by K. M. Hade
“Nobody would want to make more of you! Why would anyone want to make more of you!”
Because I can conjure Aether crystal that doesn’t decay. I can be a Fell’s Heart. Because I’m stupidly powerful, and if Atrament’s right, I’m a Luminous.
“You’re a failure,” my mother sobs. “And you think you can come in here and blame us for it? We did everything right! We did exactly what we were supposed to do! How dare you try to blame us! What did you do as a child? You did something wicked to rot your soul, to need Fell thread!”
“That is not how it works, your grace,” Atrament says, but they don’t hear him. ScatheFire gestures for him to shut up.
“But you got our letter,” Blood says, studying his fingers.
My father stiffens and my mother goes pale.
“Hmm. Thought so.” Blood flicks his fingers and rolls his eyes meaningfully towards Rot and Smoke. “Very much got their attention. What scam did you run, your grace?”
“What are you talking about?” my mother gasps.
“This guy loses every hand of poker he plays.” ScatheFire folds his arms across his chest with the finality of absolute knowledge.
“My father doesn’t play poker,” I say. My father’s never been in a gambling den. “He won’t even wager on horse races.”
ScatheFire laughs once. “We know his type. Every Fell brat knows his type.”
Blood places an arm around me. “Pebbles, my sweet, innocent, naïve, beautiful little killer, we really must take you to where we grew up. You’d be stunned at how many familiar faces from the imperial court you’ll see.”
Rot snorts a barely suppressed laugh.
“Out.” My father points at the door, finger trembling he is so angry.
“We’ll find out.” ScatheFire flings the words down casually, like gloves on a table. “Someone is bound to have a good memory and wants some favors from Imperial Fells. Would be a shame, though, if they suddenly remembered and wondered why we might be asking.”
My father closes his eyes and his shoulders tighten.
“We’re very good at what we do,” Blood informs them with an air of arrogance that sends my parents into quivers of rage that a Fell would dare speak to them like that. “We’re the premier Fell team in the Empire. We will find out what your husband did.”
“Husband—” My mother starts to say.
My father dismisses Blood with a gesture. “I did nothing, and you will never prove otherwise. Did the Academy approach us about Fell thread? Yes, they did. We refused. Our daughter, defiled? I damn near bludgeoned the Dean to death for suggesting it. But I will not admit to that, either. And I doubt very much the Dean would dare mention that conversation or any other. It won’t buy his life.”
“So the Academy did know,” I say.
“Intriguing.” Atrament strokes his chin.
“And we just wanted you to go to the war and die rather than be defiled, than anyone know that our daughter… needed Fell thread.” My father spits the words at my feet.
My mother buries her face in her hands and weeps.
“You could have prevented this,” ScatheFire says. “Now multiple Mages are dead, all the Mages are in an uproar, things are destroyed, and for what? Because of a little Fell thread? You have no idea what she suffered because of your cowardice!”
“She got teased and chided and driven for not being good enough or working hard enough. That’s not suffering, Fell. That’s called learning to be an adult.”
Smoke seethes. “She was humiliated and degraded like an unloved noble wife that the husband is forced to fuck to impregnate.”
“That’s an obligation every noble has to accept,” my father says rudely. “That is also part of being an adult.”
To this, my mother finally nods, but she says nothing.
My stomach twists.
Blood takes one of my hands, gripping it tightly, and ScatheFire the other. Rot seethes in the corner. The wall behind him has started to discolor to a yellow-green-brown.
“But you got our message,” Smoke says mildly. “A very interesting letter.”
“What letter?” my oldest brother asks.
My parents shift—they got the letter. And it fucking unnerved them.
“The Aether families are looking for someone to blame,” ScatheFire muses. “The ArchDuke’s face would do, would it not? If only because he refused to let her be defiled? So many dead bodies for his pride.”
