“Has she received full gifting, Lieutenant?” She asks Foster. I get that she’s centuries older than me, or whatever, but she should really hear me out.
“In her capacity as a Seer and Guardian, yes, Admiral,” the lieutenant answers.
She’s the admiral? I’m not sure why I’m surprised. There’s an unsettling way she speaks control over something inside you, rather than to you, that’s way more intimidating than any Awakened I’ve ever met.
I swallow my discomfort. “Lieutenant, does the Garden change before a transfer? Because if not—”
“Sit down,” Foster says to me as he glances at the admiral out of the corner of his eye.
“But, Lieutenant—”
“Miss Marlowe.” The sharp edge to Foster’s tone sends the whole room silent. “You will be seated. And speak only when spoken to. Admiral Albrecht has been gracious in her leniency. I have explained that, despite your unauthorized leave from the Estate, your cooperation has been essential in discovering pertinent facts about the Well and pending transfer.”
It has? For all I knew, I found nothing worthwhile in what I read.
“I know your cooperation will continue.” Foster motions to a chair pulled away from the conference table. He’s not angry, although his voice sounds so. Concern creases the edge of his eyes. The woman is watching my every move. No, she’s not watching me. She’s looking for something beyond what’s in front of her, reading it in my face, hair, eyes, and the tightening of my lips.
“Yes, sir.” I perch on the edge of the chair, stoic and willing to be read.
Foster nods. “I assure you, Admiral, Miss Marlowe’s visions and interpretations will prove essential to the Well’s security despite these attacks to the Wall.”
She raises a slim, disbelieving eyebrow and wears a deceptively sweet smile. “Is this assumption based on conscious reasoning or careless intuition?”
“Factual evidence,” Foster replies. He lifts his voice. “Her readings saved the lives of key members of the Alliance,” he informs the whole room. I appreciate his confidence, but I disagree. More people have died than I’ve been able to save.
“Has she activated any Dissenting powers?” Of course, the admiral would want to know. Now that I’m seventeen and this close to the Well, I’m definitely not a threat to be considered lightly.
“No.” Foster is emphatic.
He sets another chair beside me, motioning for Maddox to approach.
“Mr. Carver.” Albrecht eyes Maddox with disfavor. “Your parents would be disappointed by your apathy toward achieving a notable rank within the Alliance. As am I. However, I have been assured that your ability to extract and transcribe visions is beyond compare. I have been given the impression that you believe the vision remains intact, despite the siphoning from the enemy. Is that so?”
“Yes, Admiral.” Maddox glances at my lips for a brief moment.
So the vision did flash through me even though I couldn’t gather any details. If he felt it too, why didn’t he tell me?
“Do you believe you are capable of enduring its extraction?”
“Yes.” Even though Maddox is firm, my heart sinks a little. I know what transferring the vision will do to him.
“Proceed.” Albrecht startles me by standing back as if expecting a show, and I’m the spectacle on whom Maddox will test his powers.
He looks over the swarming room buzzing with voices. “It’s better if I’m somewhere quiet.”
Albrecht’s face tightens.
“Privacy is a luxury we can no longer afford.” Foster’s eyes seem troubled as he places a hand on Maddox’s shoulder. “I have complete confidence that you will retrieve what is necessary. Our course of action will be determined by your findings.”
No pressure there. I’m not sure what “action” Council is planning to take. Maybe if I had a detail or two from the vision, I’d be less nervous of what they might find.
Admiral Albrecht impatiently switches her attention to Gray. “Sergeant Carver,” she barks, and then waits until she has everyone’s attention before adding, “Provide the report.”
“Admiral.” Gray tips his head, standing straighter than usual. It’s strange to hear discomfort in his voice, but I don’t blame him. “We’ve experienced two attacks on the Garden in less than an hour. The initial impact was caused by at least six Legions making simultaneous contact with the gate. Additionally, Cormorants have been spotted in surrounding trees, spread in five key points outside the Circuit Wall. A reconnaissance team is surveying the damage from inside the Garden. We are awaiting that report now.”
