by K. M. Fahy
Kitieri smiled, touched. “It’s exquisite work.”
Tira beamed, cupping the brooch in both hands, and Kitieri turned back to Bat with a deep breath.
“This plan you speak of,” she said. “Who benefits, exactly?”
“The Church of Shirasette, of course,” Bat replied.
“And only this Church?”
Bat tossed an uneasy glance back at Eriat. “You have to understand the magnitude of what we’re dealing with here, Kitieri,” she said. “We will only be able to acquire so much cintra, and these machines Eriat is designing… well, we just can’t save everyone.”
“What about the war?” Kitieri asked, tilting her head with a frown. “What are you planning to do about that?”
Bat and Eriat exchanged another look.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Bat said softly, “as much as I wish we could stop it. If we had the power to manipulate the Boards’ decisions, things never would have gone this far in the first place.”
Kitieri saw Haldin’s face in her mind before her thoughts flashed through the thousands of innocents that would be killed in such meaningless slaughter.
“What if,” she said to the floor, “we could manipulate the Boards?”
Where she’d expected a bark of laughter, Kitieri looked up to find a stony, solemn expression on Bat’s face.
“What are you suggesting?” the woman asked.
“I can get to them,” Kitieri said, heart beating faster in her chest. “Catarva may be trapped now, but if I go back—”
“No, Kitieri.” Bat shook her head. “They won’t take another chance with you. Amadora will have you killed this time.”
“She can’t touch a Baliant,” Kitieri said.
“Baliant or not, she’ll go for your throat, and your element is out of commission.”
“She doesn’t know that.”
“Stil knows it, so she will soon enough.”
“Not if I move first.”
Bat snorted, folding her arms across her chest.
“I don’t like this,” she said at length. “It’s too risky, and for what? To save the same people who would see you imprisoned?”
Kitieri took a step forward. “I will not condemn an entire society to death and destruction because of the actions of their leaders. For what, you ask? For the same reasons you started the Church of Shirasette—to help those who cannot help themselves. A war between the two Churches will take thousands of innocent lives. If we had a chance to spare them and did nothing, how is the Church of Shirasette any better than the Church of Histan or Enahris? How would you sleep at night, knowing that you benefited from the same war they created?”
Bat’s eyes snapped with an inner fire. “There’s not enough cintra—”
“So we’ll make it work!” Kitieri’s voice rang off the walls, and Tira jumped. “Look.” Kitieri lowered her voice, moving forward to stand directly in front of Bat. “If you want me as Baliant, then we save everyone we can. I will not wittingly leave anyone behind for the benefit of others.”
Bat’s lips were pressed into a thin, straight line as she met Kitieri’s glare. The tension mounted between them as they tested each other’s willpower, eyes locked on one another, until Bat stepped back abruptly.
“All right, then,” she said with a curt nod. “I will follow you, Baliant.”
She opened the book once more, and Kitieri took the offered pen without hesitation this time.
If people were going to die either way, she was going to do something about it.
Chapter 17
Kitieri pulled her hood forward, keeping her face in shadow as the breeze tugged on the thick fabric. Ashes’ hooves clacked rhythmically on the stones in long strides, and Kitieri gritted her teeth as the choppy gait bounced her around the saddle. She was sure Haldin would have a few words for her poor riding form if he could see her.
As the shadows ahead grew longer and darker, Kitieri glanced over her shoulder to where the setting sun just brushed the horizon.
I can’t be late.
She nudged Ashes into a gentle lope, squeezing with her knees to keep from holding on with her hands. The thin leather gloves she’d pulled over her bandages did nothing to ward off the pain, serving only to hide her broken element. Even wearing the borrowed Gadget was a risky show of ineptitude, but… she needed it right now.
Kitieri twisted her mouth into a tight frown. Even with protection, the next Strike would not be kind.
