Blane (Stratham Shifters Book 5)

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Blane (Stratham Shifters Book 5) Page 15

by Sarah J. Stone


  “Nathaniel?” Desmond raised an eyebrow.

  “Eliza and I had a business meeting on the neighboring planet Jade,” he started, and Desmond rolled his eyes.

  “I don't want to know in that case. And I don't want to know how you talked your way out of it. I've long since discovered that the less I know, the better.”

  “That's the worst part,” he said. “They didn't have any evidence. Just someone with a big mouth.”

  “And how many times do you think the Jurors are going to believe your stories when you keep getting caught with her?” Desmond asked.

  “At least twice more, I hope,” Nathaniel said nonchalantly, as they strolled toward the Jurors' chambers.

  He was surprised to see most of the Jurors in session. Temporary members like Desmond sat on the sidelines, and Nathaniel realized that it looked very much like a Tiro review.

  “What's going on?” he asked in confusion as the doors closed behind them.

  “Desmond,” said Thomas, the head of the witch Jurors. “Nathaniel. Thank you for your joining us.”

  “Sure?” Nathaniel asked, confused. He was usually easy going, willing to roll with any punches that were sent his way. But his heart beat a little harder as he wondered if he was in trouble.

  “The Jurors have received your application for the joint training of the Tiro witch, Sienna, and the reasons behind it.”

  “Wha…?” The words died in Nathaniel's throat as he turned to Desmond. To his horror, Desmond looked absolutely calm. He knew about this; he expected it.

  “Sienna is a very special child,” Thomas put in. “She has rare abilities and rare power, but also a rare disease.”

  “She will be difficult to manage,” Desmond put in. “I acknowledge that. The amount of power within her has rarely been seen, if ever.”

  “That is true,” Thomas replied. “Her magical ability is off the charts. But her health…”

  “To train Sienna, she will need a Maestro with experience,” Desmond put in. “A Maestro who has experience in different cases, one who is used to handling the special needs of others. Reynolds, my first, also had unprecedented power, and although his fate saddens me, he also required a lot of control. Christa lost her Maestro at seventeen, and I was able to take on her training, keeping in line with her late Maestro's wishes. Nathaniel, as you know, was older than most, and yet here he stands. I have the experience to train one like this.”

  “You have the experience,” Thomas acknowledged, “but you are too close to retirement, Desmond. Another year or two, and we would not allow you to take on a Tiro. The level of care Sienna would need and the level of energy required to take care of such a child with such strong power makes me worried that you are no longer capable.”

  “I may not be,” Desmond said, “but Nathaniel is. He is young, and he is the greatest warrior of his generation. Her strength, her energy – he can handle it. And if Nathaniel and I can successfully bring a Tiro with that much power and that much uncontrolled strength to the tests with such health issues, who knows what we can do with the other ones? We know of so many witches that are consumed by their power within their own bodies that if we could learn to harness that in order to save them, we could become stronger as an order.”

  Nathaniel remained silent beside Desmond, seething. He couldn't believe Desmond had brought him here and would dare suggest that he train this girl whom he had no interest in. He wanted a warrior; he wanted someone to keep up with his pace. The quests he wanted were full of adrenaline and excitement. He did not want this girl.

  “These arguments are strong,” Thomas said. “Please wait in the hallway while the Jurors decide.”

  “Thank you,” Desmond said as he bowed his head. Nathaniel turned on his heels, following him out of the room. He at least waited until the door was closed before he let loose.

  “Are you kidding me?” he asked. “No! No! I don't want this.”

  “Did you not hear Thomas?” Desmond asked. “The argument is sound. Even you must agree.”

  “Argh,” Nathaniel answered. “Of course, they are sound. They are always sound when they come from your mouth. But Desmond, I can't! I don't want her. There is no connection, no strength. If you want her as your last Tiro, I cannot stop you. But you can't expect–”

  “What would Eliza say, right now?” Desmond quirked his eyebrow. “Isn't her specialty finding black sheep in her army and making them her personal guard? She is always looking to help the misfits and to prove people wrong in their judgment.”

