The Silent Guide, page 27
The gate was quiet, though she felt the vibration. More than that, she was aware of the energy within it. It was a balance between the Kindling—if she was not mistaken, the fae power—and that of her Blade ability. The balance kept the Quell trapped.
At least for now.
“What do we do?” Ellie asked. “I don’t even know what I just did.”
“We should tell the king,” Jos said.
She looked around. “We have to close this off.”
“I think I can help with that,” Zaren said. “I was a Blade for a while, after all.”
She smiled at him. Of course. It was only fitting.
As she and the others made their way back through the ancient passages while Zaren worked on closing off the space, Ellie stayed close to Ralen, grateful for his steady presence. The mandolin hung at her side, secured by a leather strap Zaren had fashioned for it. She could feel its power humming softly against her hip, a reminder of both what had been accomplished and what challenges still lay ahead.
The Quell hadn’t been defeated, only stopped this time. The Servants would regroup and try again. And Ellie still had so much to learn about her powers, about the mandolin, about the true nature of the threat they faced.
But she had stopped the plan, the incursion, and now she understood how to hold it at bay.
They had won. The seals were restored, Busal was safe, and they were all still alive. Now that she understood what the seals were, they could make preparations. They would be ready for another attempt. Sometimes, that was victory enough.
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Ellie was exhausted from dealing with the repercussions of the Servants—tracking down the few that had remained in the city, successful in chasing most of them away, with help from the constables. She had ignored Dorian’s request for a visit, as she needed to deal with this first. She wasn’t alone, though. It was nice working with Zaren once again. It felt comforting. And yet, it felt strange as well, as she was no longer his student. Now she was something else.
She found herself near the harbor front, where she saw a familiar figure and approached. Her father was standing near a small ship, speaking to a captain. She could feel his Kindling power. Strange that she was aware of it now. Or maybe not. She had finally found a balance with the corrupted energy, and understood that she needed to have control over it. He looked up as she neared, having obviously sensed her approach.
“You’re leaving,” she said.
He nodded. “I need to ensure that the rest of the seals and gates are dealt with. And I need to check in with the Arbiters. I suppose you need the same?” He flicked his gaze past her, to where Ralen stood.
“Eventually he’s going,” Ellie said.
“Eventually. I suppose he has a new reason to stay.”
Would he stay? They hadn’t really talked about it, but she hoped that he would. Or maybe she would go with him. That was one more thing they hadn’t talked about. If her father was going to check on the seals, shouldn’t she go with him?
“And Baring?” she asked.
Her brother tapped her on the shoulder, and when she turned around, he grinned. “I’m leaving. I thought about staying and working with the Investigators, but I do have a little bit of the Kindling. Not like you, or Father,” he said, “but enough. I won’t be gone for long. Neither of us will. There is still too much going on, and I think he’s concerned about whether we can ensure that the Servants are…” He shook his head, laughing to himself. “What am I telling you this for? You know.”
“I know,” Ellie said. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For showing me that he wasn’t who I thought he was.”
“None of us are so simple,” her brother said. “And I know that he left us, but that doesn’t mean he’s not trying.”
“I know.”
“So you’re staying?”
Ellie nodded. “For now. For a while. I think I need to finally answer Dorian’s summons. We haven’t found any more Servants, and he’s going to be angry with me for ignoring him.”
“I doubt he ever gets truly angry with you. You are his Lady Ellie, after all.”
She gave her brother a playful punch, then quickly pulled him in for a hug. “Be safe.”
“We will. Besides, we have things to do, people to see, and I get to learn what it’s like to be an Arbiter.”
She snorted. “Of course you do.”
She turned to her father and debated for a moment, then gave him a side hug before stepping back. “Thank you. For helping.”
“I will return.”
“I know.”
And this time, she felt like she did know.
She lingered for a moment, then turned away as her father began his conversation with the captain again. She rejoined Ralen, who watched her intently. “Is everything all right?” he asked.
“I think so. At least, I hope so. I need to visit with Dorian, and then Tabitha, who’s back in the archives trying to get everything resettled. She has quite a bit there she needs help with, and I figured I would do that once the Servants were dealt with. And you?”
She met his eyes, uncertain how he would react, uncertain what he might do. Her heart skipped a beat when he slipped his hand into hers.
“I’m here with you. I’m not going anywhere. Besides, the Apex Gate is here, and you’ve got that,” he said, nodding to the mandolin she had set off to the side of the road when she approached her father. “Until we figure out what we’re going to do about that, I figure it’s best to have another set of eyes on it.”
“That’s the only reason?”
“Not the only reason,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her.
She paused a moment, then kissed him back.
After a long moment, he leaned back slightly. “Now, I think I might bow out of your meeting with the king. Maybe I’ll offer my help to Tabitha until you are done.”
“Great,” Ellie muttered. “I can just imagine what the two of you are going to say about me.”
He chuckled. “I’m more concerned about how she’s going to put me to work.”
“Oh, I’m sure she’ll find ways of using you. Now, walk me back to the palace, if you don’t mind.”