The golden-pink glow of sunset washed over the city as the buildings around her grew taller, sturdier, and more artfully crafted, and Kitieri pulled up on the reins as the Church of Enahris peeked over its surrounding buildings. Bat was somewhere behind her, she knew, getting ready to take up position outside the Square in case she didn’t show by midnight, but that did little to quell her nerves. Maybe she was crazy for coming back.
Kitieri closed her eyes, blocking out the images of the black cell.
Not this time. This time, she stood above the Board. This time, it was all or nothing. Success or death. Her gloved fingertips grazed the brooch beneath her cloak, tracing its rigid outline, and she lifted her gaze once more.
She was a Baliant now.
She swallowed, suppressing the anxiety that rose in her throat at that one simple thought. The staggering responsibility of so many lives pressed down on her with a crushing weight, but Kitieri kept her eyes on the Church. She’d have to take this one step at a time, and right now her responsibility was here.
The air cooled as the sunlight faded and Kitieri spurred Ashes forward, guiding the mare around to the south gate. Through the border trees, she spotted a waiting gray uniform and released a silent sigh of relief. Haldin had managed to evade Amadora’s wrath, after all.
She dropped to the ground with a grunt, and the gray uniform shifted.
“Who’s there?”
Kitieri froze. It was not Haldin’s voice, but she recognized the gruff timbre. She quickly shrugged the Gadget from her shoulders, ditching it behind the nearest tree. Jorid was the last person she wanted to know about her failure. She watched him approach, rooted to the spot.
Shit. Why him? Of all people, why did he have to be on sentry duty at this gate?
Jorid’s bushy eyebrows came together as he peered into the shadow of her hood, and furious disgust registered on his face.
“You,” he spat, lifting his spear.
“Where is Commander Haldin?” Kitieri demanded, forcing her voice as low as possible.
“You’ve got some nerve, showing your face back here,” Jorid growled. “I should—”
“Where is Haldin?” Kitieri spoke over him.
“Nowhere you’re going to find him,” Jorid snapped. “Why he risked his life for a murderous bitch like you is beyond me, but I hope you’re happy.”
Kitieri’s blood turned to ice, though she fought to keep her expression neutral. “Where is he?”
“You thought she wouldn’t find out?” Jorid snarled. “Haldin knew the Chief Advisor’s reach, and still he freed you. Now he’s in the hole that should have been your grave.” He stepped forward, lifting one hand from his spear to summon a burst of flames. “A hole to which I will gladly see you returned.”
Before Jorid could make another move, Kitieri put out a gloved hand. “Who do you think is faster?” she hissed.
Fear danced in the man’s eyes as he fixated on her palm. “Gonna kill me?” he spat.
Kitieri smirked. “Isn’t that what murderous bitches do?”
Jorid’s scowl deepened, and the spear shook in his hand. Kitieri watched the struggle play out across his features, as he debated whether or not he was willing to sacrifice his life for a shot at ending hers. His breathing was labored, and his shoulders tensed and hunched under the weight of such a decision.
Kitieri lifted her chin. “Jorid, I know you hate me,” she said, “but I promise you, we want the same things. We are not enemies.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “Ho
w dare you put us on the same level?”
“You clearly hold the Commander in high regard. You want to see him freed, right?”
Jorid’s cheek twitched, but the dangerous glint was slowly bleeding out from his expression.
“Well, he doesn’t deserve to take your place rotting in a cell, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said.
“I agree.” Kitieri nodded. “We can change that, but we’re going to need each other.”
Jorid scoffed and spat on the ground between them. “I need you?”
“No,” Kitieri said. “Haldin needs you. And if my plan works, you’ll be the officer that made it happen.”
Jorid glared daggers at her, but Kitieri could see the wheels grinding. “What plan?” he growled.
“It’s a lot to explain, and we don’t have much time,” she said. “But I will promise you one thing.”
Jorid grunted, but the slight lift of his spear invited her to continue.
“If it doesn’t work, I will go willingly back to that cell.”
“Right.” Jorid barked a laugh. “I’m supposed to believe that.”
“You have my word.”