In that moment, Milton nudges me with the verse about the archfiend and his immortal spirits: “Doubled ranks they bend / From wing to wing and half enclose him round / With all his peers.” I hear you Milton. Sage is surrounding the Garden. But why?
Maddox reaches for my hand and whispers, “I’m not getting anything. Replay what happened leading up to the vision. Where were you?”
“I was in a dark hall,” I whisper back, as Cole quietly enters from the library hall, spinning a chess piece between his fingers. He quickly blends into the crowd. I thought he followed us in, but he must have come in through the courtyard.
“Close your eyes and try again.” Maddox is trying to keep me focused, but Gray’s voice is like an earwig to my brain.
“We have forces on the outside that can launch an attack,” Gray is saying. “But not enough weapons. Even if we pooled the Alliance army from around the globe, it would take days, if not weeks, to gather equipment and develop tactics necessary to combat what’s surrounding us. We believe Sage is attempting an encirclement similar to the attack in the Renaissance; surrounding us from all sides, trapping us inside, cutting off our only entrance and exit, to place us under siege. He wants us to open the gate, knowing we will die from lack of supplies.”
I squirm. For some reason I don’t think that’s what Sage wants. Outside, a forceful wind swirls yellow leaves across the lawn. Sage doesn’t need us to open the gate. Not as long as I’m in here weakening the Garden. And possibly its defenses.
Albrecht stops pacing and intentionally blocks my view of the window. I’m sure of it. Even though she’s not looking directly at me, I can feel her watching me.
“And what is Sage’s rationale behind his attacks on the Garden?” she asks Gray. Her mouth quirks as if she’s testing him. I bounce my foot, desperately wanting to answer.
“Cera, please.” Maddox squeezes my hands, regaining my attention. “Picture me beside you. That’s how you let me see last time.”
“Agitation.” Gray is so matter-of-fact, but he’s so completely wrong. “Sage can’t get through the Circuit Wall but wants to create fear within.”
Unable to contain myself any longer, I jump out of the chair, pulling away from Maddox. “Sage isn’t waiting for you to open the gate. He is testing the strength of the Wall.”
Gray narrows his eyes. But surprisingly not at me. He’s contemplating my theory, at least I think. I endure the stares of the entire room without flinching, but Albrecht’s simmering disdain makes my knees tremble.
“Was that information gleaned from the vision you freely provided the enemy?” Her question seeps with accusing condemnation. “The Circuit Wall does not weaken to the point of allowing the enemy entrance during transfer. That theory has been proven historically.”
I force myself to stand tall. “Sage wasn’t expecting Pop, I mean, Mr. Lassiter, Senior, to close the gate and keep me inside the way he did. And with my powers fully engaged, the Garden didn’t splinter or explode the way everyone anticipated. But now my presence is weakening the Garden.” I speak quickly, hoping to prove my case before Albrecht can cut me off. “Look at the leaves, the grass, the trees. It’s turning to winter. With every passing second, the Wall is weakening. And Sage is expending forces to test it. When he determines how much longer they’ll stand, it will only be a matter of time before he breaks through. What will be the plan then?”
“Execution,” Albrecht says as if it were a command.
I take a breath and step forward. “If that’s what it takes to keep the Well secure, then go ahead.” I hold out my wrists and look her in the eyes. Her Current is searing, slashing through every cell in my body. But I stay strong. “From what I’ve been told, Sage is patient. He’s been waiting for this moment for centuries. If he can’t get to the Well this time, he’ll try again and again until he’s figured out every detail that will ensure he gets what he wants.”
I’m so certain, I address the whole room. “If there is a way to use this opportunity to our advantage, then shouldn’t we try? This might be the very reason why Pop closed the gate with me inside. He was reading something on the Circuit Wall right before he did. He was blind, I know. It doesn’t make sense, but somehow he saw something. He believed the Well had a personality of its own. I know this sounds crazy, but I think he was doing what the Well showed him.” The words sound even crazier as soon as they leave my mouth, but I’m sure they’re true.
