by L. Penelope
Lizvette sat back on her heels, stunned. She’d done everything she could to win her father’s respect. She had nearly been the princess of Elsira. She would have served the role well, no matter what her heart wanted, and it still would not have been enough. What more did he want from her?
Traitorous tears burned the borders of her eyes, but she would never let them fall. Instead, she stood abruptly. “Do you know where he is, Uncle?”
Rodriq shook his head and stared into the distance. On the bookcase behind his desk was a framed photograph of the two families. Father, Mother, and her, standing stiffly for the formal photograph along with Rodriq, his wife, and their two young sons, who were now off at boarding school in Fremia.
“I have not seen him in months,” he said, voice flat. “You would be better served going to Fremia to serve your exile there. Searching for your father is a fool’s journey. I have never before believed you to be a fool, Lizvette. Am I wrong?”
A tick in her cheek jumped involuntarily. “I am sorry to have disturbed you. Thank you for your time.”
She left the room quickly, allowing the door to slam behind her. The maid who had led her in was nowhere in sight, and Zivel and his man stood still as statues. When she marched down the hallway, they followed close behind.
She wrenched open the front door. The dull glow of the sunlight filtering down through the smog surrounding the city reached her, along with the noise and the peculiar odor in the air. A wave of nausea struck her, but she pushed it down. Tai and Darvyn buzzed on either side of her asking questions, but the rushing in her ears drowned them out.
Uncle Rodriq had always been her salvation. His kindness had carried her through the times when Father had ignored her and Mother had been too busy with the demands of high society. When their cold disregard made her resolve crack, a considerate word from Rodriq had made it better. And now he seemed to share her parents’ low opinion of her. Why? What had happened?
She was no closer to finding Father’s location, so perhaps she was as useless as he’d always claimed. The warning he’d sent in the amalgam bird had not even been for her, it had been for Mother. True, Lizvette was on house arrest and unable to leave the palace, but the message had not been a greeting or an apology over her current situation. One that he had led her to. No, it was merely a warning for his wife that he was about to do another terrible thing for which he felt no guilt.
If her father was a monster who could have had a hand in the murder of innocent people worshipping in a temple, what did that make her?
Her eyes felt bruised from holding back the tears. She clenched her fists around her skirt. Real exile still faced her, and shame surrounded her. What had made her think that she would be able to do this? Find Father and bring him in? Prove her loyalty? Perhaps she was a fool after all.
When a single tear escaped her eye, she did not even wipe it away. It lay there, a badge of dishonor and failure to go with all the rest.
* * *
Lizvette’s brittle exterior was beginning to scare Tai. He knew she was tightly wound, the way all the upper-class citizens tended to be on the mainland, but now she vibrated with tension. Yet alarm still filled him when a tear escaped her eye. What in Myr’s name could have driven her to tears?
Darvyn frowned, also studying Lizvette. She didn’t answer either of their queries. It was as if she couldn’t hear them. The two ruddy Elsiran military men stood off to the side next to the vehicle.
“What did he say?” Tai asked for the second time.
Finally, she shook herself out of the fog enveloping her and stumbled. When Tai caught her arm, she jumped. He removed his hand quickly. Frightening her hadn’t been his intention. She swallowed and smoothed her skirt, appearing to be obsessed with the pleating.
Darvyn moved them out of the way as the sidewalk filled with pedestrians. “What happened in there?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Nothing. He told me nothing.”
“Do you think he knows anything?”
Her bottom lip quivered so slightly that Tai thought it might be his imagination. When he blinked, the shudder had stopped but something in Lizvette’s eyes had dimmed. Their amber depths were pools of sadness. How had he not recognized that before? They truly were windows to her soul and told a tale of sorrow he wasn’t ready to hear.
“You were right, Master Summerhawk,” she said. “We should locate and investigate a Dominionist meeting. Perhaps we’ll have better luck.”
Tai shook his head. “No, I think you were right. If he shut you down so sharply, he must be hiding something. We just need to figure out what.”
