Breaker (Ondine Quartet Book 4) (9 page)

Curiosity stirred. “Was it a hard decision?”

“What was?”

“Giving up being a gardinel.”

Surprise flashed across his face. “No.”

“Why not?”

I knew he disliked his royal duties, but he’d loved being gardinel. How could he have given it up so easily?

“If I didn’t leave my gardinel post, I wouldn’t have time to train and work with Dax. If I didn’t work with Dax, I couldn’t be with you. Or I could, but it would be at a terrible cost to my people who deserve better.” He held me closer. “It wasn’t hard at all. You’re more important than either the gardinel post or the throne.”

I pulled away slightly. “And you were okay with that?”

“It’s who I am.” He studied me. “What’s going on, Kendra?”

I shook my head. Julian had gotten to me.

“Nerves.”

His hand cupped my neck, his thumb caressing the sensitive skin behind my ear. “You’ll be fine.”

I reached up and pulled his mouth to mine, needing his reassurance just a moment longer.

Our lips parted and the warmth of his skin a hairbreadth away left me heady. A part of me would never stop being thrilled that I could be this close to him now.

His lips moved. “I love you.”
 

There was something expectant, maybe even hopeful in his gaze.
 

“We should get going,” I blurted.

A tiny hint of disappointment in the tightened edge of his mouth, and then his expression smoothed.
 

He extended his hand. Beautiful fingers and calloused palm opened the past and I saw that hand extended to me in his car, after a bloody night. Reaching for me in a darkened Lyondale factory.

Brushing my face, asking me to never leave him beneath the glow of a starry night.
 

I slid my hand into his.

By the time we reached the main doors, Tristan had filled me in on the plan for Holden and the nixes. He let go, then left to take his place first.

A heavy stillness hung in the air as if Haverleau held its breath.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my thighs and strode in.

Gasps and shocked murmurs raced around the Council Chamber. Hundreds of eyes tracked me with judgment and disdain.

The Council occupied their usual seats around the marble T-shaped table. Patrice LeVeq’s complexion turned bone white, her familiar deep blue eyes widening with shock.

Ahead, the imposing mahogany frame of the Governor’s chair loomed. How my petite grandmother had always seemed to fill that seat was beyond me.

I decided to remain standing. No one noticed.

They were too busy staring at my clothes.

Tristan sat to my right, his thigh pressing against mine beneath the table. I glanced back. A group of Royal Gardinels, two rows thick, stood tall and expressionless, their bulky strength forming an impenetrable wall near the Summoning Pool.
 

An insistent prickle at the back of my neck indicated Jourdain’s presence in the glass tank on my left.

I refused to look at her. Magic’s pressure increased, clawing under my skin.

I gripped the table tighter.
Bite me, bitch.

Marquis Rosamund narrowed his eyes. “Is this some type of joke?”

I tugged the strap of my camisole up and cast the Council a challenging look.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Worn jeans comfortably fit my legs and my dagger rested in a sheath strapped around my waist. A simple ponytail left my shoulders bare, displaying the top of the wave tattoo curving over my shoulder.

It was what I wore when I faced my mother’s killers in San Aurelio, the night Tristan tore around the corner.

The clothes I wore when I first stepped foot in Haverleau.

In one year, the elemental world had carved me into the
sondaleur
, altering what I understood about myself and others.

I would never be the same Iron Governor as Rhian, or a political strategist like Marcella.
 

But I was still a fighter.
 

I was still me.
 

“This is unacceptable.” Patrice turned to the other Council members. “She looks like she just returned from a nightclub.”

“And your opinion, while noted, has nothing to do with the purpose of today’s event.” Nanette stood. “We’re here to confirm Original Magic’s selection for the Governorship. Now if Augustin could —“

“Wait.”

Surprised, Nanette returned to her seat. I’d have to apologize to her later for springing this on her. There’d been no time to prepare; only a last minute improvisation I hoped would work.

