“Naive?” he asked.
“I mean, to think that you didn’t believe in love.”
“What do you mean?”
“Love is not.... I mean, it’s not real,” she said matter-of-factly. “I thought you knew that.”
“It’s not real?” He wondered if he’d heard her correctly.
“Love isn’t actually a thing,” she said. “It’s not real.”
Was she joking? He wanted to sit up so he could see her face, but he calmed himself and remained lying down. His connection to the Soul of the World vanished as his Soulblock emptied. His lassitude went with it.
“It’s a conjuring,” she continued. “A...phantom. People make it up to give themselves purpose. It’s not real, not for people like us anyway. I would have... If I’d thought this would be a problem, we could have talked about it before. I just never thought I’d catch you talking about love. You of all people.”
He frowned. “Me of all people?”
“You already have purpose. You have more purpose than anyone I’ve ever met. That’s why I...” She trailed off, as though suddenly deciding she didn’t want to say what she’d been about to say.
“Why you what?” he pressed.
“That’s why this works.” She propped herself on an elbow to face him, and she pointed at his chest then at hers. She smiled. “Gods, Brom, you actually look wounded.” She gave a little chuckle. “It’s priceless. Come now. Tell me I didn’t hurt your feelings.”
“I’m just...surprised. You don’t believe love is real?”
“Surely you must know that you don’t love me,” she said.
“I do love you.”
“Like you loved all those other women?” she asked wryly, raising an eyebrow.
For a second, he couldn’t speak. “You think I don’t love you because I’ve had other lovers?”
“I think you dally where it pleases you. And that’s okay with me. That’s why I knew I wouldn’t have any problems with... Well, with this kind of thing. This doe-eyed imagining of love.”
“It’s because of those other women that I know exactly what this is,” Brom said.
“What this is,” she said in a monotone, looking steadily into his eyes.
“Yes.”
She waved that away. “Love. No love. Let’s talk about what we know is real, Brom. Becoming a Quadron. That’s real. That’s what matters. That’s why we’re here. It’s our purpose. We don’t need to fabricate one. Let the deluded have their fantasies. We’re working together to become Quadrons. Some of the work...” She opened both arms, presenting her bare breasts to him. “Just happens to be fun.”
He tried to wrap his mind around what she was saying. “You think love is a weakness.”
“I think love is a fantasy.”
“Except it’s what makes us human.”
“Now you sound like a Fendiran poet,” she said.
He pushed down his growing disappointment. “You can’t claim that you’ve never loved anyone.”
Vale’s expression went eerily blank. Usually, she had a face full of expression, whether it was rage or joy or sadness or something else. This time, it was as though all her emotion had vanished, almost as though she didn’t know which emotion to show him, and he had the creeping feeling he was seeing her real face for the first time.
She looked past him, like she was staring at something far away.
“I loved my mother...” she said in a monotone, then she blinked and focused on him again, and the Vale he knew suddenly reappeared. Her dark eyes sparkled, and a rueful smile curled the side of her lip. “Or at least I thought I did at the time. But I know better now. What I actually felt was reassurance. Having a mother meant I was safe. Or I thought it did, because I loved her and she loved me. So things were going to work out. Except that was a lie. I wasn’t safe. She couldn’t protect me from the world any more than I could protect myself.”
“A lie?”
“Come on, Brom. We lie to ourselves all the time to feel safe. We fabricate what we need to feel to continue forward.” She slapped his thigh playfully.
He frowned, trying to understand what she was saying, and trying not to be afraid that he had misjudged her so badly. How could she not believe in love?
“I’ll tell you what is real, though,” she said. “That night, when my mother was dying in that alley, a dozen people one wall away just let her. They drank and laughed while she coughed out her last breath. That’s real. I couldn’t make them help her any more than I could help her myself. I didn’t have the power. Love didn’t save my mother. It couldn’t. But the power of a Quadron could have. So love... Not real.” She chuckled. “But power? Yes. The powerful seem pretty safe to me.”
