The Fractured Empire (The World Apart Series Book 1)

by Robin D. Mahle

  Or has my trust been misplaced? I thought. Am I just a bad judge of character?

  The deal with my father suddenly seemed even more incredibly stupid. How was I supposed to navigate the murky waters of politics? At least as The Director's daughter, I could just ignore everyone I didn't like. As a princess, I'd have to exercise discretion and diplomacy, which I didn’t appear to be capable of.

  It was one of those nights where every mistake I had ever made was at the forefront of my mind. My sleep wasn't helped by the monstrosity around my neck tugging and clinking with every movement. That this cursed necklace replaced the familiar weight of my locket only made me more resentful. I thought about Nell’s story earlier and something occurred to me.

  My hand went to the artifact. Was this the cause of the explosion? Am I wearing the object that ripped my family from me?

  Bile rose in my throat, and I tugged frantically at the necklace, knowing it was in vain. No tears dripped down my cheeks, but my breath started coming in gulps and gasps in my efforts to keep them at bay.

  Why won’t it come off?

  A strong hand covered my own, stilling the frenzied motions. “You’re hurting yourself.” Clark’s quiet tone caught me off guard.

  He was right, I realized. The back of my neck felt raw and chafed. I touched my free hand to it and winced. The evil thing had cut into my skin. I supposed that was my fault, but it certainly didn’t endear me to the golden parasite.

  Clark’s thumb gently rubbed along my wrist where he held me. I was sure he could feel my racing pulse through the vein there. Still, the gesture was unexpectedly comforting, and I found myself wanting to lean my face into our joined hands. As soon as that ridiculous thought occurred to me, I returned his hand to his side with a small squeeze of gratitude. I had managed to return my breathing to normal, and I didn’t want him to feel obligated to console a woman he didn’t even like. Besides, I couldn’t afford to accept his comfort, not if I wanted to stay strong enough to make it through this ordeal.

  There didn’t seem to be anything else to say, but the silence was nonetheless growing awkward. I wanted to kick myself for allowing him to witness that moment of weakness.

  I was grateful when an unexpected ripping noise put a stop to the mental tirade. I glanced around, confused. Until the smell reached me. Oh. Xavier must have been a heavy sleeper indeed to not have been awakened by that rather spectacular sound. For that matter, Gunther was closer to him than I was, and hadn’t stirred. Impressive.

  I would not laugh. I was an adult, and most of the time, a lady. The sound of Clark’s breathing told me he was still awake to bear witness to my immaturity. I focused on evening my breathing, pushing down the giggle trying to tear its way from my throat.

  An even louder rumble reached my ears. I tried to hold my breath, both because I now knew a terrible odor would be shortly wafting my way and because I thought it would help me stifle my laugh. That was a mistake.

  A gasping snorting escaped me.

  Had Clark heard?

  “Really?” His low voice reached my ears. “Is the highest society girl in all of Ceithre actually laughing because my brother broke wind?”

  Is that amusement in his tone? I had never been good at deciphering these things. In any event, his question did me in. I laughed loudly and richly, a sound that startled even me. Maybe I was cracking under the pressure of the day, but I couldn’t get myself under control. Every time I tried, gasping for air, I only laughed harder until tears were streaming down my face. Finally, I composed myself.

  “Have you managed to get a hold of yourself?” Clark asked.

  I had until he asked that. I dissolved into another fit, and this time he laughed with me. I wondered if it was always like this with them, flatulence and bloody noses and sleeping in the same room just to have each other’s backs.

  Another wave of sadness crashed over me. I was a mess tonight. This time, it was Clark’s voice that interrupted my melancholy.

  “He wouldn’t really kill you, you know,” he said. “Xavier,” he added when I didn’t respond right away.

  I laughed. “Are you sure about that? I think he nearly killed us all just now.”

  Clark chuckled, but answered seriously. “He’s just protective, that’s all.”

  “And he considers me a threat to your safety?” The ridiculousness of that struck me. I was easily half the size of Xavier, and even Gunther towered over me.

