Time for another white lie, then.
“Rachael has achieved something Rifarne hasn’t seen in centuries. We’ve scared the enemy. That, more than anything, is a strong sign that we’re heading the right way under her rule.” The crowd went silent. “You are correct. The Mothers, or demons, only attacked because of Queen Rachael. It’s her they want, and with her being wherever the dragon has taken her—for her own protection—the Mothers have left the palace once more. They have likely followed our queen and are looking for her. It is for your safety that she hasn’t returned.” He swallowed; at least he hoped that was true. Either way, he saw faces soften and determination replace anger. “I expect word from Cale Spurling any day now. In the meantime, please continue to do whatever you can to restore the White City to its former beauty. Many of you hate our queen for the damage her presence has caused to your city, but they are scars, and scars prove we’ve survived. Queen Rachael makes us stronger, and we must prepare for her return.”
The crowd stood a little straighter. He prayed it would last.
Commander Dryden prayed Cale was on his way back or would at least find some way to communicate, or else he’d have to think of another lie. How long would they believe him without proof? He didn’t want to test their patience or their loyalty.
“Help the city heal. Support your neighbours. Welcome the gifted into your lives. We are not children who need our hands held at every turn. Knowing that we are moving towards the future Queen Rachael wants for us will strengthen her resolve, just as her efforts strengthen ours.” He gulped; this would go one of two ways. “For Queen Rachael!”
“For Queen Rachael!” echoed through the crowd. He didn’t see all lips move, but for now it was strong enough. There was still time.
He wished he knew how much.
Chapter Nine
Kleon watched the group before him with his arms folded. He was used to training soldiers, but no recruit had ever regarded him the way the Sparrows did—not only with suspicion, but with hatred. He didn’t blame them; his father had poisoned Cale and almost killed him. If they tried to poison him in revenge, he wouldn’t have held it against them.
Which made what he was about to do more nerve-wracking than saying no to his father. If a Sparrow wanted to shoot him from the back of the room, he wouldn’t see the arrow until the end stuck out of his chest.
He stood on a table to make sure they all saw him, no matter where they were or how tall the person in front of them was. He wished he’d stayed on the ground with them. Tramuran soldiers responded well to authority and strength, but Rifarne was a different country and the Sparrows weren’t just any soldiers. They responded well to strength too, but only once someone had earned their respect. Kleon hadn’t got that far.
But he would. He had to, or he’d have nowhere left to go. All that waited for him in Grozma was an empty mansion and a king who wouldn’t be happy to hear his ambassador had betrayed him and the country. Or perhaps their king would be pleased? Kleon hadn’t had many dealings with the man, but if he could count on one thing it was a Tramuran’s hatred for the gifted, and the king’s emotions ran deep. Tradition was hard to overcome. The king hated the gifted because that’s what Tramura had always done, or at least for too many generations.
Next to Kleon, Lon cleared his throat. Say something, he mouthed.
Kleon jumped down from the table and leaned into it instead. He wouldn’t force his authority on them, and from what little he’d seen, the Sparrows were more… casual than any army he’d ever fought with. A few Sparrows exchanged glances or narrowed their eyes at him like they didn’t trust the move. None relaxed.
This would be a challenge.
“Sparrows of Rifarne, I understand your suspicions towards me. You see me as your enemy, and you don’t know why I’ve been put in charge when so many of your seasoned comrades would have done an excellent job.”
Lon cleared his throat once more. “Not so formal, mate.”
Kleon took a deep breath. He’d never spoken to new soldiers like they were old friends before, but Lon and Cale had. Rachael hadn’t been formal with them either. She even insisted they use her name rather than her title, and they’d talked about her like she was their sister rather than their queen. He’d figured it was because of her lack of training, but perhaps it was what they responded to.
He’d open up, lower his guard a little, and take it from there.
“My father tried to kill Cale. If I were in your shoes, I’d be angry too. I’ve trained many recruits over the years and I rose through the ranks quickly, but I’ve never seen what I see now. You’re not here for the money. You’re not here because malice fuels you. You’re here because you care. Where I’m from, that’s a weakness. To fight because you care is a rare thing for a Tramuran, and not one he’d admit to easily.”
