The Veiled Diplomat

by Thomas K. Carpenter

  "What will you do in the meantime?"

  She quirked her lips to the side. "Travel. I hear the Spanish coast is lovely this time of year. I'd like to lounge on a beach and forget about how close things got to disaster."

  Zayn smiled as he thought about Amber lying on a blanket in a black bikini showing off her tattoos, amid a sea of tourists who would probably keep a wide berth.

  "It was close."

  Her forehead wrinkled. "I hope you're not expecting me to thank you."

  "I'm not," he replied, and he couldn't help but grin.

  She studied him with a reluctant smile growing by the moment. Her gaze flitted to his hands.

  "Lose a war with a powdered donut?" she asked.

  He checked his hands to find white dust along his forearm. "No. A bit of alchemy work."

  His mind tried to settle on what he'd been doing before he came by the shop, but he pushed it away. It was best if he didn't dwell on what he was doing, which was hard, but he'd had a lot of practice during the year at hiding his intentions from himself.

  "What about you?" she asked, moving books from a shelf into a box.

  "I go back to Varna."

  Her gaze snapped to him at mention of his hometown. He sensed her remembering the prophecy.

  "Good luck."

  "Thank you," he replied.

  When she pulled the clipboard from under her arm and resumed counting the pile of books on the counter, Zayn took that as his time to leave. As he stepped through the open door, he heard her clear her throat.

  "Zayn."

  He turned with his hand on the handle. "Yeah?"

  "Thank you," she said. "Thank you for what you did for Petri."

  Without giving him a chance to answer, Amber went back to counting. Zayn let the door close behind him.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The house, May 2016

  The Liebereisen

  A soft knock on the front door brought Zayn's head up from his studies. Portia was sitting on the couch eating a bowl of cereal. She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in the direction of the door. Keelan and Vin sat on either side of the dining room table, oblivious to the knock, their fingers crafting wind spells that carried a paper airplane between them. Skylar shouted something unintelligible from the kitchen, leaving Zayn the closest to the door from his side of the couch.

  "Did you forget to put the Go Away charm on the sidewalk?" Zayn asked Portia.

  "I put it there this morning," said Portia with a mouth full of cereal.

  Zayn fished his bookmark, a piece of dried wyvern skin, from between the couch cushions and shoved it into Poisons, Antidotes, and How to Know If You're Going to Die. By the time he reached the door, he'd decided it was one of the instructors checking on them before finals. He could barely mutter a greeting when he opened it to find Petri and Prince Orráine standing on the porch.

  "Uhm, hey?"

  His surprise subsided, allowing him to register their wintery attire.

  "Hey, Zayn," said Petri from beneath her pale woolen cloak. The soft fabric framed her face, one that looked ten years older than when he'd seen her last. She held herself with the comfortableness of a regal queen while her gaze still contained the unsurety of youth. "May we come in?"

  Zayn did a double take. "Of course. Excuse my manners. Come in, Queen Petrichor and Prince Orráine."

  He swept his arm to the side and bowed at the waist. Chairs scraped across the floor. Within seconds, everyone in the room was standing. Skylar came rushing into the room with a spatula spattered with half-cooked eggs in one hand.

  There was a lot of furtive glancing. It was as if a wall had been raised between them.

  Petri's eyes glistened and her expression fell. "Zayn, guys, please. It's just me. Petri."

  At that moment, Marley came bounding down the stairs, right past Prince Orráine, leaping into Petri's arms. The striped callolo immediately kneaded his hands into her hair and pressed his face against hers.

  "I missed you too, Marley," said Petri. "Have you been behaving?"

  The sudden entrance of Marley broke the spell on the room.

  "If by behaving you mean he's not stealing expensive things, yes, he's behaving. But he has a carboard box full of spoons in his room from who knows where. The weird thing is they're all different, as if he's just taking one from each house," said Portia, drawing laughter from everyone.

