by Ella M. Lee
It felt much like I had died once, captured in Vienna, consigned to the same fate as my friends.
Was this my second death? Here? Giving up because it seemed like there was no way to continue? Any determination I had briefly felt was gone, drained. All the strength and verbal wit and quick thinking I’d shown to Nicolas earlier was unreachable right now.
Dawn came, golden and lovely yet still not enough to inspire me. I didn’t want Nicolas to find me on the floor of the bathroom, so I moved back into the living room. I wrapped a blanket around myself and went to sit by the windows with a bottle of tea in my shaking hands. I was so tired I could hardly think, so cold and numb that nothing seemed to matter anymore.
It was fully light out when Nicolas finally emerged from his bedroom. I didn’t move, sitting with my head in my hands, wondering if I was so detached from this situation that I could view it with dispassion from afar, like it was someone else’s pathetic life.
I noticed Nicolas studying me in my peripheral vision, but I didn’t turn my head, didn’t greet him. I didn’t care what he thought of me, and he didn’t share his opinions. After a moment, he continued on to the bathroom.
He didn’t say a word to me as he went about his day. I watched him calmly go through a yoga routine and several core exercises with earphones in. He was beautiful and feline and graceful—a top-notch fighter. My eyes lingered on the smooth muscles of his arms and shoulders as he moved.
I reminded myself dully that those muscles had hurt me and killed my friends, but my traitorous eyes still studied them.
After his light workout, he sat at the large dining room table and typed on his laptop. The most interesting minutes were when he took a brief phone call in Cantonese. He stretched out on the couch languidly, his features more expressive than usual as he smiled faintly at whatever was being said to him.
He had done all of that as well as showered and changed clothes, and I still hadn’t moved, my eyes barely focused on the distant buildings. I was so zoned out, in fact, that I jumped, completely startled, when Nicolas kneeled at my side later.
With careful motions, he placed a mug of tea next to me on the floor. His eyes met mine for a brief moment, light and concerned in the morning sun. I looked away.
Only after he had gotten up and returned to the bedroom did I bring my eyes down to the mug of tea, eyeing it warily. It was a much gentler offering than I would have expected from him, but he had so far defied all my expectations, leaving me wondering what to do here and how to develop a relationship with him.
Nicolas, who had threatened me. Nicolas, who had taunted me in front of his clanmates. Nicolas, who had implied all the horrible things he had done in the past and would do to me if he was forced.
Nicolas, who had healed me when he didn’t have to. Nicolas, who had explained more about himself and his motives than I would have ever expected. Nicolas, who had made me tea. Nicolas, who seemed to be trying to give me as much space as he could.
Nicolas in public versus Nicolas in private. The key to this game, it seemed. If I could manage to summon any energy, I thought maybe I could work with that.
Nicolas left me alone all day. He didn’t speak more than a few sentences to me, and those were merely to tell me I could help myself to the lunch and dinner that Keisha brought to the door at noon and then at seven.
I didn’t care. I wasn’t hungry, and I had no desire to move from my now comfortable and safe spot in the corner of the room.
It was dark out when Nicolas approached me next. He once again knelt at my side and said in a quiet voice, “I want to warn you that I’m going out in the morning. If you manage to get some sleep tonight, I may be gone when you wake up.”
“What?” I asked, startled. My voice was hoarse from not speaking all day. “Where are you going?”
I didn’t actually expect a response from him—it seemed to be a fifty-fifty chance whether he’d respond to any given question—but he closed his eyes briefly, and his tone became a shade sadder.
“Tomorrow morning is Andres’s funeral. My group is assembling for that. As you can imagine, you wouldn’t be welcome there, so you will be remaining behind.”
I studied him carefully. His jaw was tense. After a moment, his eyes slid to mine, their tawny glow now dim and unhappy.
I desperately wanted to look away in shame, but that would have been unfair to him. Andres’s death was my fault, and I wouldn’t try to shirk responsibility by hiding. I hadn’t known the man except for the few minutes when we fought each other for our lives, but he had been part of Nicolas’s world, and part of a clan. He deserved my respect and remorse.
If Nicolas heard my thoughts, he didn’t appear to care. After another few moments, he hauled himself to his feet and started to walk away.
“Nicolas?” I said hesitantly.
He stopped in the bedroom doorway, his hand braced on the frame as he looked back at me.
“I’m… I’m sorry,” I said. “I hope… I hope you and your group can… can find comfort and strength tomorrow.”
His gaze on me was very hard. I tensed, praying I hadn’t overstepped with those words. I had merely wanted to say something kind to him after he had been so tame and manageable today.
After a moment, Nicolas took a deep breath. “Thank you,” he said stiffly.
I looked down at the floor, breathing fast, trying to keep my now-glassy eyes from leaking tears. I didn’t find the courage to look up again until he had shut the bedroom door.
I pulled the blanket tighter around myself. The distant glimmers of Hong Kong’s lights were now blurred in my sight. My jaw trembled. I was glad that Nicolas was holding a funeral for someone so important to him. Funerals had not helped me get through my parents’ or brother’s deaths, but I knew some people needed that sort of closure. I had opened this wound for him; I would be glad if a funeral could help close it.
