by Jeff Wheeler
Aunt Juliana’s ship. Cettie was pleased by the development. It would be good to see her aunt again. And if she had the chance, she would like to apologize to Caulton.
Their zephyr led the way. Other soldiers had crammed onto the bench with them, which did not give her and Adam the privacy she’d hoped for, but the noise of the exposed wind would make it difficult for them to be overheard. They were on their way now, heading toward danger. This might be her last chance to speak with him. As she looked at Adam, taking in his fatigue and bedraggled appearance, she regretted again that he was coming. He’d not slept that day.
“I’ve not seen the prism cloud yet,” Cettie asked, breaking the silence between them.
“You’ll see it shortly,” he answered. “When you came to Lockhaven, you might have missed it because it looks like a cloud during the day. At night, it’s a pillar of fire. It’s colorful, like the light that comes from a prism. Those buildings over there are blocking it, but watch . . . there it is.”
Cettie gasped at the sight. It was like a rosebud almost, with layers of colored petals. The center of the vortex was a bright patch of natural sunlight, which came through the whorl and shone into their world. It was nearly as big as Lockhaven itself, and Cettie watched in wonder as a hurricane passed through from the other side.
“My goodness.”
She couldn’t take her eyes off the prism cloud. It looked familiar to her. Not because she’d seen it before, but because part of her awareness had. She now had access to memories that weren’t her own. These memories felt different from those she’d accessed through the Myriad Ones, and they sounded different too. They were steeped in the Mysteries.
The zephyr raced toward the rift, followed by the other two on its flanks.
The colors became more vivid and pronounced as they rushed ahead. She could see the sky in the other world, the clouds and even a seabird. She gripped the edge of the seat as the zephyr approached the broken veil between the worlds. Her heart beat fast in anticipation of what it would feel like. She remembered racing through a mirror gate in a zephyr with Lady Corinne and her father.
She should have leaped overboard and plunged into the sea.
As they approached the fiery maw of the prism gate, the magical chorus of energy was so loud that it vibrated within her chest. Cettie turned her face away, shutting her eyes, the noise of the cacophonous music so penetrating she felt insignificant in its presence. It was power, true power, in all its glory. Sera had accomplished this feat? It amazed her. It awed her.
As soon as they were through, the song of power began to fade. When Cettie once again became aware of herself, she had a hand pressed to her heart and tears in her eyes. She squinted because they had passed into full daylight. Looking back, she saw the inky black of night falling behind.
They were over the sea, but she could see masses of land in the distance. A few seagulls cruised above the waves below them, and the other zephyrs dipped through the prism cloud to join them.
“Where are we?” Cettie asked Captain Dumas.
“Off the coast of Occitania,” he answered. “We’ll head west here to reach Genevar. The Serpentine will be watching for us. Would you like to take the helm, miss, and lead the way?”
“Not yet,” Cettie answered. “When we get a little closer.”
Captain Dumas nodded and gave orders to the pilot.
Cettie gazed at Adam and saw he was studying her face. She wished her powers allowed her to read his mind. He looked conflicted. No wonder. Honorable man that he was, he probably felt it was his duty to reaffirm their engagement. That was just the sort of thing he would do.
“I have something for you,” she said, keeping her voice low. They’d returned her poisoner bag to her after she’d passed the test with the Truth Leering and earned Durrant’s trust. She opened the bag and withdrew the book he’d given her after they’d both passed the Test at Muirwood Abbey.
His eyes widened with recognition when he saw it. “I thought you’d lost that.”
Cettie gently stroked the leather-bound cover. “I was afraid Anna had taken it,” she said, then shook her head no. “I should have trusted her integrity more. It was stolen from me because it meant something to me to lose it. Because it came from you.” She offered it back to him.
He took it, his expression softening. He opened it to a random page, gazing at the notes alongside the sketches. Then he closed the book and handed it back to her.
She kept her hands folded in her lap, refusing to take it. “It’s yours, Adam. You lent it to me. I’m grateful that I could finally return it.”