“Vale... I’m sorry.” Brom’s heart hurt. He knew she’d had a tough time growing up on the streets of Torlioch, but she’d never told him that story before. “I’m so sorry...”
She waved it away like it was nothing. “It was a good lesson. It made me stronger. And strength is a kind of power.”
“But... Don’t you see that love is what gives us strength?” he asked softly. “Love drives everything we do. We’ll go to further lengths to protect what we love than we will to protect ourselves. We will sacrifice for it, whether we love a person or even an ideal. Just look at Royal and his love of Fendir. Look at Oriana and her passion for her people.”
Vale laughed. He couldn’t tell if she was actually as breezy as she seemed, or if she was acting. “That’s the worst example of all. Royal and Oriana prove my point. Not yours. They see only what they want to see. It’s all made up in their heads. You’re the one who showed me that. It’s the reason we can’t tell them what we’re doing. They want to see the Champion’s Academy as a safe little cradle in which to learn magic and The Four as smiling grandparents.” She shook her head. “Illusions. Inside their heads. The only thing that’s real is having the power to do what you want. Or to stop others from doing what they want to you. Ask The Four about that.”
“So this thing between us.... You and me, it’s for power?” he asked, sick to his stomach.
“Gods, Brom! Don’t look so serious. Remember why you’re really here. I’ve seen the passion inside you, focused on becoming a Quadron. I am, too. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to get there. Nothing. We are going to break into the tower of the gods-be-damned Four. Are we doing it for love? No. We’re doing it for power. To gain knowledge, to be free, to use our magic without manacles. To do what we choose to do and not what four ancient Quadrons tell us to do.”
A cold realization crept up Brom’s spine, and everything about Vale suddenly made chilling sense. She’d described their relationship as “working together.” That’s how she saw it. To her, he was just like Oriana and Royal. This... This person she was with him, this secret and sexy lover, was a construct for his benefit.
All this time he’d felt sorry for Royal and Oriana because they didn’t know the real Vale, not like he did, but she had put on a face for him just like she’d done for them.
How could Brom have been so profoundly blind? How could he have thought she was playing parts for them but saving her real self for him? She’d even told him what she was doing that first night in the practice room.
I’m here to help...
She’d said it right before she’d kissed him. She’d become the forbidden vixen to entice him, inspire him, push him forward again.
To make the Quad more powerful.
He saw it all in a flash. She’d worked her way into all of their hearts, being exactly what they craved, being a mirror that showed the self they desperately wanted to be. She made Royal feel like a protector, Oriana like a leader, and Brom like a rebel with access to her secret heart...
“Brom?” she said softly.
He forced a laugh, but it was painful, like fingernails raking his throat. He wanted to say something, but he couldn’t push the words out.
She bit her lip, seemingly caught in indecision about whether to lean
over and kiss him or to leave. After an excruciating moment while Brom kept a frozen smile on his face, she slid her legs off the bed and stood up.
“I’m going to go,” she said, picking up her leggings from the pile at the foot of the bed. She put them on, then pulled her tunic over her head and belted it. She studiously ignored him while she dressed, donned her boots and laced them up. She flung her red cloak over her shoulders, fastened the clasp, and only then did she look at him. She cocked her head, regarding him like she might a troublesome stream she didn’t know how to cross. She seemed to want to say something, but instead, she let out a little breath.
“Good night, Brom. I will see you tomorrow.” She emphasized the word tomorrow like she was a master reassuring a failing student. She went to the window and opened it. Cold wind swirled in, crisp and wintry. She climbed onto the sill, crouched lightly on her toes, and paused.
He felt he needed to say something. He felt he could make her fall back into his arms with just a word, but he didn’t know what that word was.
“Vale—”
“Don’t do it,” she cut him off, swiveling on her toes to face him, so compact and agile. Her cloak fluttered out behind her.