  “Not exactly,” Clark hedged. “I’m just saying, if that’s what’s keeping you awake, don’t worry about it.”

  “It wasn’t, but thank you anyway,” I said, not meaning it half as ungratefully as it came out.

  He sucked in a breath like he was about to say something, then stopped. “Well, I’ll let you get some rest then,” he finally said.

  I wondered at my chances of that at this point. The minutes slipped by, and just as I despaired of getting any sleep at all, I found myself lulled off by the rhythmic breathing of the boys. Even Clark had finally fallen asleep. It reminded me of being in my sister's bed, and I finally allowed myself to relax, turn on my side, and succumb to the waiting darkness.

  Something was wrong. I tried to figure out what had pulled me out of my comatose-like sleep. A noise? It was quiet now. I rolled onto my right side to see Gunther and Xavier still sleeping.

  Not them. There was a sudden movement and a noise behind me. I flipped over to find Clark thrashing and grunting. Is he having a nightmare?

  It didn't seem to fit the self-assured man I had spent the last day with. He stilled, and I waited. Then there was another violent movement, and he cried out.

  I hesitantly placed my hand on his arm, gently shaking him. It was hard to make out in the dark, but I thought his eyes popped open. Lightning fast, there was a painful iron grip on my arm. I stayed perfectly still, not wanting to startle him further.

  "Clark," I said evenly. "It's Addie."

  He didn't respond or let go of my arm, and I wasn't sure what else to say, so I repeated myself softly. A moment passed in stillness, then he abruptly released me and heaved himself away, breathing heavily.

  "Wha—" Clark began, then cut off. He wiped a hand over his face. "Addie." He paused. "Adelaide?"

  "Addie is fine. Or Adelaide. Kensington,” I added, like that mattered right now.

  He flinched a little, perhaps still caught in the throes of whatever demons he'd been facing. I wasn't a stranger to that, but it failed to give me insight on how to help now.

  "Addie," he repeated. "Adelaide Kensington. Of course. Sorry. You should get some rest." He left his sleeping bag and headed for the basement. I hesitated, feeling like I should go after him but having no idea what I would do or say if I did.

  "He'll be fine. It's been a rough few years, especially for Clark, but I'm sure he just needs to be alone right now." It was Gunther's quiet voice. Xavier was still breathing evenly, oblivious to the woken world. "He'll be fine," Gunther repeated.

  I wondered if he was saying it more for himself or me. Either way, I laid back down. I managed to drift back to sleep as I listened to the faraway sounds of fists relentlessly attacking a bag, wishing I had any outlets that were half that healthy.

  The Renegade

  The nightmares had started the night after I nearly met my end in that warehouse. It turned out my brothers had never bought my story about going on a walk that night. They had followed me with enough distance to avoid being seen.

  It was galling that their mistrust, so deserved on my part, had saved my life. Still, it had been weeks before I could get out of bed, and months before I could train again. Back then, the nightmares came every night like clockwork. Bleeding out on the floor, a masked man standing over me, the sure feeling of death encompassing me. Sometimes, it was my father's face. Other times, I was wearing the mask, and it was one of my brothers lying on the floor.

  They came less often now, but they were no less haunting than they had been that first night.

  Cha
pter Eighteen

  Clark

  I was exhausted. I had finally dragged myself back upstairs and managed to pass out for a couple more hours after battering the bag in the basement. Faint light had been streaming in the window, and I got a rare glimpse of Addie's unguarded face before I fell asleep.

  Despite being the last to bed, I was not the last awake. Xavier had that honor. Gunther had popped up predictably early, and apparently Addie, also. I guess that meant it was up to me to wake the dragon. I sighed, then nudged my snoring brother with my foot.

  "Xav, we've got things to do."

  Nothing. Years of training hadn't made him any easier to wake up. I kicked him maybe harder than was strictly necessary, and this time yelled his name. He cracked open one eye, his expression murderous, and I left while he fumed his way awake.