Violet would have liked the view here. She and I had both liked the outdoors, liked hiking, liked spending our time under an open sky. She would have thrived in the heat, beneath the sun, with green mountains towering over her on all sides.
I wiped my eyes. Quit it, I told myself. What was done was done. When had life ever treated me fairly? This is just one more thing.
But it wasn’t easy to swallow that my life was now burned to ashes. Was there anyone in this city more miserable than I was right now? I glanced at the closed bedroom door. Maybe Nicolas, although it was hard to tell with him.
I’m sorry, Violet. I’m sorry, Lars. I’m sorry, Damon. I’m so sorry.
None of this operation had been my fault or my decision, but I felt terrible regardless, so terrible that I could barely breathe.
Keep beating, heart. Give me strength. Give me anything at all. Nicolas had a funeral to attend, but I had nothing except memories, now broken and scattered like the ashes that were my former life. I had nothing but recollection and words, and I couldn’t even come up with those.
I dug, I dug for anything, and another poem came to my mind.
There’s little joy in life for me,
And little terror in the grave;
I’ve lived the parting hour to see
Of one I would have died to save.
Calmly to watch the failing breath,
Wishing each sigh might be the last;
Longing to see the shade of death
O’er those beloved features cast.
The cloud, the stillness that must part
The darling of my life from me;
And then to thank God from my heart,
To thank Him well and fervently;
Although I knew that we had lost
The hope and glory of our life;
And now, benighted, tempest-tossed,
Must bear alone the weary strife.
Charlotte Brontë, “On the Death of Anne Brontë.” Charlotte had watched her three siblings die, all at a young age. Anne had been the last, dying of tuberculosis over the course of a spring season
. The love between them showed in Charlotte’s words of grief, and though her sister hadn’t been afraid of death, it was a tragedy nonetheless.
Charlotte had been left alone, and I thought maybe I could relate to that.
Eventually my jaw stopped trembling, and my tears dried. I thought of my friends again and tried to smile. I owed them love and affection and something beautiful of my own.
I’m sorry, I thought again, because I knew no other words that meant the same thing. I hadn’t thought any of this would happen, but now I was here, and they weren’t. I would trade if I could, but I couldn’t. Instead, I had to make the best of things.
I’d never forget them.
Flame was my roots, even if it wasn’t my future. I hoped my friends could forgive me for not doing more, for not being better. I hoped they could forgive me for how I was choosing to move forward. I would love them forever, and although it seemed unlikely, I hoped there truly was a better place where all of us met when this life ended.
Chapter 10
When I woke, it took me several seconds of frantic concentration before I realized that I was in Nicolas’s huge bed, the door shut and the ivory shades pulled against the daylight. Nicolas must have dredged up enough compassion to gather me up off the floor last night and bring me here, and I had miraculously managed to sleep through the night.
Had he left me alone? That seemed unlikely. Hesitantly, I pulled myself out of bed and crept to the door, opening it a crack.
Ryan was seated on one of Nicolas’s couches, his legs crossed at the ankle, typing on his laptop. He was dressed impeccably in another perfectly tailored dark suit with a vest underneath. His dark eyes met mine, and he smiled warmly.
“Fiona, hello,” he said, setting his laptop down. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Ryan Zhang.”
“Hi,” I said weakly, clearing my throat.
I debated retreating back into the bedroom, but I hesitated a moment too long, and Ryan beckoned. I wasn’t about to piss him off or disappoint Nicolas, who was probably having something like the worst day ever.
I took a seat across from him, and he poured me tea from Nicolas’s beautiful tea set—a dark, mottled blue pot with matching cups. My hands were trembling when I lifted the cup. I didn’t like unknowns. Although I didn’t understand Nicolas very well, he was less of a mystery than Ryan. All I knew about the handsome magician in front of me was that he worked for Nicolas and seemed incredibly smart and capable. He had displayed a quiet and calm personality at dinner the other night, but I had no way of knowing if that was normal for him or not.
“How are you?” he asked carefully.
“Fine,” I said, wrapping my arms around myself. “Thank you.”
He smiled. “Relax, I won’t bite,” he said, putting a placating hand out. “You have nothing to fear from me. I’m merely babysitting for the morning.”
I took a sip of tea and tried to figure out something to say. “Why… why are you here? Shouldn’t you be with Nicolas and… and… the others?”
“This is my way of supporting Nicolas. He needed someone to watch you, and part of my job is to make his life easier when I can. He has Daniel for the rest.”
I studied him carefully, wondering why this man reported to Nicolas and followed his orders. Ryan was clearly older and more experienced than Nicolas. In their brief interactions, I’d seen Nicolas treat him more like an equal than anyone else so far.
I got up from the couch and retrieved a bowl of grapes from the fridge, setting it between us and taking several small bunches for myself. Ryan did the same.
“Your magic is beautiful,” I said. “Very sophisticated.”
The layers of his glimmering magic shone in my vision, bound strongly and complexly. Nicolas and Daniel both had shocking amounts of magic swimming around them in rather raw form. Ryan was powerful, too, but his net of magic was more refined, more intricate and woven.