“Yet you have no recollection of this siphoned vision, and we are left under siege in an ignorant huddle with no knowledge as to what information Sage received.” Albrecht is too controlled, as if something vicious is simmering under the surface. She flicks her gaze at Maddox. “It seems your awareness as an interceptor is underwhelming, Mr. Carver.”
“The vision is there.” Maddox stands with a confidence that makes me believe it. “I promise you, she still has it.”
“Then demonstrate your truth, Mr. Carver,” the admiral demands.
I’m not the enemy. Lives are on the line, and if there is a way to save them through my vision, then it needs to be proved.
In front of the entire room Maddox traps my face in his hands, bringing me close, resting his forehead against mine, speaking as if we are the only ones there. His scent covers me. “You can do this, Cera. We can stop the vision from happening. Together.” His lips are so close. Too close. And lingering with a promise I want to believe. I’m simultaneously consumed and wrecked by him. Softening to his touch, I close my eyes to give him unguarded access, letting him see everything.
A handheld lantern shines
A ray of caramel light beams
A narrow path illuminates through the dark
Power leaches out from me. My whole body turns weightless. I don’t even know if I’m standing. A blinding light so bright blazes inside my closed eyes.
A bridge intact
Ravaging wildfire
A flash of red lightning
Rain wets the earth white.
An unspeakable, gripping loss cracks through me like an angry streak of white-hot lightning scorching the ground. I’m numb. Shaking. It’s only when I feel Maddox pull away that I open my eyes. He collapses in a heap on the rug.
I throw myself onto him, but a swarm of Blades descends, pulling me away as the room erupts with chaos.
“Get the library door!” Gray shouts. Terror taints his eyes as he lifts Maddox from the floor with the help of another Blade.
Someone takes me by both elbows. My view of Maddox is blocked. I wrestle to break loose. I’m shouting, fighting, kicking. Crying out Maddox’s name as they drag me from the War Room and carry his limp body to the library. Unbearable grief rips through my heart . . . rain wets the earth white . . . Maddox is the rain. An image flashes across my mind: Maddox, with his blond hair trampled in the mud.
Dead.
The library doors slam shut, and I scream my throat raw.
“Take a breath.” Devon props me up on the wall in the shadowed entryway. I slump, my legs too weak to stand. Cole and two Blades I don’t know crowd behind Devon. “What was it?”
I can’t stop shaking. All I can do is press the heels of my palms into my eyes, hoping to push away the image.
“Spit it out,” Cole says.
I grip Cole’s shirt with both fists, leaning into him for support. The Blades advance but Devon signals them back.
“He dies.” The words barely escape my lips.
Cole tenses. “Who, me?”
I shake my head because I’m terrified that speaking the words will make it true. Hot tears drip down my cheeks. Cole frowns. I know he hates crying.
“Who dies?” Devon peels me away from Cole and holds me by the shoulders.
I drop my head. I can’t say it. So Cole does.
“Surfer boy.”
“Maddox is only passed out,” Devon says. “They’ll get him conscious. He’ll draw out the vision. Then we’ll know for sure.” He tries to sound reassuring, but it’s not working. His own grief underscores his words. “And if anything, Gray won’t let it happen. He won’t lose Maddox. He promised his parents, and himself, that he’d do whatever it takes to keep Maddox safe and alive.”
They’ve bound my wrists together in front of me and tied my ankles to the chair. I’m forced to sit at the conference table and wait for news on Maddox, while every minute, the sun tips lower on the horizon, pouring sunset on the trees. They won’t execute me yet. Not until they’re sure the vision has been extracted and I’m no longer needed. Until then, I can only sit and wait. I hate waiting.
The room is packed with anxious Blades trading weapons. Tight whispers fuse with the incessant ticking of the grandfather clock. Foster has laid sketches of my previous visions on the conference table for all to see. Blades cast furtive glances at the images and then at me. I look away, a prisoner stripped of dignity, waiting for execution.
But it’s not really me I’m worried about. I keep my eyes on the archway near the library, waiting for signs of Maddox.
