by Jeanne Allen
“Rose.” He brings me in for a hug and lays a gentle kiss on top of my head. He pulls away to show me those kind, deep eyes. “I saw you earlier.”
He says that like I should know what he refers to, but I don’t, which momentarily sidetracks me from my mission to get home. “Saw me when?”
“I saw you speaking with Naddy, Princess Nadira. I told you you’d like her when you got to know her.” He beams at me proudly like I got an A on my report card.
My resolve to keep things peaceful until later goes out the metaphorical window. “Oh? That’s surprising. Most guys don’t want their girlfriends, soulmates, whatever, to meet their exes.”
I keep my voice low and steady, but my hands shake with restrained fury. I can’t believe he wants me to get along with that woman. She’s like snobby Downton Abbey meets Game of Thrones.
Jackson’s eyes round. “She told you?”
Like she would waste an opportunity to wave their relationship in my face. Just how good is Nadira at playing nice-girl-next-door? I’m a little, no, a lot, disappointed in my prince. I thought him more intelligent than that. He should be able to see right through her. Then again, studies show beauty goes a long way to disrupt our natural intuition and logic. Still.
“Of course, she told me! She couldn’t wait to throw it in my face. And I looked like an idiot because she caught me unaware. I should have learned that stuff from my boyfriend, or whatever we are, not his ex-girlfriend!” I’m shouting now but don’t care; I’m too worked up.
The shaking in my hands travels up to my arms. My skin grows hot and tight like when I’m really upset. I want to punch something, and right now that something is looking like Jackson’s face. This whole evening has been nerve-wracking, and being blindsided by Princess Daddy-Issues was the breaking point of already way-too-fluffing-much.
Jackson reaches out for me, but I move away from his hand, curling into the warmth of Lyle who stands behind me, his arms shielding me from the few onlookers who notice our little spat.
My prince looks hurt for a second, but he shakes it off, confusion coloring his eyes. “I can’t believe Nadira would bring up our past. That’s not like her.” I roll my eyes, but he soldiers on. “I meant to tell you, I just… never found the time. I’m sure she had a good reason for telling you.”
I almost laugh at how convinced Jackson is that precious Nadira would never mean me harm. “Oh, she had a reason alright. She told me I wasn’t good enough for you and asked me to break the pre-Bond.”
She also implied I was ugly, but that seems too petty to mention now.
Both of my Kladí gasp.
Jackson furrows his brow. “Nadira would never suggest something-something so…”
“Well, she did.” I cringe at the sharpness of my voice.
I work to push down my anger. I’ve always had the ability to push through emotions. I’m surprised I raised my voice earlier. I rarely show outward anger. Ever since I met my Omás, they seem to draw the emotions out of me before I can control them. It’s… disconcerting to say the least.
“Maybe you misunderstood—” Jackson still refuses to give up this ‘Nadira would never’ shtick.
“I did not misunderstand her,” I say firmly.
Jackson opens his mouth to say something, but he stops himself.
“Just say what you want to say.”
“Well, maybe…” His eyes focus on the ballroom over my shoulder as he spits out, “She mentioned you seemed a bit insecure about her tonight. You have nothing to worry about, of course, but maybe you heard what you wanted—”
I’d been almost willing to drop the argument since Jackson was obviously not willing to believe ill of his childhood friend. But to accuse me of lying? And what’s worse, he thinks I lied because of some kind of inferiority complex when it comes to Nadira? I hate liars. I hate being called a liar even more.
The air smells fresh, like after the rain, and the weird tingling sensation I get when using my freaky power brushes against me. Now I know it’s the Agora Power, reacting to the fury that burns inside me, but I tamper it down. I don’t want to compel anyone ever again, especially not my soulmate.
Even if he’s an idiot.
As calmly as I’m able, I inform the prince, “If you believe what you said, Jackson, then you don’t know me at all, despite claiming to be my soulmate. I suggest you look hard at yourself before making any more accusations. You left me out there among the sharks today, and now you refuse to believe the truth I’ve given you? What is it you really want, professor? Think on that before this goes any further.”