I hold up a hand. Threats won’t accomplish much with my parents. I hadn’t come for justice. That isn’t what this is about: it’s about putting my parents on notice, and making sure they feel the fangs breaking the skin. My parents will be far more useful to us at court if they’ve got a vested interest in stifling any conversation at all about us while gathering every shred of information they can to protect themselves.
“I’m not here to threaten you,” I say. “I am here to make a deal.”
“You’re an Aether, you can’t name a price,” my mother spits.
I smirk. “I want TasselWood. You will maintain it as you currently do, but the Fells and I will commandeer it whenever we like. You will, of course, be glad to lodge Imperial Mages.”
My father gestures, bored. “Fine.”
“Oh no, I want TasselWood,” I tell him. “We are going to survive to retirement. We will be in the House of Aether. And you will make arrangements to ensure that TasselWood becomes my property upon my retirement. Fail to do so and,” I glance at my brothers, “I think the family legacy will suffer a spectacular end, while I watch safe from my place within the House of Aether.”
“In return, we won’t speak of this again,” he says, tone cold, commanding, expectant.
I smile. “I hope we never have need to.”
It isn’t like they like TasselWood or want it. And as long as I am in the House of Aether, I won’t have to pay taxes on it. My father is probably figuring he got a really good deal out of this: a property the family doesn’t want but is too proud to sell, a gracious gift to a retired Aether… and the chance I’ll never live to claim the payment.
Blood brushes a kiss along my ear and whispers, “Another card for our deck. Who says Mages can’t accumulate wealth?”
34
Crystal
In a very cruel gesture, the Empress gives us my old quarters at the Academy dorms. The rooms had not been re-assigned.
“Brings back memories,” ScatheFire says as he looks out one of the windows overlooking the rose gardens below. “Not that we got anything this nice.”
“Which room was yours?” Rot wants to know.
I point at the door that led to my room. I don’t want to ever set foot in it again. It’s where they’d come to fuck me. “You can have it, if you want.”
He frowns. Considers it, turning it over, feels along the threads that connect us now, sorting through our shared feelings.
This is going to take some getting used to. Especially Smoke’s tenseness, and Blood’s uncertainty. ScatheFire thinks it’s hilarious, Atrament thinks there’s nothing worth worrying over, and Rot likes it.
Rot loves it, actually. He’s latched on to the idea of having a Heart like he just got a new puppy.
He’s a big puppy.
A big puppy that can rot things through and such, but a big puppy.
“Okay,” he finally says. “I’ll take it. Which room do you want?”
“We aren’t going to be here long enough for it to matter,” Blood says. His familiar is clinging to his hair. “We are going to track down those markings on the container.”
“Assuming we aren’t sent into the field.” Rot yawns.
“So why didn’t we lean harder on your parents? They totally know what we were talking about. That letter had them spooked.” ScatheFire puts his feet up on the battered table. His familiar is on the central cushion of the couch, having absorbed the entire thing in the way cats do.
Mine slithers off my back up into a window to sun itself.
After a moment, I manage to sit down on the other couch, and try to block out the memories. “Throwing my parents to the court will only hurt the Empress and make things worse. We also won’t learn anything.”
The High Dean, so far, has opted for complete and total silence. The Empress and Emperor are furious. The entire court is shocked. My Aethers’ families are out for blood. Anyone who knew anything, or is within line of sight of the secrets, is saying absolutely nothing. Adding my parents’ corpses to the pyre? Pointless at best.
The High Dean can trade his secrets for leniency, but he knows his family will just end up delivered to him in a succession of very small boxes.
The Warden, in short order, will find himself without any friends.
Atrament tries to re-knot his hair. “She’s correct. Proving they dealt in reagent theft might interest the vultures at court, but it won’t further our understanding.”
Smoke folds his arms. “But you don’t want justice for what they did to you. They abandoned you. They don’t care.”
Justice? What would justice even look like after all this? “They abandoned me years ago back at TasselWood. Now they’ll be our allies at court and do their best to make sure that the court thinks about me as little as possible.”
