Storm of the Seven Sins, page 19
This woman is my mother.
And if that’s the case, then something else logically follows.
I’m back in the Commonwealth again.
Chapter 31
Ari
It’s thirty minutes before I’m due to take second watch with Jaxon, and I’m sitting against a pine tree at the edge of camp, reaching out for Eva and failing to find her. Every day since I shot that damned bird down two weeks ago, I’ve tried. But nothing. Not for me, and not for Sebastían, either…though the bastard’s been avoiding me. I’m sure he’s hiding something. But what else is new?
He and Jaxon have been avoiding each other, too. They have as little to do with each other as possible, only speaking when it’s absolutely necessary, and that odd tension still simmers between them. Maybe it’s simple dislike, but I don’t think so. I can’t help but remember that instant in the infirmary after Jaxon was injured, when we were making fun of Sebastían. Also, he’s got a… Jaxon started to say, before the rest of his sentence was swallowed up by a cough. I dismissed it as unimportant, but now I can’t help but wonder. Maybe tonight, I’ll ask—though, given the black mood Jaxon’s been in lately, I doubt he’ll answer me.
He’s not the only one who’s unnerved. The ravens are still leading us southward, staying just out of reach of arrows, blades, or bullets. I have to believe that means Eva’s still alive. They need her, after all. But accidents happen, and the sight of her, bound and bruised, haunts me. I see it every time I close my eyes.
The last time I drifted off, I heard her voice, cracked and raw as if from screaming. Aut viam inveniam aut faciam, she whispered, in the instant before I bolted upright, heart pounding, eyes searching the dim tent for her bloodied face. I will either find a way or make one. It’s what Efraím used to tell us during a particularly challenging training exercise, one meant to test our mettle. But Eva didn’t sound tenacious or triumphant. She sounded…resigned.
I could have just been dreaming, my subconscious feeding my worst fears. By the Architect, I hope so. Because I know Eva. She’d rather sacrifice herself than be used as a pawn. What way would she make for herself if she thought we wouldn’t come for her in time? What might she do?
The same thing she did in that damned scholar’s room, that’s what. Throw herself into the jaws of the beast to save everyone else, and to the Sins with herself.
She heard my voice, damn it. She has to know I’m coming, that no matter how we left things, I’d never give up on her. By the nine hells, she has to wait for me.
But what if she doesn’t? What if she does something infernally foolish, something she can’t take back?
Losing her to Sebastían is one thing. Losing her for good, out of some misguided sense of nobility, by her own hand or by forcing someone else’s, will break me. I have to get to her before that happens. And with every passing second, a little more sand runs through the hourglass.
It’s a grim line of thought, but I can’t shake it. Nor do I care to close my eyes again, which is why I’m here rather than in my tent, waiting for Kilían to shake me awake.
Even exhausted as I am, adrenaline floods me as footsteps crunch on the leaves. It dials back as I recognize the steps: light and quick, more weight on his left foot than the right. A moment later, my father’s voice issues from the darkness beside me. “Can’t sleep?”
I shift against the rough bark of the tree, peering back in the direction he came from. The army is mostly asleep, inside the types of tents I first saw when I met Ronan, in the Brotherhood encampment. I can make out the dim, humped shapes of them in the moonlight that filters through the trees, which have become fuller, laden with greenery, as we descend from the mountains into the warmer, southern part of the Empire.
“It’s my turn to keep watch next, after Kilían,” I say. “Thought I’d get an early start.”
“Mind some company?”
“Suit yourself.” It comes out harsher than I intend, and I clear my throat. “Sorry, didn’t mean it that way. Sure, sit.”
He settles himself next to me, leaning back against his own tree. “How are you?”
I sputter a laugh. “Peachy. And yourself?”
“That was a stupid question. I’m sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair, mussing it. With a start, I recognize the gesture as one of my own. “I’m a healer, by nature and by trade. I see you suffering, and I want to help, Ari. You’re my son. I want to be there for you, but I don’t know how.”