“Vale, don’t go—”
“Don’t let it make you smaller,” she interrupted him again, as though she knew what he was trying to say, and she wanted to stop him. “I couldn’t stand it if someone like you made yourself smaller because of love. Please, Brom. You already have purpose. You have the best and brightest purpose I’ve ever seen. You don’t need love.”
She swiveled and vanished into the night.
CHAPTER TEN
Brom
Brom sat in silence. The open window let the winter breeze into the room, and it swept the warmth of their intimacy into the snowy night. He sat there until his skin felt cold, until he felt like his heart was breaking.
He got up, got dressed, and scaled down the drainpipe outside his dorm window. He ran across the windswept drifts of Quadron Garden toward the willow tree by the river. He reached it, panting white clouds, and slid down the bank into the hollow protected by the drooping, frost-covered fronds. The half-frozen river gurgled against sheets of ice, and his thoughts ravaged him.
She used me, he thought. She’s using me still.
How could he not have seen she’d been playing a part for him? And now that he did see it, why did it hurt so much? His need for her lodged in his throat like a bone.
She was right, after all. They’d come here to be Quadrons. All of them. That shared goal remained the heart of Quad Brilliant’s bond. They could all pretend they were friends, but they weren’t. They were partners. Each of them was a means to an end for the other three. A way to become Quadrons.
If he thought about it, really thought about it, had he actually believed Vale wanted to fall in love with him, or with anyone?
No.
She had lived her whole life in hunger and desperation. She had walked hand-in-hand with death every day, with no power and no prospects. Then she’d come here, had the chance to make every one of her dreams come true. When she became a Quadron, it wouldn’t be for her like it would be for Brom. She wouldn’t just return to sleepy little Kyn, triumphant, ready impress her parents and her friends. No, Vale would become something utterly different than what she’d been. She would never have to beg for anything. She would never go hungry. She’d never be at the mercy of anyone ever again.
Vale had been honest with him tonight, maybe for the first time. She’d dashed cold water in his face, yes, but maybe he’d needed that. He was letting their affair cloud his thinking, letting his passion for Vale overcome his reason for being here.
He thought of that moment—gods, it seemed a lifetime ago—when Roland had rejected him from the village guard, all because he’d put his tryst with Myan over his dedication to the guard. It had all been over in an instant.
Not this time.
He drew a deep breath. Pure. Clean. Cold.
Brom was here to become a Quadron. Not to fall in love. If he’d wanted to fall in love, he could have stayed in Kyn with Myan.
He blinked and looked around at this little sheltered area by the river, surrounded by the willow branches. This was where he and Oriana had bonded, where they’d broken the first barrier of the Quad together. Now, each of his Quad mates was giving everything they had, to the furthest reach of their ability, to elevate the Quad.
Was Brom?
His bruised heart saw Vale as a manipulator, but he realized she’d only proven she was more dedicated to becoming a Quadron than he was. She’d served the purpose of the Motus, bringing their passions to a boil by doing whatever she had to do, by being whomever she had to be. She had fit every role without a thought of the cost to herself, all to drive the Quad forward.
And she would never give up on them. Of that, he was sure. In fact, Brom had no doubt that despite what had happened in his room tonight, despite his pain at her rejection and his shocked response, she would return to his bed in an instant if he asked her. She’d probably do it without being asked if she felt her presence would make him stronger, happier, more able to elevate the Quad.
He had to think like Vale. He had to play his part.
A Motus’s job was to bring passion. A Mentis’s job was to bring knowledge. An Impetu’s job was to protect. And as Vale had said months ago, it was the purpose of the Anima to pierce illusions, to put words to the unnameable, to bring wisdom.
His Quad mates had all done their parts. They’d all seen clearly from the beginning.
But what wisdom had Brom brought to the Quad?
