Authors: Sarah Wynde
“I’m just a messenger. You know I shouldn’t say anything.” Zach shifted, turning his head toward the stage.
“Let’s start with an easier question, then,” Kaio said smoothly. “Felicia. How did you find her?”
“It was an accident,” Zach said. “I wasn’t sure. It seemed impossible. And if I’d kept my mouth closed—I am so sorry, Fen.”
“Sure about what?” Fen asked. “What did you do? Why did those guys want to kill me?”
Zach half-laughed again. “You’ve got that wrong. You must have. No way would they—”
“They’ve tried to kill Kaio’s brother twice now,” Fen interrupted him heatedly. “They might even have succeeded this time.”
“Luke?” Zach demanded. His eyes shot to Kaio, who inclined his head in a small nod. “Oh, those assholes,” Zach muttered. His fists clenched.
“Both times, he was saving my life.” Fen felt angry tears trying to come to her eyes and sniffled them back. “What did you tell the Val Kyr that made them want to kill me?”
Zach shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, as if saying it made no sense, before saying, “Nothing. Nothing that should have done that, anyway. I just—I looked you up. Ran a background check.”
“What? Why? So?” Fen’s voice rose on each subsequent question.
Kaio’s hand slid up her back as if to signal her. When she looked up at him, he glanced around them. Fen followed his gaze and realized from the fascinated expressions and worried stares that they had eavesdroppers now, more than one of them. She shot an unfriendly glare in all directions, and the nearest people looked quickly away, starting their own conversations up again.
Zach’s grin held real humor. “You said you were twenty-one, but you look like jailbait, babe. No offense.” He put a hand up, fingers spread wide. “I figured better safe than sorry.”
Fen rolled her eyes.
“Twenty-one?” Kaio’s polite tone held an undercurrent of darkness. Fen glanced at him, wondering at the threat in his words.
Zach put his second hand up, open and defensive. “Humans. Different story.”
Another bell rang, once, twice.
“Second bell. We don’t have much time,” Zach said, sounding relieved. “Shall we meet after the ceremony?”
“No,” Fen and Kaio answered him simultaneously, Fen’s voice hostile, Kaio’s firm.
“I want to know what you know,” Fen continued. “You owe that to me.”
“I must know what you know,” Kaio said in a much calmer tone. “The future of our people may depend upon it.”
Fen did not look at Kaio to see his expression, but she could imagine it from Zach’s dropped-eye wince. His shoulders hunched. “I looked you up. Checked out your birth certificate. You might look fourteen but you’re as old as you say you are. I found your mom’s death certificate, too. It listed cirrhosis with drug-induced psychosis as the cause of death.”
“She wasn’t,” Fen snapped. The angry tears were back, threatening to spill this time. “She didn’t. They lied.”
Kaio’s hand slid farther up her back, coming to rest on her neck and hair, his touch comforting, as he said, “Yes.”
“Yeah,” Zach agreed. “We know.”
The imminent tears stopped. The prickle in her nose disappeared. “What?”
No one ever believed her. Not that she talked about it much, not any more, anyway. But when she was younger, still angry, still fighting, still taking chances on letting people in—even then, the only responses she’d ever received were veiled disbelief or outright denial.
“I had no idea how it could be possible but I sent a message home, asking what to do. Then the Val Kyr showed up. Next thing I know, they’re telling me the police will be after me and to get out fast.” Zach scowled. “Those assholes.”
The bell rang again, once, twice, three times. The room began to fall silent.
“You must tell me about the Val Kyr,” Kaio said to Zach, his voice low but urgent. “We have not much time. If you know what they are planning, this may be our only chance to stop them.”
The brightest lights in the room dimmed, although the many tiny sparkling lights stayed lit. In the wall to the right of them, a door directly across from the stage opened.