I lean my head back against the tree, listening to the small sounds of the night: the wind stirring the leaves, the guards moving inside their tents, the small creatures hunting in the woods. “You don’t owe me anything,” I say at last.
“Maybe not. But…I’d like to give you something, if I can.”
I stare at him, puzzled. “Like what? A hug?”
“I’m serious, Ari. If there’s anything I can give you, all you need to do is ask.”
I give his request due consideration, watching the moonlight play on the floor of the clearing. “Tell me about my mother, then,” I invite at last. “How did the two of you meet?”
A smile breaks across Kennett’s face, lighting his eyes. “She fell off a ladder in the library. Attacked by The History of the Commonwealth: A Compendium. Perhaps you’ve seen it? It’s quite a hefty volume.”
“Ugh, that book.” I sink my head into my hands. “Yeah, I’ve seen it. Used it as a weapon, actually, when nothing else came to hand. A better purpose for it than as a source of knowledge, in my opinion.”
“Miri might have agreed. Then again, she found any source of knowledge worth pursuing. She was brilliant. And beautiful. And brave. Like you.”
The wistful tone of his voice penetrates, and I sit up, hungry for more. I never had a chance to speak with Miriam, but maybe he can bring her alive for me this way. “So, you came to her rescue. And then?”
Even in the dim light, I can see Kennett’s cheeks coloring. “I asked her to tutor me. So I could understand my patients’ minds better. But it was just an excuse. I, um, had an ulterior motive.”
Now it’s my turn to snort. “I just bet you did.”
“It’s not what you’re thinking. Really, I—I had a sick patient. A little girl, Annalise. I couldn’t help her, no matter how hard I tried. She was dying. The more I got to know Miri, the more I could see how much your mother hungered for knowledge, just like I did. And I began to think…maybe I could persuade her to get me into the restricted stacks.”
Now he has my attention. The library’s off-limits books are inaccessible to everyone in the Commonwealth, scholars included, without special dispensation. To be caught there without permission, with all that the pursuit of such knowledge implies, would be a crime of epic proportions.
I narrow my eyes at Kennett. “Either you’re downplaying your own bravery,” I say, “or you’re an impetuous idiot.”
He blinks at me, as if surprised by my bluntness. “I don’t think it was either one. I just…I couldn’t watch Annalise die.”
By the Architect, he reminds me so much of Gentian, who risked everything to save that damned bird. Not that it worked. “And did she? Die, I mean?”
“No.” My father’s lips curve upward. “The knowledge in those books saved her.”
I lean forward, eyes intent on his face. “How in the nine hells did you get in there?”
“Miri and I waited for the eve of the Architect’s arrival. We slipped away, while everyone was in the square. She’d stolen a key. And then we…well, we…”
His voice trails off again. I peer at him closely, taking note of the way his eyes shift away from mine, the way his heartbeat speeds. And then my mouth falls open in shock. “By the Architect. You defiled my mother in the restricted stacks?”
He doesn’t say a word, just blushes furiously. It’s as good as an admission of guilt.
I can’t help it; I start to laugh. And once I start, I can’t stop. Every time I catch sight of his mortified face, I lose control of myself again. But through my hysteria, something else bubbles up: recognition. My father risked death to save a child. He got Jaxon and Jessamine home safely. And he’s here with us now.
He has a stronger spine than I originally imagined. And just maybe, we have more in common than a tendency to mess up our hair when we’re frustrated. Just maybe, I can trust him.
“And I thought I was trouble,” I finally manage to choke out. “Does Kilían know this story?”
At the mention of the Lead Interrogator’s name, Kennett’s face darkens. “No,” he says. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell him. He and I…well, it’s complicated.”
“I know exactly how it is.” I give him a level stare, my amusement draining away. “In case you were wondering.”
“Of course you do.” Kennett heaves a sigh. “You’re a bellator, after all.”
“Former bellator,” I correct him. “We tend to be an observant bunch, yeah? It’s that, or end up dead.”
