Spyridon (The Spyridon Trilogy Book 1)

by Lillian James

  Only, change it to what? There was nothing else.

  “There was a royal child. From Spyridon.”

  “You’re sure?” Lhókesh hissed the words, his eyes sharply focused.

  “Yes.” Mikhél resisted the urge to coat his suddenly dry throat. “She was hiding on the destination planet like an animal. I brought her back.”

  “Where is she?”

  “She stole a shuttle on approach. We lost her.”

  Lhókesh stood, his face like stone, and Mikhél wondered if this would be his end. It wasn’t like the vision, but how much of that dream was literal?

  “You’ve failed me. You will pay for this.”

  “I can find her. We formed a nexus. A psychic connection that some Nhélanei have. She’ll show me where she is in time.”

  Lhókesh pulled back, his eyes still on Mikhél, and his hand went to his chest. He sat, and his huge, white shoulders relaxed. His fingers drummed against his vest and then dropped to the arm of the chair.

  And an odd heaviness settled in Mikhél’s gut. Though he was suddenly certain of what he would find, he focused his sedfai on Lhókesh’s chest. There was a book hidden there, small, leather bound, with a pattern on its spine that might have been fingerprints.

  Just like the book Mikhél had been reading in the vision of his death.

  “You’ll tell me when she does.”

  He heard Lhókesh’s voice as if through a tunnel, and it took him almost too long to yank his mind back to the conversation. He cleared his throat, willed his voice steady. This next lie was the most vital. He couldn’t afford to let his shock affect its delivery.

  “At your will,” he managed. “But the connection works like a projective gift. If Avron uses his block in my presence, I won’t hear her.”

  He struggled not to hold his breath while he waited for the command. If this didn’t work, there was no way he’d let Seirsha into the tower. But Lhókesh turned to Avron and murmured the order.

  Avron stared at Mikhél, and his eyes seemed to pale slightly. Mikhél thought he might argue, but then the weight lifted. And because Avron could not target his skill selectively, everyone in the city was now free to use projective gifts.

  Of course, he needed only the gift of one man.

  Lhókesh stood again. “You’ve been gone a long time. There is much that requires your attention.”

  He walked away, Avron and the guards at his heels. The expectation was clear: Mikhél would follow, as he always did. But he didn’t move right away. Instead he stood in the center of the empty room and stared at the walls of his mother’s people, desecrated by his father’s hand.

  Seirsha thought he was doing this for Spyridon. When she’d spoken to the crew of Dhóchas, she’d appealed to their need to act for the common good. He’d known then that she believed he was acting for the same purpose, and he’d let himself fall into that belief.

  Now, though he still hoped she was right, he suspected he was not that selfless.

  He wasn’t sure he could do this for anyone but her.

  CHAPTER 40

  Transport Shuttle Twenty-Nine

  She took one of the last shuttles to leave Dhóchas, still among the scheduled flights so as not to raise suspicion. When the craft dropped below the armada’s range, it veered off course to deliver its contraband to safety.

  The ride was silent, the night dark against the windows of the shuttle. Kai was hidden, his warm body resting across her feet. Valaer stared out the window, massaging his thigh. Eithné studied a map of Spyridon and clucked to herself about the journey they would take.

  Tauruk watched Leima in a way Seirsha recognized. Because it made her heart ache, she looked away.

  They landed in a dark field near the outskirts of Lan’Vercai, the silhouette of the Royal Tower looming before them. The golden sphere glowed steadily in the night sky, and all around it blinked Lhókesh’s ships. She stepped onto rough soil and breathed in the air of her birthplace.

  Spyridon. After everything she’d been through, she was finally where she belonged. She wondered when it would feel like home.

  She looked up at Dhóchas and thought it was strange to be so far away from the stars. Then people rushed toward them, sympathizers who had planned to meet Tauruk here before his departure. A young man took Seirsha’s bag and curled his arm protectively around her side. He said something, but she couldn’t hear him above the shuttle’s engines. As he rushed her toward the cover of trees, the shuttle lifted and shot away into the dark.

  And it was time to go.

  She hugged Leima, careful of her injuries. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Leima nodded and pulled Kai to her side. “Be careful, sister.”

  Seirsha turned to Eithné, who took her face in her aged hands. “Use caution, and trust your instincts. Most of all listen to Mikhél. He’ll keep you safe.”

