Kingdoms of Ether (Kingdoms of Ether Series Book 1)

by Ryan Muree

  All asses and elbows, there was a jumble of bodies doing Goddess-knows-what in that room.

  “Hey!” he shouted.

  She gasped and shut the door, squeezing her eyes closed. “Sorry! I have a plan. We can make a whole lot of money. Enough to get out of here,” she shouted through the metal.

  Two voices not belonging to her brother spoke, but they were too muffled to hear properly.

  “I’ll be out in a minute,” he said.

  She smiled. She could fly, and he could shoot. They’d be fine.

  Chapter 9

  Spare cabin — Zephyr Airship

  Emeryss entered her cabin, and Adalai tossed her the materials they’d gathered on their way back from the kitchen.

  Reaching for the knob to close it, Adalai waved her on. “Get changed, and I’ll give you a tour. Deal?”

  She smiled as Adalai shut the door, leaving her in the dark, cold, metal cube. There wasn’t a window around her, and the faint blue light above the sink was only bright enough to see what she had to.

  It didn’t matter. Standing in a brightly lit sterile room wouldn’t have pulled her from the haze that followed her from the kitchen.

  When she’d woken earlier to find Grier already gone, she hadn’t been surprised. Before, however, she’d assumed it was frustrating him that he had to share a room with her. He’d been scolded for merely being in her room in Stadhold, but now…

  Grier’s empty bed before her was as hollow as the echo from her footsteps, while his words repeated themselves in her mind.

  I’m here, aren’t I?

  Had he meant he was there fighting to get her back to the library…? Or that he was there fighting for her because she was what he wanted…?

  No. Maybe. No.

  For a year, he’d never acted like that was the case. He’d never said anything as much. He couldn’t have meant it that way, right?

  Her fingers sought the thin necklace at her collarbone. She kissed the circular emblem representing her goddess and took a deep breath. He’d chosen to come along, and she had to accept that. She was being silly worrying about every word he’d just said like a young girl with a crush.

  When she got back to Neeria she could forget him, too. Just like Scribing and Avrist. She’d find someone more her type, and Grier could go on to live in his perfect Keeper world. There had been very strong and able young men in Neeria before she’d left. And one she’d even been serious with. She had too many great things ahead of her to worry about it.

  But…

  Her fingers went to her cheeks. His eyes had said there was more between the lines being said. He’d made it look painful telling her that. But what did that mean going forward? Nothing?

  Nothing…

  She shook her head. Nothing, because nothing could be done, nor would he allow it. Her choices about her life were exactly that—hers—and she couldn’t make his for him. So, what was she going to do?

  She held out the uniform.

  There was only one thing to do—steer her own boat. She wasn’t going back to that nightmare. She wasn’t going to change her current plan, and Grier’s decisions were his.

  First order of business: a uniform. A real Revelian Army Caster uniform. She squealed and threw off the top layer of her raclar. The lump of fabric—a beige-gray, boring lump—floated to the floor.

  Her eyes wandered to something shiny against the brushed metal in the corner. It was Grier’s armor, meticulously set out in some sort of order. She ran her fingers over the smooth pieces and lifted a corner.

  Spirits, it was heavy. It clunked as she set it back down.

  She stood and caught herself in the mirror above the sink. Under her raclar, she wore a black romper with a matching sash around her waist and long sleeves. Should she wear it underneath the uniform or remove that, too? She held the new cloth against her body, and a memory crashed over her, bringing the salty sea air.

  She was ten, and she’d been arguing with her mother about her clothes, about how she and her siblings had all looked the same. She’d wanted something different to wear.

  “What does it matter what you wear?” her mother had said. “You’re still Emeryss underneath.”

  “But then I’m just like them. There’s nothing special about me—”

  “You know very well there’s nothing special about any of us. We live and die the same. Blessed life to a blessed night.”

  She’d muttered the same prayer in response, as was customary.