Before he can give me the answer I don’t want to hear, I stalk off, blindly searching for an exit, my eyes hindered by the rivers streaming down my cheeks.
Finally, I find what I assume to be a back door. It opens with ease and reveals a winding path that leads to a massive backyard filled with several gardens. I take the fork to the left and head toward the west side of the building where I spot tall bushes that might give me the solace I seek.
Unfortunately, my escape does not go unnoticed.
“Rose, wait up!” Lucas stomps behind me, his long legs catching up with mine in no time.
I wipe my eyes and turn to my Goblin.
“What is it?” I snap, then grimace, regretting my tone.
Lucas doesn’t even flinch at my anger. Instead, he pulls me into his lean arms, engulfing me in his unique spicy scent, and strokes my hair. “I’m so sorry. You seemed so chill with everything, I totally thought you’d be okay alone.”
I struggle, trying to break free and protest. I was fine alone! I want to scream at him. I’m not weak, just susceptible to snotty princesses like every other human, mutant, whatever.
Lucas hugs me tighter. “I know, I know. You would have been fine if not for that bitch Nadira. You’ve been a champ tonight, Sweet Pea. We didn’t exactly prep you for this.”
“Try no prep at all,” I grumble, causing Lucas’s chest to vibrate against my cheek in silent laughter.
“Yeah, we’re the world’s worst Kladí. Too bad you can’t trade us in for a less defective model.” His tone starts out light and teasing, but then he turns serious. “Please listen to everything I’m about to say, Rose.”
I stay still, focusing on the timbre of his voice.
“It’s not Jackson’s fault he reacted like that when you told him about Nadira. Lyle told me everything.”
I stiffen. Not his fault?
“Nadira has the Gift of Persuasion. She’s a powerful Kladí, and a sneaky one. Most high-level Phósopoi feel when a Gift is being used on them, like you do when I use mine on you.”
I nod as much as possible from my squished position. I remember knowing my emotions weren’t natural when Lucas used his Gift. Even before I knew about the Phósopoi.
Lucas continues. “Anyway, to get around this natural defense, Nadira has been using her Gift in small doses with Queen Jacqueline and Jackson ever since she Awakened years ago.”
I gasp, this is a bigger problem than a spoiled princess.
“None of us even noticed until two years ago when Sebastian Awakened, and even then, it’s only Seb, Lyle, Forrest, Jin, and I who know. I think Consort Daniel and Prince Nathaniel might suspect, but they haven’t said anything.
“It’s gotten to the point neither Jackson nor the Queen will believe any accusations made about Princess Nadira. All she can manage is some slight thought-persuasion, but it’s enough. They’re both completely under her thumb. I’d applaud her evil genius if she wasn’t so, you know, evil.”
Things start to make sense. Jackson’s serious confusion at my accusations, his uncharacteristic rebuttal. The Jackson I know and lo—like would never call me a liar. Nadira must have gotten to him while I was with Lyle.
“You all know this? And you haven’t done anything about it?” I push away from Lucas to pace around the small courtyard we stopped in. Garden lamps that stop at mid-thigh create a low light.
“We tr
ied, but it’s hard to accuse the High King’s favorite daughter of something so heinous without proof. The punishment for using your Gift on a Royal without permission is death. So far, she hasn’t done anything drastic enough for us to bring before the Council. Just… petty.”
I stop pacing, running my hands through my hair in agitation. The situation I walked into becomes clear. I sigh.
Lucas walks up, slowly taking my hands and smoothing out my hair. He trails his long fingers up and down my arms. Calming emotions spread out from them, his Gift, and the soft rumble of his voice as he murmurs to me washes away the traces of anger and worry clinging to my mind.
“We thought her influence would break once he found you, which is the only reason we agreed to move here. We were wrong, it seems.” Frustration laces his voice, and I’m relieved I’m not the only one exasperated with the situation.
Lucas’s sigh matches my own. “The only thing we can do is wait. She’ll either get desperate enough to do something we can gather proof of, or you’ll Awaken and Bond with us. Her influence should be broken during the Bonding ceremony.”
