The Complete Marked Series Box Set

by March McCarron

  She bit her lip. “Jo-Kwan is an idealist. He wants everything to be right, just. Only, his sympathies could prevent him from thinking macroscopically. Sometimes the right thing is not, perforce, the best thing. Peace and order come at a cost.”

  Ko-Jin frowned. “And if that cost is too great?”

  “Then something is broken, and there must be a change.” She shielded her eyes from the glare and looked up at him. “But there is always some sacrifice; nothing good in this life comes without a price.” Ko-Jin answered this with a grunt and she squeezed his arm. “You disagree?”

  They were making their way nearer the wreckage. Ko-Jin turned his head towards the horizon. “Not necessarily, no. But I’d rather have someone like Jo-Kwan at the helm than someone like you. Like my step-da always said: if you think things won’t turn out, you’re right.”

  Chae-Na paused, her dark eyes directed towards the foundered ship. “Shall we look inside?”

  “No,” he said. She glanced up at him with raised brows, taken aback by his curtness, no doubt. “I’d, ah, rather not. We should probably turn back anyways. It’s getting late.”

  “Very well,” she said slowly, a question still in her voice, but she meandered back up the beach with him. They remained silent for several minutes before she asked, “Is it ghosts?”

  “Hm?”

  “Do you fear ghosts? Is that why you are afraid of that wreckage?”

  “No, of course not.” He laughed. “And I’m not afraid.”

  “Oh?”

  “No.” He swallowed. “It’s just, well, a ship that size—a lot of men died just doing their jobs, there. It doesn’t seem right, to tromp all over their final resting place. Disrespectful.”

  “Ah, I see.” She darted a quick look in his direction. He had the feeling his discomfort was plainly evident on his face, that her keen gaze could easily perceive all of his soft spots. A none-too-cheering thought.

  They wended their way back up the slope, towards home. Roldon and Trevva had gone into town for supplies; Ko-Jin hoped they’d be back soon, with food. His stomach rumbled as he ducked through the trees and into the backyard of the cottage.

  Dedrre was still at it, bent over a makeshift table in the yard. He wore a pair of goggles beneath his unruly, snowy eyebrows, along with a long apron and a pair of thick gloves. Ko-Jin smiled at the sight. He looked exactly like a mad scientist.

  “How’s it going?” he asked.

  Dedrre jumped, plainly not having heard their approach. “Oh, well,” he said, waving dismissively at the jumble of metal bits at his work station. “Sometimes you must learn how not to build a thing first.”

  Ko-Jin picked up a metal disk that held six smaller rings. He closed an eye and peered through one of the narrow tubes, totally mystified how such a piece could fit into a pistol. He dropped it. “Is Roldon back yet?”

  “Not to my knowledge, lad,” Dedrre said without looking up, attention plainly returned to his work.

  Ko-Jin entered the cottage. It was a quiet scene within—Jo-Kwan hunched over a volume on the sofa. Beside him, Fernie had a book opened, but to look at him, he was merely staring at the page, not reading. Yu-Sol sat at the kitchen table, knitting. The clicking of her knitting sticks seemed loud against the otherwise hushed atmosphere.

  Ko-Jin searched the kitchen for food. He knew there wasn’t any, but he checked again anyway. He reentered the living room empty-handed.

  “Here they come now,” Chae-Na said, peering out the front window.

  Ko-Jin’s stomach responded with a loud grumble, as if to say ‘good.’

  The front door flew open and Roldon rushed inside, cheeks flushed and chest heaving. “Ko-Jin,” he shouted.

  Ko-Jin’s stomach plummeted. “What’s wrong?”

  The others in the room stood, waiting.

  Roldon panted and ran a hand through his curly hair. “It’s—we have to—I just don’t know how he could—this, this, is the last—”

  Ko-Jin gripped his friend’s shoulder. “Slow down and explain.”

  Rather than speaking, Roldon brandished a newspaper. Ko-Jin snagged it from his grip and jerked the front page straight.

  His heart hiccupped in his chest. “No,” he said, softly.

  “What is it?” Jo-Kwan’s voice rung distantly. He must have moved to look for himself when no answer was offered, as when he uttered a grim “Great Spirits,” he spoke just by Ko-Jin’s ear.

