by R. M Garino
“A victim? What are you talking about?”
“It is apparent that Arielle is the victim of Kal’Parev’s trickery.”
“What?”
“He has forced a unity on her. He has stolen Arielle from herself, and from me.”
“You’ve lost your fecking mind out there in the wilderness! You’re talking nonsense!”
“As far as I know, forcing a unity on someone is the worst kind of rape, and illegal. She may not want to be with me anymore, but I will not allow my Arielle to be treated in such a fashion.”
Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger.
“What if he did not force her?” she said. There had to be a way to get through to him.
Logan waved the thought away. “It is irrelevant. She is far too young to consent to such a thing. It is the same as being forced.”
“But it was okay for you to talk about an engagement to her?”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“Firstly, it was talk,” he said. “They were preliminary discussions for when she came of age. Besides, I had most of those talks with her father.”
“What if . . . what if neither Angus nor Arielle initiated the unity? What if it just . . . sort of, happened?”
Logan’s expression told her what he thought of that idea. It was not worth indulging in speculation.
“I will bring my suspicions to the proper authorities,” he said, calm and confident now that his course was set. “And this is, actually, within the bounds of my vow, because I am acting in the best interest of royal House Tu’renthien by protecting them from a potential scandal.”
He of course made sense, and he would have a semblance of revenge to appease his ego. Trenton would laugh him out of his office, but that might be the cure he needed for his delusions.
“What about Ba’ril?” she said.
“I will soothe things over with Ba’ril,” Logan said. “He was not so upset by my intrusion. I can play that off as an over exuberance of pleasure at seeing him. I think he is more upset by what he revealed. You have no idea how besotted with Arielle he is. He actually believed that he had a chance with her when he discovered she left me.”
“That explains a lot,” Gwen said. “I should have seen it myself.”
“Yes, you should have. As their captain you need to know what drives them. And believe me, thoughts of Arielle drive Ba’ril like a whip.”
“Don’t sound so smug, Logan,” she said, pushing him away and focusing her words with cruel intention. “You now have as much of a shot as he does.”
“I beg to differ,” he said, offering her an easy, satisfied smile. “I am nothing if not persistent. Besides, the pledging ceremony will be held to honor my return from the Sur. Arielle will, of course, pledge to our House, as Rhen’val always does. She is driven by her sense of duty and the standards her family has set. Once she is a member, Kal’Parev’s silly little injunction is moot. He cannot stop me from interacting with my own vassal, nor can he prevent me from working toward what I perceive to be her best interest. In reality, Gwen, I think I have a much better “shot” than Arielle or Angus believe I have.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN
Running in Circles
Arielle lay snuggled against Angus on the couch in her apartments. Try as she might, she could not shut out the world as much as she would like. Her gaze continually sought the clock on the mantle, gauging how much time they had left before having to return to the barracks. How nice it would be to stay here full time. The soul lights were set low to match their moods, and a pleasant gloom hid most of the space, save the candle on the side table.
It was a wonder that they were alone, and yet still clothed. It felt like they spent every free moment together pawing at each other. They had attempted a tryst while working late at the A’gist, but the constant intrusion of Myth and Fae, not to mention the other lo’el, made the process a non-starter. They’d been forced to wait until they’d left the pastures to continue. Thankfully, they had intimate knowledge of a secluded spot nearby.
Now, however, she was content to lay her head upon his chest and listen to his breathing as he read. He had not said a word about his encounter with Logan two days ago, but their Pride – and the rest of the complex - was talking about little else. She had to admit that she was impressed with the way he’d ordered the situation, even if she was annoyed that he’d acted without her knowledge. When she broached the topic, all he said was she need not worry; Logan would not be a problem any longer. Unless she wanted to see him, he would leave her alone.
And that kept her thoughts turning over and over. Did she want to see Logan at all? She did not want to be with him. She did not love him as she thought she once had. But she did not hate him, either. She was worried about him, and the trials he was about to undergo. He and the other Yearlings would leave through the Vale of Sorrows, and would enter a portal that led to the Sur, where the Apostate Tarek waited for them. For three days they would traverse the Sur, seeking the Gate that would take them home. There was no more dangerous task in all their training. Every year there were candidates who never returned. Those who did were irrevocably changed. They were no longer the same person. They were Elc’atar.
First, Logan had to survive. The way she’d treated him the other day might impact his ability to rise to the demands of the task. If she knew him, he would be focused on their relationship, and his jealousy of Angus. Not to mention being humiliated in front of his peers. Logan excelled when faced with adversity, but he had tasted defeat so seldom that he did not know how to deal with it. Beneath his proper and perfect façade, there were doubts that lurked which threatened to paralyze him. If he failed to return, she would blame herself. He needed reassurance, but the only people he’d let past his guard had been his sister, and Arielle. He would need her so he could properly prepare for his trials.
But she had little desire to argue with him. All she could think of when she saw him, when she heard his voice, was what was.