I lean back against the couch. “Atrament has been conscripted into the Imperial Army, you three have been absolved, and ScatheFire and I have a stay of execution. But I am defiled, as they are saying, and Atrament and I have to prove we’re not academic curiosities like Snows.”
“Or what?” Atrament inquires.
“Or back to the Pit, I guess,” I say.
“All of us?”
“The team is everything, the team is sacred.” ScatheFire holds up his hands. “We burn together. How much does the Empress want?”
I grimace. “Everything. You murdered your Shard, and she’s pretty pissed about that, and me? I’m just a hot mess.”
Blood grumbles.
I get up and go over to Blood and slide my arms around his shoulders. He tries to stop me, but I persist, even though he’s in heavy uniform and I’m in armor and it’s more uncomfortable and hot than sexy, which makes it hilarious. He sighs and rolls his eyes and has both hands on my wrists. “Now isn’t the time, Pebbles.”
“No time like the present,” I say sweetly, refusing to humor his bitterness and disappointment. It’ll consume him and wear him down, and that’s how the Blight gets in.
He sighs again.
“Even if we’d gotten our chests covered in medals and ribbons around our necks, we’d still have to live long enough to claim our prizes,” I say. “And don’t think the powers that be wouldn’t have found a way to take it from us. It’s better this way. My parents will make sure that doesn’t happen.”
ScatheFire chuckles. “She’s right, you know. Can’t exactly have a bunch of filthy Fells and a murderous Aether crash your autumn drinking party and give them a medal for it. Might give us riff-raff the wrong idea. Why give the assholes in charge a long time to figure out how to take what’s ours from us?”
Blood scowls, but the feelings turn over within him as ScatheFire’s words sink in. His eyes narrow.
“I don’t like knowing what’s going on in your head anymore than you do,” ScatheFire says.
“Stop reading my mind.”
“It’s not conscious.” ScatheFire flips him the finger, then points it at me.
“Yeah….” I say uncertainly. Apparently, I could read more than just their thoughts…
Smoke sits on the other end of the couch. The cat smacks at him too. His familiar chirps and eyes it. The cat hisses. The petal dragon squeaks and flaps its wings as if to say go get it, bird!
The cat eyes the dragon.
I smile at Blood and tug a strand of his hair. His familiar trills in protest at being jostled and gives me a hilarious glare.
He shifts his grip to my body. “I’ve never held a woman in armor.”
“What do you think?”
“Sexy. Keep going,” ScatheFire says. “She likes being spanked. See how that works in armor.”
I blush hotly and mumble about how I do not like being spanked, and he needs to shut up.
He smirks.
Rot delivers a swat to my ass. My mail jangles, his hand makes a sound like he hit a rock, and I just feel the blunt impact like a board had hit me. Then I guess he left his big hand on my ass, but I can’t really feel it through the layers of leather and wool and rings of metal.
Atrament drifts around the large circular room, his long hair brushing surfaces and walls. His quiet wonder and curiosity vibrates through my soul, poignant and aching. His familiar zips about, darting in and out of crevices and places.
I release Blood. I’m getting out of my armor and finding a bath, because I’m sweaty and it’s hot, and my hauberk weighs a ton, not to mention all the other layers along with it. And I jangle when I walk. I reach up (ugh, so heavy) and start to braid my hair so I can get out of my mail without ripping out half of it.
“We still need to get proof.” Blood stretches and folds his hands behind the back of his head. He puts his feet up on the low table and crosses his ankles. “And once we have that, we just wait to play the card until we need it. No doubt we’re going to need it.”
“We can’t erase what the Warden knows, though,” Smoke says pensively, “and no one will care what he does in the Pit. His experiments will find a way to continue.”
“She means we have to pick our battles. Can’t win the battle to lose the war,” Blood says. “So. Pebbles.”
“Hmm?”
“Have you thought about which one of us you’re going to marry and grant an ArchDuke’s rank to?”