“Who’s ending up dead?” It’s Kilían, looming out of the dark. By the Architect, he’s as quiet as a sins-forsaken ghost when he wants to be.
“No one. You don’t have to sound so enthusiastic about the prospect,” my father chastises him. And damn if I don’t see an open, sunny smile break across the Lead Interrogator’s face. I didn’t even know he could smile that way.
“I’d welcome the opportunity to put a blade in someone,” Kilían says, his face falling back into its familiar harsh lines. “Anything would be an improvement over being herded like a damned sheep.”
“You’re not kidding,” I mumble. We’ve been traveling for a fortnight, traversing the road through the ruined cities, traveling southward through the plains and then the mountains. I keep expecting an attack, but none has come. Yeah, I should be grateful that nothing’s impeding our progress, but like Kilían, I’d feel better if there were an enemy to fight. This absence of an opponent, after the brutal events in the stone circle, is discomfiting.
Kilían claps me on the back. “Be of good cheer, Westergaard. Perhaps tomorrow will bring us someone to impale. And on that note… You and Fjeri have the watch.”
He melts into the night, and after a moment, my father follows.
Jaxon and I patrol the perimeter of the camp together, our eyes on the darkness between the trees. He’s favoring his shoulder a little, which disconcerts me. I’m counting on him to have my back. If he’s compromised, I need to know.
“Okay?” I say on our second circuit, as he brushes a branch out of the way and winces when it rebounds to smack him in the arm.
“Fine.” He cuts his eyes at me. “Don’t need you fussing over me, exile. Your father already poked and prodded me tonight.”
“And?”
“I’m fine,” he says, sounding anything but. “Tell you if I’m not. Think I want to be the reason you get dead?”
I let out an exasperated breath. At least it doesn’t puff white in the wintry air, the way it did further north. “What’s crawled up your ass? You’re even more pleasant than usual.”
He stops in his tracks, giving me an aggravated glare. “Nothing. Drop it.”
Raising both hands in surrender, I keep walking. The leaves swirl around my feet, the air rich with the smell of firs and the rosemary Ronan used to season the rabbits we caught for dinner. Hard as I listen, I don’t hear any indication of humans moving through the woods. Still, I can’t shake the sense of being watched. It niggles at me, a cold spot on the back of my neck that I know better than to dismiss.
“Do you think they’re out there?” I ask Jaxon.
He flicks his eyes toward the woods. “My honest opinion? They don’t need to be. We can’t go back. Can’t go sideways. Got those damned birds like an arrow pointing the way. We’re right where they want us. What would be the point?”
I tend to agree with him. Still, that’s no reason to let down our guard. Especially now, when I could swear someone’s watching us.
“Listen,” I say as we walk side by side at the border of the clearing. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you—”
But I never finish my sentence, because just then, between the trees, a piece of the darkness separates from the rest and prowls toward us, belly low to the ground.
I hiss and palm my dagur, ready to spear whatever it is through the heart, and Jaxon raises his gun. But then there’s a rustling sound, and Sebastían’s voice sounds from the bushes beyond our perimeter. “Don’t shoot. Or stab, exile. It’s just me.”
I knew someone was watching us. I should probably be relieved it’s just Sebastían. But he belongs in the camp, not haunting the forest. There’s no reason for him to be prowling the woods….unless he’s in league with an enemy and sneaking off to meet them. Is this what he’s been hiding from me?
That bastard. If he’s been pretending to be on our side, enlisting me in finding Eva only to turn her over to our enemies, I’ll slit his faithless throat.
Jaxon swears, lowering his weapon. “What the hell is he doing out there?”
“I don’t know.” But I fully intend to find out.
More rustling, and then Sebastían emerges from the treeline in human form, pulling his shirt over his head. “By the Sins,” I snap. “I could have killed you.”
“That would have made your life easier, no?”
I’d like nothing more than to backhand him. Apparently Jaxon feels the same, because he gets up in Sebastían’s face, hissing at him from an inch away. “You think this is funny? Look, you entitled little prick—”
Sebastían growls at him, a tearing-fabric sound that rumbles up from his chest and out between his teeth. “Back up.” The words barely sound human.
