Storm of the Seven Sins, page 30
After sending the ravens, Cordelia and Dresda put forward a motion to expand the Council, including three additional seats for Mages. It passed by a majority, making the Council of Nine the Council of Twelve. The seats still sit empty: Dresda is choosing carefully among her numbers, eliminating those who didn’t fully support her decision to join forces with us. The four remaining seats are intended to be filled by representatives from the Commonwealths, but right now only two individuals hold them: Kennett and Gentian, both of whom have been tirelessly advocating for citizens’ rights and rehabilitation. The interim Council gave Kilían the role of Chief Military Advisor for the Empire. He’ll stay here for now, with Kennett, helping to rebuild. There’s been talk of elevating Kennett’s position to bear equal weight with Dresda and Cordelia’s; I expect it will happen.
For the two remaining Commonwealth seats, Kennett has suggested implementing a vote so the citizens can choose a representative from amongst themselves—perhaps, even, from two of the other Commonwealths. The democratic process is new here, but I have hopes that once the citizens understand its value, they’ll take to it. Even if the citizens of the Commonwealths don’t think so right now, I fought not to destroy their world but to free them from its confines. It will be a long struggle for many of them, but I hope in the end, they will come to see that.
Or maybe not. Maybe they’ll hate me. The important thing is that they’re free to choose.
With hard work, trust, and cooperation, I have hopes that the Empire will pull together—Mages, skúma, and Commonwealth citizens living and working side by side as people. But people still have problems, which is why I’m sitting here.
Sebastían gives me a sideways grin, like he can tell what I’m thinking. “I was surprised you and your exile didn’t campaign for a seat on the Council.”
“Are you joking?” I shudder. “I want to help rebuild, but not like that. Something more…active. I’ve had enough of politics for a lifetime.”
“Speaking of…” he says, turning to face me. “We need to talk. I assume that’s why you’re here?”
It is. But finding the words to articulate what I need to say isn’t easy. I struggle for a way in, and finally settle for what I’ve been wondering ever since he crawled toward the illusion of her, even gravely wounded. “Who’s Adeline?”
Those aquamarine eyes of his narrow. “It figures Westergaard couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Fjeri must have told him. I’m surprised they didn’t both trot right to the Council.”
“What?” Now I am well and truly confused. “Ari hasn’t said a word about this. Honestly, we haven’t had much of a chance to talk, what with everything that’s happened.” Ari and I have been avoiding each other since the battle—sad but true. Even when we’ve both attended open Council sessions, we haven’t discussed anything personal. There’s too much to be said, and we left things in such a mess before I was taken. It’s far easier to occupy ourselves with the details of the battle’s aftermath. So, he sleeps in his old room in the Bellatorum’s quarters, and I sleep in mine, and we keep our distance, no matter how much it hurts.
Sebastían glares harder. “Fjeri said something to you, then.”
“No one told me anything!” I say, impatient. “You said her name yourself, when the drone attacked you. I asked Dresda what that gray gas was meant to do. She said it forced the victim to hallucinate the person they loved most in the world. They’d crawl straight for the hallucination, do anything to reach it…even if it meant their death.”
“Gods.” He knots his hands behind his head, his sharp teeth sinking into his lower lip. “I don’t remember.”
I stay silent, my eyes fixed on the spray, waiting him out. And finally he says, “Adeline is…the girl I love. She’s a gunsmith’s daughter, back home. Her father is the finest smith we have, and she apprenticed with him. I met her on a tour of his facilities to commission new weapons two years ago. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
“You love her,” I say slowly, remembering what he told me about how panthers aren’t monogamous. “But you can’t be with her, because she isn’t a skúma.”
“She can’t even be a royal consort.” He gives a bitter laugh, ripping grass from between the stones at the edge of the falls. “Our relationship, such as it is, has been built on stolen moments. One of which, unfortunately, Fjeri’s lover saw, when I caught him trying to lift a jeweled dagger from the House of Echoes, inherited from the skúma who survived the Twilight Massacre. We caught each other, I suppose.” His shoulders heave in a sigh. “I thought the memory had died with him, but apparently not.”
