by H M Angues
I look around the room, glancing at everyone in turn until my eyes find Talon’s, that knowing look in his eyes. “Calla,” he whispers. It’s not a question, nor a call—just my name. His simple way of telling me to stay grounded, stay calm. To breathe.
“I think I’m just going to call it a night,” I finally say. Blade helps me up and stays close behind as I trudge up the stairs, Talon following us as well. Blade never lets his hand leave my shoulder or back or arm.
After showering, I go to a bag thrown carelessly into my closet. I kept this one packed separate from everything else.
It even smells like him inside when I open it.
Kainan’s clothes. I burn those, too, my fires licking against the various fabrics until there is nothing left. It flickers out, leaving a black mark and ash remnants on the carpet. I throw on an old sweatshirt, one that Blade gave me long ago, and some shorts before returning to my bedchamber.
Blade, Talon and Bellamy are all there, sitting on the edge of my fourposter bed. It’s wooden, everything in this room—and this house—meant to look cabin-like and woodsy.
“We can go,” my sister says softly.
“Please don’t,” I whisper, reaching out for them.
I crawl into bed, sliding beneath the flannel sheets, resting half my body on top of Blade. My brother and sister lay down on either side of us. Talon turns on Star Wars, but not even that can comfort me now. Instead, all I can think about is Kainan. Almost as if he senses that, Blade wraps his arms around me, holding tight.
It takes me a while to finally fall asleep, and when I do my dreams are haunted by Kainan’s ghost.
Chapter 39
Bellamy
A loud noise from downstairs startles me awake. There’s no moon shining through the windows tonight, so I light a small flame in my palm as I creep down to the foyer. I didn’t even bother looking in Calla’s room, where Talon and Blade and I spend most nights. Tonight, however, I had fallen asleep in the small library.
“You should seriously consider sleeping downstairs.” I rest a hand on my hip and lean against the wall.
Calla rubs the back of her head, tendrils of the black shadowy smoke still wafting off her skin. Every night, when she has a nightmare, she involuntarily ends up morphing into Shade-form. And falls right through the floor. I imagine something in her dream frightens her into shifting as a defense mechanism.
Just like every other night, Rysen comes barreling down the stairs, footsteps louder than a thunderstorm. “What the hell is going on?” he gasps.
“Nothing. I’m fine,” Calla says dismissively, waving her hands to shoo him away. She’s been the most distant from Rysen, and—if I’m being honest—I think it’s best for her.
“How does anyone in this house sleep through your stomping?” I grumble.
“They probably don’t,” Calla replies. She gets up and settles into the couch and turns on the telescreen, flipping lazily through the movie channels as I take a seat beside her. Rysen lingers for a moment, only leaving once it's clear his presence isn't cared for. “But I guess they choose to just sleep through it. Rysen is having trouble sleeping.”
I give her a sympathetic smile, squeezing her small fingers. “I don’t know what it is about him, but I don’t like him.”
“That’s a lie.”
“No, I’m serious. He’s acting… weird. Like, all of a sudden, he’s all right with you not wanting anything to do with him.”
“Can we talk about something else?” she murmurs.
“All right, what do you want to talk about?”
“You know, I never realized how badly I’d wanted a sister growing up. Talon, Blade, their other friends, my father... I was one of the boys. I never got to bond with my mother, never got to know you existed; it’s nice. It’s nice having a sister, having another girl around.”
“Well, now you get to deal with two of us.” Syn appears out of nowhere and sets down three mugs of steaming tea, then sits on Calla’s other side. Her pregnant belly seems to be growing larger by the day. She’s got to be somewhere in her second trimester by now, probably around four or five months.
“I heard you two talking and thought I’d come join. Morning sickness is supposed to happen in the morning, hence, morning sickness, but my body seems to think that means all-day sickness. Hey, you know what I just noticed? Morning sickness, Mourning Sickness. Huh.”
“Calla was just talking about how she grew up surrounded by boys,” I explain to the newcomer. I really enjoy Syn; she’s kind and has a sharp sense of humor. Plus, she’s not afraid to kick the boys around and tell them what to do.
