“And that is why it is so important for Raysel and me to stay out of the garden—to avoid accidentally interfering with the energy maintaining the seal on the prison,” Nerissa said.
“Yes,” Barr said. “Maintaining the seal on that prison has been my family’s duty since before the Fall of Civilization.”
“I am sorry our behavior put your duty at risk. If you had explained all of this to us upfront, we would not have gone into the garden a second time.”
Barr rubbed his forehead and sighed heavily. “One of the greatest triumphs of humanity is that not a single day passes by without the volume of our knowledge as a whole increasing. It is the reason why we have been able to survive and adapt, even after cataclysmic changes like the Fall of Civilization. And yet, with every passing day, some piece of ancient wisdom is forgotten. The truth about that ring of geodes is one piece of knowledge that should be forgotten. I did not wish to pass it on to anyone aside from Zada and Matin. I have shared it with you because you will need the information to fulfill the prophecy.”
Nerissa’s eyes fell onto the book open in front of her. “According to the prophecy, I can use the talent to suspend Casimer. Since creating a suspension requires six with the talent, it seems I will need to find four others to help me.”
“While it’s true that six with the talent are required to create a permanent suspension, only two are needed to establish a temporary one.”
“Can you teach me how to create a suspension?”
“I can teach you to actively use crystals as well as a horse can teach a fish to swim,” Barr scoffed. “I know little of the talent beyond how to identify those who have it. I was taught the theory by which the suspensions are created, but I do not know how to create them. All I know is when six with the talent manipulate the flow of energy through six identical spirit crystals, a permanent suspension is created. Two with the talent and six matching crystals are needed to create a temporary one. That is the extent of my knowledge.”
“I guess it would be too convenient for you to have all the answers I need.”
Barr gave her a wry smile and finally took a bite of his oatmeal. “Whether you were aware of it at the time or not, you have used crystals before. All you must do now is figure out how to use them on purpose.”
Chapter 17
The Whole Truth
Charis
Charis had no idea why she cast a surreptitious glance over her shoulder before she pushed open the door to Amon’s bedroom. No one else was home. No one had been home for hours, and no one would be home for hours. Knowing that still didn’t alleviate her nervousness. It had taken her two weeks to work up sufficient courage to do this. She knew it wasn’t right to snoop. If nothing else, it was a violation of Amon’s privacy. However, after overhearing his clandestine meeting with Casimer’s messenger in the library, she felt her actions were justified.
The only reason why she hadn’t immediately reported the meeting to her father was the lingering question she had about the notes she had seen the night of the Arts Festival. Amon’s translation errors had been subtle enough that they could be explained as simple misinterpretations of the context, but Charis doubted that was the case. If Amon habitually made those kinds of errors in his thesis work, her father would have noticed. Since he frequently praised Amon’s work, the mistakes must have been made in the research he was doing for Casimer.
A part of her wanted to believe he was mistranslating the documents on purpose. But, whenever her thoughts started down that path, she told herself that she was being naive. Why would he want to sabotage the work he was doing for his uncle?
After taking a deep breath, Charis squared her shoulders and stepped purposefully out of the doorway and into the room. It was now or never. She strode straight to the desk, surveying the room as she went. The bed was perfectly made without a single wrinkle. Not a speck of dust was visible on the dresser or nightstand.
The desk, which faced the wall, was identical to the one in her own room, with three deep drawers on either side of a central pencil drawer. The desktop was as tidy as the rest of the room—and as sparsely decorated. Aside from a single stack of books, a pen and inkwell, and a silver letter opener, the only other item was a framed portrait of an older woman who Charis assumed was Amon’s mother.
She opened a drawer and shuffled through the folders within, careful to keep them in order. Each one contained notes on a separate painting, and all of them fit with his thesis work for her father. Charis returned the folders to the drawer and moved on to the next. The second set of files was more of the same. Continuing from one drawer to the next, she grew more frustrated with her inability to find something incriminating. There was nothing out of the ordinary at all.
Her shoulders slumped, and she sank into the desk chair. Perhaps she had been foolish to think that Amon would leave any clues in his desk. There had been nothing to stop her from entering his room in the first place. None of the desk drawers had locks. He was obviously a meticulous person. Someone like that wouldn’t leave evidence of his work for Casimer in the open. Then again, a truly meticulous person wouldn’t have made those basic translation errors.
Disappointed, she leaned forward, resting her chin in her hands as she stared glumly at the desk. Then it occurred to her. All six of the drawers were the same size, and all of them had appeared to be full. But there had been significantly fewer folders in one compared to the others. So why had it appeared to be as full as the rest?
Charis jumped up so fast that the chair rolled backward several feet before bumping into the side of the bed. She opened the middle drawer and removed the folders, setting them on top of the desk. One look confirmed it—the interior was indeed shallower than the others.
“Ah ha!” Charis cheered triumphantly to the empty room. “This one has a false bottom.”