Zach looked grim before starting to speak, his words under his breath so that Fen could barely hear him. “If Val Kyr goes, but nothing else changes, Ys Ker is next. Val Kyr will propose instead, a score, perhaps two, helping humanity clear space on the coasts.”
“Clear space?” Kaio asked.
“Helping humanity?” Fen said. She didn’t want to be distracted. She wanted to know what Zach thought he knew about her mother. But the Val Kyr didn’t seem like the helping humanity type.
“Helping them along,” Zach clarified. “Ys Ker has sworn never to support another Cataclysm. But sharing the world with humanity would be easier if more coastal real estate was available.”
One of the streams bubbled urgently for a moment and the water in it began to drain away. The floor where it had been began to glow with light.
Kaio’s lips tightened. “Destruction for destruction’s sake,” he said flatly.
“Destruction to make room for the Sia Mara,” Zach corrected him.
A Sudden, Ferocious Pain
“We need no such room,” Kaio said, his tone grim. “All the Sia Mara together could fit into a corner of a smaller human city.”
“I told you, I’m just the messenger,” Zach muttered. “I don’t make the decisions.”
“Do you know—” Kaio started.
Zach interrupted him. “No.”
In the open doorway, the queen appeared. The room broke out in a vast rumble of applause that drowned out any response Kaio might have made. The queen walked forward along the glowing path of light that had once been a stream, smiling from side to side, lifting her face and her hands to the balconies. Behind her, several others followed, one at a time, space between them, like bridesmaids preceding a bride at her wedding.
As the queen reached the round dais in the center of the room, and stepped onto it, the voice of the announcer called, out of nowhere, “Her Royal Majesty, Queen Ellinora of Syl Var.” The applause and cheers doubled and redoubled, swamping the room with sound.
Kaio leaned down to Fen. He was saying something to her but she couldn’t understand a word. She shrugged helplessly, spreading her hands.
He took one and lifted it to his lips as if he wanted to kiss it. She would have pulled back, startled, but he was too quick. His warm breath on her skin sent shivers racing down her spine and a burst of electricity racing around her wrist. Her eyes widened.
His lips weren’t moving, but she could hear his voice in her head.
Forgive the intrusion.
What the hell?
I’ve linked my bug to your interpretation pattern,
he continued as if he hadn’t heard her.
It will relay my thoughts to you.
Fen blinked at him.
“Riana of House Mar Aine, Ys Ker,” the announcer bellowed while the audience continued cheering.
You did not activate your protection pattern. You should have done so, but as it happens, we are lucky you did not. Still, you must do so now.
She stared at him blankly. What the hell was he talking about?
“Activate your pattern,” he shouted at her over the noise of the crowd.
“Dineth of House Supriyar, Ku Mari.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she shouted back, thinking the same words as loudly as she could. It was obvious from Kaio’s frown that he couldn’t hear her, but her look of confusion must have made her meaning clear.
I regret. I assumed too much.
Muscles tightened in his jaw, but his thoughts sounded patient as he continued
. Patterns store magic structured for specific use. In the case of a defensive protection pattern, clearly communicating the desired need should suffice to painlessly activate the pattern. You may go unnoticed at will.
Fen shrugged, still lost.
Direct your magic. Tell it what you want it to do.
He straightened, letting go of her hand, his eyes on the doorway.
Quickly now.
“Selene of House Ananta, Lan Tis.”
Fen whispered, “Ah…make me invisible?” Her sight blurred for a few seconds and she blinked. Zach looked startled, but most of the audience had their attention on the stage or on the people walking down the aisle.
Fen looked down at herself.
Yep, no self.
Weird. Really weird. But kind of cool, too.
She wanted to ask questions, lots of them—what else could the pattern do? Could it make her invulnerable? Could it behave like body armor or a bulletproof vest? Or like a car security alarm that would start screaming and howling the moment someone touched her? Protection could mean so many things.
“Gera, House Avi Tas, Lu Mer.”
Good,
Kaio’s voice continued relentlessly.