He sounds so sure, but I’m skeptical. They tried the same thing with the pre-Bond, and it didn’t work. What guarantee do we have that the Bond will do the trick?
Before I can share my concern, a voice comes from the direction of the palace. I turn to find Forrest running toward us, his eyes frantic. He shouts something, but we’re too far away to hear.
I wrench myself from Lucas, giving us a moment to nod in agreement before heading in Forrest’s direction. I’ll go along with the plan, wait it out, and hope Princess Snake-tongue messes up.
“We have to go, now!” Forrest rushes up to us when we’re within hearing.
A buzz fills my ears as I glance at Lucas, whose expression mirrors my own inner alarm. Forrest is usually the quiet one, though not as stoic as Lyle. Nothing less than an emergency would force him to use this crazed, hand flailing, shouty-voice routine.
We hasten to follow his lead, doing our best to keep up with his long strides and breathy explanation for our sudden departure. Apparently, some minor Royal was found murdered in a different part of the garden, an impressive feat since little can kill a Matured Phósopoi.
At the news, Lucas speeds up, urging us to run as quickly as our fancy clothes allow, mostly urging me since I’m the one in the high heels.
The rest of our Omás meets us at the entrance to the garden. I do my best to smile at Jackson, reminding myself he’s under Nadira’s spell. He seems content to pretend the fight never happened.
He smiles in relief when we approach and grabs my hand. “Let’s go home.”
After a quick perusal of my guys, I realize we’re missing someone. “Where’s Sebastian?”
The guys eye each other.
When no one produces an answer, my hands run cold, moisture sticking despite the dry fall air. “Where was the last place anyone saw him?”
“He was, uh—” Lyle’s face pales, nearly the same shade as Forrest’s. “He was heading outside to check on something.”
“Outside where?” A vice squeezes the life out of my heart making it difficult to breathe.
“The back door,” Lyle says, barely audible.
I reach the same conclusion he does, and my knees buckle under me. Many doors fill the ballroom, but all of the ones in the back, like the one I took, lead to the gardens—the gardens where someone was murdered tonight.
Before anyone can stop me, I sprint off. The only thing that matters right now is finding my Kladí, the youngest one, the wisest of us.
The others run with me. Even Jackson, who could be there in an instant, keeps pace with us. In this moment, we are one. I understand what it means to be an Omás, to function as one unit. A collective determination keeps our pace steady as we sprint toward the opposite end of the gardens where Phósopoi in the black garb of the Elite mill around. Their silhouettes are like shadows in the dim light of the garden lamps. No one says anything as we approach.
Deep inside, we know Sebastian is here.
Jin goes to speak with his old teammates, barking questions that they scramble to answer. The rest of us spread out, searching and calling for our missing member.
What I think are hours or days pass, as we search for any sign, any clue, hoping and praying we won’t find the worst. Concocting scenarios in my mind of how Sebastian went for a stroll and got lost, how he’s somewhere far, far away as I search behind trees and under shrubs.
Safe. Not here where there is death.
We find him under a bench, hiding. His head rolls to the side of his prone body, his arms resting underneath. He looks peaceful, those baby-blues locked away in his state of rest. His face is white; even his golden hair seems a shade lighter, glowing in the moonlight.
A sob pushes its way out of my chest as I collapse beside him, gently cradling his head in my lap. I don’t hear or see anything but the angel in front of me. I stroke his curls, tears making fresh marks down my already salt-crusted cheeks. No other sound escapes as my heart splinters, the shards piercing my lungs, each breath hurting.
Someone shouts my name, but it sounds distant, echoes of Lyle shouting the same thing over and over. It takes a moment to sink in, but when I concentrate, I understand what he says, “He’s alive, Rose. He’s alive.”
Eventually, the words register. Thrown out of my panic, I clutch Sebastian closer, still unable to voice the question settling like lead at the bottom of my splintered heart. If he’s alive, why isn’t he breathing?
“He’s under some kind of Gift.” Lyle’s brow furrows as he runs his hand over Sebastian. Finally, he turns to me, those chocolate eyes dripping with remorse. “I’m so sorry, Rose. He’s alive, but I can’t bring him out of it. We have to counter with the same Gift.”
