by RJ Metcalf
“Yes. And, I—” Christopher swallowed, suddenly aware of the freedom he had that he hadn’t last time. “I couldn’t say it last time, because I was under orders not to. But you have to stop the shipment going to the Hollows!”
Brandon’s brow furrowed. “Shipment?”
Finn gripped the bar. “What shipment? The one with the steam rifles? Why?”
“Yes, that one!” Christopher exclaimed. His words threatened to trip over themselves. If Victor gained control over the Hollows, the chance of southern Terrene surviving would be slimmer than ever. “I don’t have all the details, but my leader here, Victor, he has someone working in the Hollows. She’s tattooing the inmates and guards, giving them an inactive blood-bond, and an activation stone for the blood-bond is going there with the shipment.” He curled his hands into fists as Finn paled. “He’s going to have a literal army of blood-bonded servants once that stone gets there.”
Brandon’s eyes bulged. “Maybe they haven’t gotten there yet, somehow.” He turned to Finn. “We need to inform General Titus so he can mobilize his troops.”
A lump squeezed Christopher’s throat. “No!” His shout rang out in the stone cell.
Brandon’s eye twitched. “He’s the one in char—”
“He’s been turned,” Christopher rushed to say. “He was given tattoos while working in the Hollows, and Victor used the stone to bond him. General Titus is doing Victor’s bidding.”
Finn’s lips disappeared into a thin line. “If Victor controls Titus, and Titus just claimed martial law and leadership over Aerugo …”
Brandon gripped the bar with white knuckles. “You’re absolutely certain of this?”
Christopher stood ramrod straight, hyper aware of every breath he inhaled and exhaled, of the only whisper of fresh air coming from the window, of the way sound was amplified in the underground cell. He lifted his chin and looked Brandon in the eye. “Command me to say it, if you doubt me,” he said quietly. “I’m not lying. I helped lure Titus to Victor’s. I witnessed his bond being activated.”
“Whales of the bloody Void,” Brandon swore. He shoved his hand through his hair and whirled away from Christopher’s cell, kicking viciously at the wall across from it. “We don’t have permission to be here to get this information, how are we going to act on it without causing more issues?”
Finn started toward the stairs. “We’ll figure that out later. We have more important things to worry about than treason.”
Brandon turned to face Christopher and bowed shortly. “Thank you for your honesty.”
Christopher watched until they were out of sight, then he listened to their footfalls and the sound of the gate closing after them. He sank onto his bed. Strangely, he didn’t feel any regret, revealing Titus like that. Nor did he regret betraying Victor in the plot.
He’d been controlled his whole life. Now that he was free of the compulsion, he could see just how deep it had gone, affecting even the way he thought. This new-found freedom, even in his own head, was going to take some getting used to.
Chapter Forty-Five
Weston
Weston swiped his sweaty palms against his pants as he stood at the designated Aerugan part of the circular Summit table. He watched as the various leaders walked in, giving him a cursory once over. Why, oh why had he agreed to call another meeting on behalf of Brandon? This time, Brandon and Finn had found him and explained in so many words what they’d learned, and Weston felt the same alarm they did, immediately desiring action.
And questions. So many questions. Was Brandon really blood-bonded? How? When? Why?
But now, as the one calling all the countries together for the Summit, to address a hidden spy in their number? He felt like a child playing with his father’s seat of ruling, his feet dangling off the edge, a reminder of how unprepared he was to take on the mantle.
Thinking of his father, they probably should discuss that today too.
What would happen today? Would the leaders actually start listening, band together? Or would they splinter apart, and be more divided than ever before, dooming all their lands?
Brandon strode in, Zebediah Monomi on his heels. Weston averted his eyes, staring at the hollow center of the table. At least Jade wasn’t in here, safely sequestered out of sight of the public, and hopefully out of sight of an assassin. There were too many important diplomats and royalty here, it was too much of a sweet target. He’d heard from Brandon of their disagreement regarding her safety, and he agreed with Brandon on everything. She was stubborn and headstrong, and Weston was amazed that she’d already started to plan for how to assist the refugees. That she’d already started a meal plan, with hot soup for everyone out there, and in so short a time, was nothing short of astounding to him.