His attention narrowed on me. “Thank you,” he said graciously. “Are your magic detection skills intact even as a mortal?”
“Not entirely,” I offered. “I had excellent detection in Flame. It’s a little dim and muddled now, but it’s not gone.”
“Have you tried using Water magic yet?” he asked, picking grapes one by one from the stem.
“No,” I said. I hadn’t known that was an option, that Nicolas would deign to gift me magic.
“You should ask Nicolas,” Ryan said. “I don’t know yet why he’s so interested in keeping you, but I imagine it has something to do with your magical potential.”
Ha. As though I would have the courage to ask Nicolas for anything. Despite his kindness, he was still stern and impenetrable. I sat back, trying not to feel so nervous and jumpy around Ryan, trying to figure out if I could get some information out of him that might help me here.
“How long were you in Flame?” Ryan asked after another minute of awkward silence, studying me.
“Just about five years, with almost a year before that in clan candidacy,” I said. “How long have you been in Water?”
“Thirty-eight years in October,” he answered.
My heart raced. That was a long time. Almost a decade longer than I’d even been alive. Certainly people spent that much time in clans. Of course they did. High-level and pinnacle clan members had often been around for decades or longer, but they were rarer to find. You were far more likely to meet someone with only a few years in a clan, and it was equally likely that they would die or burn out far before reaching multiple decades, especially for the dangerous magics like Flame or Meteor or Wild.
“Why aren’t you a commander? Or even a lieutenant?” I asked.
“I don’t want to be,” he said, shrugging. “I know the types of people who join clans and seek out power are generally ambitious. I’m not. I have a great amount of magic, and I have the respect of people I care about. I have everything I want in my life, and being a commander wouldn’t improve that. If anything, it would paint a very inconvenient target on my back.” He laughed slightly. “No. This way, I have Nicolas to take care of those issues while I get to work autonomously on his designs and my own.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
“Why did you join Flame?” he asked.
I hesitated. “I lost my family when I was younger. My mother, father, brother, all gone. I joined Flame to find a new family, and I did. But now that’s gone too.”
“And now you want to join Water?”
“The options were death or Nicolas’s plan,” I replied. “He made a compelling argument for why I might want to give him a chance.”
“Nicolas does that to people,” he said, laughing slightly. “Every person he brings into our group is stunning and unique in their own way, and rarely are their acquisitions straightforward. I assume he’s making a smart and informed decision with you too. I’ve worked with him long enough to trust him. He deserves my trust in exchange for the trust he’s given me.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“He hasn’t told you anything about himself, has he?” Ryan asked. He paused. “I’m the one who brought Nicolas to Water.”
“Brought him to Water?” I asked, interested to know more about Nicolas’s life.
Ryan grimaced. “Nicolas’s story is ultimately his to tell, but I can say this: Nicolas is not originally from this clan. He’s from Smoke Clan, and his transition to Water was difficult. I was his advocate, and I gave him a chance here when he had nothing but a pack of Smoke magicians furiously using any means necessary to get him back. His repayment for that help was to make commander so that I could be part of his group. He trusted me on his path to Water, and I trusted him to fulfill his promises to me. I’d like to think we haven’t disappointed each other yet.”
I studied Ryan with wide eyes. He had just given me a lot of pivotal information about Nicolas.
Most importantly was that Nicolas was originally from Smoke. That told me a lot about him. Smoke was serious business. They wer
e a huge clan, rather introverted, focused almost entirely on magical research and advancement. Their members were all scientifically minded, brilliant, and often had obscure specialties. That meant Nicolas was likely a scientist of some kind, with a background far different than I would have expected from him, and he was probably incredibly intelligent and driven.
Secondly, how Nicolas had ended up in Water had not been straightforward. It had maybe even been risky or dangerous. Nicolas’s past was revealing itself to be more and more mysterious.
“You probably find Nicolas hard to read and even harder to deal with,” Ryan said, “but don’t be so quick to assume he doesn’t understand how you feel.”
I nodded. Ryan had been in a position to help Nicolas before he came to Water. I figured that made him insanely powerful and an important group member to Nicolas, perhaps even the most important. I wished I knew what he thought of me. I wished I knew how to make him like me.
“Ryan,” I said quietly, sitting up straight and bowing my head, “I’m sorry about Andres. I’m sorry about the raid. I could make excuses or justifications for it, but I don’t want to. I don’t think any of that matters. I just want to say that I’m truly sorry. I know what it’s like to lose people, and I’m sorry I contributed to that for your group.”
He studied me for a moment, then nodded gravely. “Thank you for saying that. I imagine you will quickly get tired of handing out apologies for your actions.”
“I don’t think apologies are enough,” I said, “but I have nothing else to give right now.”
He tilted his head. The look he offered me was more sympathetic than I deserved. “I’m sure you will find something with which to balance your heart.”
I didn’t say anything, unnerved and unsure as to why everyone here was being nicer to me than I deserved. Eventually, Ryan opened his laptop and resumed his work. I finished my grapes and curled up on the couch, gazing out the windows, trying not to think too closely or critically about my life.