  Ko-Jin ripped through the paper, seeking the accompanying article, a list. His eyes darted through column after column of names, seeking the ‘S’s. When his gaze at last latched onto the name he sought, the name he dreaded finding, he felt a strange calm settle upon him, a deadly stillness.

  “Sung Yu-Na,” the king said, his tone cautious. “Is that your…?”

  “Mother,” Ko-Jin said, surprised at the softness in his voice.

  “My parents, too,” Roldon said.

  Yu-Sol tore the paper from Ko-Jin’s grasp, frantically flipping with shaking hands. She swore in their native tongue, her eyes flashing and mouth reduced to an angry slash.

  “We have to go,” Roldon said. “Now. We have to go now.”

  “But,” Chae-Na said, tentative. “Is it not obvious that this is what he wants? Clearly, he is trying to draw you out of hiding.”

  Roldon turned on her with a glower. Ko-Jin had never seen such an intense expression on his friend’s typically amiable face.

  “She’s right,” Ko-Jin said. Roldon rounded on him, looking angry enough to take a swing. Ko-Jin held up his hands. “We’re going anyway, of course, but she’s right. Yet again, Quade plots and we react.” His hands balled into fists. “For once, it would be just swimming if we were the ones with the plan.”

  “Then we need a plan,” Jo-Kwan said, with false brightness. “Quade may have presented us with an opportunity. There will be a massive crowd assembled for something like this, most of Accord I’d wager. Would that not be a good moment for me to reveal myself? If they see their king with their own eyes, even Quade’s persuasion should be of little effect.”

  “Unless he persuades them you’re an impostor,” Roldon pointed out.

  “It’s an idea,” Ko-Jin said. “We should leave for Accord immediately. We’ll have over a week of travel to discuss strategy.”

  He hoped some genius scheme would occur to him—in that moment, his mind summoned nothing but wordless panic.

  If his mother had so much as a bruise—he cracked a knuckle—by all the Spirits, Quade would pay.

  Bray chuckled to herself, a mug of piping tea cradled in her hands, her eyes trained on the beach below. Peer, bare back gleaming in the afternoon sun, practiced the Tearre, sand flying as he kicked and struck an unseen opponent. What caused her to laugh was the audience his exercise had amassed. Awed children, steadily emboldened by Peer’s inattention, crept closer. A Chaskuan boy with shoulder-length, glossy black hair began imitating Peer’s one-sided combat, to the squealing laugher of his fellows.

  Peer stopped, chest heaving with exertion, and grinned at his spectators. He said something Bray could not hear and beckoned with his hand. As a unit, the twelve students ran at Peer, piling on him with shrieks. Bray covered her mouth as her brother disappeared beneath the mob of children, she heard his muffled voice call, “I yield, I yield!”

  Her heart swelled, the smile lingering on her lips as the salty wind tugged at her hair. Despite fall nearing its end, the day was warm, the sky an idyllic cloud-spotted blue. She sipped her tea and tucked her legs up to her chest, wiggling her toes to shake off the sand. If she ever had a home, she hoped it was like this one. Or, at least, that it felt like this one—like a sanctuary, safely apart from the darkness of mankind.

  She’d bring Yarrow here, she decided, when all of this was over. He’d like it. They could visit her newly found family, soak in some sun, eat lots of fresh fish. Perhaps he would be interested in the art taught at the school. Yarrow was an artist, too, she remembered—he’d sketched th
ose figures of the Ada Chae. Drawn them for her, though she’d been acting like a real brat at the time.

  Bray closed her eyes and pictured him standing behind an easel in the sunshine. She imagined his hands—the long, deft fingers, stained with ink—lean forearms, the bald spot in the dark arm hair just at the bony bump of his wrist. Wonder what that bump is called. He would probably know.

  Longing hit her like a crashing wave, an oppressive desire to be near him, to hear the tenor of his voice, look into those gray eyes, have his smell in her nose. Her lungs tightened, the missing him was so strong. Easy, there, she counseled herself. He’ll know what I’m feeling and be worried. It won’t be too long, a few weeks at most and we’ll be back in Cagsglow.

  “Are you alright?” Su-Hwan’s deadpan voice inquired.

