The Diatous Wars 1: Rebel Wing (2 page)

Pyralis Nekos studied
the enormous painting of the Five Dominions that hung on his office wall. He loved the way Atalanta looked from above, like a brilliant jewel in the center of a gaudy necklace. An emerald caught between the cobalt of the ocean, the golden deserts of Safara, and the diamond ice of Ruslana. To the west, beyond the ocean, Meridia and Castalia formed a shining patchwork of colors, from the white and black of the snow-capped mountain ridges to the pale green of the plains.

Generations ago, before the Peace Accords and creation of the Five Dominions, that vibrancy hadn’t existed. War had burnt out all the color, nearly all the life, from the world.

How different would the world look once
this
war ran its course?

Not for the first time, Pyralis caught himself wishing he’d been elected sooner. Every five years, Atalanta’s Ward was elected from the five sector leaders. As leader of the Military sector, Pyralis had been elected shortly after Safara declared war, a little less than two years ago. And still, even Military Warded, his dominion struggled.

“The Ward of Ruslana is here,” a tech voice chirped into the quiet of the office.

Pyralis tapped the screen embedded in his desk. “Thank you. Send her in.” As Atalanta’s Ward, he was the most powerful man in this dominion. It was a shame he didn’t feel like it.

With a steadying breath, he stood, squared his shoulders, and ushered Galena Vadim into the room. She sat on the padded bench he indicated. His eyes lingered on the smoothness of her blond hair pulled back in a low knot, the way her lashes made feathered shadows against her pale cheeks.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

“How can I refuse when the Ward of Atalanta asks for a meeting?” She settled her hands in her lap, where they laid peacefully, like two small, sleeping birds.

Pyralis sank to the bench beside her, but not close enough that any part of their clothing touched.

“Galena.” The name was little more than a sigh.

She stiffened. “Ward Nekos, I insist you share the purpose of this meeting.”

He stared at the rich mahogany leather of his sandals. It wasn’t hard to guess what she thought of him, why she sat suddenly tense and poised to flee. Her hands were not peaceful now.

“I can no longer deny . . .” he began, the words dragging. Galena made a small noise, as if she meant to speak, but he pushed on, raising a hand to silence her, “that Atalanta will fall. If we are very lucky, we’ll be able to hold Safara another two years. But no more.”

From the way Galena’s pale blue eyes cut to his, he could tell it wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. “You mean two years until they reach the Fex River.”

“I mean
fall
. I don’t expect Ward Balias to stop when he reaches the river.”

“That’s ridiculous.” She stared at the wall of glass across from them, toward the forest that climbed the hills outside of Panthea. “Why don’t you renegotiate your trade agreements? Agree to some of his terms? He’s just pressuring you for more resources. If he gets what he wants—”

“Oh, he’ll get what he wants. Atalanta has been led by Enviro and Tech Wards for generations. Our Military sector has always focused on town infrastructure and internal protections; we’re not strong enough to withstand his invasion.” An edge of frustration crept into his voice. “Believe me, I’ve tried to renegotiate trade. I’ve offered tech to help identify deep water reserves, architectural plans for water treatment facilities. Balias doesn’t want any of it. Says he
must
have direct access to the river, which I’ll never willingly provide. Our dominion’s agriculture and Panthea’s entire water supply depend on the Fex. There’s no way to give him access without risking my dominion’s resources. And he knows it. I believe the river is a convenient excuse for a larger power play.”

“What’s your evidence? Merely that he refuses to negotiate?”

“Isn’t that damning enough?” Pyralis twisted to look at her, wishing she would meet his eyes. “My spies tell me Ward Balias’s designs extend far beyond Atalanta. Ruslana and the other dominions are still too strong for him to attack, but once he has access to our resources, our—”

Her head snapped up. “What reason could he possibly have to attack Ruslana? Or the others?”

Pyralis stood and strode to the wall of glass, where sunlight embraced him like a consuming fire. “Safara has been Military Warded for years, building their strength. Why? Why not elect an Environment or Technology Ward and find a solution to the water issue, if it’s so concerning? This war is not really about the river. Which begs the question: What does he really want? What
is
it about?”

“And you think . . .” Galena’s voice was sour with disbelief, but a question hung in the air.

“I don’t know.” Pyralis sighed impatiently, turning to look at her. A stray beam of light caressed her cheek. “But I don’t trust him. And we are failing.”

Galena paced the open floor between the door and his desk. “What will you do? Select more for Military?”