The throne room of Busal Palace was quieter than usual this morning. Sunlight streamed through the high windows, catching the dust motes that danced in the air and illuminating the intricate patterns in the stone floor—patterns that Ellie now recognized as simplified versions of the seal designs beneath the city.
After only a single day of recovery after the battle at the Apex Gate, the city was slowly returning to a semblance of normalcy, though everyone who had been there knew that normalcy was merely a fragile mask over a deeper, more permanent change.
Ellie stood near one of the tall windows, the mandolin slung across her back. The instrument had become a constant companion—sometimes humming with quiet energy, sometimes silent, but always present. She still hadn’t fully understood what she’d done with it at the Apex Gate, nor was she sure she could replicate the feat if needed. But the seals were holding, and for now, that was enough.
She watched as Zaren spoke quietly with Dorian near the throne. Selene stood next to him, looking regal—which Ellie suspected was the point. She’d returned to the city, gotten word to Dorian, and then…
Ellie wasn’t sure what was happening with them. Would Selene stay?
Like Ralen plans to.
She still didn’t know what would happen for the two of them, but maybe that didn’t matter. She didn’t need to know.
Her attention returned to Dorian. The king looked more worn than she remembered. The burden of rule had never sat easily on him, and recent events had only added to that weight. Yet he carried himself with the same measured dignity she’d always admired, his posture and expression revealing nothing of his thoughts to anyone who didn’t know him well.
Zaren, by contrast, seemed somehow lighter than before. Though the battle had left its mark on him—a fresh scar along his temple, a slight stiffness in his movements—there was a new clarity to his eyes. As if some long-held question had finally been answered.
She moved closer, overhearing the tail end of their conversation. Selene caught her eyes, nodding slightly.
“—cannot spare you,” Dorian was saying, his voice low but insistent. “Especially now, with the seals weakened and the Quell still pressing at our borders.”
“You have capable people,” Zaren replied evenly. “Ellie, Ralen, your Empyreans. The immediate threat is contained.”
“It’s time you returned as my Blade, now that I’m on the throne.” Dorian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “You know this city, its defenses, as well as anyone.”
“I do.” Zaren nodded. “Which is why I need to go.”
Ellie approached then, unwilling to eavesdrop any longer. Both men looked up as she neared, their conversation falling silent.
“Ellie,” Dorian acknowledged with a slight nod. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she replied. “The exhaustion is fading. Ralen says I overextended my abilities at the gate, but there seems to be no permanent damage.”
Dorian’s expression softened slightly. “Good. That’s good.”
“Zaren’s leaving,” she said, not phrasing it as a question. She’d known since they’d returned from the Apex Gate, had seen it in the way he checked his provisions, the way his gaze turned frequently to the horizon.
“Yes,” Zaren confirmed, studying her face. “There are things I need to attend to. People I need to find.”
“Garridan,” Ellie said simply.
Zaren nodded once. “Yes.”
Dorian made a sound of frustration. “This obsession with the Guild—”
“Is necessary,” Zaren cut in, his voice firmer than before. “If the Quell fears Garridan, then we need him. The seal network won’t hold forever, not against the kind of pressure being exerted on it.”
“And you think you can find him when even the fae have failed?” Dorian challenged.
“I have to try,” Zaren replied simply. He turned back to Ellie. “I’d ask you to come with me, but—”
“But I’m needed here,” she finished for him. “I understand.”
And she did understand, in a way that surprised her. The younger Ellie would have been hurt by his departure again, would have seen it as another abandonment in a life marked by people leaving. But now, standing in the sunlight of the throne room with the mandolin on her back and the memory of what she’d accomplished at the Apex Gate still fresh, she felt only a calm acceptance.
Zaren nodded, pride in his eyes. Then his gaze shifted to something—or someone—behind her, and his expression changed subtly.
Ellie turned, following his line of sight to the main entrance of the throne room. A tall figure stood there, half hidden in shadow despite the morning light. He was dressed simply in traveler’s clothes, a mandolin case slung across his back. But there was nothing simple about the way he carried himself, nor about the energy signature that Ellie could feel even at this distance—complex, layered, and unlike any she’d encountered before.
“Garridan,” she breathed, surprise making her voice softer than intended.
The Guild leader stepped forward, moving with a fluid grace that seemed almost inhuman. As he emerged into the light, Ellie saw his face clearly. He looked younger than she remembered, or perhaps “ageless” was the better term. His features were pleasant but unremarkable, the kind that could blend into any crowd. Only his eyes betrayed his true nature—dark, watchful, and filled with a knowledge that no human could, or should, possess.
He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, first to Dorian, then to Zaren. When his gaze finally settled on Ellie, she felt a strange resonance between his energy and the mandolin on her back. The instrument hummed softly in response, as if recognizing something kindred.
Zaren moved to meet him, and the two men regarded each other with the complex familiarity of old allies who had never quite been friends.
“You’re late,” Zaren said.