“So did I—four brothers, and I was the oldest,” Syn says, sipping her coffee. “Truan and Eiza, then the twins, Bullet and Gunner.”
Calla smiles again. “I just had Blade and Talon growing up. Those two... they really gave me hell when we were kids.”
“I can imagine. Gunner and Bullet were the youngest, but they were the biggest, and used to beat the crap out of Truan and Eiza. They were all Metallurge, like our mom, but our dad and I were firebloods. After our parents were killed in the Arena—they were partners and fought in two-versus-two matches—Eiza and I were the oldest, so we raised the rest of them.”
“What happened to them?” I ask. “If you don’t mind my asking.”
Syn shakes her blonde head. “I don’t mind. Gunner and Bullet were Grand Champions, which meant they held the record for most kills and victories. They fought in a pair, and so did my other two brothers. Truan and Eiza were high-ranked as well, so it was inevitable that they’d have to face the Grand Champions at some point.
“Gunner and Bullet won.” Another sip of coffee. “A year later, after my first year as a fighter in the Arena, Gunner tried to kill himself. He couldn’t take the guilt. He survived but chose to stay in Helkyn when I fled with Jer. Bullet had all but given up and lost his match after that.”
Calla pulls Syn into a hug. I lean my head against her back, and we sit like that until we drift off.
∞∞∞
When I wake up, sunlight is pouring through the gaps between the drapes. The three of us are still huddled together on the couch, but someone threw a couple of blankets on top to keep out the early morning cold. Blade’s watching the telescreen from the armchair by the fireplace.
“Was this you?” I ask, kicking off my blanket.
He nods. “You guys looked a little chilly. It gets cold here.”
“Have you spent a lot of time here?”
“Yeah, when we were young. We stopped coming here when Calla’s mother died, though.”
“What ever happened to your parents?” I’ve been dying to ask the question for ages.
“Dead,” he sighs, shrugging his shoulders. “My mother was Captain of the Royal Guard and my father was a weaponsmith. Like most palace staff, we lived in Stonefire. I grew up with the Renalds. But one day, there was an attempt on Augustus' life. My mother died protecting him, and my father couldn't handle the guilt. He left Stonefire and never came back, never tried to contact me. I was seven at the time, and Calla was three. Augustus let me stay in the palace and treated me as one of his own. So did Mira, later on. When I turned eighteen, I was named Captain of the Royal Guard. And man, did Calla hate that. She was so afraid of me being murdered like my mother that she actually begged me not to take the job, but I reminded her she was out fighting a war every other weekend. I was safer in Stonefire than she was in the Borderlands.”
“So, you and Calla have always been very close.”
He smiles at his hands in his lap and replies, “Always. Talon, Calla and I were inseparable growing up. Cal and me were especially close as we got older.”
“It's like the perfect romantic movie. Childhood best friends who are destined to be together,” I confess, smirking at Blade. “You're always so kind and understanding when it comes to her, whereas Rysen is just a dick.”
“His brother just died, Bellamy.”
I roll my eyes
. “Yeah, I know. I should go easy on him. But I just can’t help myself.”
I sit up straight, meeting Blade’s steady gaze. “He’s a burden on her, just another added weight that she has to carry. At least, that’s how I see it. He treats her like he owns her, always yelling at her and expecting her to accommodate his feelings over her own. Yet, she hasn’t kicked him to the curb. You can say she cares about him all you want, but in my eyes, he’s a liability and a ticking time bomb, just waiting to go off on her again.”
“I didn’t know you felt that way, Bell,” Ryse says from the doorway. I cross my arms and stare him down, unashamed of what I admitted to Blade.
“Rysen,” Calla calls from behind me. She must have woken up a couple minutes ago.
Ryse slips out of the house and onto the front porch. Calla gets up to follow him, but Blade grabs her arm.
“She has a point, Cal.”
