it, we’re going to need to fight, not whimper and obey. Johan’s disciples have been peaceful so far. I want to know if they’ll stay that way.”
Kael began dressing as well, his mind racing.
“How will you get out?” he asked. “Especially without any of Center’s soldiers seeing you? It was risky enough having you visit one of Johan’s disciples. Visiting with Johan himself…”
Clara straightened her shirt and gave him a wide grin.
“You know, you weren’t too far off when you mentioned tunnels to freedom,” she said.
Kael used his fingers to smooth his hair as best he could, knowing it was hopeless after their tumble but trying anyway.
“What happens when someone realizes you’re gone?” he asked.
“Assuming anyone thinks to look for me in the first place,” Clara said, not hiding the hurt and bitterness in her voice, “they’ll assume we’ve snuck off somewhere on the grounds. There’s plenty of places inside the mansion to hide. So long as I’m back before morning, no one will know… or care.”
Kael shook his head, once again reminded how he should never, ever underestimate her.
“Well then,” he said, “where’s this tunnel to freedom?”
They exited and hurried down the hall. A servant passed them by, giving him a look, and Kael blushed. With Clara’s change of clothes, and their long absence in her room, everyone would leap to one specific, and correct,
conclusion. Kael kept his eyes to the floor, praying they passed no one else.
He’d assumed Clara was leading him to a secret basement somewhere, perhaps a dungeon with a guarded door, but instead they stopped in a quiet hallway on the far-east end of the mansion.
“Where to now?” Kael asked. Clara checked up and down the hallway, ensuring they were alone, and then reached up to grab the bottom of one of the now-dim torches fueled with light element. It slid downward with a rumble, and suddenly a crease appeared along a bare patch of the wall. Releasing the torch, Clara grabbed the crease and pulled, sliding open a secret door on a well-oiled hinge.
“All right,” Kael said. “That was neat.”
There was no room beyond the door, only deep darkness.
“Go,” Clara said. “I’ll be right behind you.”
Kael bent his head to fit into the entrance, then stooped to continue. Soon he had to drop to his knees as the tunnel they’d entered became smaller. The secret door shut behind him, banishing the last trickle of light shining into the tunnel. Now descending into the pitch black, Kael found himself suddenly fighting off claustrophobia he never knew he had. The sound of Clara following him grew closer, the rustle of clothes and sliding of knees loud in the deep silence.
“So where does this tunnel lead?” Kael asked. Maybe talking would calm him as he crawled along, touching the wall occasionally to keep himself oriented.
“A small house not far from the mansion,” Clara explained. Her voice was weirdly distant, a trick of the tunnel by Kael’s guess. “It’s been in the royal family for years, and we keep the inside guarded at all times, just in case someone figures out its purpose.”
“So we’ll pop out from another secret door?”
“Something like that.”
“What about the guard? Won’t he tell someone you’re sneaking out?”
Kael could practically hear the grin spread across her face.
“This is hardly my first time sneaking out, Kael. Galvin’s a good friend, and he’ll trust me far more than my brothers or any snakes from Center.”
The crawl was interminable, but at last he discovered a circle of light in the distance. It appeared at once, suddenly unblocked by the curve of a tunnel Kael had no idea he’d been rounding. To Kael, that circular speck of white was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Only the awkward height of the tunnel kept him from crawling faster toward it.
Silently sighing with relief, Kael stepped out from the tunnel, doing his best to wipe off the dirt from his clothes. He looked for Clara, and laughed when he realized what they’d climbed out of: a fireplace. Before Clara could exit, a cough turned him about. The home was well furnished, and sitting at a round oak table was an older man with a gray mustache. He kept seated, but his hand fell to his side, and the thin sword strapped to his belt.
“I haven’t met you before,” the man said. He had the voice of a perturbed grandfather addressing a trespasser. Kael’s mouth opened, closed. What exactly was the proper response to that?
“I’m Clara’s friend,” he said.
A bushy eyebrow lifted.
“That so?”
“It is,” Clara said as she climbed out from the fireplace. “And you can keep your sword sheathed, Galvin.”
The guard’s face twitched ever so slightly.
“If you say. Please stay safe, m’lady. Weshern’s not what it used to be.”
He relaxed back into his chair, and just like that, his eyes glazed over and it seemed Kael and Clara no longer existed to him.
“Door’s this way,” Clara said, tugging Kael’s sleeve. Together they slipped past Galvin, through a short hallway, and out a large wooden door into open air. After the gloom of the mansion and the complete dark of the tunnel, it was a welcome relief.
“Lowville’s a good ten miles away,” Kael said, offering her his arm. “Are you up for a nice long walk?”
“After weeks cooped up in that stuffy mansion?” she said, sliding her hand around the crook of his elbow. “I’m up for anything.”
CHAPTER
7
Bree sat in the rocking chair by the fire of Aunt Bethy’s home, eyes on the door at all times. The cold, tired look on her face protected her from idle conversation with the other twelve people crammed into the bottom floor of the house, though a few still attempted. A fake smile and a single-word answer usually was enough to convey her desire for solitude. After an hour, only Aunt Bethy spoke to her, and only briefly. The others were neighbors and friends of their aunt. Bree vaguely recognized them, faces and names from her time in the fields. All bore the tanned skin and calloused hands of farmers, and they spoke in hushed, excited tones. No one said his name, but it was on all their minds. Johan. Bree doubted they’d be as excited if the Speaker himself were coming. She wished she could share that excitement. When Bree had come home from Camp Aquila, her aunt had been quick to inform her of Johan’s imminent arrival.
