Kingdoms of Ether (Kingdoms of Ether Series Book 1)

by Ryan Muree

  His face soured. “He wouldn’t say one thing and do the complete opposite.”

  “But what if he does?”

  “And what if he doesn’t?”

  “Well, what if the Librarian herself shows up?”

  Grier pulled his chin back. “Then, I guess, we’re all going to talk. The Librarian isn’t some distant authority figure. If she shows up, it’s because she cares. I know you don’t get to see her much, but she’s busy and has a lot on her shoulders. Her coming along with Avrist would be an honor. It’d mean she’s taking the situation seriously.”

  The ache in Emeryss’s head passed for a brief moment and was replaced with a dizzying lightness. She gripped her stomach as it rolled. Acid burned the back of her throat, but she pushed it back down.

  Reaching an agreement with Avrist could mean the difference between happiness or always running from Stadhold. It could mean honor to her people or disgrace. Everything had to go well or the entire attempt to leave would have been for nothing. Everyone would have risked their lives to help her for nothing…

  “Emeryss, are you really okay?” Sonora blinked her dark eyes.

  She nodded shakily.

  “Try again,” Adalai said. “You can do it.”

  She repeated it all, focusing on the ether on the page, imagining it prying itself up and going into her palm. Her hand quivered.

  Nothing was coming up, and the air was thickening in her lungs.

  What if all of this work, every tiny sign that she might be able to cast anything, had been for nothing? The other Casters had been toddlers when they’d experienced similar things, and then never as poorly as this.

  Warm tears fell down her cheeks, and she coughed and coughed. No, she was choking.

  “Emeryss! It’s okay. Open your eyes!” Adalai’s voice broke through her wheeling thoughts.

  The sensation slipped away, and her concentration finally broke enough that she lost her balance and nearly tumbled.

  But Grier was there, catching her and helping her upright before her knees ever touched the stone. When she righted herself, his frown deepened, and he backed away.

  Her legs were jelly. Her head hurt worse than ever, everything hurt in fact, but she swallowed and lifted her chin. “I’m good. Let’s do it again.”

  Tully laughed some more.

  “Don’t get overwhelmed,” Adalai said. “And ignore Tully.”

  Tully picked at the edge of the grimoire in her lap. “Scribes must have it pretty damn easy for her to act like this. This is clearly the hardest work she’s ever done.”

  Adalai rolled her eyes, but Emeryss’s hands continued to shake.

  Maybe it was the exhaustion or the nerves of what Avrist would bring, but she’d had enough. Tully’s critical remarks, her clear disdain. Tully could sit on a spiny piece of coral and get over it. Emeryss marched right up to Tully, wobbly legs and all. “You realize that I am Revelian like you. Neeria is part of Revel, and I had an entire life before I moved to Stadhold.”

  “Sure, Neerians have it so hard.” Tully had said the name of her people like Avrist had, like they were nothing more than an annoyance.

  “You don’t think I’ve had to work?” Emeryss shouted. “You don’t know real work. Something doesn’t go your way, you can reverse or speed up time, or whatever. But for me? Us? My way of life was more work than your pretty little books could ever hope to do!”

  Tully snorted. “Neerians live on a beach paradise. Don’t start.”

  “Beach paradise?” Her fists clenched. “Do you honestly think we lounge on beaches all day in near zero-degree temperatures? Are you seriously going to stand here and tell me my home is a paradise when you’ve clearly never been?”

  “Doesn’t change the fact that this must be the hardest work—”

  “Not that I owe you any bit of an explanation, but you’ve never had to spend an entire day pulling in trawls and cages, each one as heavy as Grier, until your back and arms felt like they were going to break.”

  Tully grimaced at her through thick, black eyelashes.

  She took a deep breath. “If you had, you’d know that’s the only way Neerians eat. There’s no sigil for it. There’s no waving your hand and something appears. And if it was a bad season and the cages were empty, you would have done all that work for nothing.”

  “You look well-fed to me,” Tully quipped. Sonora chastised her, but Tully stood and lifted her chest with an expression as smug and know-it-all as ever.