Jorid curled his lip. “Is the word of a murderer supposed to mean something to me?”
Kitieri bit back the snarky retort that sprang to her lips, clenching her jaw. He was still fighting, but she almost had him. She needed his cooperation, no matter how begrudging.
“You know I’m deadly,” she said quietly. Jorid’s nostrils flared in reluctant acknowledgement. “Now imagine that on your side.”
A guttural sound emanated from Jorid’s throat, the death throes of his resistance. Kitieri waited, watching the dying flames in his hand flicker in the twilight until he snapped his fist closed.
“Trying to play some kind of hero, then?” he muttered.
Kitieri scrutinized his face in the dying light, weighing her next words carefully. It was a gamble, but if it paid off…
“I want Amadora gone,” she said.
His dark eyes studied her, darting back and forth. Suspicious, Kitieri noted, but no longer hostile.
“And my promise still stands,” she added. “I will see Haldin freed, or take his place.”
Slowly, Jorid lowered the butt of his spear to the ground beside him. “I will hold you to that,” he said, “lightning be damned.”
Kitieri grinned. “Understood.”
Under the black, moonless sky, Kitieri and Jorid returned Ashes to the care of the stable hands and made their way up the endless stairs toward the Baliant’s chambers. As they walked in tense silence, Kitieri’s thoughts raced.
She’d gotten through the doors, but the real challenge was yet to come, and now Haldin’s life was on the line with the rest of them. If Catarva didn’t go for this…
She clenched her jaw. Enahris’ Baliant was not an enemy Kitieri would choose to make, but she had to run that risk. For Haldin. For Inra. For Noia and Vina. For Taff and Jera.
They passed the floor of officers’ suites, and Kitieri’s heart twisted. She paused on the landing, staring down the hall toward the place she’d so briefly called home. She ached to run for that door, ripping it open to see her brother and sister. To hold them again. To see that they were unharmed and safe. To tell them she loved them again.
A gruff sound behind her made her jump, and she looked over her shoulder at Jorid, already two steps up the next flight. With a pain that seemed almost physical, clawing at her heart and soul, Kitieri turned her back on the hallway to follow him.
Just a little longer. I’ll be there soon.
Jorid eyed her suspiciously as they continued their climb, and Kitieri pointedly ignored his gaze.
“Do you really think you can help him?”
The soft words caught Kitieri off guard, and she looked up at him. In place of the hard, angry scowl that usually graced the man’s face, Kitieri saw only raw, earnest pain.
“I’ll get him out, or I’ll die trying,” she replied.
Jorid slowed his steps, appraising her more carefully, and Kitieri stopped and turned to face him in the silence. Was he backing out? Shit, I won’t be able to get past Catarva’s chamber sentries without him…
“You mean that, don’t you?” His quiet voice once again came in stark contrast to his hard features.
Kitieri nodded hesitantly, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I do.”
Jorid resumed the climb with a loud sigh. “Then I’m with you.”
“With me?” Kitieri eyed him carefully, keeping her two-step distance behind him.
“I want to help,” Jorid told her. “I know you don’t have much reason to trust me, and frankly, I don’t know if I could ever fully trust a lightning, but…” He cleared his throat. “So much of this is on me, and I feel like I need to make it right.”
Kitieri waited for him to continue, not daring to break his trajectory.
“I never got what Haldin saw in you,” he went on. “I couldn’t understand why he was protecting you so hard, and even risking his life to train you. Everyone knows lightnings can’t really be trained.”
Kitieri let out a snort, and Jorid tossed her a quick glance.
“Anyways.” He cleared his throat. “I thought he’d be better off if you just went away. That’s why I turned you over to the Board, but he didn’t let you go. He went even harder to protect you, and now he’s down there because of it.” He took in a deep breath. “And I did that to him. As much as I wanted to blame you for all this… I know that I have a responsibility to set things right.”
Kitieri blinked, shocked by the man’s honesty, and found herself at a loss for words.