He’s coming here to meet you, she’d said, already brushing at her tangled hair with her fingers. We need to get you presentable. This is an honor very few receive.
Apparently presentable meant having Bree bathe in the lake and then change clothes. Aunt Bethy had attempted to pressure her into wearing a dress, but Bree would have none of it. After a year of wearing her uniform, a flimsy dress felt ridiculous. She wore the pants of her uniform, plus a loose white shirt. She almost put on her jacket, which she’d carried back home with her. Bree had no intention of hiding her allegiance to the Weshern Seraphim, disbanded or otherwise. The only reason she kept it off was that she didn’t want to attract more attention than she already did. People still kept glancing her way, and the word Phoenix was whispered on more than one occasion. The last thing she needed was to put on an even stronger reminder.
Come the rolling dark, more men and women had begun slipping inside the home, one or two at a time. They mingled in the somber light, first from the fireplace in the kitchen, then the rippling glow of the burning skies outside. Each one risked their lives being there. Everything to do with the disciples of Johan had been declared illegal by the Speaker, and after last night’s battle, Bree had a feeling Center wouldn’t tolerate the slightest hint of rebellion against its authority. There’d be no stocks, no jailing, no forced labor for anyone caught here. Just a long drop into a deep well.
Every time the door opened, heads turned to look, conversations dropping to hushed silence. Talk would resume only upon realizing that, no, Johan was not yet here. It happened again, and Bree’s own heart skipped, convinced that he was here at last, but instead Kael and Clara entered, with her brother grinning sheepishly. Bree’s eyes narrowed. Clara was dressed in a plain brown dress, and her hair was purposely loose and tousled. Aunt Bethy rushed over to embrace Kael, and as she did, he whispered something into her ear. She nodded in return, kissed his forehead, and then let him be, having not said a word to Clara. The two sat side by side on the bottom step of the stairs. Kael said something to Clara, then returned to his feet and made his way through the crowded kitchen.
“I heard Clara’s brothers grumbling about the attack on the wagons last night,” he said, keeping his voice low. He smiled nervously at her. “I assume things went well?”
Bree thought of the seven Seraphs they lost in the attack, wondered if the elements they’d retrieved were worth it.
“Well enough,” she said. “Could have gone better, could have gone far worse.”
Kael grabbed her hand resting on the arm of the chair and squeezed.
“I’m glad you’re all right,” he said.
Bree smiled back.
“Me, too,” she said. “So how is Clara handling her parents’ imprisonment?”
Kael glanced over his shoulder, his nervous smile faltering.
“Well enough,” he said, shrugging. Another squeeze, and then he released her hand. “Try not to say her name again, all right? We’re hoping no one recognizes her.”
Bree nodded. It was a fair enough
request.
“Until we know how Johan would react, that’s probably for the best,” she said, drumming her fingers upon the wood of the armchair. Aunt Bethy overheard her say Johan’s name, eyes flicking her way from across the kitchen table, communicating with a silent glare. Bree shrugged it off.
“You plan on asking any questions?” Kael asked. “You know, when he gets here?”
Bree had been pondering just that over the past hour, and she didn’t have any better an idea than when she’d started.
“I’ll leave the questions to you and the others,” she said. “I’m only here to listen.”
“I doubt you’ll get away with just listening,” Kael said. “But good luck.”
He returned to Clara’s side. Once again alone by the fire, Bree curled her knees to her chest and rocked the chair back and forth. She wished Johan would get here already. Right now she wanted nothing more than to sleep in a comfortable bed. In a day or two, she expected to return to Camp Aquila, to its hard, rickety facsimiles of beds, its thin blankets, and its military training regimen. Assuming she didn’t die in the opening skirmishes, a hard road of conflict lay ahead of her. Was it so wrong to want one good day of relaxation before it?
The door cracked open. Bree glanced at it, immediately sat up. A man in a brown robe, hood hanging loose down his back, glanced about the place. A sword hung naked from his belt. He said nothing, only observed briefly, then pushed the door all the way open and gestured to unseen people behind him. More men in robes entered, and Bethy’s neighbors stepped away, pushing their backs against walls to make room. The next two disciples carried a large chest, and they set it down beside the door as three more disciples entered. All were armed with swords, and they kept their hoods off their heads, all but one. He was the last, and Bree felt a twinge in her chest upon seeing him. Johan. It had to be.
His tanned face was bathed in shadow, his hood hanging low over his brow. His cheeks were scarred, thin lines running parallel to his mouth. His jaw was square, firm, his lips showing several pale spots, as if scars from ancient burns. Though his demeanor was like stone, his eyes were vibrant, a blue so deep even the red of the midnight fire was unable to change its hue. Unlike the others, he carried no sword. Its lacking did nothing to remove the palpable feeling of danger Johan exuded. Mere seconds after entering the room, all eyes were upon him, and he’d not said a word.
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