“I want you to have it,” he said.
“Adam,” she said, leaning closer to him. She tried to keep her voice steady, only partially succeeding. “I lost Joses because I let him come with me that day. I couldn’t bear it if you were harmed because of me.” She blinked and licked her lips to moisten them.
“They’ve already tried,” he replied, his voice husky. “They will try again. It’s no secret where I work. I accept the risk. I cannot let you do this alone.”
“I’m not alone,” Cettie said, her heart aching. “The Knowing is my shield. My friend. My tutor. My protection. I want you to stay with the zephyr until the school is secure.” She put her hand on his wrist. “Promise me.”
“I won’t,” he said forcefully, shaking his head. “I’m a doctor, Cettie. If any of these soldiers is injured, I will rush to aid them. Or the prince. But I will not let them take you again.”
“They won’t take me,” Cettie answered, shaking her head. “They’ll kill me.”
“And I would rather you not die,” he said.
She breathed in through her nose. Just touching him was painful. She took her hand away. “I made oaths to the Medium, Adam. I have powers now I didn’t have before. I don’t exactly understand them, but I can feel them. I have sworn an oath to be Sera’s protector. She is in great danger. They will try to twist her mind, like they did with me.” She took a quick breath. “What I’m trying to say is . . . we cannot be together, Adam.”
Her words caused him physical pain. He flinched. “Why not?” he whispered.
“We cannot go back to what we were. It wouldn’t be fair to you.” She swallowed, trying to muster her failing courage. “You deserve someone like Anna Fitzroy. Someone who is worthy of your loyalty. I am not.”
Her words were breaking his heart. She stopped speaking, not wanting to cause him even more pain. She looked down, her throat bulging, her own heart twisting painfully.
His fingers clenched the book in his hands, his knuckles going white. She’d never seen him so discouraged or depressed. It was for the best, she believed. There would be less pain now to remove the festering splinter. Then he could heal. Then he could love again. She believed it with all her heart. She wanted the best for him—and even if she redeemed herself, she could never reverse the wrongs she’d done to him.
It was several minutes before he mastered himself enough to speak. His voice sounded anguished. “I still want to go with you. I don’t want you to face your enemies alone.”
She looked him in the eye. “You’re not a killer, Adam.” She pressed her lips together, giving him a warning look. “These people are.”
Cettie had taken over the helm. The wind felt wonderful in her face and hair, almost as if it were renewing her. The memories the Dryad had restored to her did torment her at times, but they also brought tender moments back to life. Like the afternoon that Fitzroy had taken her out in the zephyr to test the storm glass. It had been one of the happiest moments in her life, filled with the thrill of discovery and the feeling of belonging to someone.
Adam was asleep, arms folded, head ducked low, and so she did her best to keep the zephyr riding low and smooth, not wanting to jostle him awake. The tenderness she felt toward him at that moment nearly suffocated her. But she’d done the right thing by insisting the relationship was over. She was sure of it. The last thing she wanted him to do was t
ake unnecessary risks for her. To mourn for her if anything happened at the poisoner school or afterward. She wanted only for him to be happy. To choose someone better to love.
Focusing on piloting the craft kept her mind off Adam, off what might have been had life turned out differently for them. She kept the zephyr low as she sped along the coast toward Genevar. The waves crashed on the shore or against the ragged rocks jutting like teeth from the water. Her favorite part was when they glided above a building wave as it crested. There was magic in watching the water curl, turn white at the edge, and crash in a roar and tumult. Skeins of seaweed decorated parts of the ocean, and in the distance, she could occasionally spy the masts, rigging, and bulk of ships far beneath them.
It was at just such a moment, as she watched a long, powerful wave forming, that she saw the tempest rise from a hidden cove in the rocks. She had sensed the Serpentine moments before it came into view.
Aunt Juliana’s mind pressed against her. There you are, you little scamp, she thought with a throb of warmth. Genevar is just around the bend, Cettie. Lead the way.