Certainly, he’d talked with Vale about secrets and dangers. He’d shared his foreboding about the green fire spell. But instead of spending every ounce of time and energy delving deeper into those mysteries, what had he done? He’d lain in Vale’s arms. He’d basked in the pleasure of her gift to him.
A notion formed in his mind, crystalizing like the icy sheets over the river, and as it formed, it twisted into a pointy, desperate need. He knew what he had to do. He knew exactly how to bring wisdom to the group. He was going to invade the tower of The Four.
And he was going to do it alone.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Brom
Brom still had two Soulblocks left. That was enough. It had to be enough. He opened his second Soulblock, established a light connection with the Soul of the World, and began jogging along the river. It led across the campus to the southwest corner where the enormous tower oversaw the entire academy. It suddenly struck Brom as an eerie anomaly that the monstrously tall tower of The Four didn’t seem to dominate the Champion’s Academy day-to-day. Somehow, he had barely thought of it until the night he’d seen the green flame and the vengeful eyes. But now, as he turned his focus on the tower while the Soul of the World flowed through him, that green flame raged, and the tower seemed to fill the entire sky.
He stopped, panting, and peeked out between the thick bushes along the bank. Though even an owl would have had difficulty seeing Brom right now, stuffed in the snowy bushes underneath a nearly moonless sky, with the Soul of the World flowing through him, he felt as if he was being watched.
The short jog had heated him up nicely, but lying in the snow erased that in moments. Still, though he was aware of the cold, it wasn’t painful. His soul lived in the snow, the trees, the wind, the sky, and he was coming home.
Before him, a decorative hedge ran from the edge of the river to the tower’s wall. He left his concealment and ran low near the hedge, letting it shield him. He ran fast, his steps high, and made it to the tower’s wall with a few dozen elegant leaps like a bounding deer.
The tower rose higher and higher into the sky like it was growing. It seemed to go on forever. How could Brom never have realized just how big the thing was? Standing here, looking up at it, he felt dizzy, like there was some magic concealing its grandeur until a person stood right next to it. If Brom wasn’t so deep inside the Soul of the World,
he would probably have run in terror.
Being connected not only meant he was part of everything, including the tower, but it lent him confidence. He was sure he was exactly where he ought to be. That magical edifice thrummed through him. The magic here was staggering, and he felt it trying to frighten him, but Brom wasn’t frightened. He only noted the dazzling magic. Instead of fear, it filled him with an uncontainable excitement.
The wall that surrounded the tower was about as tall as Royal, ostensibly to keep people out, but Brom didn’t think for a second the wall was the real protection.
Two ordinary-looking guards stood at the gate far to Brom’s left. They were wrapped in full cloaks, their cowls drawn. Each held a spiked halberd in a single gloved hand, and their free hands remained tucked beneath the warmth of their cloaks. It would be impossible, even connected to the Soul of the World, for Brom to get through that small gate without fighting the guards.
And he had no intention of fighting anyone. He had no intention of going through that gate. He was going over the wall because he knew its secrets. Brom was the wall.
He charged through the snow, knees pumping high, and leapt onto the wall. There was a missing brick there, creating a perfect foothold, and the toe of his boot found it as though it were part of his own body. He grasped the sharp edge of the wall and vaulted over. Snow came with him, clearing a spot along the top, but it fell softly, making no sound.
He paused inside the thin courtyard between the wall and the tower itself. Inside the curve of the wall, he could see the gate to his left and the silhouettes of the guards. One of them shifted, transferring his halberd from one hand to the other. Their backs were turned to him, and neither had seen nor heard Brom’s leap.
He almost ran across the brief courtyard to one of the tall archways leading into the tower, but he hesitated. The foreboding in his gut clenched and bid him stay still.
Taking that risky moment, exposed and in the open, Brom leaned his back against the wall and let out a slow breath. He concentrated on the lightning crackle within him and imagined crackling threads of magic springing from his fingertips, his toes, his shoulders and chest and head. These threads quested out in front of him, seeking anything made of magic.
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