Darvyn looked up abruptly. Perhaps the man’s magic clued him in to Tai’s plans. It was obvious this uncle of Lizvette’s had upset her, and for some reason, Tai couldn’t let that stand.
“What is going through your mind? Your face is full of mischief.” Lizvette’s brow furrowed dramatically in the prim, demure way that he expected from her. That was better. Anything but that loss and hopelessness.
His face split in a huge grin. “Sometimes it takes a bit of mischief to get things done.” He spun around and headed for the steps to Verdeel’s town house. Protests rang out behind him, but he was deaf to them.
Instead of ringing the bell or picking up the heavy door knocker emblazoned with a fish wrapped around a tree—the Elsiran symbol—he pulled at the latch, which no one had bothered to lock after Lizvette’s exit. With a glance over his shoulder at his dumbfounded companions, he entered the darkened interior of the home.
The hallway stretched out before him, quiet as a tomb. He’d thought these fancy folk would have their homes lit with every electric bulb they could afford. The coolness of the marble beneath his feet sunk in through the thin soles of his boots—better suited to the surface of his ship than the halls of the wealthy. He cocked his head to the side, listening as he walked silently down the hall. A clanking in the kitchen caught his attention, but the thumping from a room off to the side was likely what he sought.
He stopped in the doorway of a finely decorated office watching an Elsiran, who must be Verdeel, stuffing papers into a briefcase. The man looked up, startled, as Tai entered and closed the door behind him.
In the distance, footsteps approached. Darvyn and Lizvette must have decided to join him. He didn’t necessarily want them to see this, so he locked the office door.
Verdeel’s eyes rounded, his cheeks blew in and out like a fish’s.
“Where is Nirall?” Tai asked, cracking his knuckles. The world believed Raunians to be nothing more than brutes and pirates, and Tai had used this to his advantage before. Oftentimes, soft, rich men like this needed only the threat of violence to part with their valuables. Information was all he sought this time, but he was certainly no saint.
“I-I have no idea. How did you get in here? Who are you?” he sputtered.
“Scream for help and this will end badly … for you.”
The door rattled behind him. “Tai,” Darvyn said quietly.
“I’ll just be a moment,” Tai answered in a proper-sounding voice. “I’m having a conversation with Master Verdeel here.” He turned back to the man who was now red-faced. “Just a little easy conversation where you tell me what you said to Miss Nirall to make her so upset and why you wouldn’t tell her where her father is when it’s clear you know.”
The ambassador sputtered again and backed away, keeping his briefcase against his chest as a shield. Tai took another step forward until Verdeel was flush against the wall with nowhere else to go.
“Where. Is. He?”
The men were nose to nose, and Tai raised his arms to cage in the shorter man. When Verdeel didn’t respond, Tai placed his forearm on the man’s throat and pressed, closing off his windpipe.
“Tai.” Darvyn’s voice was in the room, directly behind him now. He could smell the light scent of Lizvette’s perfume, as well. Fresh and clean with a hint of fruit.
She would be horrified, of course. Then a
gain, this was who she already thought Tai was so what did it matter? They all must play their roles.
He pressed against Verdeel’s neck even harder. The man’s red face turned purple. He sputtered a few words, and Tai let up.
“Ready to tell me what I want to know?” Menace dripped from his voice.
The man nodded. “M-Meeqal was b-blackmailing me. He’d discovered some information I didn’t want shared and swore me to secrecy regarding his location, forcing me to keep it from the Elsiran Intelligence Service. I thwarted their investigation.”
“So he is here in Yaly? In Melbain?” Lizvette asked from behind him.
“Y-yes. He’s here,” Verdeel confirmed. “Though I don’t know where. He contacts me when he needs something. I have no way to contact him.”
“Did you know about the temple bombing?” Lizvette’s voice trembled.
“What do you mean know about it? I heard of it on the news.”
Tai stepped fully away from Verdeel, and the man sagged, coughing dramatically. Tai rolled his eyes.