  The smell of coffee wafted out from the kitchen. That was good. We would all need it. I found Gunther and Addie sitting at the kitchen table, steaming cups of coffee in front of them. Addie's dark hair was rumpled with sleep, and Gunther's fire engine curls were sticking up every which way. I noticed he hadn't put his gloves on this morning yet.

  Interesting.

  I was relieved when Addie said nothing about the night before. Not that I cared what Sebastian Kensington's daughter thought of me, but I did have my pride. I did catch her glimpsing my bruised knuckles a few times before she joined Gunther in the kitchen.

  I poured myself a cup of coffee. Gunther was watching me out of the corner of his eye, not too subtly, with his lips pressed together tightly.

  Odd… I thought as I took a sip… and promptly spit it back out.

  Gunther smirked. "Addie made the coffee this morning," he said with a trace of laughter in his voice.

  She glanced up from her own cup, face reddening slightly. "It's not as easy as it looks."

  "It's fine," I assured her untruthfully, forcing myself to choke down a sip of the tar-tasting beverage. I must have made a face, because she laughed out loud, the sound rich and infectious. Soon, we were all laughing, until Xavier stomped into the room. We got ourselves under control just in time for him to ask if there was coffee, and then we lost it altogether. His scowl only deepened, the harder we laughed.

  Finally, the laughter tapered off. Addie good-naturedly poured her coffee out and rinsed the pot. She set it in front of Gunther and watched him intently while he cranked the coffee bean grinder, then carefully measured out the grounds and poured the water over them. What resulted was much more palatable, though Addie — clearly bewildered — insisted he had done nothing differently than she had.

  It was like laughing last night had awoken an entirely different person than the spoiled, haughty heiress we had been stuck with yesterday. I wasn’t sure I trusted this new version of her.

  Xavier set to making us all porridge, and it was time to discuss the situation at hand.

  "We need to get to Alpina Island," I said.

  "I've been thinking about that," Addie commented. "And I've come up with a plan."

  Addie's plan was terrible. She was incredibly vague on the details, but even by my standards, what I had gotten out of her was risky. Unfortunately, it was our only real option. After Xavier was predictably suspicious and Gunther asked all the logical questions, it boiled down to the fact that she refused to stay in the safe house and couldn't risk being seen on the Sea Train.

  Xavier kept insisting we take her back to the MOHP base, but that was even worse than her plan. I had no idea what they would do to get that necklace and was a little surprised he even suggested it.

  Finally, my brothers went back to base while Addie and I followed through with her half-cocked idea. Xavier said they had to get back to base and cover for me before we were considered AWOL. I shoved down my fury at the confining ties Xavier had pushed on all of us, comforted only by the knowledge that our contract was nearly up.

  The sea glittered in the morning sun as our taxicab wound its way up from Third Sector to Second. It had come down to the risk of being recognized by a lone cab driver versus the likelihood of running into Peace Keepers if we took any other route, so I had reluctantly agreed to the cab. Addie's disappearance was still under wraps, so civilians wouldn't pose any threat to us. And the driver must have been used to oddities, because he hadn't blinked an eye at her somewhat unusual ensemble.

  We rumbled across a planked bridge that crossed the river part of the Northern Falls. Central Island had two main waterfalls, a northern and southern, both stemming from a lake that was fed by water which was siphoned up through the center of the island on a continuous loop. They followed the tiered sides of the island in a waterfall, river pattern until they spilled out into the sea.

  The bridge spit us out into downtown. The sight filled me with nostalgia. My father used to take us here during the week when the crowds weren’t so suffocating. He had avoided heavily-populated places whenever possible after the war. We passed a bakery that looked familiar.

  “I didn’t know that place was still open,” I said out loud.

  “Francesca’s?” Addie asked. “Of course, it is. I’m surprised you know it. Here I thought all you did was work on your muscles and brood about things.”

  “So, you’ve noticed my muscles?” I quirked an eyebrow at her and flexed my chest.

  She rolled her eyes. “Please, I think you notice your muscles enough for the both of us.” She smirked.