Go stand in the seventh circle on the dais, the purple one.
Fen’s mouth dropped open. Was he insane? Get up in front of all these people? No way. Even invisible, that sounded like a terrible idea. But she didn’t have a way to say so. Or did she?
Carefully, she touched the crystal at her throat, and thinking as softly as she could, said,
No way.
And then, just to be sure, she added,
No fucking way,
for emphasis.
Kaio’s smile was rueful.
Did you understand what Zach told me?
Sort of,
she replied grudgingly.
The Val Kyr want to help humanity?
They want to help humanity kill themselves. Most likely using extreme weather events—storms, blizzards, hurricanes. A natural outcome of global warming, hurried along by the will of the Great Council.
Oh, those assholes. Fen didn’t send that thought to Kaio, letting her hand drop off her crystal. She understood now what Zach meant by coastal real estate. She threw a glare his way, even though he couldn’t see her.
We must stop them or millions of people will die.
Fen swallowed, feeling nausea rising. She didn’t know what Kaio had in mind, but what the hell could she do about the Val Kyr? They were killers and she was just… well, for some reason, good at talking to magic. She licked her lips.
“Cyntha, House Del Mar, of Syl Var,” the announcer blared.
Without conscious volition, Fen’s head shot around to look at the woman climbing onto the stage. Holy shit. That had to be Kaio’s mom. And Luke’s mom, too, she corrected herself. And Gaelith’s, of course. She must be four hundred years old, maybe more, but she was drop-dead gorgeous, and exactly as terrifying as Fen had imagined her to be, her expression stern, her head held high, her full lips unsmiling. In her heavy formal robes, she moved gracefully to take a place under the bright blue light.
Each of the other representatives was standing in a light, too, Fen realized, forming a circle around the Queen, who stood in the center, beaming peacefully at the roaring crowd.
“Baldric of House Nik Phore, Val Kyr.”
A man in gold robes stepped onto the stage, his expression friendly, jovial, as he waved at the cheering crowd.
Fen couldn’t breathe.
It was him. The man who had ordered Fen’s first attacker to take care of Luke. He still wore the trace of Remy’s blood on the bottom of his robe.
Fen’s lips pulled back in an involuntary snarl.
Fen, you must trust me,
Kaio’s voice continued in her head.
The ceremony is about to begin. You need to stand in the purple circle of light. It’s important. Lives depend on it.
Luke might already be dead and nothing she did here would change that reality for good or bad, but Fen set her teeth and moved around the stage to the steps.
Fucking Val Kyr.
The Queen raised her hands and the crowd fell silent. When she spoke, her voice was as gentle as Fen remembered, and yet it filled the room. Fen paused on the steps. She might be invisible—hell, she was counting on the fact that she was invisible—but it still seemed damn rude to walk across the stage while the Queen was talking.
“We are gathered this evening for an unprecedented event,” the queen said. “For the first time in our history, the Sia Mara have called for a Great Council outside of our usual cycle. For many of us, this moment comes only after long deliberation, much thought, and grievous doubt.”
She folded her hands in front of her and smiled out upon the audience. Fen was struck by how peaceful she looked. Fen had never seen a saint or the Dalai Lama, but they couldn’t look more serene than the queen of Syl Var did at this moment. “Now, however, it is the time to set aside our indecision. We welcome the representatives of our fellow cities to our environs and look forward to working with them as we strive for peaceful solutions in this, the 47th Great Council since the Cataclysm.”
She gestured with an open hand to the woman who stood in the red circle of light.
The woman, wearing a sleeveless, shimmering blue gown that Fen would have died to be able to carry off, pressed her hands together in front of her and gave a small bow. Turning her head up to face the light, she opened her hands and said, as if ecstatic, “I am Riana of the House of Maraine in the city of Ys Ker. I declare myself the Voice of my city.”
The light flashed, white, red, white, red, white, red.