There was no visible evidence of the false bottom in the front part of the drawer, so she pulled it all the way open. There, at the very back, was a thin gap in the seam about an inch long. She grabbed the letter opener from the desk, wedged it into the crack, and pried the bottom up. The wood lifted away to reveal the leather folder she had seen Amon holding at the library. As she picked up the folder, she felt a warm tickle on the back of her neck. She ignored it and began to unwrap the cord, but the feeling came again, this time accompanied by the distinct rushing sound of heavy breathing.
Her own breath caught in her throat. The letter opener slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor. She whirled around to see Amon, his arms rigid at his side, his hands balled into white-knuckled fists. Somehow, the stony look he wore was even more frightening than any angry outburst would have been.
“What are you doing?” he asked through clenched teeth.
Charis shoved her hand into her pocket and felt the handkerchief she always carried with her—the one he had given her months ago. She fumbled to formulate an excuse—any excuse—to explain her presence here. There really was no way to wiggle out of this situation. She had been caught, drawer open, folder in hand. But she had to say something.
Trembling, she shoved the square of cloth toward him. “I wanted to return this to you. I’ve kept it for so long that I was too embarrassed to give it back in person. The fabric is expensive, so I didn’t feel right keeping it. I was just going to leave it on your desk.” It was the best reasoning she could come up with in a pinch, and it was at least partially true.
For the briefest of moments, Charis thought the ruse might actually work. Amon’s eyes fell to the handkerchief, and his expression softened. But that look passed all too quickly and was rapidly replaced with rage. With a face like a thundercloud, Amon slapped the handkerchief from her trembling palm and tore the folder from her grasp.
“Did you really think you could use that to get out of this situation?” he hissed. He slammed his free hand down on the desk, looming over Charis as he shook the folder mere inches from her nose. “What did you plan to do with this? How did you even kno
w to look for it?”
Charis opened and closed her mouth over and over like a freshly caught fish, but she was so stunned that she couldn’t make a sound. Finally, her voice tight and quavering, she managed to say, “I saw you meeting with King Casimer’s messenger at the library two weeks ago.”
Though it didn’t seem possible, the look on Amon’s face grew even stormier. “Did you tell anyone?”
“N-n-no,” Charis stammered.
“Good,” Amon said, but his expression didn’t relax. “But if you know enough to look for this, then you know too much.”
A feeling of dread welled up in Charis’ chest at the implied threat in his statement. She ducked away from him and tried to make a run for the door, but she barely made it two steps before he snagged her by the waist, pulling her tight against him. Charis wriggled and clawed at his arms to no avail.
“I can’t let you leave now,” he murmured in her ear.
Strands of coppery hair clung to Charis’ face and covered her eyes, clinging to the wet trails that streamed down her cheeks as she continued her futile thrashing.
“Stop struggling!” Amon shouted as his vise-like grip on her tightened. “You can’t tell anyone what you saw! If you do, your life, my life, and the lives of many others will be in danger.”
“My life is in danger right now.” Charis shrieked the words so loudly her ears rang afterward.
“You’re right. Your life is in danger now but not from me. I can’t let you go until I’m sure you won’t do something rash that gets you, or someone else, killed.”
There was a pained undertone in his voice that didn’t seem to be related to the physical pain she was inflicting on him. The primal part of her mind screamed that she was making a grave mistake, but she decided to trust him anyway.
Amon sighed with relief when she stopped struggling, but he did not loosen his hold. “You can’t tell anyone about what you saw,” he repeated.
“First you’re going to tell me why your research notes are filled with mistranslations. Are you doing it on purpose?”
She couldn’t see Amon, but she felt his whole body shudder. “How do you know about that?”
“I saw the notes you left on the table in the Special Collection Room on the night of the Arts Festival,” Charis answered, realizing too late that she shouldn’t have admitted to that so readily.
“The night of the Arts Festival,” Amon said slowly, and Charis could almost hear the connection being made as he spoke. “You were the one who messed up my bookmarks.”
Having no desire to dig herself in any deeper than she already was, she said nothing.
The silence wore on for what seemed like an eternity before Amon sighed again. “I’m going to let go of you now, and you’re going to sit on the bed and listen.”
Charis nodded and took an unsteady breath as she staggered to the bed.
“You’re right,” Amon began. “I am mistranslating portions of the information intentionally.”
“Why would you do that? King Casimer is your uncle.”
Amon laughed bitterly. “You still don’t understand? I’m not working for my uncle. I’m working against him.”
“Why?” Charis asked, bewildered.
“He’s a murderer,” Amon said coldly.
“You began studying with my father long before Casimer’s attack on Nerissa’s family.”
“Do you think the assassination of the Royal Family was the first time he had people killed? When I was a child, he had my father murdered. I suspect there have been numerous others as well.”
“He murdered his own brother?” Charis gasped.
Amon shook his head vigorously. “No, my mother is Casimer’s sister. My father was a conservative who favored funding the arts over the sciences. He and Casimer publically clashed numerous times as a result of their differing opinions.”