  Marley gestured rudely before leaping out the open door. Petri and the prince stepped inside the living room. Prince Orráine was wearing similar travel gear. While the quality of the fabric was high, the designs weren't as ostentatious as what he'd been wearing in the embassy. He fiddled with the edging of his coat.

  No one seemed to know what to say. Zayn had a hard time finding a place for his hands to rest, so he stuck them in the back pockets of his jeans.

  "Can we get you anything?" asked Skylar. "A drink. Some scrambled eggs and chili peppers?"

  Prince Orráine looked up to Petri, expecting her to speak. "No, I'm sorry. We can't stay long. But we wanted to come by before we left."

  "We?" asked Zayn. "Where are you going?"

  Prince Orráine cleared his throat. "My liebereisen. Petri has agreed to go with me."

  He reached out and squeezed her hand. It made sense to Zayn, even though he didn't know why.

  "A journey of discovery will be perfect for both of us. I'm still getting used to who I really am, and Orráine could use the time away from the Eternal City," said Petri.

  "But I thought a liebereisen had to be in the maetrie realm?" asked Vin.

  "There is no rule against it being elsewhere," said Prince Orráine. "And I already know what life is like in the Eternal City. I need not endure it more."

  "Yes," said Petri, clearly excited by the prospect of adventure. "We're headed to the Fae first, to visit his cousins."

  "They're not cousins," said Prince Orráine dryly as if he'd had to say this a hundred times before. "The Fey are not related at all, despite what humans think."

  Petri winked at them playfully, to show she was messing with the prince. He laughed in acknowledgement that he was going to have his hands full, but after it was finished, the awkwardness resumed. Petri seemed to be working herself up to say something. She kept looking to Zayn and then looking at her boots.

  "I'm sorry," she said finally.

  "You don't have to be sorry about anything," said Zayn.

  She tilted her head. "Can I be sorry about stealing the car the first day we met?"

  "Oh, that. Yes, you should be sorry," he said with a wink.

  She clasped her hands in front of her. "I wanted to come here so I could thank you all. I know I'm not like you, but you welcomed me and made me a part of your team, even after I'd done those awful things."

  She glanced first to Zayn and then to Skylar, to acknowledge the night they'd stopped her from enslaving a late-night dance club.

  "Thank you for including me. Besides meeting you, it was my favorite part of the year. I don't know what would have happened if I hadn't been a part of that play," said Petri.

  "I must thank you as well," said Prince Orráine, bowing. "Without your help, I would be dead by my brother's hand."

  "We came to give you gifts in thanks for what you've done for us," said Petri.

  "You didn't have to," said Keelan.

  "But we wanted to," replied Petri. "Vin, can you come here?"

  Vin stood before them, bouncing nervously, while Prince Orráine raised his chin to look up at the big man. The prince's lips twitched a few times before Vin got the hint and kneeled so they were eye to eye.

  "Most maetrie plays, and the liebereisen especially, are meant to raise the ideals of cutthroat individualism. The journey is meant to be accomplished alone. But your play, your wonderful play, told a story that I longed to hear, about friendship and teamwork, and for that, I thank you," said Prince Orráine.

  From a pouch at his hip, the prince produced a small gray stone and a compact bo
ok with a cover that looked like it was made of thin granite. The prince handed the gray stone to a bewildered Vin.

  "The stone is to be swallowed. It will give you the slight aura of the maetrie, that natural compulsion that we project onto others." Then he handed over the book. "This book contains some of the most popular plays of the maetrie. I thought you might enjoy reading it, but be careful, the book is over eight hundred years old."

  The age of the book left Vin's mouth open. He barely mustered a thank you as he shuffled back to the dining room table. It was a priceless gift.

  "Portia," said Petri, beckoning her with a smile.

  The comfort in which Petri held herself spoke volumes about her internal change. In the course of a year, she'd journeyed from angsty teenager to centered adult.

  Portia ran up to Petri, shooting a wink behind her before standing straight and saluting.