“I owe the Commander for everything I am,” Jorid said. “My loyalty is to him and him alone. Any Board that condemns that man is no Board of mine, nor of my fellow officers.”
A new edge laced his tone in his last words, and Kitieri’s head swiveled around to stare at him.
“Are you saying… that the officers would go against the Board’s commands?” she whispered.
Jorid nodded. “Before she locked him up, Haldin told us all what the Chief Advisor said at your trial about the coming war. How Amadora would send us all to our deaths for nothing. He wanted us to be prepared.”
“For what?”
“The revolution.”
Kitieri’s eyes widened, but before she could speak, two gray officers appeared over the top of the steps.
“Jorid,” one greeted them in surprise, and the familiar voice stopped Kitieri in her tracks.
“Corte,” Jorid replied with a nod. Kitieri looked down, allowing the cloak’s hood to obscure her face entirely.
“Who’s your, ah, friend?” Corte asked. From under her hood, Kitieri watched Corte’s shadow bend forward in the lamplight, trying to catch a glimpse of her face. Jorid waited expectantly, and she released a quiet sigh as she lifted her head to meet Corte’s gaze. She was running into all her best friends tonight.
Corte squinted, tilting his head to peer through the hood’s shadow until recognition struck.
“You found her?” He whipped back around to Jorid. “Where did you pick her up?”
“She came back on her own,” Jorid said. “She needs to talk to the Baliant.”
Corte’s eyes danced to Kitieri before he took a step toward Jorid, lowering his voice. “You’re helping her? Are you serious with this shit?”
Kitieri cut her eyes to the side, watching Jorid square his shoulders in her peripheral vision.
“Yeah,” he replied, a hard edge lacing his tone. “I’m serious with this shit. Get the Baliant, will you?”
Corte emitted a hateful hiss. “In case you forgot, Jorid, this is the bitch that—”
“I know who she is,” Jorid snapped. “And, in case you forgot, our Commander is set to rot in prison unless we do something. This is me doing something. Now will you call the damned Baliant already?”
Even as Jorid’s last word rang in the air, the double doors sprang to life with a lou
d creak and all of them turned to focus on the short, stout figure silhouetted by the inner chamber’s light.
“Ms. Kitieri,” Minna said with a soft smile in her voice. “The Baliant awaits your presence.”
As Minna turned back into the chambers, Kitieri tossed a quizzical glance at Jorid, who shrugged. Corte motioned with his spear for her to stay back, peeking into the room.
“Let them in,” came Catarva’s smooth voice from within.
Corte pulled back, glaring at Kitieri as she and Jorid stepped through the doorway, and the heavy doors latched behind them.
As soon as Kitieri pulled her hood back, the vibrant white robes against the far right wall caught her eye. Minna stood beside the statuesque figure at the massive round window as the Baliant stared out at the Church grounds below.
“Impeccable timing, Ms. Kitieri,” Catarva said, facing the glass. Her gaze seemed fixated on a specific point on the ground, and Kitieri frowned at the back of her head.
“You knew I was coming.”
Catarva slowly turned her face from the window, tearing her eyes from their point of focus. Kitieri suppressed a shudder as they came to land on her, amber irises glowing yellow against Catarva’s dark skin in the lamplight. Words failed her as she stared into their illuminated depths, captivated.
“I expect you’ve some pressing news to share,” Catarva said, ignoring the earlier statement. Kitieri paused, sifting through the possibilities before realizing what she must mean.
“Inra couldn’t be saved,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
“Unfortunate, to say the least,” Catarva replied, her gaze unwavering. “Inra was a strong and loyal officer. However”—the word sent chills down Kitieri’s spine as the Baliant faced her head on—“that is not what I meant.”
She moved forward, flowing white robes giving the impression of a gliding specter, and Kitieri stumbled back a step. Though she’d never felt exactly comfortable around the woman, this Catarva scared her. A quiet enigma, surrounded by a coursing energy so strong that it raised the hairs on Kitieri’s arms.