“I wonder,” Foster says, laying out several art books in front of me. He opens them to specific pieces I’ve viewed before, including several pieces I mentioned seeing in Sage’s collection. “If now that both powers are fully manifested, you might read things differently than before. A bit clearer, perhaps.”
I twist uncomfortably. “Lieutenant, the defenses are weakening. I know they are. Sage will attack again. He’s probably waiting until the Circuit Wall is weak enough to break through, or at least until it’s dark, when the creatures are harder to see.” I can feel Sage’s call in my bones—a promise that he’ll come for me. He’ll use me to connect the realms, so he can have control, altering the world as we know it. “Why won’t the admiral listen to me?”
Foster opens a book to the picture of Cot’s The Storm. “Use this time to your advantage, Miss Marlowe.” He doesn’t have to tell me each breath is numbered. I can read it in his solemn eyes. “Perhaps the answer we had been hoping for will arise.”
Maybe Foster’s right. Maybe I couldn’t fully read the embedded messages because both sides of my powers weren’t activated. Maybe that’s why Pop insisted I come back and gave his life to keep me here.
I take in the artwork, cataloging every detail.
In The Storm, the message painted in the girl’s expression tells me not to run. To face the coming storm. The feet running in unison says work together.
In Martin’s Sadak in Search of the Waters of Oblivion, the message lies in the struggling man reaching the sacred water source . . . alone. I know this painting details the coming battle. The message says the victory lies in reaching the source. The question is whose victory? The Alliance or Sage’s?
In the Delacroix, Milton Dictating Paradise Lost to His Daughters, the message is clear. Milton is a Blight, dictating the words the same way he guides me to see the events unfold each step of the way. It’s what happens next that I haven’t discovered. I look for a copy of the poem on the table. There isn’t one.
Foster has gone across the room and is surrounded by Blades asking questions. I start to call out and ask him for a copy when the library door scrapes open. Voices carry from the hall.
“I suggest you remind your brother of his obligations.” Albrecht’s frigid tone makes me shiver. “Some might call his behavior treason.”
With bound hands, I manage to push aside Blake’s
copy of A Poison Tree, the one with the blond boy lying dead on the ground. I know that message is showing something tainted will destroy Maddox. And that something is most likely me.
“My apologies, Admiral.” Gray’s formal tone sounds odd. “Maddox is aware of his position with the Blight. He was extracting the vision by whatever means possible. When he completes the sketch, you’ll see his ability.”
“It is undoubtedly necessary for the ambassador occasionally to mask his game; but it should be done so as not to awaken suspicion,” Albrecht responds. No, she quotes. I’m familiar with that line, but can’t recall from where.
“Maddox has been taught Machiavelli,” Gray is quick to answer.
Machiavelli sounds about right. I had a copy of The Prince in my drawer at home. Gray studied Renaissance philosophers? I don’t know why I’m surprised. He does seem like an Art of War kind of guy. But not Maddox.
“My brother’s tactics are unconventional,” Gray continues. “But he abides by the law. He is her assigned interceptor and believes gaining her trust is essential for extraction. But I assure you, there is nothing more.”
A crate slams shut. I wince.
Nothing more. It’s the same phrase Pop used when assuring Gray I wasn’t a threat. I felt slapped in the face then, but it feels more like Tanji’s punch in the jaw this time. His insinuation that Maddox is only playing me, using Machiavellian tactics to gain my trust, might be necessary, but it still hurts.
Sage’s words echo deep in the wound. “They only want what you can give them.”
Nothing more.
Albrecht enters the room. I focus on a book of Romantic apocalyptic landscapes, watching her in my peripheral vision. With the wall map as her backdrop, she stops at the opposite end of the table. A few others file into the room. I glance up. None of them are Maddox. Only Silver Assassin, Suspenders, and Gray.
Albrecht burrows her stare into me until I look at her. When I finally do, she says, “Quello che giova al nemico nuoce a te, e quel che giova a te nuoce al nemico,” as if I should understand. Honestly, I don’t have a clue what she said. But her penetrating stare stays fastened on me, regardless.
Realms of Light (The Colliding Line Book 2) Page 22
