Dark of the West (Glass Alliance)

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Dark of the West (Glass Alliance) Page 42

by Joanna Hathaway


  “Celebrating,” he explains, lifting the bottle. “Time for another war!”

  “You failed, Arrin. Try again.”

  “Failed?” He laughs, glancing at Kalt. “God, our little brother is the best. At times brilliant, at times so far behind I’m not sure he’ll ever catch up.”

  Kalt sucks on his cigarette, like it’s giving him strength. “Athan, we’re still going to war with Resya. Please tell me you knew this.”

  I realize I didn’t.

  I stand there, mad at myself for actually thinking the League’s verdict mattered. Of course we’re still going to war. The Nahir are on our side, and when we invade—and win—Rahian will look guilty as sin and all the proof of his dark dealings will be at our fingertips, courtesy of Seath.

  We’ll be the heroes of the North.

  The ones who exposed Resya as traitorous—and brought the kingdom to account.

  I hate that I ever believed there was a chance for peace, for home. That I believed Sinora did this and what other truth could there be?

  This silent, shrewd war.

  My father’s war.

  “Get yourself ready, Lieutenant.” Arrin smirks. “Resya won’t be Havenspur.”

  I snatch the bottle from his hand. “This isn’t a game.”

  He looks up, sour. “Now, Lieutenant. I’d have had Mother’s murderer if not for you. You’re the one playing games.”

  “You were ready to shoot an innocent girl to make your point!”

  “At least I have loyalty,” Arrin snaps.

  I’m numb with fury. Exhausted still. But my anger is alive.

  He scowls through his drunken fog. He tries to get the bottle back, but I move it out of reach, and he looks up at me with dog eyes. “What the hell do you think of me?”

  Kalt sucks on his cigarette again. Smoke stinking the room.

  “For all your apparent virtue,” Arrin observes, “I happen to know Leannya has hardly heard a word from you this summer. It’s a good thing I made sure to send her the letters I promised, since you were too busy betraying us all.”

  One of the great mysteries in life will always be how he manages to stay this sharp even when drunk. Practice, maybe. “I didn’t betray you,” I get out through my teeth. “I saved you.”

  Ali’s the one I’ve betrayed with every word, every breath.

  I am a traitor, just not how Arrin thinks.

  But he shrugs, nonchalant, and I know he’s about to outmaneuver me. “Did you hear Leannya took her testing two weeks ago? She’s always kept such a low score, so I told her to try her best this time, to make Mother proud, because I know she’s better than that. And you know what? She did. Turns out, she’s as smart as you. Perfect scores.”

  My grip loosens on the bottle.

  “Yes, that’s right, Athan. Another brilliant child. Better make some room.”

  My anger reaches a new level, one I didn’t know was possible without an entire forest burning around me. “Now she’s useful, Arrin! Is that what you want for her? Right as we’re heading into another war? She didn’t want others to know! She doesn’t want to get involved in any of this.”

  He succeeds in snatching the bottle back. “No, that’s you. You didn’t want to get involved in any of this. Leannya’s just never had anyone tell her she could, which is a shame, because she’s got enough spirit for it.”

  Now I’ve reached furious. If I could, I’d hit him dead in the face and anywhere else I could manage before he pinned me to the ground. He can’t want her thrust into the middle of this hell. He’d better just be drunk and forget everything tomorrow. I’d like to forget everything tomorrow. That’s not going to happen.

  “You’re taking us to war,” I say. “For God’s sake, don’t do it through a bottle.”

  Then I’m headed for the door.

  “You know what your problem is?” Arrin says at my back. “You don’t know what the hell it is you’re fighting for. You’ve never known.”

  I whirl around, ready to hate him, finger on the trigger and ready to fire. But then I stop. He looks damn pathetic sitting there, hiding in this office while everyone else plots the war he’ll have to win, Kalt leaning on an elbow, lighting another cigarette with shaky hands.

  It’s too quiet in here. Too empty and forgotten, like a grave.

  “No, I do know what it is I’m fighting for. It’s the thing I’ve always wanted. The thing I’ll never stop wanting.” Away. “But I also know what needs to be done, and I’ll do it, even if it means destroying a part of myself. Because there’s no other choice. I get that now.”

  I look at my brothers and everything aches, not just the past, not just this moment, but the future. I walked into a Southern gun and almost took the fall for Father. But if this goes bad with the entire Nahir, it won’t be a single gun Arrin faces. It will be an entire army that falls betrayed. It will betray him, betray Kalt.

  Even Leannya.

  But I can’t tell Father what happened in Etania. If I tell him, he’ll confront Havis, his ghost, and God knows what would happen then. Havis would slander Ali if it meant some sort of gain for him. He’d never think of Ali first, only himself.