“Tobias told Jaxon,” I say slowly. “But not anyone else, because…”
“He knew if he tried to implicate me, I’d tell the Council what I’d seen. Tobias was well-known for his sticky fingers. Who would they believe—the Panther of the West, or a dissolute thief with a good reason to stain my reputation?” Sebastían gives a harsh laugh. “He told Fjeri, though. Not about the dagger, but about her…Adeline.” His mouth shapes the word tenderly, as if it’s precious. “We fought about it, on our journey to the Commonwealth. And Westergaard overheard. He’s been chomping at the bit to figure out what I’m hiding. Probably thinks it’s some kind of state secret, instead of a tawdry affair.”
His voice sounds pained, and I twist to meet his eyes. “It’s not tawdry, is it? You care for her. The only tawdry part is that you can’t do so in the open.”
“No, it’s not.” The words are barely audible over the roar of the falls. “I love her, like you said. I would marry her in an instant, if I could. No insult to present company intended.”
He rips another handful of grass out by the roots. “Do you feel betrayed, Eva? Angry with me?”
“No.” I hold my hands out over the falls, letting the cool spray hit my palms. Within me, my panther luxuriates at Sebastían’s closeness, but not in the out-of-control, terrifying way it did before. Over the past few days, Dresda has been teaching me how to calm my beasts, to integrate them into my larger self. Now, I don’t worry that Carina will break free and take control of my body. She’s just happy to be in the presence of her kind.
“What, then?” Sebastían’s voice is wary.
“I feel relieved. And happy for you.”
“You would truly wed me, knowing my heart belongs forever to another?”
“You were willing to do it,” I point out.
He opens his fists, letting the shreds of grass fall. They drift down toward the roiling water, buoyed by the wind. “Ah, but I was raised for such things, Carina. You were not. And you’ve just finished telling me how sick you are of politics.”
Touché. “True,” I tell him. “I won’t marry you.”
His gaze flicks to mine, wide and startled. “Then—”
“I needed you to unite the Houses. You needed me to continue the skúma line,” I say. “You kept your end of the deal. Now let me keep mine.”
Sebastían’s long fingers clench and unclench on the blue linen of his tunic. “I don’t understand.”
It’s now or never. Drawing a deep breath, I meet Sebastían’s eyes. “I have a proposal to make to you.”
Chapter 53
Ari
En route to my second interrogation shift of the day, I find Gentian at the edge of Clockverk Square, deep in conversation with Jaxon. My old friend is fascinated by skúma. Whenever he isn’t campaigning for citizens’ rights, he’s been trying to learn everything he can about shapeshifting and familiars. He’s stayed behind to talk to Eva about it after more than one interminable Council meeting.
Once, I would have joined them, thrilled by the novelty of having two people I care about in such close proximity. But now, I could swear Eva’s avoiding me. She speaks to me, sure. She’s civil enough. But the intimacy I felt when I freed her from that cage, when we fought side by side, is nowhere to be found.
I want to tell her the truth I’ve discovered about Sebastían, the one Jaxon finally spilled after the final battle, when we were drinking our weight in the High Priests’ wine. But I worry she’ll think I’m leveraging Adeline’s existence to tear down the Panther of the West, so I can get what I want. And there we’ll be, right back in the fight we were having before she was taken.
With an effort, I put Eva out of my mind and stride up to Jaxon and Gentian. The former is lounging against the wall of the machine shop, hands in his pockets, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Gentian, on the other hand, is bouncing on his toes, as if he can barely contain himself. As I come even with them, he’s saying, his voice animated, “So you have a connection with her, is that it? You can f-feel when she’s close or far? And when she shifts into animal form, she pulls energy through you?”
“Sort of,” Jaxon says, giving Gentian the half-smirk that passes for his smile. “Oh, hello, Westergaard. Perfect timing. I was headed down to give you a hand with the interrogation.” He drops Gentian a wink. “Gets a bit cocky, this one. Needs all the help he can get. Catch you later.”