The second half of the problem was his return. He would be different. The Logan she knew would be gone, and there would be an Elc’atar in his place. His arrogance would be multiplied by his success, but what else would be magnified? His cruelty? His sense of ownership of all he saw and desired? Logan then would be an adversary that her Pride could not stand against, regardless of Angus’ apparent victory. He would find a way to hurt them, to make them pay.
So, which would be the worse fate: to die in the Sur, or to have him return and begin his campaign against them?
“Why are you doing this to yourself?” Angus said. He lowered his book, Herodotus tonight she noticed, marking his place with a finger. He smoothed her hair from her face.
“What do you mean?” she said, propping herself up on her elbow. The couch was small, and made more so by the two of them lying on it.
“You made your decision an hour ago, but you keep going over and over it in your mind. You’re running yourself in circles, darlin’.”
“Oh?” She rested her chin on chest.
“Go and see him,” Angus said. “If he needs you that badly, go.”
“But you told him not to have anything to do with me.”
“I told him that so he wouldn’t stalk you wherever you went.” Angus shifted his weight, pushing himself up against the pillows so he was sitting. “I never said anything about you seeking him out. So go.”
“You’re serious.”
“I wouldn't say it if I didn’t mean it.”
“Just like that? After all your maneuvering you’re fine with me going to see an old boyfriend?”
“I didn’t say I was fine with it,” he said. “I don’t like it at all. And I don’t care one bit about what Logan damned Fel’Mekrin desires, or if he ever escapes the fecking Sur. I’m sure my life will be a lot less painful if he doesn’t survive. But you need to do this, and that I do care about.”
Arielle wiggled her way of
f the cot and bent to retrieve her boots. She gave him a quizzical smile. “You won’t be listening in, will you?”
Angus smacked her bottom. “No, I won’t,” he said, frowning. “But I’ll be there in a heartbeat if you need me.”
Arielle finished putting on her boots and stood. “I won’t,” she said, “but thanks.” She bent over and kissed him, longer than she truly needed to. It might do him well to have a bit of reassurance. “Remember to lock up when you’re done. Be out by Close.”
She opened the door to the hall and blew him a kiss. He was still smiling a troubled half smile as she closed the door.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
Make Them Remember
Your Name
Logan tried not to brood, but it was difficult. He paced about in his spacious set of rooms. It sufficed for him to give vent to the tension building up within him. He really should sleep while he had the chance. He entered the Sur in mere hours now. But how could he sleep? Arielle was bound to a unity, of all things. An affair, he could forgive, but this… this was something he could not work around. That he had been publicly out-maneuvered by a damned Kal’Parev was even more galling. He could accept the situation if it had been a Le’Manon; they were known far and wide for their tactical prowess. Some of the finest Elc’atar he had served under had been Le’Manon, and in his experience, they earned every inch of their reputation.
But a Kal’Parev?
They were known for being stubborn and intractable. They had no special focus to their training, nothing to separate them from every other Areth’kon style except the ability to take a punch. House Mer’Chien taught their students unarmed combat, and their members were deadly with either hands or feet. House Fel’Mekrin taught the sword in all its different permutations. They were, in Logan’s opinion, the very epitome of the Areth’kon. His House taught the Blades how to use their blades. House Rhen’val was the noblest of all Houses and possessed their own, secret teachings. What did Kal’Parev bring? Nothing. Their supposed ideals of honor were a laugh. Honor did not win battles. Integrity did not allow a soldier to survive a war.
And what of this vaulted “principle” Kal’Parev supposedly had in such abundance? Where was the honor in how Angus had manipulated and humiliated him? Deceit was a more appropriate term. How else could one describe forcing an oath of fealty under duress? And that was only the tip of his duplicity. Angus had connived to attach a unity to Arielle, effectively enslaving her and stealing her away from him.
Three days, he reminded himself. I will return from the Sur in Three days, and I will be able to avenge myself on him in a million tiny ways. And his actions would be above reproach. How often had an Elc’atar been called out for mistreating a scrub? Never. They held the thread of their lives, and they could snip them if they wished. He could even take her as an apprentice, should he chose. Three days, and he would finally ascend. He had spent a lifetime in reaching this height, and the nearness prevented him from sitting still.
The knock at his door brought his pacing to an end. The hour was late, and he had spoken to all whom he deemed worthy. He moved to the door, and extended his senses as Mason had shown him, trying to read the energy signature on the other side. For all he knew, this could be a part of the trials. Mason had been vague in a maddening sort of way as to the preparations. He detected no malice through the door, but he did sense nervousness. Gripping the hilt of his weapon, he moved to the door. Whoever had touched it while knocking would leave an imprint.
He could detect nothing. Without another option, he opened the door.
Arielle stood in the hallway, her gloved hands folded before her. The unexpected sight of her left him unable to speak for a moment. He simply stared.
“I am not accustomed to standing in doorways,” she said, trying to peek inside when he did not invite her in.
“Please,” he said, shaking his head. He stepped away, and waved in a grand gesture of welcome. Arielle swept past him. She studied the suite, taking in the spaciousness, the furnishings, the layout, and the exits. He was disappointed that there was no trace of the awe he had expected to see in her. Restraining a sigh, he remembered that she would have access to her own apartments by now, and being a Rhen’val, they would be grander than his own.