“But not before it happened?” Her voice was stronger now.
“What are you saying? No, of course not.” Verdeel straightened his suit coat as if insulted at the idea. “Who are these people, Lizvette? What further trouble have you gotten yourself into?” He glared at Darvyn, but his gaze wisely stayed away from Tai.
Lizvette shook her head. “You and Father are the oldest of friends. He confides in you. You must know something else.”
Verdeel let out a humorless chuckle, raspy from the pressure on his throat. “That friendship died the moment he threatened to go to the authorities on me. Self-preservation, Lizvette. That is what is needed in this world, not your misplaced loyalty. If indeed that’s what it is.” The venom in the man’s tone made Tai step toward him again, scowling, enjoying when he shrank back against the wall.
Tai turned to find Lizvette’s eyes wide and pained. Verdeel’s words had hurt her. He still could not fathom why this made him want to strangle the man for real this time. He moved to the cold fireplace to gather his thoughts, tightening and releasing his fists.
Lizvette looked around the room as if lost before turning toward the hallway. “Captain Zivel?”
Verdeel’s eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”
“Captain? We need your assistance in here.”
“You’re really going to turn me in, child? What of the loyalty you spoke of?”
She looked over her shoulder and snapped, “I’ve had a change of heart.” Then she turned her back on the man she’d called uncle.
When he made as if to speak again, Tai took a step forward. “Don’t talk to her. Don’t talk at all.”
Verdeel clamped his mouth shut. Tai turned back to the fireplace and leaned against the mantelpiece. He beat his fingers against the wood to calm the rage that had again risen. A shiny, polished chrome vase on the mantel allowed him to see a reflection of the room behind him. Lizvette went into the hallway to speak with the Elsirans in low tones. Darvyn stood in the center of the room, his arms crossed. Verdeel was trying to surreptitiously slide his briefcase behind the bookshelf to his right. Tai let the man think he’d succeeded. There was something in there he was obviously trying to hide.
Lizvette led the Foreign Service agents into the office. “Ambassador Verdeel must be placed into custody.” She motioned to the man in question. “The three of us are witnesses to his confession of obstructing justice and aiding a suspected traitor to the crown.”
Zivel produced a pair of handcuffs and approached Verdeel. “We should inform the Melbain police as a diplomatic courtesy,” he said. “They will likely want to hold their own investigation.”
Lizvette tapped her lips. Tai could practically see the gears turning in her mind. Would the involvement of the Melbain police scare off her father? “That’s fine,” she said after a moment. “Call them.”
Zivel moved to the phone to place the call.
The police arrived shortly thereafter, and the house staff gathered in the hallway to watch the commotion. While the lead officer held Lizvette’s attention, Tai slid across the wall to retrieve the briefcase from its hiding place. Darvyn’s sharp eyes didn’t miss a thing, but the Lagrimari man said nothing.
The police stayed to search Verdeel’s home, though the Elsirans escorted the ambassador out in handcuffs. He would be taken to Elsira for trial.
“Do you think we can trust that Zivel fellow?” Tai asked on the cab ride back to their hotel.
Lizvette shrugged. “Jack—I mean, the king does. Besides, he’s dealing with the Melbain police directly, to keep them away from us. That will be helpful.”
“You handled that well, Lizvette,” Darvyn said. A blush was her only response.
“Yes, very coolheaded, duchess.”
Lizvette’s bashful expression changed to a frown. “What did you take from the office?” she asked.
“You saw that, did you?”
She pressed her lips into a thin line and stared at him.
“He was stuffing things into it when I arrived for our … chat. I think it may hold something of interest.” He grinned and readied himself for her reprisal.
But she surprised him by merely crossing her arms and peering out the window at the dusk falling around them. “That was quick thinking, Master Summerhawk. Your presence on this mission is becoming easier to understand.”