  Nathaniel growled. “So?”

  “You felt how much power she had,” Desmond said. “We could harness it and those like her. I know so many of those like her that have died, likely because their magic consumed them. If we figure it out, our names will go down in history, Nathaniel.”

  “They will already go down in history,” Nathaniel said. “We were great warriors.”

  “And we still are,” Desmond replied.

  “Desmond,” Nathaniel said, squaring his shoulders. “I don't want this. I don't want her.”

  “If I take another Tiro, Nathaniel,” Desmond said, “it will be my last adventure, my last outing. I will likely be gone from here more often than not. Do you want that?”

  Nathaniel looked down at his feet. “We are still bonded, Maestro,” he said at last.

  “Yes, I know,” Desmond replied. “I feel it, too. But I am bonded to her as well.”

  “What does Mariah say?” Nathaniel asked at last. Desmond's eyes sparkled.

  “Mariah said that I had to have a plan if I was going to do this,” he answered.

  “Your plan is me?” Nathaniel answered.

  “It's a good plan,” Desmond replied, and Nathaniel sighed.

  “Fine. It won't be for more than a year or two anyway.”

  “You shouldn't think about it that way,” Desmond replied. “You never know.”

  “I've seen her,” Nathaniel replied. “I know.”

  It wasn't long before they were summoned back into the Jurors' room. Thomas cleared his throat, and Desmond looked him right in the eye, daring him to deny his request. Desmond was a well-known witch with many credits to his name. He did not want to be treated like a disobedient child.

  “The Jurors have approved your request to train Sienna,” Thomas said at last. “Both of you. However, there are stipulations to this.”

  “Which are?” Desmond prompted, wondering what they could possibly be.

  “The first is that the Jurors see the potential in Nathaniel to be a great witch.” Thomas turned to Nathaniel. “Your skills as a warrior are unprecedented and should not be ignored. The next Tiro you take will be chosen by the Jurors so as to not end up in this situation again.”

  “Ah,” Nathaniel said, clearly biting his tongue.

  “There is another stipulation,” Thomas said. “Witches like this, they tend to lend their magic to causes that are not noble before they become consumed by that very same magic. They are blinded by their power, and it often ends badly. Should Sienna reach that point before she perishes – which we accept as inevitable – she will be under the same security as any other witch. She will not be allowed to live with power that she uses for anything other than a noble cause.”

  “Aye,” Desmond raised his chin. “I will not allow that to happen again.”

  Reynolds' name was unspoken in the room. There was silence in the Jurors' room for a long moment, and then Thomas nodded.

  “So be it,” he said. “The Jurors grant your request to train Sienna until her death. Be it natural, or not.”

  “Thank you.” Desmond bowed, and Nathaniel did the same. Both of them exited at the same time, still in sync. It was outside once again that Nathaniel growled.

  “Now they are choosing my next Tiro?

  “They will give you a powerful warrior so as to not waste your potential,” Desmond said. “They will find you the most powerful candidate. I can fe
el it.”

  “And I'm just supposed to wait a few years, when that's the person I want now?”

  “Nathaniel, do not let your magic be tainted by anger,” Desmond said. “You know what happens to magic when it's tainted by the things we cannot control.”

  “I'm allowed to be angry,” Nathaniel answered. “You did this to me without giving me a choice. I'm going to be angry about it.”

  Desmond sighed. “Fine, you are within your right. But I want you to remember, Nathaniel, that it is I who made this choice for you, not the girl.”

  “I wouldn't do that,” Nathaniel replied. “But I do not feel a connection with her.”

  “You will,” Desmond tried to assure him. “A bond between a Maestro and a Tiro does not happen overnight.”

  “But apparently, it did between you and her already,” Nathaniel answered.

  “I have always been fast to perform bonds with my Tiros,” Desmond replied. “As was Mariah. She picked Sybil out of a lineup on the first day. But sometimes, it can be slow. This is normal.”