  Though her mother had been right, the sea oracle had changed everything when she’d called her name from the edge of the waves. “I’ve found your destiny, Emeryss! I’ve found your destiny!”

  She would be a Caster. She’d known it. She’d felt it. She’d heard it at night when she could almost see the ether in her dreams. She’d wished on falling stars and every midnight hour of every birthday that she’d wake up a Caster the very next day.

  But the old woman had scried through her golden pearl and revealed that Emeryss would only be a Scribe—the first of their people.

  She’d forced a smile and asked the woman if she could try a second time. “Scry again, please. I want to be a Caster.”

  The old woman had tried once more before giving up. “You ask for too much. You’re a Scribe, child, and nothing else—”

  Nothing else. Those words had crushed her, and she’d pushed at the table between them in an attempt to jump out of her seat and run back home. The table’s leg had snapped, sending the whole thing over and into a small goddess shrine, eliciting a shrill from the oracle.

  Emeryss stared down into the Zephyr’s metal sink, and two tears fell.

  She’d been ashamed at her outburst and cried for days over hurting the sea oracle’s holy items. But even then, in that dark Caster airship, she knew she wasn’t just a Scribe. It was inside her to be something else, no matter what the rest of the Revel thought, and there was no ignoring that part of her.

  She lifted the new suit up against her body. It might be just another uniform like her raclar, but it was a Caster uniform, and that was one step closer to changing her destiny.

  Lifting her chin, she stripped out of her underclothes. The cool, dry air on her bare skin made her shiver, so she stepped into the navy-blue suit. Thickly woven and smooth, it was still light enough for her to move freely. From toe to wrist, the sleek fabric breathed when she walked. The yellow and white patch on her shoulder had two wings and a curl at the bottom like a tail.

  In the mirror, the uniform hid nothing. Her curved figure, her neckline, even her arms were there for everyone to see. She fixed her grandmother’s silver hairclip in her hair to tame the wilder strands away from her eyes.

  The door pounded. “You done yet?” Adalai’s muffled voice echoed through the door.

  “Uh, yeah.”

  Adalai walked in with Tidbits at her feet and clapped. “That’s much better. Now you don’t look like an algorin waddling on some ice. But hold on.”

  Adalai walked up to the far wall behind her and placed her hand against it. Thin lines lit bright pink, and metal pieces split and slipped up into the wall. A large stormstone window was revealed, letting all the light and warmth beam in.

  “Sorry. RCA ships aren’t really made for… you know. You’ll need Grier to open yours, but they’ll close on their own at night.” She motioned for her to turn around. “I’ll zip you up.”

  Emeryss did as she was told and moved her hair aside. “Thank you, Adalai. You have no idea what this means to me.”

  Adalai snickered. “It’s just a suit, but yeah, no problem.”

  “No, I mean, everything.”

  “Well, if I can help, I want to. Someone once gave me a hand and pulled me out of a hol-shit’s pit, and I’d like to do the same. I’m not making any promises, but you should know I don’t give up easily.”

  Emeryss couldn’t hold back her smile. “Me either.”

  “Good.” Adalai zipped her up, and then draped an extra-long piece o
f cream-colored cloth around her neck, like an open robe with no sleeves. The ends fell to either side, nearly to her knees. Adalai cinched them tightly to her waist with a matching sash.

  “You either have to cinch the overlay at the waist or gather it in the back. It’s regulation. Do you mind it this way?”

  She shook her head. “What do you do?”

  “Most women cinch it; most men gather it in the back. I like to cinch mine or it gets in the way.” Adalai adjusted the pieces on her shoulders. “Now, during missions, I don’t wear the overlay at all.”

  “You don’t get in trouble?”

  She waggled her thick eyebrows. “Not yet. Guess they don’t care as long as I do the job, right?”

  Emeryss smiled. “Do you change your hair often?”

  Adalai pushed some red curls from her face. “As often as I like. It’s a perk, I guess, for being able to disappear and create illusions.” She then pointed to the boots she’d brought with her. “Those are yours, too.”