She knew how to bounce back, even after being brutally knocked down. He could only wish that she’d stay where it was safe.
He didn’t want to find her body next.
He enjoyed her laughter and her keen insights on both diagrams and people. And, even more strangely, he appreciated Zak’s quiet perspective on political matters, and his occasional comments on Weston’s sparring form.
Somehow, in the last few days, he’d started to consider them as a unit. Where one was, the other would be soon after. And he didn’t mind nearly so much anymore.
These were strange times, he lived in. No doubt about it.
Weston quickly surveyed the table. Chancellor Bertozzi of Piovant, President Guth of Lasim, King Rowan of Perennia, Emperor Ezran and Princess Abigail, Brandon of Doldra, Chiefs Muku and Sichi of Vodan … they were all here.
The door banged opened, and General Titus strode in, his face hard and a vein over his forehead twitching. He wasted no time, marching straight to where Weston stood.
Weston gestured to the empty seat to his right, where his mother would’ve been sitting, if she hadn’t already informed him that she’d be in the seats with the other nobles that weren’t at the table. “General Titus, sit here please.”
Incredulity radiated from Titus. “Excuse me? What do you think you’re doing?”
Weston ignored Titus. He kept his attention on Brandon. “Crucial military information has come to my attention, and it’s time to share it.” His voice softened. “And we need to discuss the events of my father’s murder.”
Titus grumbled and sat, the chair rocking under his muscular frame.
Weston blew out a breath and smoothed his hand down his black velvet vest. “I am very grateful to see all of you alive and well after the trying events of last night.” He swallowed hard. “The investigation hasn’t slowed, and we’ve discovered the bodies of two women who worked under Marchioness Francene. It appears that the assassin who murdered my father and the assassin that attempted to end my life had taken their places.” His stomach jittered, and he clenched his hands behind his back, working to keep his voice even. “We are now interrogating the would-be-assassin whom Prince Brandon stopped.”
He continued on, changing the topic, but not wanting to let a conversation sidetrack him from the true scent of his hunt.
“I’m sure we all know more or less how the blood-bond works,” Weston began. Everyone nodded with various degrees of confidence. He didn’t look at Titus. “The northern Elph have found a way to tattoo others and bond them in a less traditional way than we previously knew.”
“Now wait a minute,” Titus interrupted. He started to stand. “What are you—”
“Sit down and shut up,” Brandon ordered, his words terse.
Titus snapped his mouth shut and sat down.
President Guth’s eyebrows shot up, and he cast Titus a speculative glance. He then nodded for Weston to continue.
Confidence bolstered, Weston plunged ahead. “The assassination and attempts last night were all made by blood-bonded individuals, as were both the keystone attack and the dropping of the barrier.” He dared to look over at Abigail and Ezran. “Blood-bonded. Not just Void Born. The problem runs deeper than jus
t that, however.” Weston swallowed in an attempt to moisten his dry mouth. “The Hollows have been infiltrated, and the prisoners are being turned against us, which means surely the guards are too. There’s an army growing within our own borders, and we have no way to stop it.”
Weston stopped there, letting everyone absorb the implications. He hesitated and prayed that he wouldn’t regret his next decision. “You’ve been quiet, General. Any thoughts you want to add to this?”
Titus glared up at him balefully.
A surprised snort escaped Chancellor Bertozzi. “I didn’t know it was possible for the great general to be quiet.”
The leaders at the table murmured their amused agreements, all but Brandon, who stared at Titus, The general pointedly gave him the cold shoulder.
Weston’s gut squirmed. “Nothing, General?”
Titus ignored him.
A lead weight sank in Weston’s gut. “Did you know about the Hollows, General, seeing as it was under your command?”
A muscle twitched in Titus’s jaw, and his fists clenched on the table.