  “How are we going to do this?” Nathaniel answered, sarcastically. “Are we going to split duties? Split responsibilities? You take her from sunup to sundown, and I'll take the night shift?”

  “That could work,” Desmond replied.

  Nathaniel stared at him. “I wasn't serious,” he protested. “Besides, Eliza has nights free this week while she's travelling and–”

  “I think it works perfectly,” Desmond cut him off with a smile. “Shall we tell our new Tiro the news?”

  “I can leave that to you,” Nathaniel answered, knowing that he was not going to get away with such an excuse. This was supposed to be a life changing day as he accepted a new Tiro. And yet, he was anything but thrilled.

  He knew that, one day, he would have had to do this. But it was obviously not as he pictured it anyway.

  “You'll have to tell Eliza,” Desmond answered, and Nathaniel paused at that.

  She had no idea what was going on, of course. But once, and only once, they had talked about having a family. Was this the closest they were ever going to come, by way of a broken Tiro?

  “I'll just come with you,” Nathaniel sighed, deciding it was the easiest route. “Do you know where she might be right now?”

  “She's likely in the guest suite,” Desmond said, glancing at the clock. “I know they are due to depart in a few hours, so we must make haste.”

  “Does she even know?” Nathaniel asked. “That you were doing this?”

  “No,” Desmond admitted. “Not in so many words. But to be trained was clearly her greatest wish. And you know as well as I do that a rocky start could linger for years, so be happy.”

  “Ugh,” Nathaniel grunted as they walked. “At least our names will go down in history for something.”

  “They certainly will,” Desmond replied, knowing they had very different ideas.

  Chapter 6

  Sienna almost fell off the chair she was sitting on when they told her. It took about three tries, but when she finally understood, her mouth fell open.

  “Me?” she said. “Are you positive?”

  “We are positive,” Desmond said, and she launched into his arms. It was not proper behavior for a witch, she knew, but she couldn't contain herself.

  “Thank you!” she said to him, and then turned to Nathaniel to give an equal response. However, he stood stoic beside the door.

  “You're welcome,” he replied, nodding as he leaned on the door frame. She was so fragile and small; all he could think about was how one gust of wind would likely snap her in half.

  She stopped moving, her shoulders drooping as she saw his mood. She took a step backward and Desmond glared at him.

  “Control your thoughts, Tiro,” he said out of habit. Nathaniel raised an eyebrow.

  “But I'm not yours anymore,” he answered. “Remember? I'll see you later. I have a meeting.”

  He vanished, leaving them alone. He could feel Desmond's eyes boring into him, but he didn't really care.

  If he could slam the door to his quarters, he would have. It was incredibly dissatisfying to watch them slowly close behind him as he booted up the monitor. The new quests weren't listed, but he logged into the program anyway, scanning them more carefully. He needed to think about something else, otherwise he was likely to punch a hole in the wall.

  He was surprised when a new quest popped up in his inbox. Clicking on it, he wondered what was so urgent that the Jurors would assign him something.

  And then he grinned.

  ‘Jeffro,’ it said in the location listing. Eliza had requested him.

  He flipped over to the messenger icon, hoping to find her online. Her status was set to away, and he reached for his com-link, calling her private line. It was still early on Jeffro, but he knew she would be up. Eliza hardly slept, her energy constant.

  She picked it up on the first ring. “Nathaniel,” she said. “You got my message.”

  “Loud and clear,” he replied. “I was just assigned. Is everything all right?”

  “Our rebel planets have decided to rise up again,” she said. “I am entering peace talks with the leaders on Monday, but I thought it would be helpful to have a witch present. You aren't known for your diplomacy, but you are known for your strength, should it come to that.”

  “Of course,” he said, and then the gravity of the day hit him. “But there's something I have to tell you.”

  “You can't come?” her voice came through.

  “I can,” he said. “But I can't come alone.”

  “Huh?” Eliza sounded distracted and confused. “Why? Are you in trouble and under supervision?”