  I’m trapped between loyalties.

  Losing either way.

  I hit the doorframe with a fist. “You’re my brother. You know I’d fight for you. Where you tell me to go, I’ll go. What you ask of me, I’ll do. And I hope you get everything you want. The entire South and whatever else you need to please him. But this isn’t who I’ll be forever. I’m not you and I don’t give a damn what anyone else thinks about that.”

  Then I turn and leave.

  * * *

  Outside, the sun’s sinking lower in the west, casting shadows along the runway. My fighter’s fifth in the lineup of Safire planes, and I crawl inside the cockpit and hide, sketching the squadron logo I want to use when I’m captain. The bright sun of Rahmet for Cyar. A chamomile for Mother. And a dark horse rampant against the whole thing, for Ali. I have nothing of my own to put on here. But I have her. And in the days to come—years to come—I’ll make sure she’s with me every moment, through every foot of breathless sky, glorious on the flank of my plane.

  She promised me a thousand days. Of course I can promise the same.

  That’s three years, and then I’m only twenty-one. Maybe I can stay alive that long. Maybe I can at least give us that, because I won’t give it up without a burning fight. I’ll fight for my days with everything I have, every scrap of nerve I’ve inherited from this rotten family.

  I scrawl the squadron motto against the bright sun.

  There’s a knock on the glass.

  Cyar’s sitting on the wing, leaning against the cockpit, and I hand him the sketch. He studies it thoughtfully.

  “Eyes on the horizon,” he says, reading the motto.

  “Always. Looking to the end, to the hope.”

  “I like that.”

  “Me too.”

  He smiles, then together we watch the sun disappear, exhausted and frightened and damned determined.

  40

  AURELIA

  Hathene, Etania

  The days after the coup are exactly my worst fears come to life. I’m confined to our palace, ten guards in every hall, while soldiers prowl the gardens, the woods, and beyond. I’m trapped. The sad faces and confused whispers only add to the sense of imprisonment. Eight of our courtiers are dead, including sweet Lord Marcin. I know I’ll have to stand beside Violet at his funeral, holding her, and the thought unnerves me. I’d rather it were me crying.

  It was my masquerade that killed him.

  Lark’s body is also in a casket, ready to be sent back to Resya with Havis, and no one says anything about the hole in his neck. They’re too relieved that Havis, Lark’s compatriot, is declaring it suicide and no one’s about to contest that and call it something else.

  Only Havis knows my terrible secret, and he gives me a sharp smile before he leaves.

  It’s there, in the shadow
of his power over my fate, that I know what I must do.

  I find Reni in Father’s library, surrounded by the ever-present silence that permeates our home. My brother, like the palace, has been wordless and made of stone since the coup. He’s seen the dark side of our tiny kingdom, and now his twentieth birthday taunts from ahead.

  There’s a metamorphosis taking place, all of him changing beneath the quiet.

  I don’t yet know what will emerge.

  “I’m accepting Havis’s proposal,” I say, as I sit beside him. “I have to go to Resya, and he’ll take me. Someone needs to find out what’s happening there, and since you must stay here, it will be me.”

  He draws my hands into his. “Ali, you can’t go there. I won’t let him take you from us.”

  “He’s not taking me. I’m going.”

  “Why?”

  I tremble at his question. I can’t tell him the truth. I can’t tell anyone. “It’s safe, Reni. The League has ruled against the Safire petition for war. The General’s an honourable man and I know he will accept it. But we have our own trouble there, with Uncle, and now that Lark’s dead, Havis is the only one who can help. And … I did something, Reni. Something that I must deal with myself.”

  Lark’s last letter to me is an order I must follow. I have to apologize to his sister, to his father, and whoever else might be there. I have to see if I can continue our mission. There’s always a way, as he said. But I see the fear in Reni’s eyes, and I resist the urge to admit it all. The murder, the debt, the threats to our throne. The fact that I killed our cousin, blackmailed the General of Savient, and kissed a boy I can never have in the shadows of a forgotten room.

  I’m not sure how I will emerge from this either.

  “You have to trust me, Reni.”

  “But what about the University?” he asks sadly.

  “Perhaps later,” I say after a moment, but we both know there might not be a later. To accept Havis’s offer is a risk, more dangerous than Reni can know.

  I have to go.

  I have to make amends with our family, in so far as I can.

  “I’ll get you a tutor,” Reni vows, “in any subject you wish. The best in that field. I’ll order him to teach you, even in Resya.”

  I smile. “A tutor?”

  “The best in their field, I swear it. You want to learn a language? Isn’t that it?” He pauses. “Savien?” he ventures, sounding afraid of my answer.