  "For the scout that kept her team safe in the Eternal City, I give you a dead man's boots," said Petri, pulling a tattered pair of boots from beneath her cloak. She kept her lips flat with an amused lilt at the corner.

  "Fresh from the grave, I hope," said Portia.

  "These are no ordinary boots," said Petri, holding them out. "Put them on."

  When Portia's fingers first touched them, a little exclamation slipped from her lips. Zayn didn't understand what had caused the reaction until he saw her pulling the boots onto her feet. Beneath the worn leather, the logo of her running shoes could be seen, and by the time both were on her feet, they'd faded from view. The boots were made of a ghostly material.

  "While you wear them, your feet walk in the Veil. You will create no trace, nor make any noise," said Petri with her chin held high.

  Portia exclaimed something in Spanish and threw her arms around a surprised but pleased Petri.

  "Oh, thank you, Reina Petri. I shall cherish these forever," said Portia.

  She threw her feet against the hardwood floor, demonstrating the silence of her new footgear.

  "Skylar," said Prince Orráine, and upon her arrival, he pulled a spool of silvery white thread from his pouch. The spool seemed to glow of its own accord. "For the weaver of deceptions, shaper of shadows, I give the thread of moonlight. Crafters in the Eternal City have learned the art of collecting moonlight and turning it into thread. I think this will help you create the cloak of shadow that you desire."

  Skylar hugged the spool of moonlight to her chest with tears in her eyes. "Thank you."

  She bent over and kissed Prince Orráine on the cheek, making him blush.

  When Petri's gaze fell upon Keelan, a flicker of doubt passed across her eyes. Not enough for anyone else to notice, because they'd been focused on Skylar. But Petri quickly smoothed away the expression, if it was ever there in the first place, and said, "Keelan, please come forward."

  In his hands, she placed a small darkly colored bottle that appeared to have an eyedropper.

  "These are some of my tears," said Petri. "Put them in your eyes. They will help you find things that are lost."

  Keelan looked at the bottle strangely. "Thank you?"

  Next, Petri turned towards Zayn. Her forehead knotted with thought.

  "Dear Zayn," she said, holding out her hands.

  They were warm to the touch. He felt heat rise to his cheeks as she squeezed lightly, a reminder of their night together.

  "I'll admit," she said, "at the beginning of the year, I thought you were rather arrogant the way you talked to my aunt Amber. It was part of the reason I stole the car. But over the course of the year, I was forced to realize that without you, none of this would have happened. You're brash and reckless, throwing yourself into dangerous situations without forethought, but you're also kind and supportive, making everyone around you better for knowing you.

  "I am better for knowing you. I shudder to think what I would have become without your intervention. And while I still have not finally reached who I am, or who I will become, I know that I am on the right path because of you."

  She looked to the others.

  "Because of all of you."

  Even before she let go of his hands, he felt something in their touch that gave him goosebumps. It was as if she were charging up, like a capacitor before it released its energy.

  Petri stepped close. She smelled like dew on the grass at dusk, reminding him of her true name, Snow Owl on an Old Grave.

  Under her breath, she said, "This may hurt."

  Petri placed her hands against his chest, and immediately, a pressure formed around his heart. It felt like she was slowly squeezing it. Zayn wondered if he was having a heart attack. He would have pulled away, except that she was looking into his eyes with such earnestness that he was forced to stay his ground. The longer her hands pressed against his chest, the more the intensity grew, until Zayn was afraid he'd pass out. Then she pulled her hands away, and the ache around his heart disappeared.

  "What did you do?" he asked.

  "A gift to get you out of a tough situation."

  The quirk in her smile told him that she would explain no further.

  Then she moved beside Prince Orráine with tears glistening in her eyes.

  "I'm going to miss you all."

  "We'll miss you too," said Zayn, followed by agreements from the others.

  "Will we get to see you again?" asked Portia.

  "Of course," said Petri, "but I will be much different I think. I hope better. And it won't be for a long time. In fact, while I'm gone on the liebereisen, you should be careful about going into the Veil. While you won't attract me next time, there are other terrible things there that won't hesitate to make your life miserable."