While not exactly praise, it shocked Tai to the core. He could come up with nothing else to say for the rest of the ride.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Walking barefoot on the sand, Ayal stepped upon a shell that sliced her foot open. Her cries of pain brought the people to her, but as they were the prized of the Weaver, Dahlia the Healer would not come.
—THE AYALYA
Ella gasped and clutched Benn’s hand as the shuttle bus careened around a curve in the dirt road. Her alarm was not at the driving skills, or lack thereof, of the elderly Sister at the wheel, but at the number of protesters teeming outside the refugee camp. The group had doubled in the past few days.
Scores of angry people, shouting slogans and carrying signs, crowded the perimeter of the parking lot. A pitiful few soldiers were all that stood between the demonstrators and the camp.
The bus was met by a contingent of grim-faced Sisters, with Sister Moreen at their head. Prospective parents filed off the vehicle amidst the clamor of “Keep Elsira Elsiran!” from less than one hundred paces away.
Ella kept her hand in Benn’s as they followed the Sisters deeper into the camp, until the shouting turned into a muffled murmur. Her chest remained tight as they entered the same large tent she’d visited before, where once again the orphaned children were seated in sober rows.
A slow smile spread across her face when she spotted Ulani and Tana, seated near the back. Ella tugged Benn forward, eager to greet the girls, when Sister Moreen’s sharp voice brought her to a stop.
“Today you will have supervised visits with the children to ensure your suitability as parents. Please gather here to be matched with your chaperone.”
Sucking in a breath, Ella checked her enthusiasm. She was glad the Sisterhood was taking care in placing the children, even if it collided with her eagerness. But when she met the Sister who would be overseeing her interaction with the girls, her spirits took a nosedive.
“Sister Gizelle, what a surprise,” Ella said through clenched teeth.
Gizelle’s eyes narrowed. But her expression smoothed when she turned her attention to Benn. She looked him up and down with a gaze just shy of lecherous. “You must be Master Ravel. I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure.” She held her hands out to Benn for a greeting. Ella gripped her husband’s hand tighter.
Taking the cue, he ignored the young woman’s outstretched hands and bowed to her instead. He was well aware of the history the two women shared.
Gizelle chuckled and dropped her arms. “We take our duty to the orphans seriously. We must be certain that our adoptive famili
es are of the highest moral character, as I’m sure you can understand.” Her voice oozed honey.
“And I’m certain you’re the perfect person to judge high moral character.” Ella’s words were tipped in frost. They had the desired effect of wiping the smugness from the Sister’s face.
“It isn’t at all clear Mistress Ravel—excuse me, Mistress Farmafield—whether a foreign citizen is even permitted to adopt in Elsira.”
“Well, since the children aren’t Elsiran, I don’t see why an exception can’t be made.”
Gizelle tilted her head. “Laws are not made to have exceptions, I’m afraid. It’s what separates us from the animals.”
Ella geared up for a retort when Benn’s deep voice broke in. “‘Laws writ by men contain all the flaws of man. The sun needs no law but to shine.’” Ella stared at him.
“Book of Her Reign, chapter nineteen,” Gizelle murmured. She straightened her shoulders and looked around the room. “Well, let’s get this over with.”
Ella grinned at Benn. Leave it to him to defuse a situation with something a Sister couldn’t argue with—scripture. Still, it would be so easy for Syllenne, and Gizelle by extension, to deny her the ability to adopt the children as retribution. Had she gotten her heart set on something destined to be impossible?
Nerves fluttered on delicate wings in her midsection as she approached the table where the girls were sitting ramrod straight, barely moving a muscle. She’d never seen children be so still and take up so little space, but all the young Lagrimari present seemed to have mastered the technique.
Ella folded herself onto the cushion; it took Benn a bit longer because of his bad back. She smiled at the girls. “Do you remember me?”
Ulani nodded, but it was Tana who spoke. “Ella.”
“Yes, and this is my husband, Benn.” She brushed her hand across Tana’s forehead, then Ulani’s. Turning to Benn she said, “This is how you greet someone in Lagrimar.”