Beneath the table, I felt a reassuring stroke against my hand. Tristan.
 

I straightened. “Confirmation cannot take place until everyone is represented. There is a seat missing.”

Julian leaned back in his chair. No hint of our earlier argument reflected in his expression, but his eyes watched me with a brighter intensity than usual.

One spot remained empty beside him.
 

“Well, yes,” Patrice’s expression sharpened. “Since you’re accepting the Governorship and have no relatives or heirs, Jourdain will select a new family to take over the Irisavie seat.”

My Virtue reached into her, unsurprised to find both eagerness and apprehension. She’d had something planned. If Jeeves hadn’t anticipated her move, we would’ve been blindsided.

“I don’t have successors, but I also haven’t signed the confirmation papers for the Governorship yet.” I paused. “Which means I have the right, as Irisavie representative, to select my own substitute.”

Shock struck the chamber. The Council sat frozen.

Gotcha.

“But…” Marquisa Rossay blinked and shook her head. “But you have no family.”

Augustin approached the table and stood beside Tristan. “The law states that if, for whatever reason, a Council member cannot continue with her duties, she has the right to select a substitute not related by blood. By accepting, the substitute acknowledges she represents a seat outside her blood domain. Therefore, she must act according to the family’s wishes and not necessarily her own.”

“Who is it?” Patrice asked, stunned.

I gestured. “My successor.”

The doors opened and Catrin Bessette sauntered in.

Wow.

Her bold beauty and supreme poise commanded the attention of every person in the chamber. She crossed the floor, her hips swinging slightly, moving with perfect grace and leggy confidence as if the world were her stage and we were simply lucky enough to share it with her.

Marquisa Rossay slapped her mate’s arm. He snapped his mouth shut.

Catrin elegantly pulled out the seat beside Julian and settled in.

“I present Catrin Bessette, head ondine of Rivelleu, and the new Irisavie representative.”

“You can’t do this,” Patrice said.
 

I smiled. “I just did.”

“I’m so pleased to be here.” Catrin’s sultry voice resonated with unadulterated charisma. “I look forward to working with all of you.”

Several male Council members swallowed hard.
 

“Marquisa Bessette, this is terribly irresponsible of you.” Marquisa Genevieve narrowed her eyes. “You have a community in New York who rely upon your leadership.”

“I am more than confident I can serve on the Council while still managing Rivelleu,” Catrin answered calmly. “Previous Council members have done exactly that and suffered no negative consequences.”

A harsh rush of magic blazed through the air. The hairs on the back of my neck rose.

This is unacceptable.

The alien voice, neither male nor female, vibrated through the room. So she finally came out to play.

I turned and faced the creature floating in the glass tank.

Fluorescent aura tinted the water to a pale yellow, providing a ghostly backdrop for the thick hair drifting around her androgynous body like tangled kelp.

Translucent skin matched the webbing stretched between her fingers and toes, a pale canvas for the glossy, onyx eyes taking up the entire socket.

Those unblinking, inhuman orbs now observed me as magic intruded, scraping beneath my skin.

You cannot do this.

I felt a distinct satisfaction at her inability to control this.

“It is the law.”

A sharp stab of magic near my ribs.
 

I decide who is worthy of being my chosen Redavi.

“But you cannot touch our laws. You may participate in discussions, and contribute your opinions just the same as any member on this Council. But you do not have the right to change or dictate Haverleau’s law. They remain outside the scope of your power.”

Her magic tightened, squeezing my insides like a vise.

But this time, I was ready.

Empath reared up, snapping around me like an armor, just like it did with the Shadow. With a decisive thrust, I drove her magic out and slammed a wall down between us.
 

A pale hand touched the tank wall as if surprised, almost hurt.

If she wanted to, Jourdain could crush those walls and fry my insides with her magic.

But she didn’t because she knew this was a battle she couldn’t win. Catrin Bessette was my replacement and even her immortal magic couldn’t dispute that.

Satisfied, I turned back to the Council. “Another matter still needs to be addressed. Not everyone is here.”