He turns to go, and Gentian clears his throat. “I-I um…that is, I was w-wondering…”
“Hmmm?” Jaxon says, that smirk still lifting the corner of his lips. When I first met him, I remember wanting to smack it right off his face.
But apparently, Gentian’s seen through Jaxon’s obnoxious façade to the decent guy who lurks beneath, because he says, “Would you maybe w-want to discuss the skúma-familiar bond this evening? Over d-dinner? With m-me?”
By the Sins.
Jaxon stares at Gentian, whose face is growing redder by the moment. I’d wager he’s thinking about Tobias. If he feels like even considering this offer is disloyal. But as I watch, the smirk fades. And finally he says, “Yeah. All right. I’m off-shift at eight.”
Gentian’s thin face lights with joy. “G-great,” he says. “S-see you then.”
Together, Jaxon and I stride off toward the dungeons, where the bellators and High Priests are being held. Sure, we may be able to anticipate and deflect a potential attack, but that doesn’t mean we’re going to skimp on exploiting all sources of intelligence. These bellators hail from all six Commonwealths. One of them has intel we can use, and we’ve spent hours doing our utmost to extract it.
“So,” I say to Jaxon as we make our way down the steep stairs. “You and Gentian.”
“Shut it, Westergaard,” he snaps, but I can tell he’s trying to suppress a smile.
This is good. He deserves to heal, and Gentian deserves to be with someone worthy. Even if they only become friends, Jaxon will appreciate Gentian’s courage, and maybe Gentian’s gentleness will ease his sharp edges.
I shove Jaxon’s bad shoulder. “Don’t hurt him, yeah? He’s been through enough.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he mutters, shoving me back. “You, on the other hand…”
We’re grinning as we stride down the hall and into the interrogation chamber where Efraím once tried to force Eva to betray our cause.
And find her standing there, waiting for me.
Chapter 54
Eva
Sebastían and I walk back from the falls together, parting ways in Wunderstrand Square. Instruktor Bjarki, who the Executor punished the first day I took that tiny pink pill, is stacking debris alongside Valentína, my former dormmate in the Rookery. Next to them are two of the natural-born, and I feel a flash of gratitude as I pass them. It was a stroke of brilliance for Gentian to recruit them to the resistance: no one noticed them to begin with, consigned as they were to performing the Commonwealth’s most menial tasks. He’s told the Council that he’s dedicated to continuing the work he began, helping them realize that their lives hold value.
I fully intend to support him. After all, without Lorne slipping me that blade and the natural-born who disabled the bio-ID on my cell’s keypad, the battle might well have been lost. But now, it’s time for Ari and me to have a conversation that’s long overdue.
He’s not in his old quarters. Not in the Bellatorum’s training grounds, nor the Great Hall, where the Council has been meeting. I could track his scent or open the bond to find him, but that feels wrong, given the delicacy of the conversation we’re about to have. So instead I use common sense, making my way down to the dungeons, into the chamber where Efraím tried and failed to get me to confess my secrets.
Ari isn’t here. But Kilían and Adrien are, along with a host of others. There are too many bellators and Priests to interrogate one at a time, so they’ve been bringing them out in small groups. Thirty armed guards line one of the opposite walls, and Layla prowls the perimeter, providing an additional level of security.
Erdahl survived, thanks to Mei’s protection, and found his way back to us. But Layla will never forgive the Executor for his role in hurting her child. Since the man himself is dead, threatening the bellators he used to command is the next best thing. She raises her head and gives a low sound of greeting when she sees me, then goes back to her work.
“Marteinn,” Kilían says in greeting. “Come to lend a hand?”
“Not exactly. Have you seen—”
I interrupt my own question as Ari’s unmistakable footsteps pad down the hallway outside the interrogation chamber. A moment later, he strides into the room, Jaxon at his side. Both of them are smiling, but the grin slides right off Ari’s face when he sees me.
“Eva,” he says, sounding wary. I can’t say I blame him.