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  Su-Hwan took a seat beside Bray on the bench. Her gaze moved down to the beach, where Peer appeared to be giving six simultaneous piggy-back rides. “The children took to him quickly.”

  “Kids always like Peer. Not sure what it is about him…”

  “He’s open.” The corner of Su-Hwan’s lip twitched. “If people were houses, most of us would be boarded up. But not a Peer house; the windows and doors would never be shut.” She fixed Bray with a serious gaze. “He would be full of squirrels.”

  “How metaphorical,” Bray said with a laugh. “What kind of house would I be, then?”

  Su-Hwan faced the sea once again, a hint of amusement in her dark eyes. “A cottage atop a mountain. Nearly impossible to get to, but nice once you are there.”

  “And you?”

  “If people were houses, I would be a tree.”

  Bray shook her head with a smile, thinking this might be the most inane conversation she’d ever had. “Well, I hope your tree is on my mountain. It sounds like I’d need the company.”

  Su-Hwan smiled, though it looked more as if she were parroting the expression rather than forming it naturally. “I would like that. Thank you.”

  The sound of scampering feet on the wooden walkway made them both turn. Tenny, his copper hair bouncing and face pink, toddled up the walkway and, without slowing his momentum, threw himself into Bray’s lap. She tousled his hair and repositioned him so that his little feet sat flush with her knees.

  “Aunt Bray?” he whispered.

  She had only heard him speak a few times, as he was apparently shy of speech, so she leaned down with interest. “Yes, nephew?”

  “Are you really leaving?” He stared up at her with large green eyes, making her heart ache. She’d never had any cousins or siblings. This sudden addition felt like such a blessing, it was hard to admit she was walking away.

  “Yes, dear, we’re leaving tomorrow. But I’ve already promised your ma that I’ll visit again. When I come back, will you take me to the secret waterfall?”

  His little head nodded a vigorous affirmative.

  “Promise?” Bray held out her pinky finger.

  He, with great solemnity, looped his own tiny finger around hers and shook. She smiled and wrapped her arms around him, enjoying the clean scent of his soft hair beneath her chin, the warmth and weight of him on her lap. She’d never thought much about having children, but in that moment she could understand the appeal.

  Peer jogged up the stair, a flock of youths in tow. “Redge back yet?”

  “Not sure,” Bray said.

  Peer watched her and the boy in her arms with a half-smile. “Mad, how much that boy looks like you.” He took a seat on the bench beside her, the metallic bite of his sweat blending with the brine of the air. He swigged her tea and smacked his lips.

  The children dispersed when it became evident that Peer would no longer entertain them. Tenny pushed himself off Bray’s lap to follow, offering her only a quick wave goodbye. She experienced a small loss as he left.

  Peer brushed the sand from his legs, sending small grains raining on the boards below.

  “I dreamt of Adearre last night,” Bray said. She flicked a worried glance at her brother, unsure whether speaking of their loss would be more pleasure or pain.

  Peer paused for a moment, then resumed his efforts, moving down to his feet. “What about him?”

  “I was in the middle of a crowd but, for some reason, I couldn’t move, like something invisible was holding me down. Adearre was there, but not really there—if that makes any sense—and he kept shouting, ‘Seek the source, love. Seek the source.’”

  Peer sat up straight. “I been dreaming of him most nights. Nothing interesting, really, he’s just always there. Usually telling me I’m being an idiot.”

  “This Adearre,” Su-Hwan said, tone careful, “I never asked—who killed him?” There was a long pause, a silence only broken by the caw of the gulls and the rush of the sea.

  “Vendra,” Bray answered, the name sounding like a curse on her lips.

  Peer shook his head. “Vendra’s just the weapon.” His hand formed a fist. “Quade is the killer. It all comes back to him.”

  Su-Hwan bit her lip. “I am sorry that happened.”

  Bray patted the girl’s hand, not trusting her voice. When Redge Lolling strode up the walkway, she was grateful for the intrusion, not wanting to linger on painful thoughts any longer.

  Peer waved a greeting. “How was your—?”

  “You lot’ll want to see this,” Redge said, jogging the last few paces. He held out a newspaper, his face pale and tight. Bray’s gut clenched with dread as he handed her the headline.