  Fury roiled in Emeryss’s gut. “We weathered storms you’d swear were only in your nightmares, with winds and rain that sliced bark off the straw trees. I’ve built homes and roofs with my bare hands. I’ve fought the waves for shellfish in the dead of winter. I had to learn how to take down bull flyingfish by throwing a harpoon at them mid-jump. I’ve watched giant sea creatures suck entire fishing boats under, and then I learned how to ride on others just as big. I’ve had calluses so terrible, my mother had to submerge my hands in warm greatfish fat for hours just so I could bend them. I know hard work; it’s in my blood.”

  “I’ve never seen you throw a harpoon,” Grier said.

  Though he’d said it more curious than condescending, she didn’t need him to join in and make things worse. Not now.

  “I’ve never needed to use one around you.” She returned her focus to Tully, who was still scowling and tossing her impossibly straight black hair over one shoulder.

  “And you think that makes you special?” Tully half-laughed. “You think you deserve some special treatment because of all that? I don’t care what you’ve done. It’s not honorable. It’s pathetic. First Scribe of your tribe, you should be so lucky—”

  Adalai began herding Tully toward the door. “Shut your tart-hole and go.”

  Emeryss fumed. Heat burned in her chest as Tully turned her shoulder away from Adalai and back toward her. “What is wrong with you?” Emeryss asked. “What did I ever do to you?”

  “Besides nearly getting us killed and risking our jobs? Your people are a drain on Revel’s supplies—”

  “We don’t need grimoires—”

  “No, but you can’t defend yourselves. Your people don’t contribute to the rest of Revel. Neerians don’t even have to help fight this stupid war that we’re all killing ourselves over. You should be grateful the universe lets you scribe. Learn your place, dirtfish.” She turned up the stone path to head back into the airship.

  Shock and hurt thundered against Emeryss’s heart and froze her feet in place.

  She hadn’t heard those words since Avrist used them before she left. Fringe groups, outraged and offended that a Neerian had somehow produced a Scribe, had started calling her “the first Scribe of her tribe” when she was only twelve years old. Her mother had told her other Revelians used tribe to delegitimize their presence, to make them feel smaller, more primitive.

  And dirtfish was even older. She’d only heard her grandmother recount stories of being called that in her youth. It came from the fish that picked up scraps from the bottom of the ocean. The worst tasting, uglier kinds of fish. The ones that survived by scavenging off others.

  Despite always taking the high road, this time she wanted to grab Tully by a fistful of her hair. She’d even extended the fingers on her left hand to do it, but a cool metal rod slid against her palm instead. She immediately gripped it and looked down. A javelin.

  Grier crossed his arms. “It’s not a harpoon, but it’s the closest thing I have.” He gestured at Tully.

  She followed his stare. Tully’s back was to them as she was nearly at the observation deck door and gone. But Emeryss wasn’t going to throw a javelin into Tully and kill her. That’d be insane.

  “The book,” he muttered.

  Tully carried her grimoire in her right hand. Perfectly square and thick with a predictable swinging motion, the book was an easy target. Not to mention it wasn’t that far away.

  The door to the airship slipped open, and Tully stepped inside.
r />   “Emeryss,” Adalai started. “So, I love taking bets, but this…”

  She lifted the javelin into position, aiming with her right index finger as her father and uncles had taught her. She pulled it back, and with as much force as she could muster, threw it toward Tully.

  Adalai and Sonora gasped as it whistled through the air between the closing doors, pierced the grimoire in Tully’s hand as it swung behind her right thigh, and pinned it into the metal wall of the airship.

  The doors closed, and Emeryss took a breath and smiled to herself.

  The doors slid back open two seconds later.

  “What was that?” Tully burst. “Go ahead and be pissed about how much I don’t like your stupid girlfriend, but you don’t throw that shit at people. What is wrong with you, Keeper?”

  Emeryss stared her down. “I did it. I missed on purpose. Don’t ever speak to me that way again.”

  Tully’s lip curled so high, Emeryss half-expected her to growl. She finally huffed all the way back into the Zephyr.