“Hi.” It’s ridiculous, but I feel almost shy in his presence. “Do you suppose Kilían could spare you? There’s something I need you to see.”
Ari’s eyebrows knit, and his eyes rake over the line of waiting bellators. “Now?”
“You’ve done your part, Westergaard,” Kilían says dryly. “Let Fjeri have a chance at the fun.”
“You’re sure?” Ari says. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was afraid to be alone with me, for fear of what it might yield. “Because if you need me—”
Kilían gives a long-suffering sigh. “One successful revolution, and it goes to your head. I should have known it wouldn’t take much to tip that inflated ego of yours over the edge.” He lifts an eyebrow, a sardonic tilt. But then he smiles. “I was doing this long before you were born, Westergaard. Believe it or not, the world won’t fall apart if you cease to monitor it.”
Jaxon, who’s pacing the line of bellators, snorts at this. “You heard the man. Go with your princess, exile. These pitiful excuses for soldiers will still be here for you to worm the truth out of when you get back.”
Ari gives both of them an obscene gesture that he must have learned from Fade, may his soul rest among the fallen, or maybe from Jaxon himself. “Fine,” he says, turning to me. “Let’s go.”
As we walk away, I hear Jaxon laughing, and Kilían demanding to know what the gesture means. A moment later, I hear him mutter, “Figures. Smart mouth, even when he isn’t using it.”
Now it’s my turn to laugh.
“They get along well,” Ari observes as the two of us make our way up the stairs and out into the fresh, cool air, beneath one of the many stone arches on which the Sins and Virtues are engraved.
“They do. It’s good, I suppose.”
Ari snorts, sounding eerily like Jaxon. “For them. For me…maybe less so.”
We cross the square in front of the Hall. The bodies have been cleared away; Ronan took charge of that, employing the Commonwealth’s citizens, who were only too happy to have a job to do. They can take orders easily. It’s thinking for themselves that’s the problem.
Well, there will be time enough for that. It will be a learning curve, but with all of us working together, surely it’s possible. It was for me and Ari, after all. For Ronan, who left the Commonwealth of Scribes behind. For Kennett, whose love for Kilían is impossible to hide whenever the two of them are in the same room.
The gentle healer and the scarred, vicious bellator. I suppose there have been stranger things. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned, it is that love sees no logic. The heart wants what it wants, and finally, that’s just fine with me.
Whether it will be fine with the boy striding next to me, his black hair tousled by the wind and his jaw set, remains to be seen.
“Where are you taking me, Eva?” he says suspiciously.
“Why?” I give him an innocent smile. “Don’t you trust me?”
He mutters something under his breath, but lets me take his hand and pull him into the woods. It’s been months since I last set foot here, yet my feet still know the way.
This far to the south, the trees are thick with leaves and the flowering bushes are already in bloom, obscuring the path. I’ve had to let go of Ari’s hand, but I can hear him behind me, his footsteps quick and sure on the packed dirt. I can feel him there, his strength feeding mine, his spirit tired but determined. He will go as long as I need him to, do whatever I ask of him. I can feel that through the bond, but I also know it in my heart.
It’s training, sure. But it’s also love.
The path opens into a clearing, hemmed in by trees. It starts up again on the other side, but I don’t go any further. I’ve reached my destination, and I hear Ari’s sharp intake of breath when he takes in where we are.
“The night we trained in the woods,” he says, coming to stand beside me. “When you hunted me in the rain…”
“When I caught you,” I correct, smiling up at him. “And knocked you out of that tree.”
One dark brow rises. “Is that all you remember about that night, apprentice mine?”
I give him the brow right back. Whenever he calls me that, it feels like before—when even holding hands felt forbidden, and discovery meant death. It sends a strange thrill through me, one I didn’t even have a word for back then. “You know it’s not.”
“I wanted you so much,” he admits, his voice low. “I knew it was a sin. But you were so beautiful, even on top of me with your knife to my throat. I thought if I didn’t kiss you, I might actually die.” The words are dramatic, but from the matter-of-fact tone of his voice, I can tell he means them.