“We have to live long enough for that to happen.” I boop the end of his nose.
He pulls away like an affronted cat.
ScatheFire, who is on my other side, wraps an arm around my shoulders and draws me back against him. “I am the one who taught you you enjoy spanking.”
“But I’m the one she liked best to fuck before any of you,” Rot states.
“Why can’t I just marry all of you?” I ask, unwrapping myself from ScatheFire. “I mean, how can I possibly choose, I am your Heart, after all.”
“Can we do that?” Rot asks. “I know regular people can do that, but can nobles do that?”
I laugh. “Sure. The only reason it’s never done is inheritance concerns and some other stupid ego reasons we don’t care about. Guess they didn’t consider a Heart on a Fell team when they made up the rules about House Aether. But I did secure us a lovely sprawling country estate, didn’t I? Plus… no taxes.”
ScatheFire tugs my hair and bends my head back so I have to look up at him. “Perhaps you shouldn’t make it so easy, Pebbles. Make us work for it.”
I pull myself free and spin to my feet, deftly dancing away from grasping hands and swipes from all of them. “I didn’t say yes to any of you. I just said I wouldn’t limit myself to just one yes.”
“So you’ll go into the ruined lands with us, but you won’t marry us?” ScatheFire asks while Rot laughs.
I wink at him, warm with their laughter and amusement and enjoying the bite of their competitive urges. But we’ve got a lot of years between right now and retirement. “I have to make sure you’re not marrying me for TasselWood.”
“You think your parents will keep up their end of the deal? It’s illegal as hell,” Rot says.
“There are ways to make it look legal.” I am not overly familiar with those methods, but it can be done.
“What if they clear it out and gut it and salt it before you retire?” Smoke asks.
I laugh. “I hope they do. They’d have to sell all those horses. Can you imagine the gossip at court?”
Rot howls with laughter.
Blood, grinning, beckons me with a finger. “You evil, sly, conniving minx. Come here so I can worship you in a more complete fashion.”
A knock on the door.
“Fuck
,” ScatheFire growls.
“Not right now, you’re not,” Blood says.
“As if someone at the door would stop him,” Smoke comments.
ScatheFire beckons me again as Atrament goes to open the door.
A couple of uniformed military staff are on the other side. One of them is wearing the silver spurs of a messenger on his arms, and he has six envelopes in his hands. Two more are behind him carrying brown-paper wrapped parcels. The messenger’s spurs jingle as he strides into our apartment.
The two porters set the parcels down on the table and leave. The messenger hands each of us an envelope, then leaves without a word. He slams the door behind him.
“Well, so much for relaxing a few days in the Capital,” Blood says. “Where are they sending us this time?”
All the Fells crack open the wax seal on their thick pile of documents. Atrament and I have thicker packets than the others. I hesitate to read mine while I watch his bewildered reaction.
“I understood it was coming, but I am still bewildered. Apparently, I am being commissioned into service to pay for my Tailoring.”
Rot claps him on the back. “Welcome to the family, brother. You’ll get used to that feeling of Imperial cock in your ass.”
“And I’m back on duty. My armor apparently is being dug out of storage. The Empire really doesn’t waste anything.” ScatheFire slaps his orders back and forth across his palm.
Blood flips through the two pages of orders. “We’re riding out tomorrow morning. Ah well, I knew it couldn’t last.”
Atrament unwraps the parcel on the table that has his name on it. Inside is a wood crate with the seal of the military quartermaster on it. He opens it, and inside is just a folded piece of paper. He scans it, and says, “Apparently I am to report to the quartermaster before dawn tomorrow for measurements, and my armor will be shipped to me when it’s done.”
“Imperial requisitioning at its finest,” ScatheFire chortles.
“But according to this I have been issued three horses,” Atrament adds. A pause. “I do hope they have four legs.”
Snickers.
“Oh, they’ll have legs,” Blood says. “The Empire definitely wants us to get where we’re going.”