“If their feud was so public, how could King Casimer get away with having him killed without anyone suspecting his involvement?”
Amon’s sarcastic smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It was a tragic accident, of course. A group of nobles, including Casimer and my father, went hunting on a foggy morning. The official story is that my father got separated and was lost in the fog when he was accidentally shot by one of the party members.”
“That sounds reasonable enough. Everyone knows it’s not safe to go hunting when it’s foggy,” Charis said.
“It does, on the surface,” Amon agreed. “But it’s what happened later that reveals the truth. A servant counted the arrows before and after the outing. It’s standard practice so they can maintain the inventory of supplies. Although the group reported that one arrow was shot, there were two arrows missing.”
Charis started to speak, but Amon silenced her with one finger.
“I know that isn’t enough evidence by itself. There’s more. Afterward, the examining doctor noted that my father’s injury was more consistent with a knife wound than one from an arrow. The doctor was paid a considerable sum to reconsider his report. He didn’t get a chance to enjoy his windfall though. He, and the servant who noticed the discrepancy in the number of arrows, mysteriously disappeared shortly after the incident.”
Charis inhaled sharply. “How did you learn all of this? You said your father was killed when you were a child, so there’s no way you were the one who did all of this investigating.”
Amon’s answer was evasive. “I told you my life wasn’t the only one at stake. That’s because I am not working against Casimer alone.” He rubbed his arms while he spoke, and Charis could see that his skin was crisscrossed with red marks. She almost felt bad for causing them now.
“So you intended to sabotage Casimer’s work from the outset?” Charis asked.
“Yes. I followed in my father’s footsteps by studying the arts, so my uncle enlisted my help to research a series of old paintings. He believes they may hold clues to a powerful weapon that King Gared had ordered to be destroyed. Even though it’s probably nothing more than a legend, the weapon intrigued him enough to look into it. So far, I have seen no evidence that the tales about the paintings are true. But, if there is even an ounce of truth to them, I want to ensure that the weapon doesn’t fall into his hands. Do you now understand why my work has to remain a secret? The man I met with at the library is with the Senka, Casimer’s undercover police. If my betrayal were discovered, they would not hesitate to get rid of me like they got rid of my father.”
“That explains the similarity,” Charis mused without realizing she had actually spoken the words out loud.
“The similarity?”
Charis faltered. She had been thinking of the similarities in appearance between the man Amon met with at the library and Nerissa’s protectors, the Ohanzee. Even if Amon were working against Casimer, she still had to keep the truth about Nerissa’s survival a secret. “Ah, I mean, it makes sense Casimer would have a group of spies working for him.”
“That’s not what you meant.”
“Yes, it is,” Charis said sullenly. “Don’t try to put words in my mouth.”
“No, it isn’t,” he insisted, studying her like a hawk studies its prey. “What do you know…” His voice trailed off without finishing the thought.
Charis knew she was a terrible liar. She folded her arms over her chest and focused on remaining silent and expressionless.
“You and Heiress Nerissa were best friends since childhood, and you visited the Royal Manor frequently.”
She twitched involuntarily when he said Nerissa’s name, and Amon smirked triumphantly.
“The Royal Family of Chiyo must have a group like the Senka too. You were around her enough that you must have met one of them at some point,” he concluded.
While his assertion was not accurate, it was close enough to the truth to make Charis shift uncomfortably.
Amon’s smirk broadened into a knowing grin. “Who did you give the book to?”
“What book are you talking about?” Charis bluffed.
>
Amon gave her an exasperated look. “After everything I’ve shared with you, you’re playing coy with me? You know exactly what book I’m talking about—the heirloom book that belonged to your mother.”
“I’m not being coy. I told you the truth at the time. A friend needed to borrow it for their research.”
“Alright then, which of your friends was it? What is the nature of their research? Who is their advisor?” He fired the barrage of questions at her one after another.
Charis raised her chin defiantly. If she told him about the books, it might be enough to alleviate his suspicion and keep him from prying deeper. “You shared one of your secrets, so I’ll share one of mine. You’ve already figured it out anyway. A member of Chiyo’s ‘undercover police’ came to me in search of books with crystals in their spines, so I gave it to him.”
“Do you know why they were looking for them?”
“No,” Charis lied. That wasn’t the reaction she had expected him to have. “I just know they were searching for books matching that description.”
“We can assume it is part of a plan they have to take back Chiyo.”
“I think that’s a safe assumption,” Charis agreed.
“Then we share a common enemy. I think I might be able to help with their search. Do you know how to get in touch with them?”
“No. They are constantly on the move, so I don’t have any way to contact them.”
Amon sat down beside her on the bed. “I’ve been trying to tell you that I’m not as bad of a person as you make me out to be. I can’t always tell you the whole truth, but can you at least trust me enough to believe that we’re working for the same side?”
Charis laid her hand on his red-streaked arm and said, “Even though you aren’t telling me everything, I will trust you.” After all, she thought to herself, I’m not telling you the whole truth either.
Reflection- Thorn of the White Rose Page 15