But Jaxon doesn’t move. “What were you doing in the woods?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Isn’t it?” Jaxon grabs the front of Sebastían’s shirt, hauling him forward. “I think it’s all of our business. Certainly mine and Ari’s, here. You out there meeting some kind of informer? Are you a traitor, Sebastard?”
He echoes my thoughts with eerie exactitude, and I watch carefully for any hint of guilt on Sebastían’s part: a flick of his eyes, a twitch of his hand. But no: face set in contemptuous lines, the Panther of the West jerks free of his grip. “What did you just call me?”
“You heard me.”
Claws sprout from Sebastían’s fingertips. He swipes, and they land a solid hit in the upper arm of Jaxon’s leather gear jacket, hauling him closer and closer. It’s the arm attached to the hand that holds the gun, which falls into the leaves at their feet.
“You are vox nihili,” Sebastían says, an inch from Jaxon’s lips. “The voice of nothing. You speak, and no one listens. You are the wind that blows through the crevices, the space between the shadows. One more word, and you’ll become a shadow yourself.”
Jaxon throws back his head and laughs, the long column of his throat gleaming in the moonlight. I can see his carotid pulse throbbing, and by the way Sebastían’s predatory gaze fixes on it, so can he. It’s a near-suicidal move on Jaxon’s part, like that night on the beam. Why would he risk this? Does he know something that I don’t? Is this the culmination of the tension that’s been festering between them since we left Vik?
I’d wager my sverd that something I don’t understand is running beneath the surface here. Whatever it is, it’s deadly. “Let him go, Sebastían,” I say, kneeling to pick up the gun and shoving it into my weapons belt. “We can’t afford petty infighting like this.”
“He insulted my honor.” Sebastían’s claws are still embedded in the jacket. He shakes Jaxon, a cat toying with its prey.
I move closer, the cold part of my brain that’s trained to defuse conflict analyzing the situation. What will happen if I have to put Sebastían down? Could I move fast enough? And what would it mean to our cause?
Maybe, a small voice inside me says, it will save your cause. If he really is a traitor, then ending him could save Eva. It could save all of you.
But without proof, I can’t kill him, damn it. Or even badly wound him. He can act with impunity, and he knows it. Which means the best I can hope for is to get Jaxon away from him, before Sebastían does permanent damage.
“Fjeri asked a valid question,” I counter. “What were you doing in the woods?”
Now Sebastían’s gaze flicks over my shoulder, at the place where he emerged from the treeline. For an instant, I entertain the notion that he’ll give me an honest reply and let Jaxon go. But when he speaks, his voice is every bit the haughty prince, like we never stood on the streets of Vik and agreed to work together. “I don’t answer to you, familiar.”
Arrogant sin-loving bastard. I’m tempted to put a blade in his throat. Instead, I force myself to speak calmly. “You don’t, no. But you do answer to this mission. If you have nothing to hide, then explain yourself.”
To my relief, he steps back, disengaging his claws from Jaxon’s gear. “The moon is rising. I’m not bound to it, but I do feel its call. I couldn’t stay in that camp anymore. It made me claustrophobic. So I was out there, in the forest, in my other form. Happy now?”
Jaxon rocks back on his heels, glaring at Sebastían. “You could have endangered all of us, to have a damned frolic in the moonlight. Are you an idiot as well as a power-hungry fool? What the hell’s your problem?”
Sebastían bares his teeth, looking like he wishes he’d put his claws into Jaxon’s heart instead of his jacket. “Watch what you say, Fjeri, or your next words might well be your last.”
Before he can make good on his threat, I step between the two of them, praying that I haven’t just signed my death warrant. “Ease down, Jaxon.”
He does not. Instead, his hand flashes out, grabbing his gun from my weapons belt. Before he can seal his fate, I grab him, hauling him back against my chest. He’s a live wire in my arms, solid muscle and vibrating with fury.