“Why aren’t you answering me, General?” Weston added steel to his next question. “Are you blood-bonded?”
The room was dead silent, and Titus’s lack of reply seemed to press in on Weston’s shoulders. He swallowed hard. Brandon was right after all.
“Titus.” Brandon spoke, his voice cold as the harshest winter. “Answer the questions.”
“I didn’t know about the Hollows until a few days ago.” There was a measure of relief in General Titus’s voice as his words spilled out. “All the prisoners have their entrance tattoo at the very least, though many of us have much more ink.” He waggled his fingers, displaying the symbols on his knuckles. “And yes, I am blood-bonded. I didn’t know that I was essentially a sleeping bonded man until the bond was activated at the start of the summit. My life has been a living shehalla since.” He tilted his head back against the seat before nodding respectfully at Brandon. “Thank you, for letting me tell the truth.”
Emperor Ezran looked to his left, staring at Brandon. “And how is it, King of Doldra, that you can allow him this gift of honesty, when he’s blood-bonded?”
Weston held his breath. He’d wondered the same and figured he’d ask later, when not in such a public sphere, but now that the question was out …
Brandon lifted his chin and turned toward the Lasim president. “I mentioned before my captivity under Doctor Jaxton Taylor. He somehow blood-bonded me to this,” he lifted his sword hilt above the table, then let it sink to its spot on his hip again. “And the Elph blood he used was the same rank as the one who tried to assassinate Queen Violet, as well as control General Titus.” Grief seemed to sink weary lines into Brandon’s face. “I only want to use this curse for good, if I can.”
Muku and Sichi quietly conferred amongst themselves while Ezran nodded, his eyes narrowed. “If you truly want to consider how to bear that burden with honor, we’ll discuss later the ways of our nation and how we deal with the blood-bonded as so many of our nation are bonded.”
“Thank you,” Brandon replied, his gaze on the table.
Weston wasn’t sure what to make of the meeting at this point. Nothing was what he’d expected. “Now that that’s out, we need to plan our next course of action.”
Sichi and Muku both stood. Sichi spoke first. “If this is true—and it holds the uncomfortable air of truth—then we must prepare for this war that is coming from our own land.” He sat.
Muku pressed her hands to her thighs and inclined her head to Weston. “We, the nation of Vodan, give our spears, our tridents, and our swords to Aerugo, to unify and fight this atrocity.”
Weston’s heart raced and he leaned forward, bracing his legs against the table in an effort to not give away his sudden dizziness. He hadn’t seen that coming. He hadn’t dared to hope for such an immediate positive reaction.
President Guth nodded slowly. “If you have the blood-bond, then you can help to neutralize the threat,” he spoke to Brandon. “And I will also join Lasim’s forces to Aerugo, provided that you can go with them to the Hollows, and attempt to subdue the incoming army.”
Brandon’s eyebrows shot up, and he grasped his cup of water, buying himself a moment of time. Weston sank back into his seat, slightly embarrassed to have still been standing when it had become a group discussion. No one paid him any mind, though, as everyone’s focus was on Jade’s father.
Brandon assented. “I will go with whatever army Aerugo can muster within the day, and Prince Weston”—His eyebrow quirked—“Lord Weston will remain here to root out any more threats against our nations.”
Weston bowed his head before nodding.
Brandon’s voice rang out through the meeting hall. “He will prepare and lead us into war.”
War. Weston had to stifle a sardonic laugh. He may have had the training that his father and Andre crammed into him, but leading real men and women, real people, against an awesome, terrifying threat? How they would stand a chance with him leading them, he didn’t know.
But they were looking for Aerugo to lead––for him to lead. And he wouldn’t back down.