  "We'll keep that in mind," said Zayn.

  "I'm sure you won't," said Petri, pursing her lips.

  "Before you go, can I make one request?" said Zayn, and when her head tilted to the side, he added, "It's not for me."

  A sparkle formed in her eyes. "You're nonstop, aren't you?"

  "Katie Crescent. She died a few years ago." He was going to tell her that they'd dated, but decided against it. "She was my friend. She was the one who brought the creatures of the Veil into the embassy."

  "I know who she is, Zayn, it's my realm, after all," said Petri with an eyeroll.

  "Of course," said Zayn, "but before she died, she was in a band, and they were about to go on tour."

  "She's dead," said Petri. "I can't bring her back."

  "I'm not asking for that. But there's no reason she couldn't still be in a band. We have ghost taxis and sprite messaging, why not a ghost band?"

  "Ghost taxis are preprogrammed apparitions and not from the Veil, but I'll see what I can do. She was a part of saving me, I should give her some boon before I go." Petri put her hands on her hips. "Is that acceptable?"

  "Yes, thank you," said Zayn.

  Prince Orráine had a strange look on his face as he glanced between him and Petri. "Do all humans demand this much?"

  Snickering escaped from behind cupped hands behind him.

  "Thankfully not many, or maybe the world is deficient that more do not act this way," said Petri. "But now it is time for us to depart. Our journey of discovery awaits."

  Petri moved close, placed her lips against his cheek, not a gesture of intimacy but of familiarity. A sly smile rose to her lips before disappearing.

  "Goodbye, Zayn."

  Zayn bent at the waist in a deep bow.

  "Goodbye, Prince Orráine. Goodbye, Snow Owl on an Old Grave," he said.

  Her eyebrows rose at the use of her formal name, but they left without another comment.

  When the door closed, Zayn felt the inexplicable urge to abandon his schooling, his family, and everything else in his life and join them, but as quickly as the compulsion came on, it left, leaving him with nothing more than lingering envy of their journey. But he had his own quest, his own liebereisen, and it went right through the middle of Varna.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Varna, May 2016

 
An answer

  The ghost taxi dropped Zayn off at the end of the long line of towering oaks that led up to the Lady's plantation house. His backpack hung on his shoulder and though it wasn't heavy he felt strangely tired. The smell of magnolias blooming brought refreshment, but it wasn't enough to cut through his bone-deep exhaustion.

  The sun was high. Shadows pooled around the ancient trees, forming a blanket of dark that led up to her house.

  Zayn couldn't quite remember the ride from Invictus, which should have bothered him, but didn't. The feeling of contradiction left him quickly, but he didn't move towards the plantation. He felt a tug between his shoulder blades, an invisible force pulling him away, but he couldn’t follow it either. Something in the pit of his stomach told him that it wasn't the right path.

  When the taxi didn't leave, he leaned back into the window, hoping he'd forgotten a water bottle, or something to drink, because his mouth had a funky taste in it like he'd been drinking something horribly bitter.

  To his surprise, a trio of empty vials lay scattered together in the crack of the seat. A crumpled brown bag sat in the bottom of the taxi along with a fresh untouched copy of the Herald of the Halls. He didn't remember drinking anything, especially not from a vial, but the more he tried to remember his ride, the more his memories slipped through his fingers like wet soap.

  He put his left hand against his temple. A migraine lurked behind his eyes as if he'd been using a lot of faez. Zayn checked himself for signs of lingering magic, as he didn't want to upset the Watchers with dangerous enchantments when he went up to the plantation house, but he didn't have any.

  When he touched his hand against his pocket, he finally remembered why the ghost taxi hadn't moved. A gold coin, produced from that pocket, was flipped into the front seat, and the black car sped away, a squelch of gravel beneath its tires.

  "Let's get this over with," he said as he started the long walk to the door.

  It took until he was halfway there for him to remember why'd he'd come to the Lady's house before going to the Stack.