Hello, Cettie, added Caulton Forshee, his thoughts joining in. Thank you for sparing my life.
She’s still a little scamp. But I love her.
I know, Julie. But try to be civil.
I’m always civil.
A smile came to Cettie’s face as she heard their banter. How she’d missed them. She remembered seeing Caulton lying on his back, his eyes shocked, as he’d watched her at the warehouse. She’d saved his life.
She was hoping she could save more.
As if in response to her thought, Adam joined her, standing shoulder to shoulder. Memories of the day Joses died began to hit her again, like the waves against the shore beneath the zephyr. She found herself blinking back tears, unable to bear the thought of losing another friend. Someone she had loved with all her heart and, despite herself, always would.
CHAPTER TWENTY−THREE
INTO THE VOID
The last time Cettie had approached Genevar by sky ship, she’d been in Lady Corinne’s zephyr. The city had not started shooting at them, but this time she was greeted with the pop and crack of bullets as she brought the zephyr in from the bay.
Captain Dumas ducked, and Cettie brought the zephyr streaking higher before he could give the order. She saw the worry in his eyes but also the determination.
“I wasn’t sure how we’d be welcomed,” he said to her, one hand grabbing a railing, the other keeping the hat on his head. “Now I know.”
The huge outer walls, which formed intersecting angles like a giant star, were nearly a hundred feet thick in places, meant to withstand a sea assault. But Genevar was vulnerable by air, and so they’d always had peace treaties with the empire to protect their interests. That they were firing on the incoming vessels indicated the erstwhile truce might be over.
The other zephyrs and the Serpentine were quick to follow Cettie’s action and rose higher. A few bullets thudded against the hull, but soon they were out of danger and soaring over the walls. She saw smoke bloom from the wall cannons below, but could not hear the thunder. The wind whipped through her hair.
Below stretched the city’s cramped houses, the angled roofs with the curved-clay tiles. It was an ancient land, a place where trade had been king for centuries. It was the poisoners’ lair now. Did they operate with the permission of the government? By the welcome they’d received, Cettie imagined they did.
“How far to the poisoner school?” Dumas asked, gazing at the mass of buildings.
“It’s deeper inland, far from the shore,” Cettie answered, “where there is more space between the estates. There are Leerings in the walls of the poisoner school that prevent people who are not part of the order from coming or going. Flying in from above is our only option.”
“We don’t know what to expect, do we?” Dumas said, frowning.
Cettie shook her head. “Just get me down into the courtyard and hold the walls.”
“Are you a maston?” he asked her pointedly.
Cettie hesitated, but in her heart she still was. And the Aldermaston had given her a chain again. She nodded.
Reaching for his collar, he unfastened one of several decorations that were pinned on like brooches. She saw the maston symbol interwoven in the design. “This is part of the Mysteries of War,” he said. “Fasten it to your collar. When I speak and give orders, you will hear them in your mind. This will also allow me to hear you. It’s a captain’s tag, so be careful with it. There is a tiny Leering hidden beneath the design.”
“Thank you,” Cettie said. She secured the pin to her collar.
“It only works when it’s invoked. Be ready. If you need help when you reach the dungeon, tell me, and I’ll send men down to assist you.”
Cettie thanked him again and continued to pilot the zephyr across the city. Thanks to the Dryad, her memory was precise. She recognized the landscape, knew exactly how to reach their destination. But as they drew nearer, her worry increased. What would be waiting for them at the poisoner school?
She glanced back at Adam, who was looking overboard, gazing down at the city. He’d rested on the short journey, but the weariness was still plain on his face. Oh, how she wished he hadn’t insisted on coming. She couldn’t bear it if any harm befell him.
Then she saw the distant hill where she’d spent the last year.
“There it is,” she said, her stomach fluttering with nerves. She recognized the walls, the taller buildings that rose into the sky. It was such a peaceful looking place, hardly distinguishable from the other expensive villas in the area. There were fruit orchards and parks and walking paths. From their vantage point, the snakes were hidden. So were the poisons.