  “I’d be thrilled,” I whisper, overwhelmed by my love for him.

  “Then that’s the least I can do.”

  We embrace, and I know that no matter what comes, I will always have a brother I would give my life for. Always, always, until the end of my days.

  * * *

  When the palace grounds are finally declared safe, I’m out the door before Heathwyn can finish delivering the good news. I ride Ivory high up into the beautiful mountains. She’s eager, excited to be in the late-summer forest where colours have already begun to turn. Flecks of yellow in the green. She doesn’t care that the way is steep and rocky and far from home. She steps carefully along the narrow trail as we get higher, emerging finally to the endless world of the mountaintop. Towering and magnificent. A secret place of stones covered in moss and goldenrod, sun brushing the western horizon before us.

  I place my hands on the earth, promising Etania, promising my father, that I won’t leave forever.

  I won’t.

  I’ll return.

  Then I sit down, alone, on the wind-swept rocks and write.

  Athan,

  Do you know I meant what I said? About the waiting a thousand days? It was such a hurried confession, I’m sorry, but it was all true. Before the worst happened, and even after. I know now what it feels like to live with something rotten on my hands. I look at them and they don’t feel like my own. And I know you might have to do worse than me in whatever comes.

  But … this isn’t me.

  This isn’t you.

  We’re here on our mountain, always, a special place that is just ours. And there’s nothing you could do to make me care for you less. Nothing at all. I suppose that’s all I want to say this time—you’re precious to me. You’ll always be precious to me, no matter what anyone else says, or does, or thinks. Please never forget that. Promise me you won’t. When all this terrible madness is over, we can come back here.

  Fly west and you will find me.

  With affection (forever, for always),

  A.

  About the Author

  JOANNA HATHAWAY was born in Montréal and is an avid storyteller who was inspired to write after reading her great-grandfather’s memoirs of the First World War. A lifelong history buff, she now has shelves filled with biographies and historical accounts, and perhaps one too many books about pilots. She can often be found reading, traveling, or riding horses.

  Dark of the West is her debut novel.

  Visit her online at joannachathaway.com, or sign up for email updates here.

  Twitter: @hathtawayjojo

  Goodreads: Joanna Hathaway.

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  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Map

  Prologue

  Part I: Memory

  Chapter 1: Athan Dakar

  Chapter 2: Aurelia Isendare

  Chapter 3: Athan Dakar

  Chapter 4: Aurelia Isendare

  Chapter 5: Athan Dakar

  Chapter 6: Aurelia Isendare

  Part II: Murder

  Chapter 7: Athan

  Chapter 8: Aurelia

  Chapter 9: Athan

  Chapter 10: Aurelia

  Part III: Loyalty

  Chapter 11: Athan

  Chapter 12: Aurelia

  Chapter 13: Athan

  Part IV: Sea and Sky

  Chapter 14: Aurelia

  Chapter 15: Athan

  Chapter 16: Aurelia

  Chapter 17: Athan

  Chapter 18: Aurelia

  Chapter 19: Athan

  Chapter 20: Athan

  Chapter 21: Athan

  Chapter 22: Aurelia

  Chapter 23: Aurelia

  Part V: Blood Ties

  Chapter 24: Athan

  Chapter 25: Aurelia

  Chapter 26: Athan

  Chapter 27: Aurelia

  Chapter 28: Athan

  Part VI: Education

  Chapter 29: Aurelia

  Chapter 30: Athan

  Part VII: Truth

  Chapter 31: Aurelia

  Chapter 32: Athan

  Part VIII: Choice

  Chapter 33: Aurelia

  Chapter 34: Athan

  Part IX: A Thousand Days

  Chapter 35: Aurelia

  Chapter 36: Athan

  Chapter 37: Athan

  Chapter 38: Athan

  Chapter 39: Athan

  Chapter 40: Aurelia

  About the Author

  Copyright

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  DARK OF THE WEST

  Copyright © 2018 by Joanna Mumford

  Edited by Elayne Becker

  All rights reserved.

  Jacket photographs: girl © Dan Cullen; background image © Getty Images

  A Tor Teen Book

  Published by Tom Doherty Associates

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  New York, NY 10010

  www.tor-forge.com

  Tor® is a registere
d trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.

  The Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available upon request.

  ISBN 978-0-7653-9641-9 (hardcover)

  ISBN 978-0-7653-9643-3 (ebook)

  eISBN 9780765396433

  Our ebooks may be purchased in bulk for promotional, educational, or business use. Please contact the Macmillan Corporate and Premium Sales Department at 1-800-221-7945, extension 5442, or by email at [email protected].

  First Edition: February 2019

 

 

 


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