He’d never felt so out of his depth. This should have been easy, but he hadn’t practised the personal approach. Every Tramuran soldier’s loathing for the gift connected them. The opposite connected every Sparrow. His Tramuran soldiers had followed him because they’d shared that enmity and because they’d been told to. He hadn’t needed to win them over.
The Sparrows still glared at him, but some of the hardness had disappeared and some stood a little straighter.
He looked at Lon, who grinned at him.
“I’m Rachael’s brother. The same man who poisoned Cale is her father, and mine. Rachael has earned your trust.” It helped that they hadn’t known who her father was or what he would do. “Our mother had the gift and used it to help people whenever our father wasn’t looking. I want—” He couldn’t say that he wanted to use the gift. He didn’t have it, and it still made him uneasy. It would take a while to overcome the habit. “I want to see what else the gifted can do. Not as a spy, not as your enemy, but as one of you. You don’t have to trust me right now or accept me as a Sparrow, but I hope I can prove to you over time that I’m on your side.”
That decided that. His father had questionable morals, but Kleon never went back on his word.
“From today, I will train you so we can bring Rachael home. Lon tells me others are missing too. Cale was taken with her, and Kiana was kidnapped a while ago. I won’t accept them as dead until I see their bodies. We will find them, and we will bring them home.”
The Sparrows cheered. Not the cold, hard war cries of Tramura but warm, determined shouts. Goosebumps ran over his arms. This was new, and he liked it. They were spirited. They were afraid, but they would fight. There was nothing he respected more.
“Well done, Kleon,” Lon said. “I wouldn’t have mentioned Cale’s and Kiana’s dead bodies, but I think they ate it up otherwise.”
“Too much?” His desire for their approval surprised him, but more than anything, the speech had invigorated him.
“Maybe a little.” Lon grinned and punched his arm. “Don’t worry, I’m Cale’s right-hand man. I’ll make a Sparrow out of you yet.”
“I thought Kiana was his second in command.”
Lon waved it off. “Eh, formalities.”
Kleon smiled; Lon’s grin was infectious. “So, the Sparrows are more like a family?”
Lon nodded. “Cale handpicked most of us. Of course, that was before—” Lon’s eyes darkened. “That was the old group. After Aeron tried to level the city, we had to recruit quickly to fill our numbers. We finally had a queen worthy of our protection. The small number we were left with wasn’t good enough.”
An old memory tugged at Kleon’s mind. “I think I read something about the Sparrows once, before my father enlisted me.”
“Really? I didn’t think Tramura had anything about us depraved gift sympathisers.”
Kleon shook his head. “It wasn’t anything recent. The scroll was old. I think it dated back to the old empire. Ar-something.”
“You can read old Empirian?”
“Not properly, only small bits I taught myself.”
Lon whistled. “A soldier and a scholar,
huh? Aren’t you a catch!”
None of his men had ever talked to him like this, but Kleon didn’t mind it. It made him feel like he fit in. “We’ll see.”
“So, what did your scrolls say about us?”
“Not much I could decipher. The Sparrows are an old order dating back to the empire. They protected their emperor. Some of my ancestors were Sparrows, which is why—”
Lon burst out laughing. “You’re kidding, right? A Lis, a Sparrow? Doesn’t that disgrace your father’s honour or something?”
Kleon chuckled. He’d often wondered the same thing, though he’d never dared ask. “He never mentioned it. I only found it by accident. My mother taught me to read long before I started school; I searched our library for anything interesting.”
Lon leaned back against the table and let his eyes wander over the Sparrows. “I’m amazed Grozma’s library had books like that.”
“I meant our library. My father’s, in our mansion.”
Lon scoffed. “Posh prick.”
He laughed. His men wouldn’t have dared, but it wasn’t an insult from Lon. At least, Kleon didn’t think so.