  I couldn’t help but laugh.

  Traffic ambled along the wide circular street that made up downtown. Being in a taxicab with Adelaide Kensington wasn’t quite as bad as I had anticipated.

  “You said still. Have you not been here in a while?” She asked after a moment.

  “No, we’ve been training in the outer islands for a few years. Before that, I lived here for a couple of years, though.”

  “I wish I could have left the last few years, too.” For a girl who seemed to have the world at her fingertips, the comment surprised me. Before I could ask her about it, she turned to the cabbie.

  “Stop here, please.”

  Her command startled me. We were only in second sector, and her plan allegedly involved the Palace. We had stopped in the heart of downtown, right in front of the enormous Picture Palace. The marquee was somewhat dimmed in the early morning, but you could clearly see the name of the picture show playing at regular intervals. It was bordered on each side by an endless row of shops that spanned the entire city block. The theater was the only portion of building without stories of housing above it.

  "You love birds enjoy your day," the cabbie said with a wink. There were few reasons for couples to go to a dark theater at this hour, so I couldn't blame him for his assumption. Apparently, neither could Adelaide.

  "We certainly will." Addie tugged on my hand, sending me a pointed look. "Come along, darling. We'll miss the show." There was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes.

  I was a little surprised at her uncharacteristic lightheartedness, but I played along. "Oh, of course, my heart," I said, hamming it up as I paid the cabbie.

  Once we stood up, I pulled her in closer with an arm around her waist, and her eyes widened briefly. I chuckled softly at her discomfort, but she surprised me again by leaning into me. There was a challenging gleam in her eye. We stayed like that until we were behind the closed theater doors. Then she dropped my hand without ceremony.

  The entryway was nearly empty, the morning matinee not being a popular show time. There was a lone ticketer at the counter, looking bored in his crimson vest and matching hat. Addie waved to him, and he waved back in recognition. He didn't seem surprised when, instead of heading to the counter, she led us to a side door marked "employees only."

  We made our way down an empty hallway until we came to another door, this one with a gleaming red Exit sign. Then we were behind the theater in a narrow alleyway with no visible entrances. That must have been why we came through the theater. Across the way was a row of doors leading to townhouses that had been built into t
he mountain. This was where the owners of the shops or their employees would live. She pulled a keyring out of her ridiculously tiny bag and unlocked the one closest to us. The townhouse was full of ancient, dusty furniture, but otherwise appeared deserted.

  We walked down a series of hallways, this building going surprisingly far into the mountain. Though there was almost no chance anyone was here, Addie looked all around us before dragging me into a closet at the very back of the townhouse and shutting the door. Darkness enshrouded us while I fished a tiny flashlight from my pocket. At this point, I had no idea what to expect, so I wasn't especially shocked to find an elevator. The barred entrance was locked, but she turned to another key on her ring and opened the rickety gate.

  "We're getting on this thing? Will it even hold our weight?"

  "Really? Is the big bad soldier scared of an elevator now?"

  I glared at her, though she had already turned back around, and followed her into the death box.

  The Heiress

  My mother and sister had been dead for weeks. Perry had come by a handful of times, but neither of us had known what to say. Amelie had been the puzzle piece that connected us all together.

  My father - I had quit thinking of him as Papa sometime in the weeks that passed - had his own plans. He told me, through Locke, that I would be spending the day at the palace. It was summer, and I had no classes. I had had every intention of spending my day in bed, so I balked at the idea, but Locke was as adamant as my father.

  I threw on a dress and dragged a hairbrush through my wavy locks. I wasn't allowed to wear cosmetics yet, but looking pretty was the least of my concerns anyway. I didn't even want to go.

  Perry met me at the car. He wore casual clothes and a tentative smile. I wonder if he knew then what I didn't, that I was the next girl to be thrown at him. Our conversation was halting and stilted. I wasn't making it easy on him. Then, he started talking at length about the history of the castle. At first, I thought he was being boring on purpose, but he mentioned passageways and secret corridors. In spite of myself, my interest was piqued.