She wore two swords now, one at her waist, and one at her shoulder. Her clothes were rumpled, as if they had been slept in, but otherwise they were clean. Her hazel eyes gave an indication of fatigue, but her face was scrubbed and her silver hair brushed.
“You changed your hair,” he said.
Arielle touched her loose mane, giving him a nervous glance.
“This is an unexpected surprise,” he said. “I did not think you would visit.”
She wore a melancholy expression as she studied him. “I could not let you face the trials without speaking to you,” she said. “You caught me by surprise earlier. I was shocked to see you, and the lo’el were picking up on that. I do not have the control I need with them yet. But I am learning.”
“You are learning a great deal it would seem,” he said. “I watched the projections of you during the Gauntlet while on tour. To say that you were impressive would be to downplay the deed.”
He offered her a chair, as well as a sampling of the delicacies he had sent up. She declined them all with a slight shake of her head. At least she had not picked up that horrid Kal’Parev accent his sister loved so much. He was also relieved to see that her corruptor had not removed her sense of proper behavior.
“How do you feel about the upcoming test at the Menace?” he said. “Are you concerned?”
She did not respond, and the conversation stalled.
“You should not be,” he said. The silence was uncomfortable, and he felt the need to fill it. “I heard about the incident at the Pit, as well. You will do fine.”
“How are you, Logan?” she said. Her concern, at least, seemed genuine.
“I am well,” he said, offering her a smile. “I am, however, surprised that you are here.”
“Why is that?”
“You had not heard?” He set a tea service on the table between them. The pot was still warm, not as hot as he would have preferred for quickroot. Had he known she was coming, he would have prepared better. “I was forbidden to speak with you.”
“But I was not forbidden from speaking to you,” she said.
Was that a touch of humor in her voice? “So you found a way to side step the injunction. That was very resourceful of you.”
“You make it sound as if I slipped away from a captor. It’s not like that at all.”
“I would expect you to say something of that nature,” Logan said as he poured the tea. “You would have to believe that everything was your own choice.”
“What are you talking about?” she said. He offered her the first cup, but she made no move to take it.
“Why are you wearing gloves?” he said, instead of answering. He set the cup in front of her on the table so it was within easy reach should she desire it.
“I would think that was obvious,” she said.
Logan sat back in his chair, holding his cup just beneath his nose. The fragrance calmed him. He would be of no use to her if he lost his temper. She was the victim here, he reminded himself. He would not take his rancor out on her.
“My clairvoyance,” he said. “A sensible precaution. My only information will be that which you tell me. I seem to have miscalculated Kal’Parev’s merits, yet again. This is a subtle touch.”
“You are talking nonsense,” Arielle said. “I chose to wear the gloves because I do not wish to hurt you any more than I already have. The last thing you need is for me to leave impressions on every item.”
“Exactly.”
Arielle looked away for the length of a heartbeat.
“Come out with it,” she said. “Whatever it is that you have convinced yourself of, please, stop playing with words and tell me.”
“If that is your wish,” he said. He placed hi
s tea on the table, sliding to the edge of his chair. “I think Kal’Parev has manipulated you. He has corrupted you, and he has even bonded you in a unity against your will.”
Arielle’s laughter echoed through the room, and the suddenness of it made him recoil. She actually threw her head back in an excessive display of mirth, exposing the contours of her neck. Logan’s expression darkened, and he reclaimed his cup to give himself something to do.
“I’m sorry, Logan,” she said, as she fought to control her laughter. “I had not expected such an inventive interpretation.”
“How would you construe everything, then?”
Her laughter faded as she regarded him, though the smile still remained on her lips.
“I love him,” she said.
Three simple words, uttered in such an unaffected tone, crumbled the firm foundation of belief he’d formed. His cup tipped, and a small dribble of liquid escaped the rim, patterning a design on the pristine white of his shirt. He made no move to wipe it away.
“Again,” she said, “I am sorry. I did not come here to hurt you in any way. But I do want you to understand things as they are. I am fully aware of what I am doing, for the first time in a very long time, and I am in full control of my own mind. What you are describing is beyond anything even an adept Magi could accomplish. Angus was still an apprentice when he left Reven Marthal.”
Arielle took the cup from him. She passed him a linen napkin, which he held in limp hands. She was not a victim? Then that meant . . .
Logan lunged out of his chair, knocking it over in the process. Arielle did not start. She sat very still, following him only with her eyes.
“This is your doing?” His voice was rising in pitch and volume, but he could not help it. “Manipulation I could take. But collusion? Never! You have betrayed me! After all I have done for you, all I have given you, you betray me!”
Arielle’s movements were slow and precise. Her sin’del was pulled tight against her, preventing him from reading her with any accuracy. He had watched in disbelief as she had performed the Satyagarha during the Gauntlet, a feat even he had not yet mastered. She seemed prepared to enter that state again.