“Which one?” Dumas asked.
Cettie pointed and described it to him. “It’s a square series of buildings with an open courtyard in the middle. The plants growing in the center are all poisonous. Do not touch them. Stay away from the rooftops as well. Poisoners are trained to jump from roof to roof. If one gets into a zephyr, you’ll all be killed.”
“Thanks for the warning,” said Captain Dumas. “We’ll roam around the perimeter. I guess we should drop lower and see what happens?”
Cettie nodded and willed the zephyr to descend sharply. She guided it in a zigzag path, making it difficult for sharpshooters below. But no weapons fired against them. She glanced at Adam, and he met her gaze in return. Was that fear in his eyes? It was hard to tell what he was feeling. As they approached the school, she saw the upper grounds appeared to be abandoned. There were no signs of people in the courtyard below. In her mind, she heard the meal gong sound, saw the girls walking from their garden beds to join together for a meal.
Could that be the explanation?
Cettie looked at the pilot, who was gazing down with nervous eyes. “Are you ready to take the helm? I’ll jump over the side when we’re low enough.”
He nodded and joined her.
“This is Captain Dumas,” the captain said, invoking the Leering at his collar. “Arquebuses at the ready. If anything moves down there, other than us, shoot it. Keep the Serpentine back until we are in position. Ready, lads. Do your duty.”
They dropped down toward the inner courtyard from above. Cettie could feel the Leerings embedded in the walls respond to their arrival, sending out a warning blast of fear to those inside the compound. A chill took hold in her heart. She could sense the evil of the place. Her confusion and disillusionment had masked it before. But fear did not own her—she was determined to prove herself once and for all, and that determination filled her with energy and purpose. She slung the poisoner bag over her shoulder and remembered her oaths, one by one. Thinking on them brought her a small degree of comfort. She was going into the enemy’s lair, a place where truth was twisted, but she would remember herself.
“Still don’t see a soul,” Dumas muttered.
Was it truly abandoned? Was the Leerings’ warning just an automatic reflex,
a protection invoked even if no one was there? The zephyr came down low enough that Cettie could see the flowering leaves of the nasturtium flutter. She put her hand on the edge of the zephyr, coiled and prepared to spring.
She saw the table where Jevin played his hautboie in the mornings. The sun was rising now, squelching the shadows. But that wouldn’t help in the darkness of the dungeon, where Trevon was being kept, if, indeed, Montpensier had been talking about this poisoner school.
“Can I bring a lamp with me, Captain?” she asked.
He nodded and ordered one of the dragoons to hand one to her. She took it and looped the strap of her poisoner bag through it. Her heart was thundering, but she tried to appear calm. She still did not see anyone in the compound. The zephyr hovered over the stones.
Cettie vaulted over the edge of the sky ship and landed on the ground. She heard a cry of warning from above and whirled, just as Adam landed from the other side of the zephyr. The two of them were the only ones who’d made the jump.
Her mouth pinched with anger. “Get back on the zephyr.”
He shook his head. “I already told you. I’m coming with you. The Mysteries are telling me I should go.”
Cettie looked up and saw Captain Dumas staring at Adam in shocked surprise. He clearly hadn’t ordered him to join her.
She squeezed her hands into fists, not certain what to do. She couldn’t force him back on the zephyr, and she’d pledged to listen to the Mysteries—if he was truly supposed to be there, she couldn’t refuse his company. She closed her eyes, trying to hear the Mysteries’ direction through an avalanche of conflicting feelings.
All is well.
That was the only message she could discern. She would have preferred a different answer, but she went with the one she had been given. Opening her eyes, she looked up at Captain Dumas and nodded for him to go. The zephyr launched into the sky. She saw the other two flying in wide arcs around the walls. The Serpentine lumbered overhead, blotting out the sun, its shadow falling on her and Adam.