“The Council table is now filled,” Patrice said stiffly.

“Yes, but not everyone is here,” I repeated.

Tristan stood and made a small, almost imperceptible motion to the wall of Royal Gardinels gathered near the Summoning Pool.

As one, they parted.

Holden stood in front, his arms crossed, a deep scowl carved into his thin face, and defiance rolling off the tense lines of his body.
 

Behind him, Will, Grady, and Tara faced the chamber, their bodies coiled as if bracing for a fight.

Whereas Catrin’s entrance had inspired stunned awe, this produced shocked distaste.

“What is the meaning of this?” Marquisa Blanchard stood and gestured wildly. “Who are these people? Why are they on the Chamber floor?”

Nix auras were only visible to selkies. Everyone else simply saw a group of ragtag teenagers.

Tristan trusted his men, but it was a dangerous play.
 

Tension seeped into my body. My gaze darted across the chamber. Besides the Royal Gardinels on the floor, there were other selkies scattered throughout the upper tiers.
 

All kept their expressions blank, a testament to their superb training and absolute allegiance.

I waited until the initial furor died. Marquisa Blanchard reluctantly sat, her pale face a mask of displeasure.

“As Governor, I represent all elementals, not just the ones Redavi deem appropriate.” My voice cleaved through the air. “They are here, as all of you are, to bear witnesses to my confirmation. These nixes are my guests.”

The Chamber exploded.

Council members leaped out of their seats as if their lives had been threatened. The audience roared and chevaliers quickly moved through the crowd, breaking up overheated discussions before they could escalate.

Julian rubbed his brow. Catrin leaned back, her expression bemused.
 

The Rossays alternated between threatening to resign and calling for an independent investigation into my traitorous activities. Patrice explained to anyone who would listen why all of this was ultimately Rhian’s fault. The Rosamunds counted off how many laws I’d broken. And for some reason, the Blanchards kept demanding the presence of an attorney.

Jourdain’s magic skittered against my skin. Empath swatted it like a pesky mosquito and it retreated.

I waited. The din continued.
 

Damn it. I’d have to do something or we’d be here all day.

But it wasn’t me or my words that cut through the noise of outrage.
 

It wasn’t strength shown through physique or volume or brute power.

“
Kahliev
.”

Tristan’s quiet voice, low and lyrical, reverberated like the faint rumble of the sea.

The Council stopped screaming.

He stood in front of the nixes and faced the chamber.
 

The other Royal Gardinels on the floor joined him, surrounding the nixes on all sides in protective formation.
 

As one, they called out, “
Kahliev
.”

The first tier silenced.

“
Kahliev
.” A voice from the second tier.

“
Kahliev
.” From the third.

Another, and then another.

One by one, they spoke the word that ran like a river through their culture, until every selkie in the chamber declared their allegiance.

But their gazes weren’t trained on Tristan.

They were on me.
 

I acknowledged them, adding my voice to the river. “
Kahliev
.”

A thread of magic pulsed in the diamond seared on to my chest.

No one moved. No one spoke.

Julian tilted his head, listening to the enormity of that silence.

Augustin placed a crisp, ivory sheet before me. The text confirmed my right to the Governorship based upon the selection of Original Magic.

So much power in such a simple document.

I signed my name.

It was done.

And for one moment, in the hushed perfection of that silence, I felt a faint stirring of hope.

Maybe this would be okay.

A door slammed open on the upper tier and a demillir ran in, shouting something that was immediately lost in the ensuing chaos.
 

A gardinel raced to Tristan’s side. Jeeves’ phone rang, the sound wailing through the air like an alarm.
 

Panic gripped the room and the audience poured out of their seats to the exits.

Dumbfounded, Council members looked up at the emptying crowds.

What the —

“We have to go.”

Tristan looked straight into my eyes and I knew.

That fragile moment of silence had been nothing more than an illusion, a futile wish for an innocence that no longer belonged to us.