  Worn with scuffed tips and slightly frayed laces, they slid on easy.

  “Looks like they fit.” Adalai leaned back against the sink. “They’re Sonora’s. Her old ones, but still. Ready for the official tour?”

  “Yes.” She was more than ready.

  Adalai smiled back and urged her on. “Let’s go then. We’ve got people to meet and things to do!”

  They entered the dark corridor where there was nothing more than the pale-blue glow from ether-lamps running lengthwise along the walls and ceiling. The clomps of someone in heavy boots echoed toward them.

  Adalai peered her head around. “Who in the world—?”

  Emeryss’s chest squeezed. She knew that clomping pattern. Grier.

  Sure enough, he turned the corridor and stopped short. He briskly evaluated Emeryss from boots to crossed arms. “You’ve already… changed.”

  She curled her shoulders a little, feeling even more exposed now that Grier had seen her. He’d never seen her in anything other than her raclar, and his response, his blank expression, wasn’t comforting.

  “What do you want to complain about now?” Adalai bit at him. “Wanna argue about her hair not being regulation length?”

  “I—” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know what your uniform regulations are, and even if I did, I’m not that strict. Ask Emeryss.”

  Adalai pursed her lips and lifted a shoulder.

  “I’d forgotten to tell you, Emeryss, that Avrist is on his way,” he continued.

  Her heart fell. “What? Where?”

  “To Delour.”

  “You—”

  He lifted his hands. “I contacted the library to tell them we were safe. I asked them to send Dolan, or—”

  “Asked them to send? You led them right to us? To me?” She couldn’t believe it. Last night when she’d said that Grier could tattle on her like a child, she hadn’t thought he would actually do it.

  “You can’t run from them, Emeryss, and it would only look worse if we lied. They decided to send Avrist.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t believe this—”

  “The good news is that if they’re sending Avrist, then there’s a good chance he wasn’t on that ship last night.”

  Okay, but that didn’t change the fact that she wanted to go home. That she didn’t want to return to the library.

  Grier swallowed. “He’s agreeing for us to meet—”

  “What?” she breathed. “Agreed to meet? I’m not—”

  “I know, but he’s going to keep following you, and what will you do? Just keep running?”

  “Yes.”

  He took a deep breath. “Right now, the news outlets haven’t caught word of what happened last night. Adalai was right…” Adalai smirked, but he continued. “No one knows right now, but if we keep running, if you keep trying to evade Avrist, someone will notice. The Librarian will have to get involved personally. They won’t stop, and your life and your family’s life will be infinitely more difficult.”

  Her heart pounded against her rib cage. She wasn’t going back to the library. She couldn’t go back.

  Grier stepped a tiny bit closer with his hands still raised. He was trying to talk her down. He hadn’t believed any word she’d said about being a prisoner or how cruel Avrist truly was.

  “I spoke to Avrist on the Messenger, just now, and he agreed to meet in Delour to talk. Just talk. If you are willing, we need to discuss—”

  “We?”

  “All three of us. He needs to be honest. So, I’d like to speak with him, help share your concerns—”

  “You really don’t believe me about him?”

  “I do—”

  “He doesn’t,” Adalai said.

  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m trying to help. I’m going to offer that they allow me to escort you home in exchange for you returning—”

  “I’m not going back,” Emeryss said. “I told you—”

  His eyebrows drew in together. “Even if they gave you everything you asked for?”

  He wanted to negotiate with them, and she hadn’t considered that was even a possibility.

  “You can’t deny that Revel and Stadhold need you,” he said. “Even if you’re not a Scribe forever. You can tell him you’ll only return if they allow you to go home more and get the chance to spend time with others your own age. Would you at least agree to talk about that?”

  “What happened to the rules?” Adalai asked. “Don’t tell me you had a sudden change of heart?”