“We’ve increased our recruiting efforts. The number of volunteers has been higher this year, but not as high as we need. We’ll have to select more from this year’s class, yes. I’ve also reallocated Commerce sector funding to Military, but it won’t be enough.”

Galena paused a few feet from him. For the first time she met his eyes. “Why are you telling me this now? Why not wait for the World Council?”

“Meridia and Castalia have no stake in containing Safara; they share no borders and rely heavily on Safaran energy. But you . . .” He cleared his throat. “Ruslana . . . you’ll suffer, too, as our resources are eaten by the war. If Safaran troops continue to raze our fields, we’ll have no crops to export. No timber, if our forests continue to burn. And, if Ward Balias is indeed aiming to conquer Atalanta, I don’t imagine he’ll stop there. It’s in your best interest to help us stand in this war.”

For a long time Galena said nothing. She moved to the window. Pyralis watched as she bit the corner of her lip, a habitual gesture he recognized even after so many years. It meant she was thinking, chewing over the problem in her mind like a tough piece of meat. He took a step closer, almost placing a hand on the small of her back, almost leaning close enough to catch the hint of roses in her perfume. But he caught himself, just in time.

When she finally spoke, she didn’t look away from the window. “I can’t support you outright. We need peace along our border with Safara. But there are other ways, other things Ruslana can do. Perhaps.”

It was a diplomatic answer at best. She said nothing more, but by the determined set of her chin, Pyralis knew she’d offer what help she could. He desperately hoped it would be enough.

So far, he’d been able to keep the truth of Atalanta’s precarious position from the news vids, but tomorrow, at the selection ceremony, the people would know. Although it was customary to select more citizens to join the Ward’s sector, this year’s imbalance would be extreme. Nearly a third of the graduating young men would be stamped with black Military brands.

“Thank you, Ward Vadim,” he said softly. “I am in your debt.”

At that Galena turned and faced him. “You owe me nothing. This is not about you or me. Do not suppose, for a second, that I will be doing this for you.”

She stalked toward the door.

Before Pyralis could stop himself, he grabbed her wrist, drawing her to a halt.

“Galena, please.” This time he couldn’t hide it, the regret. It weighed down his words, ran in lines of pain to where his fingers brushed her skin.

She pulled her arm from his grasp. “No, Pyralis. You don’t get to touch me.”

In the twin flames of her ice-blue eyes, he could see her true meaning. What was broken between them would ever remain so.

Bowing, he said, “I understand, Ward Vadim. Atalanta is grateful for your support.”

He didn’t raise his head as she left; he couldn’t. Quite suddenly, he could hardly bear its weight.

Lux’s selection ceremony
was held in the airy, vaulted main hall of the Council Building. The room—indeed, the entire building—was a marvel, the most imposing structure in all of Lux, built through a partnership of Technology and Environment engineers many generations ago. It was made of gleaming, polished wood, with massive columns of sparkling golden stone that supported the arched ceiling. Vast expanses of glass let in sunlight along with a view of the cloudless blue sky and the endless green of the groves.

Aris searched the crowded room for Calix, trying to keep calm, but it was difficult to smile and joke with her classmates. She was wound so tightly she could barely breathe, her eyes red from trying to wipe away her nightmares.

It’s a lie
, she told herself
. Everything Theo said was a lie, it has to be
.

“Oh holy, I’m so nervous I could die!” The voice hurtled toward her, along with a small, determined body. Warm arms and a starberry-scented cloud of dark curls engulfed her.

Sputtering, Aris drew back. “Echo, your hair is a menace.”

Echo giggled and tugged on Aris’s arm. “Can you believe it? Our selection day.
Finally
. Phae’s been Commerce for
ages
. I hope I get Commerce, too. I want to work in an art gallery, hopefully in Panthea. More men to choose from.” She tossed her mass of hair and winked at a nervous-looking boy beside her. His brown eyes widened. Echo smiled and leaned toward him, opening her mouth—to speak, probably, but to Aris it looked like she was about to swallow him whole.

“Have you seen Calix?” Aris asked, worry edging her words.

Echo shook her head, abandoning her conquest for the moment. “Not yet. Didn’t you come together?”

“We said we’d meet here.” Now she wished they had met beforehand. Her parents had wanted to have a special breakfast, just the three of them. But even her mother’s buttery, spiced peshka couldn’t dislodge the stone in her stomach.

In a daze, she left Echo and continued her search through the milling crowd. Finally she saw him, standing at the edge of a group of boys. When he caught her looking, Calix smiled.