  “I'm supervising,” he answered, and she squeaked.

  “Did you take a Tiro?”

  “Sort of,” he managed before getting the whole story out. Eliza was so quiet on the other end that he thought that he might have lost her. “Hello?”

  “Oh, this is going to be good,” she said, a cackle in her voice. “Don't sound so distraught.”

  “Are you kidding me?” he snapped. “She's–”

  “Your opposite, it sounds,” Eliza replied. “Which is exactly what you need. Desmond is a genius.”

  “I cannot believe that you are taking his side,” Nathaniel answered.

  “I'm not taking anyone's side,” Eliza replied. “Except Desmond's. I think this is going to be great. I can't wait to meet her.”

  “I hate you, you know that?” Nathaniel answered with the confidence of the love between them. “We'll be there, I guess. Creator – that sounds weird.”

  “You being here at all is worth any tagalongs you have,” Eliza answered. “I'll be grateful for the extra assistance.”

  “There is one more thing you should know about her, Eliza…” he tried to put it delicately. “It's not just that she's not built to be a warrior, or that her Basic is weak. She's entirely unsuited for me, or training, or life, most likely. Part of the reason the Jurors agreed to this is because she was born sick, and her magic will consume her at some point before the tests.”

  Eliza went quiet on the other end of the line.

  “I'm sorry,” she said. “Our healing facilities here–”

  “Are advanced, like ours,” Nathaniel answered. “You should just know that so you aren't shocked.”

  “Of course,” Eliza replied. “I will see you soon, my love.”

  “And I you,” he said, ending the call. It left him with an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach to say that. How many times would he have to tell people that, to warn them about his new, fragile Tiro? How many excuses would he have to make for her in the coming months or years?

  What exactly was this life he was living?

  At five-thirty, Desmond buzzed him through the com-link. Nathaniel had been sitting on his bed, engrossed in lesson plans. He had taught his afternoon class and then lost his head to the diagrams of an old plane. He had
planned more activities with the pictures than time permitted, but he was happy. He was annoyed that Desmond was interrupting it, and he answered gruffly.

  “What?” he said.

  “Sienna and I are going to dinner in the cafeteria,” Desmond said. “After that, I have some research to do in the library.”

  “Okay?” Nathaniel asked, confused. “Why are you telling me?”

  “Because after dinner will be six p.m.,” Desmond said calmly and Nathaniel coughed.

  “You can't be serious about this.”

  “I think it will be good for you,” Desmond answered, and Nathaniel rolled his eyes.

  “You sound like Eliza,” he said. “By the way, did you see that quest?”

  “What a coincidence that we got a quest to Jeffro,” Desmond answered, gruffly “Is she all right?”

  “Should just be peace talks,” Nathaniel replied as he stood up. “Do you really want me to come with you?”

  “It's not about what I want, Nathaniel,” Desmond said. “It's your duty.”

  “Awesome.” Nathaniel grunted, but agreed. “I'll be there shortly.”

  As much as he did not want to spend his favorite meal of the day with Sienna, he did need to eat. All the units had kitchens, but hardly anyone ate there for dinner. When the witches were together, they were expected to socialize and to share their ideas and challenges.

  He made it to the cafeteria within ten minutes. He saw the two of them sitting at a table in the center and took a tray, deciding to load it up first. When he could avoid it no longer, he slid in beside Desmond, leaving Sienna on one side alone.

  “Are you eating for four?” Desmond inquired, looking at Nathaniel's plate.

  “Tough day,” Nathaniel replied, tearing apart a bun. Across the table, Sienna poked at her plate, shifting the food around without making much progress. Desmond watched her calmly, assessing the situation, and then spoke when he deemed it necessary.

  “Today is special,” he said. “But in the future, we would expect you to eat and keep your strength up.”

  Her eyes shot up, and she reached out, as if touch would communicate the issue. Magic shot from her hand accidentally. Nathaniel was fast enough to block it, throwing up his own stream and preventing any damage from being done.

 

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