  “He always does.”

  Eithné smiled and pressed her lips to Seirsha’s brow.

  Valaer said, “Baanríté.” He offered a tekvar, his blue eyes dark without the light of the moons to fill them.

  Then they blended into the shadows, and Seirsha was left with Tauruk. He began to lead the way to Lan’Vercai.

  They moved quickly, skirting boulders that grew until they stretched above their heads. When bones mixed with rock, she realized this was no natural formation. She was slipping past the broken remnants of the towers that Lhókesh had long ago destroyed. The Royal Tower seemed higher in their stead, a monolith that nearly touched the sky.

  When they reached its perimeter, she sent to Mikhél, We’re in place.

  Tell me when you’re prepared to move.

  Her senses probed the desolate landscape, a carefully controlled pulse of power that she now realized spread farther than any of them had guessed. They shimmered over the rubble around them, the mountains to the north and east, the forest to the west, and the city to the south. They stretched upward into the cool night air, danced around the ships that blocked the stars, and skimmed the edge of space. They even pushed down into the ground, a stealthy exploration of the planet’s dark and dank secrets.

  It was incontrovertible proof that the prophecy was accurate. She was the strong one. Her visions could be trusted. She was the only one who could stop Lhókesh.

  And her mate would give his life to help her.

  Even as her heart broke, her spine straightened. She could do this. She would end this war. She would end Lhókesh.

  And Spyridon would finally have peace.

  There was no one behind them. Ahead of them, far in the distance, tiny, shimmering outlines of people moved with hurried steps as if to escape the dark. Closer, Meijhé soldiers hovered above the rubble in small air transports that left no place to hide.

  Unless, of course, Mikhél’s ploy had worked.

  She turned to Tauruk, and he nodded at her and disappeared from view. She allowed herself one sigh of relief that Avron’s gift would not prevent them from accomplishing this task. When she felt Tauruk touch her elbow, she turned back to face the Royal Tower.

  And she sent to Mikhél, I’m ready.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  When I was ten-years-old, a friend of the family asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. Mind swirling with thoughts of the most recent Stephen King novel I’d been secretly reading (yes, I was that weird kid), I replied, “A writer.” It was the first time I’d answered that question and felt like I was telling the truth.

  I’ve been many things since then, from photo developer to bartender to school psychologist to stay-at-home-mom. Now, with the publication of my first novel, I can finally add “author” to the list. But, like so many of my past titles, this is one that I didn’t earn alone. While I’m sure this list isn’t exhaustive, I’d like to use this space to thank everyone I can who helped me to live this dream.

  To my publishing team, particularly Eve at CreateSpace and artist Barbara Psimas: Thank you for your attention to detail and effort to understa
nd my work. I can be proud of this novel in part because of what you helped me to create.

  To my fellow writers who have shared wisdom and support through blogs and the twitterverse, and to Teresa Patterson and Chandler Brett, who took the time to read a few chapters and give me targeted feedback: Thank you for offering advice that was sometimes hard to hear but impossible to ignore. Your words landed a few dents to my ego and great improvements to my manuscript, both of which are appreciated.

  To my beta readers: Thank you for putting up with some truly terrible drafts as you waited patiently for something tolerable to come along.

  To my friends: Thank you for not sending me knowing smirks or side-eye when I told you I was writing a novel.

  To my family: Thank you for your endless love and encouragement. Even when I didn’t want to talk about this process, your support helped me through scores of rejection letters, some pretty brutal self-doubt, and the utter terror of publishing my work on the internet for everyone to judge. (I mean, the fucking internet, amiright?)

  To my husband: If I were to list everything for which I owe you gratitude, this acknowledgements section would be longer than the book it follows. So instead, I will say that you are my person. You are my best friend. You are my muse (literally – some of Mikhél’s finest qualities come from you). And yours is the opinion that matters most to me in the world. Thank you for being exactly who you are.

  And finally, to my daughters: Thank you for being my inspiration. I started writing this book because I love to write. I finished it through the stress and fatigue and chaos of pregnancy and early parenthood because I wanted you to see me chasing my dreams, so that you’ll always feel as though you can catch your own. Happy chasing.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Lillian James lives in Atlanta, Georgia, with her husband and daughters. They serve as her inspiration as she writes about characters who challenge themselves, take risks, and care about others. She is a former school psychologist living her dream of writing the books she’d want to read.