  Accomplices of Rebel Chisanta to be Publicly Executed

  Pro Tem Head of State, Mr. Quade Asher, released a statement early this morning informing the public that known associates of rebel Chisanta have been taken into custody. Amidst fear that these traitors, responsible for the assassination of the late royal family, may resort to violent and desperate actions, Mr. Asher has taken proactive measures to locate and detain all those believed in league with the culprits.

  “Those who cooperate will be granted leniency; however, the harboring of traitors is itself treason and shall, in accordance with the law, warrant a traitor’s death,” Mr. Asher told reporters. As many of these accomplices are family members of the rebels, Mr. Asher will stay execution for one month’s time, giving these rogue Chisanta sufficient opportunity to turn themselves in. “Pardons will be offered to all accomplices of a guilty party, should said party surrender themselves.”

  Mr. Abbort, Head Constable of Accord, called Mr. Asher’s move “a swift, decisive action, necessary to preserve the safety of Trinitas citizens.” He added, “Unpleasant though it be, one must pull the weeds to save the flowers.”

  A full list of the 176 individuals taken into custody can be found on A11.

  Bray tore through the paper, seeking A11. The list filled an entire page, recorded alphabetically in three columns. She bit down on her inner cheek as her eyes flitted up and down, many familiar family names leaping off the page. Her stomach dropped when she came to the long line of Lamharts. But it was a name just slightly further down the list that made her heart stand still in her chest: Rance Marron.

  Peer’s fingers squeezed her shoulder as she stared in mute horror. “Your uncle?”

  She bit her lip. Her heart took up beating again, with force and speed. Sweat bloomed at the back of her neck. She felt, suddenly, dirty, sullied, just by reading the name. The idea of actually seeing him again, of looking into those icy eyes. Not just seeing him, but saving him, for that was the choice Quade had presented her. To save her sorry excuse for kin or let him die. She couldn’t say, in that moment, which of them she hated more—Asher or her uncle. Heat suffused her veins.

  “I told Benson to hold the ship for you. He’s down at the dock, waiting. He can take you to the port at Ucho Nod. Figured you’d need to cut your trip short,” Redge said.

  Bray looked up at his concerned face and some of her anger deflated. “Thank you. Yes, you’re right; we must leave at once.” The words sounded sad even to her o
wn ears. She spared a sweeping glance for the island, the waves lapping rhythmically on the sandy shore. Six of the children had set about building a sand castle, though in its early stage it better resembled a mountain.

  Brief though it had been, their time in Jedoh had proven a rare respite. She sincerely hoped she could, as she’d promised, return.

  Their departure was, out of necessity, a hasty one. Their limited belongings were gathered. The Lolling family, along with all of the students, walked with them down to the pier.

  Bray embraced Ellora and whispered in her ear. “I will not reveal your location, so don’t worry.”

  She sensed the woman nod and released her. Tenny tugged on the skirt of Bray’s dress and she gathered the small lad into her arms, stealing one last nose-full of his clean scent. “Don’t forget your promise, nephew,” she said.

  He bobbed his head, red curls dancing in the wind. She smiled and lowered him back to his feet. Peer, with difficulty, extracted himself from the horde of children pleading with him to stay, and the three of them walked up the ramp onto the small skiff that looked very much like the one that had borne them to Jedoh in the first place.

  With Peer and Su-Hwan on either side, she leaned against the rail and waved a final farewell as the vessel coasted out to sea.

  “What’re we going to do?” Peer asked, whether as a rhetorical question or to point out their lack of a plan, Bray could not say.

  “He is drawing us out, all of us,” Su-Hwan said, her black brows drawn down. “He must believe his trap infallible, or he would not risk it.”

  “We have a month to think of something…” Bray said, cringing at the hopelessness of her own words.

  “It is obvious, is it not?” Su-Hwan said. She turned with eyes wide, her straight hair whipping in the wind. “He has given us the perfect opportunity. There will be a massive audience at a public execution. If I can just get close enough to remove his gift, to show the people his true face…”

  A grin spread slowly, like a dawning sun, across Bray’s face. “Brilliant!” She grabbed the girl’s shoulder and gave it an approving shake. “Have I mentioned how glad I am Peer brought you along?”