Chapter Forty-Six
Brandon
Brandon surveyed the field of airships and soldiers, awe and dread permeating his entire body, leaving his skin tingling. To his left, a small fleet of Aerugan airships, directly in front of him, the two Doldran military airships that had come for the Summit with Lady Catherine and Zebediah, and Lasim’s one airship that President Guth had come on. Steam hissed and swirled through the air, causing his shirt to stick to his chest in the humidity. Messenger hawks had been sent to Lasim, Doldra, and Vodan for more airships and soldiers, but those wouldn’t come for at least three, maybe four days. Brandon had to be certain that everyone here was as organized as possible, then leave.
As it was, there was a chance they would already be too late.
What could he do against an entire army of blood-bonded?
And if the entire blood-bonded Hollows army was already loose in the Plains, where would they go? Brandon rubbed his forehead with his thumb. Would they cross the mountains to the east and invade Vodan? Would they go south, take the easier route, and hit Golar? How would he take care of a threat that he knew he would barely be able to handle?
Finn handed a bulging bag to an Aerugan soldier and pointed to something, asking a question that Brandon couldn’t hear. Finn had already calmly informed Brandon that he’d be joining him on the battlefield. Whether Finn was going because he wanted to be close to where his granddaughter was, because he didn’t trust Brandon to control the berserker inside, or because he actually planned to fight on the front lines, Brandon didn’t care. He was just grateful to have a stable friend aside from Zebediah going with him.
The air moved, announcing General Titus joining Brandon, but he didn’t look away from the Doldran soldiers on the field.
Brandon spoke. “How many live in the Hollows?”
“At last count, we had one hundred fifty-six prisoners, one doctor and assistant, and eighty-seven guards, not including myself.” Titus stamped his feet beside Brandon. “Our numbers here will be close, but if they’re commanded to not stop for anything …”
Brandon grunted. If their handler ordered the bonded to not feel pain and to fight no matter what, then his pulled-together regiment was in serious trouble. Not only was he scrambling with an army that was outnumbered to begin with, but he was uniting companies that hadn’t fought together. Lasim’s division was mostly for the sake of show, as their strengths lie in their tech more than their actual fighting prowess. The Aerugan legion was excellent at completing drills and keeping order, but how long had it been since they’d been in any sort of battle let alone war? Doldran soldiers had some experience in skirmishes, but not much.
But it was the best they had for right now, barely leaving enough soldiers behind to protect the capital and the Summit, while the bulk of Aerugo’s military might was in t
he north, fighting skirmishes and protecting the border.
Brandon’s breath stalled in his lungs. They were going to be overwhelmed. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
It was surreal. As a berserker, he’d had no control over anything, and the rage that bubbled inside was impossible to resist. When he’d been freed of that, the manic set in, emotions too wild to control, too hot, burning. Painful to grasp onto and force into submission. And he’d already learned that holding onto those rampaging feelings, burying them deep within, only led to violent outbursts. He forced himself to expel a breath. Now he was supposed to lead men on a battlefield? Where rage and fear and violence would combine into a deadly triune that could all too easily suck him in again.
He glanced at Finn, his throat tight. He would need to rely on those around him. On things he hadn’t had in decades. Friendship. Trust in his comrades.
What in Terrene had happened? How had this madness roped him in so thoroughly?
Brandon picked Zebediah out among the soldiers as he moved from unit to unit, asking questions, giving oversight, his Monomi blacks making him stand out among Doldra’s reds and golds and Lasim’s grays and whites. Zebediah worked his way through the hustle to stand in front of Brandon and Titus.
Zebediah bowed to Brandon and looked at Titus. “Something is happening at the Hollows, as we can best guess. They missed the last check-in.”
Titus crossed his arms and gripped his elbows. “My men know better than to miss a check-in. It must have started.” He swore. “Artemis. She must’ve made her move now that I’m gone. She’s inked at least two-thirds of the guards, and if she has what she needs to finish the blood-bond, it won’t be hard to ink the remaining third. Not if they’re outnumbered.” He shot Brandon an almost-apologetic wince. “Our hands are going to be full.”
Brandon’s stomach sank. What was Finn hoping he’d actually do there? How was Brandon going to lead, how was he going to do any good in this battle, when he was just one man?