My sister relaxes her stance, eyes darting between Blade and me. “Yeah,” she mutters, “she does. Doesn’t mean I don’t feel bad, though.”
∞∞∞
I don’t see Ryse again until Mira calls everybody in for dinner that night. I know my sister spent most of the day locked away in the library. Doing anything, other than staring at useless old books, brings back too many memories of Kainan.
I shoot a glare in Ryse’s direction. I know he wants to sit as far away from me as possible, but Calla sets her plate down beside me, sandwiching herself between Blade and me. After deliberating far too long over something as trivial as where to sit, Rysen settles with taking the seat across from our emperor.
Most of dinner is relatively silent, save for the sounds of us chewing and silverware clinking and scraping the plates.
Jed is the first one to break the silence. “I think our next objective is to head into the Province’s capital. Rally the people to our cause, let them know that their emperor is alive. We should start on that as soon as you’re ready, Your Majesty.”
Calla doesn’t respond, but she holds the Overseer’s gaze as she eats.
The Overseer lets out a grunt. “Your empire is entirely under a tyrant’s control. The people are suffering. Get yourself together, Calla. You don’t get to have the luxury of grieving like anyone. You have twenty million people waiting on you to save them. You don’t see me moping around about the daughter you murdered.”
“The traitor, you mean,” Cal reminds him, her tone sharp enough to bite through flesh.
“She is in physical pain, Jedidiah,” Mira scolds. “You also shouldn’t forget that she is still your superior, even in the Underground. Asking her to bottle up her pain and pretend she didn’t just lose yet another piece of her family is more than harsh.”
“You know what’s harsh? Ramsey’s new laws. Curfews and food rationing, water shortages in some of the drier Provinces, no electricity in major cities, and so much more that she has done. That our emperor allows to be done while she sits here and cries over a broken heart.”
My sister slams her fist on the table, all of the plates and silverware rattling. The room suddenly feels hot, though it doesn’t bother me. She rises to her feet just as thunder booms overhead, the ground beneath us trembling.
Her fiery eyes land on Jed and stay there, her gaze alone enough to make the large man sink back into his chair a little. “I will not have you belittle what I’ve been through and the suffering I have endured for this country. You can try to make me feel guilty for what my people are going through, but none of that is my fault. You want me to save Namari? Let me do it on my own terms. Last I checked, I am the emperor. What are you the leader of? An organization that most of the country doesn’t know exists, and those that do don’t trust it.”
Slowly, Calla sinks back into her chair. Everyone is frozen in place, staring at her with wide eyes.
“Mira and Valek worked hard on dinner," she adds with frightening calm. "Before you decide to speak against me and insult me, I suggest you finish your meal.”
Calla goes back to eating as if nothing happened. I expect Jed to rage or seethe or throw a fit over how she just spoke to him, but he only smiles. Beams, even. With pride.
“Just making sure my emperor is still in there,” he says quietly.
I don’t miss Calla’s half-smile or Valek’s annoyed glare toward Jed. Talon barks out a short laugh.
Ryse is the first to leave the table. Just as he starts to clear his plate in the sink, Calla speaks up again.
“There’s an empty apartment in Anakin. I’ve arranged for you to stay there for the coming weeks,” she declares.
All sets of eyes land on him, staring in disbelief. All except Ryse, who keeps his gaze fixated on the sink faucet as he cleans his dish. Anakin is the capital city of Haercayn, and one of the first cities established by the settlers from Earth. It’s the oldest in the empire and was the center of it all until Capital City was built.
Sending him there isn’t just a convenient way to get rid of him—which means she’s been listening and knows how toxic he’s been. No, Calla wouldn’t just send him away. It makes political sense, too. She needs to regain her footing, and Haercayn being such a large and influential city makes it a good place to start.
Rysen looks both angry, and like he’s on the verge of tears. “You can’t just send me away!”
“Yes, she can. And so can I,” the Overseer says, folding his arms across his chest.
“Why? What the hell did I even do? Besides, Calla is the emperor.” Rysen turns to her. “Don’t you dare do this. You need me.”