Lon looked at him. “If you stay, and once we get Rachael back, could we look at some of those scrolls? Cale would appreciate the insight into our history.”
Kleon shrugged. His father had forbidden the gesture because it worsened his posture, but this was a good time to try new things. “You can have them if you want.” He didn’t know yet what he’d do if the Sparrows rejected him, but he couldn’t see himself returning to the mansion. He’d made most of his good memories in secret with his mother. Maybe the scrolls could be a peace offering. “I’ll send for them right away.”
The king would hear about his betrayal sooner or later, and it was unlikely he’d just let Kleon walk back into Tramura when that happened. Better to get the scrolls while the house wasn’t under heavy guard.
“Actually,” Kleon said, “do you have someone who can travel fast, break into our mansion, and steal the scrolls without getting noticed?”
Lon grinned. “Look at you already fitting in. Reeve is your man, but he’s not here. Leave it to me, I’ll find someone. Give me the address and I’ll send them today.”
Kleon nodded. “Thank you.”
“Maker, Cale won’t believe this.” Lon ran a hand through his hair. “What time do you want us to meet for training?”
“Get everyone together in an hour. We’ll meet in the courtyard.”
“Yes, sir!” Lon marched off into the group of uncertain Sparrows, mumbling something about Lis and Sparrows under his breath.
Kleon smiled. He had a good feeling about this.
Chapter Ten
When Rachael woke up, the room was still spinning. Her cheek pressed against the stone floor, her legs twisted around each other and had gone numb, and she’d leaned on her wrist, which throbbed now she was awake.
Rachael wasn’t sure if she had achieved anything. She hadn’t coaxed her vision out, but she had led her gift to where it needed to go. Back with Ailis, her progress would’ve thrilled her, but now… It simply wasn’t enough.
Rachael sat up, moaned when the blood rushed back into her legs and her ankles tingled, and shook her wrist until the pain eased. She leaned against the wall and reached for her gift. It was still there, but she couldn’t sense the vision anymore. Unconsciousness, not her gift begging for release, had made her mind fuzzy. Whatever it had wanted to show her, she’d missed it.
The first door scratched over the floor. The second door fell shut. She was too exhausted to hide, too tired from previous failures to try. Perhaps it was time she accepted her fate and stopped looking for a way out.
Her door opened, and the remaining fog in her mind cleared.
“Prze wro. Welcome to Kaethe.”
Rachael had never missed her sword more. For all she knew, the demons had removed Vail’s enchantment so the blade couldn’t hurt them anymore, but it would still hurt a man no matter how special he thought he was.
Arnost Lis grinned down at her. She moved her head a little and shadows fell over his features. He looked every bit as twisted as the Mothers.
“Get up,” he said. “She’s got something to show you.”
Rachael’s heart dropped. There was only one person he could mean, and she dreaded the reunion.
Kaida had told her Cephy had gone to Kaethe, but Rachael hadn’t wanted to believe it. If Cephy was here and Arnost Lis was about to bring Rachael to her, then Rachael couldn’t defend herself. Kaida had said the Dark One used Cephy as his host. Maybe, if they drew him out without harming Cephy, Rachael could still save her friend. Her first friend. Rachael owed it to her to try.
But she owed Arnost Lis nothing. She wasn’t about to do as he said just because there was a dagger by his waist and he was in much better health than she. He wouldn’t kill her—the Mothers needed her for something. If he killed her, he wouldn’t get away with his life, so Rachael had no reason to make this easy.
“She can’t come here?”
“She’s too busy for house visits. Now get up or you’ll regret it, prze wro.”
“You think I’m insulted?” For the first time since she’d woken up in this prison, she didn’t feel weak or defeated. Arnost Lis stood above her in his clean silks, sharp dagger so close to his hand he needed but twitch and he’d wield it. Rachael was dressed in rags, had no weapon and no armour. But she’d win this fight with words alone, because, despite his boasting, he couldn’t do anything unless Cephy allowed it.
“That you’re not only shows you don’t know its meaning.”