  Sonora exhaled.

  “Okay,” Adalai laughed. “That was freaking incredible.”

  Grier bit back a smile.

  “Tully’s face was almost worth all of it,” Adalai said. “But seriously, even that was too close for me. Tully is a jelted hopper shit, but next time let me report her to Orr before you kill her. Otherwise, he’ll kill me if the time Caster dies.”

  Emeryss smiled. “Next time, I’ll give you more warning.”

  Adalai grinned. “I really think you made progress today. I mean, the sigil isn’t up, but you lifted the page, and you’re obviously doing something right to be this physically tired.”

  That wasn’t exactly a compliment, but she’d take it. Any bit of progress, even as pitying as that, was something.

  “Emeryss?” Sonora held out a thin grimoire. “Would you mind trying to get me a few more sigils before tomorrow?”

  A lump formed in her throat as her heart squeezed. A deal was a deal—she had to scribe for them. She tried to hide her frown. “Sure, I’ll get started on filling the other books, too.”

  The sun slipped away off the horizon, leaving her in the blue glow of her and Grier’s shared cabin. Her eyes were taking a while to adjust after the several hours of filling the empty pages of books Adalai had stolen from the library.

  She closed the last cover and slid the grimoire on top of the small pile beside Grier’s bed.

  The door creaked open, and Grier stepped in. He was running a small, dry towel through his damp hair. He wore some random dark-blue shirt the color of his eyes and a pair of pants she didn’t recognize. He smelled like m’ralli groves in the autumn when their leaves turned deep purple and curled in on themselves.

  It was heavenly.

  “You want to swap bunks?”

  She hopped up from his. “Sorry. It was just easier to work here.”

  He shook his head. “No, it’s fine. We can switch if you want.”

  “No, really—”

  “Are you okay? You feel okay?”

  She nodded. “I feel better.”

  He nodded, too, and they stood there in the dark silence for several moments.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve had to share a room with someone.” She smiled, but her words had come out more nervous than she’d intended.

  He grinned and backed himself up against the wall. He seemed eager to gain distance from her, and she wouldn’t press it.

  “Imagine if Lerissa saw us now?” She laughed, but it came out all wrong, too.

  His eyes bulged, and he shook his head. “She’d probably start screaming and make me do a course run for punishment. I don’t want to think about that.”

  Of course, he didn’t want to think about that. Neither did she. Why did she bring it up? Was she stupid or losing her mind? This was Grier. She’d seen him almost every day for the last year. So why was she acting so stupid?

  I’m here, aren’t I?

  Those words rocked her. What did they mean?

  He passed by her, and even in the narrow space, managed to do it without touching her. “You got all of these grimoires done?”

  “Yeah.” She hid her fidgeting fingers behind her back.

  He flipped over the top two. “Emeryss, there’s like ten or twelve books here.”

  “It’s okay. It wasn’t that bad. Took me a little longer, probably because I’m tired or something, but a deal’s a deal.”

  He dropped his towel on the edge of the sink, approached her until his chest was inches from hers, and stared down into her eyes. The slight stubble on his chin and the perfect cut of his more casual clothes looked divine. She was acting like an idiot.

  “Look at me, please,” he said.

  Oh, she was.

  “Are your eyes okay? No blurriness? No dizziness?”

  She shook her head. The smell of him mixed with soap was intoxicating enough to make her want to nuzzle in his neck. She was absolutely losing her mind. At some point, she’d have to remind herself that he wanted her to go back to Stadhold. But another part of herself knew he didn’t understand and that he would as soon as they spoke with Avrist.

  “You’re not supposed to work that long.” His voice had dropped lower in depth and volume. More intimate. More personal.

  “I’m not blind yet.”

  “I’m worried about more than that. And today was harder than normal. Don’t get hurt.”

  “It’s not me on this ship that has to worry about getting hurt.” She was unable to fight the smile from her small victory over Tully.

  His smirk grew, and her heart sped up in their prolonged silence.