“It gives us an advantage,” Jed explains for Calla. “Rysen, you became an Underground agent in the emperor’s absence, which makes you just us much under my command as hers,” Jed bites back.
“Where the hell do you get off kicking me out?” Rysen snarls, breaking the plate in the sink.
Calla stands from the table, gently placing her utensils on the plate. So gently, in fact, that it’s unsettling. “I do not appreciate being spoken to with such a tone, Rysen. You’re inferior in rank to most everyone in this house. You’ve lost the privilege of being treated like a friend because of your behavior. I think the time away from everything will help. I need to recover from losing Kainan, and you aren’t helping with that.
“Besides, it has already been arranged. I’m sorry, but you don’t really have a say in this. You’re a soldier, Rysen, and this is war.” Calla picks up her plate. “Sending you to Anakin has its importance. It’s happening, whether you like it or not.”
∞∞∞
I don’t see Calla the next morning, but I do see Blade. He’s working with Mira in the gardens outside. I join them, donning a pair of thick gloves as Mira shows me how to plant tomatoes.
“You know, tomatoes aren’t native to Eterra. Most fruits and animals aren’t. Our ancestors brought them from Earth all those centuries ago and started planting and raising them here. Now, they’re a staple of our diets,” she reveals. “Though we as a society gave up on eating animals centuries ago.”
“Right. I forgot that the Earthens used to eat meat.” I kneel down, digging my fingers in the dirt. “I didn’t know that about the tomatoes. You learn something new every day, I guess.”
“Speaking of learning something new,” she says, “Blade, do you know what’s going on with Calla and Ryse? She’s already dealing with so much, and this on top of things…”
“She’s dealing with it,” he interrupts. “She’s…dealing with it.”
The older woman drops her spade, dirt splaying in all directions. “Romin Blake Leenara Galorian, if that boy is anything like what I hear from Talon—”
“I would be the first to kill him if he ever lays a hand on her. I want him beaten bloody as it is, but Calla cares about him. I don't want to go against her wishes by hurting the guy, especially after she just lost Kainan.”
Mira scoffs. “She might not truly realize what he's doing. I don’t like him.” The older woman gets back to her gardening, nails digging into the sof
t dirt, the soil wet from the storm Calla summoned in her outburst at dinner last night.
I fight a smile as I repeat, “Romin Blake Leenara Galorian?”
“Damn it,” he swears under his breath. “Only Mira, Calla and Talon knew about that. See what you do?” he says accusingly to Mira. She keeps quiet, smirking as she sets back to work on her tomatoes.
“How did you get Blade out of that? Besides, Romin sounds pretty cool, like the Romans of Earth.”
“When Calla was really little, she went through this phase where she thought everyone should be called by their middle name. She was Daiena, Talon was Remus, and I was Blake. The only problem, though, was that she couldn’t pronounce her k’s very well, since Daiena had raised her speaking native Eterran before she learned Namari. So, instead of Blake, she said Blade. After that, it kind of stuck. I don’t even use my real name anymore because, well, Blade is my real name now.”
“That’s the most precious story I’ve ever heard, Romin,” I add with a sneer. Blade shakes his head, ignoring my comment as he continues to plant the red fruit.
It looks a lot more like a vegetable, if you ask me.
Chapter 40
Calla
I can’t sleep through the night, which has become the norm these days.
The night terrors have stopped, but the nightmarish dreams have not.
Someone knocks on my door and peers his head inside. “Calla?” he whispers. I recognize his voice, Capital accent. Blade. He steps carefully to the side of the bed.
“You should be sleeping,” I grumble and rub my eyes.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I could hear you fussing from my room.” He sits on the edge of the bed.
“I feel different,” I murmur. “Like there’s something inside of me that’s become… darker.”
Blade lays back on the bed and I roll over to face him. “Blade, I think it changed me. Permanently.”
His blue eyes are soft as he looks at me with that characteristic loving gaze. “I knew it would. You loved him, he was part of our family, and I hate that he was taken from you.”