“Kiana told me. Traitorous Sparrow. That’s what you called me, isn’t it?” He still glared, but his smile was gone. “You think I’m insulted to know you consider me a traitor?” She stood and tried to ignore how unsteady her legs were. “You abandoned your child at the height of winter. You enslaved your wife. You—”
His fists clenched, and for a moment Rachael thought he might strike her. But he didn’t, and she laughed.
“You’re the traitor, ambassador. You can’t even hit me for fear of what the demons will do to you. Cephy made you promise you wouldn’t harm me, right? She wants me to herself. So, you’re going to stand right here before me, and you’re going to listen.”
Her heart raced when the terror of the past few days came flooding back, but it didn’t paralyse her. Seeing him again—remembering everything he was guilty of—had turned her fear into anger, and she wouldn’t be weak any longer.
Paschros kai zo.
“Look at me. You sent assassins after me, and they failed. You sent Ludo with me, and he failed. You collared your wife, but she still used her gift behind your back. You had Cale poisoned, and he lives. You sent your own son to spy on my Sparrows, and we stood together when the Mothers you invited into my home took my palace. You think you’ll control Cephy?” It was her turn to grin. “You are nothing.”
Arnost Lis hit her so hard Rachael saw stars.
“Don’t presume to know me, witch.” He bound her wrists with rope so tight it dug into her knuckles and burnt her skin. “Get moving, or I’ll drag you there.”
She spat in his face. He was responsible for too many bad turns in her life. He could tie her up if he wished, but she’d never be his slave like her mother had been. Even with the collar around her neck, even with the fear for her children paralysing her, Erimentha Lis had found ways to fight back. Rachael hated that she hadn’t spent more time with the woman, but Arnost Lis had made that difficult. The same blood that had inspired Erimentha to fight when the odds were against her ran through Rachael’s veins. She still didn’t believe in a Maker, but sometimes Cale said that Ailis was watching them by his side. If her mother was watching, Rachael would make her proud.
“You’d better hurry.” She looked right into his cold eyes and no longer felt intimidated. All she felt was revulsion and the burning desire to break his nose. “I hear it’s a bad idea to make the Dark One wait.”<
br />
Arnost Lis tugged at the rope so hard she stumbled, and when she didn’t fall, he glared. He marched ahead, not caring whether she matched his pace. She memorised the dark corridors leading away from her prison as best as she could.
Few doors were scattered along the corridor. She had imagined countless Mothers to make up the darker half of the shadows, but it was just her and the ambassador out here. There either weren’t anywhere near as many demons as she’d feared, or they were all somewhere else.
She gulped, and her legs buckled. Wherever they were going, she had a feeling the demons were there, too.
Arnost Lis pushed open a tall door made of the same dark material as the rest of the building, and sunlight flooded the corridor. The sudden light was so harsh Rachael blinked, red spots dancing on the white canvas before her closed eyes.
She hadn’t expected him to take her outside. Maybe she could trip him. Maybe she could kick at his knees, break his nose, and run. Maybe she could—
Her eyes adjusted, and whatever resistance she’d felt drained out of her.
They were high up, trees stretching for several miles to either side of them. Beyond that lay ocean so vast she couldn’t see its end.
And right before her, so close Rachael made out every twisted feature on her once sweet face, stood Cephy.
Rachael still remembered the girl Cephy was when they’d first met. Teddy bear clutched in her little arms. Mud and blood caked to her skin and hair, because her father had beaten her again for having the gift. Big, frightened eyes begging Rachael not to leave her alone. Cephy had been so scared. So small. So lonely.
The girl standing before her now looked nothing like Rachael’s memory. On the surface, the hints were still there. Blond hair framing her pretty face, big blue eyes reflecting the sun. Blood clung to her skin now, too, but two bodies soaked in red lay at Cephy’s feet. She didn’t miss the grin on the girl’s face or the air of dark power that crackled around her and distorted her features. This wasn’t her Cephy. The frightened girl hugging her teddy bear for comfort was gone, and whatever her death had left behind was standing before Rachael instead.
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