  “Tomorrow,” he said, barely above a whisper, “don’t worry about Avrist or the Librarian if she comes. It took me longer than I’d like to admit, but I get it. Sort of. We’ve worked together too long for me not to support you. So, whatever happens, I’m there… for you.”

  She blinked. At least things with Grier were improving. “Thanks.”

  He cleared his throat and took a step back. “I guess we should get to bed?”

  It was early, but she wasn’t feeling up to any more practice after scribing that many books. And she never imagined she’d hear a suggestion to go to bed from him.

  Grier slid into his bunk, so she made her way up the ladder to hers.

  “Good night, Emeryss.”

  She laid down on top of the thin sheet, scrunched the pillow under her head and neck, and smiled. “Good night, Grier.

  Chapter 11

  Delour — Revel

  Adalai stepped out of the Zephyr’s cargo hold and into the charred field on the outskirts of Delour.

  The field used to be emerald. There used to be a brilliant green blanket of farmland, grass, and clover. Now, only gray, fibrous strands remained, and they made a crunching sound with each step. It looked as if the Ingini had torched the fields to oblivion.

  A smoking scar in the remains of the small city shone in the morning light. What buildings were still standing had holes with smoke billowing out of them. The rest were in shambles. Brightly colored tents littered the outer areas, along with other airships. Thick lines of people milled about in the streets, probably waiting for water, food, and healing.

  Beyond the city was the looming gray wall with towers spaced evenly down the length of it. It stretched in both directions, north to south. And beyond it… Ingini. A wasteland. Nothing more than a cursed pit for animals under a gray-green sky.

  Whether it was ether-guns or ether-dipped weapons, the Ingini lacked the control and finesse to manipulate ether properly. Their own greed left them in the smog and desolation of their own making. It was a deserved punishment for mining ether from ley line deposits, ripping it from where it was meant to stay. It’s one of the reasons they weren’t allowed true Caster training or grimoires, and these attacks were showing how jealous they were.

  Emeryss stepped up beside her. “When did this happen?”

  “Four days ago.”


  “Four days? Why haven’t we heard about this?” Emeryss glanced over her shoulder at Grier, but his eyes were just as wide.

  “The rest of Revel knows,” she said. “I don’t know why Stadhold wouldn’t.”

  Emeryss shook her head. “They don’t want to get involved. They never do.”

  “Well, this is the boldest the Ingini have ever been,” Kayson said, looking out at Delour from Grier’s other side.

  Adalai nudged Emeryss with her shoulder. “We have to take out some thieves or spies here and there, and there might be scuffles at the border, but this… This was bad. They ambushed, massacred. The war is about to start.”

  Emeryss’s eyes widened. “The war?”

  “The War of Three,” she whispered.

  Grier shook his head. “No. Stadhold won’t fight. They’re neutral.”

  She adjusted the annoyingly tight band of her uniform at her waist. “I don’t think they’ll get the choice to be for much longer. It looks like we’ll need more Casters soon enough.”

  Emeryss seemed emboldened by that fact. And good. They’d need it.

  “All right, Emeryss, time for your disguise.”

  The news hadn’t broken that a Scribe was missing, but just in case, there was no point in risking it. Even Grier had agreed.

  Emeryss spun and faced her with a smile.

  Adalai placed her palms on Emeryss’s temples and willed ether to Glamour her a different face. She rounded her cheeks out, shortened her lips, shrunk her eyes, and changed her hair to a golden yellow. Changing appearance was second nature to her but took some slight concentration for changing Emeryss. “It’ll wear off soon or until I make it stop.”

  Emeryss spun and looked at Grier. “Well?”

  His mouth pulled up to one corner awkwardly. He wasn’t pleased at all. “Well, you look different.”

  She chuckled, and Emeryss smiled.

  “What are those banners?” Emeryss asked, pointing off into the city.

  Banners? She spun to follow Emeryss’s finger, and the group collectively groaned.

  Shit.

  Adalai had mistaken the banners for every other piece of debris typically found after a city had been ransacked, but Emeryss was right. They were banners—maroon strips of fabric dangling off several buildings.