Her heart skipped and raced ahead, as if it could burst from her chest and beat her to him. She forced herself to take slow, steady steps. It had been six years since the fever, but she was still unsteady on her feet, especially when she was nervous or tired. Now was
not
the time to risk a fall.

He didn’t wait for her; in two long strides he was at her side, meeting her in the middle of the room. “Finally!” he said. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“Same.” She tried to smile.

He pressed his lips softly against hers. When he drew away, his brow furrowed with concern. “You look pale. Are you well?”

She nodded, her voice caught in her throat. For a moment, she considered telling him what she feared. But he’d try to reassure her, and right now she didn’t want that. She just wanted to look at him, touch him, and confirm his presence. His reality.
Their
reality.

She’d never tire of his face, darkened by the summer afternoons they spent walking along the beach together. His nose was a little crooked, his calm green eyes bordered by two straight sweeps of brow. She loved the way his untidy brown hair curled softly, like a shadow, against his cheek.

“I love you,” she said, wishing for a lifetime together to show him how much.

He put his arm around her, drawing her close. “I love you, too, Mosquito.”

It had been her nickname for years. When he’d first called her it, she had asked, “Why do I have to be a mosquito?” with an exasperated eye roll. “Why not a bird, a fanax, maybe? Something a little more intimidating?”

He had smiled down at her. “Nothing is more agile than a mosquito. When you’re flying, the way you flit in and out of the groves . . . you’re better than a fanax. Being small and nimble is your greatest asset.”

Now, as the wide vid screen bloomed into color on the wall, Aris felt very small. She tried not to cling too tightly to his side.

On the vid, Ward Nekos sat in a sleek white chair, his wife, Bett, and his advisors standing behind him. As the leader of Atalanta, it was his task to begin each year’s ceremony with a speech. Today his brown eyes looked flat, and his lips curved stiffly, as if his face were a mask. His hair showed more gray than Aris remembered from past news vids.

“Welcome to this year’s selection.” He paused for the inevitable cheers. “In each of Atalanta’s villages and cities, there are young, hopeful faces like yours. You have all worked hard in your lessons and distinguished yourselves with your ready minds, your willingness to help others, and your enthusiastic support of Atalanta.

“Today, in the tradition of the Five Dominions, you will be invited to join the Health, Commerce, Technology, Environment, or Military sector based on the areas of study in which you have excelled. In these dark days of war with Safara, your hope, ingenuity, and diligence will mean the difference between success and failure. A dominion is only as strong as its citizens, and by this measure, Atalanta is strong indeed.”

Aris wished the Ward had sounded more confident when he’d said
strong
.

Applause filled the pause as he drew breath. “To all of those brave young men who wish to volunteer for Military sector, you have my respect and thanks. We need your strength, your heart, and your perseverance to overcome the challenges of this difficult time.”

A shiver shook Aris. Even Calix’s arm around her couldn’t protect her from the chill of Ward Nekos’s words.

He ended his speech with a smile. “I offer you my congratulations on this important day. Blessings and best wishes.”

The vid went black and the room filled with more applause as the curtains opened, spilling sunlight across the people packed into the room. In the center, those participating in the ceremony milled in small, tight groups, whispering and laughing with their friends. Their families sat on long benches at the back of the room, colorful in their best clothes.

And below the giant vid screen, officials stood behind five tables, one for each sector. In a matter of seconds, the vid would brighten once again, with a listing of all the students graduating and the sectors for which they’d been selected. Then they would all line up to receive their sector-specific brands—a key for Technology, a twisted green vine for Environment, two stylized wings for Health, a blue barcode for Commerce, and that harsh black rectangle for Military.

Aris turned to Calix and wrapped her hands around his waist. “Your father’s friend,” she said, “the one who works for the Council. He said you’d be selected for Health, right?”

“Right.” Calix dipped to press a gentle kiss to her forehead. “There’s no need to worry. I’ll join the Health sector, and tonight we’ll Promise. This is it. This is when it all begins.” No fear clouded his gaze. He smiled down at her, confident that their lives would proceed as planned.

She tightened her arms around him, pressing closer, as if this one embrace could somehow cleave them to their hopes, to each other, and bind them to the path of their shared future.

But her hands kept shaking.
Oh holy, please let Theo be wrong.

A hush fell as the massive screen blinked white. Aris’s throat closed. When the names appeared, she didn’t waste time looking for hers. Her eyes darted across the letters, all meaningless, until she saw it.

Calix Pavlos.

And there, beside his name . . .

Military.

Her legs wobbled and her vision blurred with tears.
No.