Jackson drops beside me, putting his hand on my shoulder. “We’ll find what was used. He won’t be like this for long. I promise, Rose, we’ll fix him.”
I shrug off Jackson’s hand and settle Sebastian’s head in my lap before I turn to face all of the guys at once. Lucas, Forrest, and Jin remain standing.
Each share identical masks of shame. Good.
“Why was he alone?” I ask quietly.
Silence meets my demand. The feet in front of me shuffle. Lucas clenches and unclenches his hands, but no one seems able to come up with an adequate answer.
Unacceptable.
“Why was he alone?” I scream, my hands tingling again.
The hole in my chest that grew when I thought I lost my youngest Kladí festers into wrath. At myself. At us. We failed one of our own tonight.
“I may be new to this Phósopoi thing, but I think I get it. How we should be.” A spark of something flickers through the multitude of eyes riveted on my mine. “But we aren’t. There was no Omás tonight, not that I saw. We can talk about the Bond and destiny until our faces turn blue, but the actions of tonight were not of a family.”
I take a deep breath, the air warbling past my swollen throat.
“We are a family,” I choke out, emotion loading my words and flinging them out like bullets.
Eyes widen as they hit their targets.
“From now, from always, we are a family. I don’t care what the purpose of an Omás is, Gift Conduit and all that—” I wave my hand vaguely in the air. “I don’t care. We are a family. Not friends. Not six guys and one girlfriend. Not even six Kladí and their Agora.”
Mouths set into grim lines, cheeks twitching with suppressed emotion.
“First,” I force back a sob as I stare at Sebastian’s seemingly lifeless body. I stroke an errant curl away from his closed eyes. “First,” I say again, with as much confidence as I can muster. I stare into each pair of eyes; chocolate, steel, forest. “We are family. And families stick together, no matter what. No more leaving each other alone.”
Lucas catches my eyes, guilt-laden and near tears. I brush off his silent apology. We are all at fault here. Myself included.
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br /> “Family,” Jackson says, those kind eyes brimming with tears and resolution.
He places his hand on my shoulder. This time, I don’t shrug it off. As he draws me in to lean against his broad chest, I melt into the warmth of his embrace.
“Family,” the rest of the guys repeat, each one reaching out to touch me in some way: my shoulder, my hair, Lyle grabs my free hand. The grim lines of their handsome faces mirror my determination.
A slow clapping jumps us out of our moment. I turn to glare at whoever dared to interrupt us and come face to face, or rather, face to knee, with Mr. Ken Doll himself. Behind him, Sarah steps away from the other Elites to follow him to our little group. “Touching, really. Very Disney. I didn’t know you had such a… soft side, Jin.”
Lewis layers his words with meaning and gives my Kladí a fake smile to go with his fake face.
Before Jin or I reply, a thin silver dagger appears against his neck.
“Seems to me you’re jealous, Lewwy. What, your Stepford Scream Queens not the cuddling type?” The angry pixie snarls from in front of him.
I take back everything I said about Sarah Taylor. She may be small, but she’s one scary Kladí.
Lewis eyes the dagger with trepidation, like he believes she’ll cut his throat. Which is odd since he’s technically her boss.
“Just teasing an old friend, Aporthètos,” he says pleasantly, despite the knife sinking deeper into his neck with every breath.
“In light of tonight’s events, seems your time is best used elsewhere, isn’t it, Captain?” she sneers, and Lewis hastily retreats.
I almost feel bad for him. That’s twice in one day he’s been run off by a woman with a dagger.
My astonished gaze turns to Sarah, and I blink slowly at the fierce warrior. She carries three Crests on her thin black sash. One is the sign of the Elite, like Jin’s. The other is like Sebastian’s, the Warrior-line Crest. Someone earlier called it the Crest of the Agèma. But there’s one more I don’t recognize. It’s small, like the others, with a bird of prey similar to the Elite’s. Instead of in flight, though, the bird stands proudly over its kill, another bird.