“And you’re exactly on time,” Garridan replied, a musical quality to his voice that made it linger in the air. “I’m sorry for my delay, though. I tried to make it back, but there were limitations to how I could move. At least, there were.” He frowned, looking over to Ellie. “And I am a little surprised at how things ended. I thought…” He shook his head, his gaze on the mandolin on her back. “I thought I was going to have more to do here, and yet now the song is stable. Not the First Song, but a new one.” He smiled. “And perhaps better for it.”
Ellie was tempted to laugh, thinking he was joking, but maybe she really had found a new song.
“I would like to hear what happened,” he said.
She started to move toward them, when she felt Dorian’s hand on her arm.
“A moment, Ellie,” he said quietly. “I need to speak with you.”
Reluctantly, she allowed him to guide her to a side alcove, away from Zaren and Garridan. The alcove was a small space designed for private conversations, with a stone bench built into the wall and a narrow window that looked out over the harbor. Dorian had often used it for brief councils during formal court sessions.
“Are you planning to go with them?” Dorian said once they were seated, his tone making it not quite a question.
Ellie shook her head. “No. Zaren didn’t ask, and I didn’t offer.”
“But you considered it.”
She couldn’t deny that. “I did. But my place is here, isn’t it? The mandolin is connected to the seals. If something goes wrong again…”
“Yes.” Dorian nodded, a subtle tension leaving his shoulders. “That’s true. But it’s not the only reason I hope you’ll stay.”
There was a note of hesitation in his voice, unusual for the normally decisive king. Ellie studied him more carefully, noticing the way his fingers tapped against his thigh in a rhythm that betrayed inner turmoil.
“What is it?” she prompted when he didn’t continue.
Dorian drew a deep breath, his gaze moving past her to the main chamber where Zaren and Garridan stood in quiet conversation.
“The Guild has always operated in the shadows,” he said finally. “Moving pieces on a board few can see. Garridan’s appearance here, now… It changes things.”
“Changes what things?”
“Plans. Mine, specifically.” Dorian’s eyes returned to her. “I had intended to wait, to give you more time to grow into your role before placing additional burdens on you. But recent events have made it clear that time is a luxury we no longer have.”
Ellie felt a prickle of unease. “What role are you talking about?”
“My heir,” Dorian said simply.
The words struck her like a physical blow. She stared at him, certain she’d misheard. “Your what?”
“My heir,” he repeated. “The future ruler of Busal.”
“But… that’s not possible,” Ellie stammered. “I’m not royal. I’m not even nobility. I’m just—”
“A woman who has saved this city multiple times. Who single-handedly restored the ancient seal network. Who has been trained not just as a Blade but as a diplomat, a strategist, and a leader.” His mouth quirked. “Did you think all those lessons in politics and governance were merely to make you a better thief?”
Ellie’s mind raced, memories clicking into place with new significance—Dorian’s insistence on proper etiquette, the gradual introduction to council members, the careful cultivation of allies among the nobility. All of it had seemed part of her role as his agent, but in retrospect…
“You’ve been planning this for years,” she realized aloud.
“Since shortly after Zaren left,” Dorian confirmed. “I saw what you could become. Not just a Blade, not just a weapon, but a ruler. Someone who could truly understand what Busal is built upon, who could protect it from threats others can’t even perceive.”
“And,” he added, his voice softening slightly, “because I’ve come to care for you, Ellie. As if you were my own daughter.”
The admission caught her off guard. She studied his face, seeing in it an emotion she’d glimpsed only rarely over the years—genuine affection, unguarded by the mask of kingship he wore so carefully.
It struck her then, a realization that washed over her with surprising clarity. For all the pain she’d carried about her father’s abandonment—and her father had abandoned them, whatever his reasons—she’d never been without father figures. Zaren, who had shaped her into a Blade with his demanding but ultimately caring guidance. Jos, who had taken her in and taught her to navigate the city after Zaren had left. And Dorian, who had seen in her not just a useful tool but a potential successor, someone worthy of his legacy and his kingdom.
“I never thought…” she began, then paused, collecting herself. “Thank you. For seeing something in me worth believing in. Does the council know about this?”
“Some suspect. A few know. Most will resist the idea initially, since tradition is powerful and you’re not of the bloodline. But bloodlines mean less than they once did, especially after the void spaces and the recent battle. People remember who stood between them and the darkness.” His expression grew more serious. “It won’t be easy. There will be opposition, both political and… otherwise.”
Ellie felt overwhelmed, the implications cascading through her mind. “Are you sure?” she asked finally. “There must be others more qualified—”
“No.” Dorian’s voice was firm. “There isn’t. I’ve watched you grow from a street child into a woman of extraordinary capabilities. You understand this city better than anyone—its people, its secrets, its dangers. And now, with the mandolin…” He gestured to the instrument on her back. “You’re uniquely positioned to protect Busal in ways even I cannot.”
She looked back toward the main chamber, where Zaren and Garridan stood in quiet conversation. A twinge of longing passed through her—the pull of adventure, of the unknown, of following Zaren as she had so many times before.