  His eyes flickered to Adalai before returning their focus on Emeryss. “You were right. I would try to convince you to come back to the library, but they are being unjust.” He took a deep breath. “I want you to be happy, too, but I also want you to be safe. I shouldn’t have expected you to give up everything you want. I still think the rules are important, but they’re making exceptions to their own rules by keeping you back and not letting you go home. I figured, if they need you more than you need them, then the least they could do is make a deal with you. I think they should compromise.”

  Adalai huffed. “And you get…?”

  “To protect Emeryss.”

  “And your job, and your future…” Adalai listed them on her fingers.

  But he was right. He was looking for the best possible solution between them. Her goal was never to cause a catastrophe or a headache for him or Adalai and the Zephyrs. She definitely didn’t want to bring Stadhold down on Neeria. She wanted the freedom to go home when she wanted and to be a Caster to leave for good.

  If the Messengers weren’t discussing her escape, then it was likely Avrist wouldn’t do anything crazy in Delour. Having a talk wasn’t giving up those things, and it might help Grier see how Avrist had treated her.

  “You really think he’s willing to listen?” she asked.

  His chest rose and fell. “He’s logical, and as I said, they need you more than you need them. It’s in his best interest to hear you out.”

  “And you’ll be there?”

  He nodded. “Of course.”

  “As will I,” Adalai said. “So, if either one of these bastards gets any ideas, we already know how to escape them, right?” She gave Grier a disapproving stare, but he met her with one of his own.

  “Okay, yes,” Emeryss said. “I’ll talk.”

  If anything, it was to show Grier how much Avrist hated her.

  Grier exhaled.

  “I won’t be much help training you in only a few days,” Adalai said.

  Emeryss smiled. “Then I’ll negotiate future time with you as my teacher?”

  Adalai pointed at her. “Sounds like a plan. All right, Grier, as Emeryss’s Caster teacher, we accept your offer to discuss things with the library—” Grier opened his mouth, but Adalai lifted a finger. “The Zephyr is my team’s ship. I’ll open the cargo door and kick you out faster than you can open your stupid book. Now, if you promise to keep any other rules to yourself, I’ll let Emeryss decide if you can come
along on our little tour.”

  Grier closed his mouth, folded his hands behind him, and looked to Emeryss.

  She bit her lip. “I don’t mind, but can we turn on some more lights or something?”

  Adalai lifted her chin to the ceiling, “Hey Sonora, can you get Jahree to open the corridor windows?”

  Tidbits sat at her feet nibbling on her own paws.

  After a brief silence, metal parts of the wall moved out with a whir, split vertically in several places, and then slid up into the recess of the ceiling like the room did, revealing large windows from top to bottom on both sides of the corridor.

  “Entire walls of stormstone!” Emeryss placed her hands against the cool, clear walls. It still amazed her that it could be made whenever necessary. She’d grown up coveting palm-sized pieces of green- and blue-tinted stormstone on the shoreline.

  “You mean the glass?” Adalai asked “Yeah, it’s easy to come by. Casters make it, you know?”

  Together, they observed the early morning. Bright white fluffy clouds with golden tips stretched for miles under a clear, blue sky. Emeryss couldn’t see the library or any of Revel either.

  They both turned to find Grier solidly in the middle of the corridor, staring down at his feet.

  “What’s wrong?” Emeryss asked. “Don’t you want to see?”

  He swallowed, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not a fan of heights.”

  “What?” Adalai scoffed. “But look how high we are. It’s like we’re birds. We could plummet to our deaths at any moment. Don’t you want to see the edge of the world—”

  “Stop.” He fidgeted with the hem of his padded shirt.

  Emeryss shook her head. “But you stand on that bridge every day to look at the sunset with me. You jumped from that window to chase us out of the library. You leaped onto a flying airship…”

  His jaw tightened and flushed pink.

  I’m here, aren’t I?

  Her heart flipped over.

  “Let’s get you properly introduced to the others.” Adalai picked up Tidbits and started down the corridor. “When we get to Delour, I can’t have you guessing names when you’re supposed to be part of us.”