by Nicole Adamz
I frowned heavily. Why would Docent Pickwickian think I have a new Talent? That can’t be right. There hasn’t been a new Talent in centuries. If no one knows what my Talent is, then how will they know when it manifests? How will I?
Maewyn said something similar, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t believe it. I shook my head. It wasn’t possible. Although, Docent Pickwickian believes it is. I looked at the runic marks trailing up my hands. The pattern on both sides was the same. Odd and incomplete. Except for my ruined hand. The pattern on it was shifted and broken in places. Because of Maewyn. My hands closed.
Quickly changing topics, I pulled the tomes from my satchel and set them on the table. Docent Pickwickian raised bushy brows, a small smile playing on his lips while he thumbed through them. I’d forgotten the markers I’d put inside, and he paused at each one, looking at the pages I’d studied.
“Find anything interesting?” he said casually, glancing at me.
I shrugged, shaking my head. I didn’t find much at all.
Docent Pickwickian closed the books, sighed, and stood. He stretched his back and wings, uncurling from the slightly hunched position he usually assumed. The movement made him taller. “I don’t think anyone is seeking these. Why don’t you keep them a bit longer? You might find something my tired eyes haven’t.”
I raised a disbelieving eyebrow. He thinks I can find something he hasn’t? He chuckled softly at my confusion, and quietly shuffled away, squealing cart in tow. Awkwardly, I scooped up the tomes and followed him to the entrance. Docent Pickwickian paused, turning toward me.
“Those belong with you more than anyone else now,” he said simply, grabbing a scroll from his cart.
“If you start getting any more, er, headaches—or similar pains—please seek me out. My living quarters are down here, so I can make you another cup of that nasty brew. I’d hate for you to suffer another hallucination.”
I measured the sincerity in his eyes before nodding. Docent Pickwickian wandered down the aisle, shelving tomes and scrolls. I watched him meander through the Great Library before leaving. After Larrikin my dreams were no longer the same. They were a mix of different things, and the hallucination Docent Pickwickian claimed I’d had was one of them—even though he didn’t know what I’d seen.
The wild, slit pupiled eyes didn’t leave my mind after I woke most nights. Perhaps I had imagined everything. Perhaps. And perhaps Anomalies can fly, I thought. I couldn’t have imagined those eyes or the marks on my neck.
An Anomaly had attacked me. I was sure of it. So, if what I’d seen was the truth why would Docent Pickwickian lie?
Chapter 35
Maewyn
PEARL’S WORDS FLITTED through my mind, jarred loose after the last Ambire meeting. There were too many things pointing to a truth I didn’t want to acknowledge—but now I had no choice. When Ari visited Healer Willow at the Sanatorium, I took the opportunity to make a private visit of my own. The Healer’s shrewd responses to my questions confirmed my suspicions. I was pregnant, and I was too far along for Davin to be the father. Which left one other option, and it wasn’t an option I wanted to think about.
I had unknowingly mated with Caelum Greerson the night of the Autumn Feyle, and now I carried our fledgling. No, my fledgling. I glanced around the familiar room of the Durus’s dais. Ari stood petulantly beside my harp, shooting me resentful looks. I hadn’t told her where the Revue was located, but I needed her here. If I ran into Heir Talon or Davin, I didn’t want to be alone. Especially after the report from my parents that Heir Talon had been burned too.
I’d tried explaining when we’d landed, but she’d marched to this room, refusing to listen. Chewing on my lip, I rehearsed a few lines in case either men were here. Please, Aeolus, let tonight go well. I didn’t want to come, but if mother and father learned I’d turned down a Revue here… I shuddered. They would give me to Greerson.
Whether Ari liked it or not I’d needed an ally tonight. Pearl sauntered into the room, and I stiffened. It was one of the few times we were at the same Revue, and her presence set me on edge. Pearl laughed, and I met her triumphant blue eyes. I wanted to scratch the smirk off her face.
She knew, I thought furiously. She knew he’d taken a souvenir. He’d told her, likely shown her, and she’d laughed at it. Laughed at me. I bit back the bile rising in my throat and smiled. If she suspected I was rattled she’d gloat, so I took a deep breath and stepped out of the room. Hiding in the shadows, I watched guests flow through the entrance. I can see if Davin enters. Unless he’s already here, I thought in panic.
The possibility that Heir Talon or Davin had requested I play tonight had crossed my mind multiple times. While Lady Durus had expressed an interest in having me play at one of her parties again months ago, and I’d taken her words as a false promise; as so many assurances from people with wealth and power were.
But here I am, I thought warily, scanning the incoming crowd. I thought I identified Davin several times, my heart wedging between my ribs until the man turned. If I could pretend the outcome would be favorable tonight would be easier. A shadow loomed over me, and I stiffened. Plastering on a smile, I released a large breath. It was Ari.
She munched heavily in my ear, holding a bag of pilfered food. Begrudgingly, she held the bag out, and I found myself unaccountably hungry. Reaching in, I grabbed a handful of nuts. The bag was only half-full, although I imagined it must have bulged at one point. “Thanks for sharing,” I mumbled dryly around a mouthful.
Ari’s eyes narrowed, and she looked away. Her golden eye shimmered faintly, and I repressed a shudder. It wasn’t her fault her eyes were ugly. Shaking my head, I dug into the bag and watched Ari scan the incoming crowd. She’s looking for them too, I thought guiltily.
An Anomaly shuffled down the hallway carrying a large, rounded stick. Spotting us, she paused uncertainly. The soft lantern light gleamed in the gilt coils of hair curtaining her face, causing shadows to drift over it. A pale blue eye warily measured our presence, but the Anomaly’s shoulders visibly eased when she noticed my uniform. The small wings on her back slumped before straightening.
“Sorry, Caelum,” the Anomaly said softly, “but performers should be in the room until signaled.”
Seeing Ari, a puzzled look entered her eye, and she turned. Her curtained hair parted, and I smothered a gasp. Four rigid scars ran down the left side of the Anomaly’s face, almost closing her left eye. Ari stiffened, her hand unconsciously going to the thin, silver scars under her tunic. It was the same Anomaly who had led me to the secret meeting room last time I was here.
She obviously hadn’t received the medical care Ari had—if any. I shivered. Small wonder the Anomaly paused when she saw us skulking in the shadows. Her scars probably originated in shadows like these. The thought made me uneasy. The Anomaly shifted, hiding her face beneath the blonde, curling curtain again. Speechless, I nodded.
We followed the Anomaly back to the room where the Caelum and Tyro were gathered, slipping into the crowd before the gong sounded. There were several Fractional Caelum here, Pearl among them. Confused, I watched them leave the room. Why would anyone ask a Fractionally Claimed Caelum to perform?
Walking down the hallway, I whispered to Ari, “Stay close.”
Ari nodded, following closely. We entered the large, grand dining room, and I could feel the tension emanating off Ari. I searched the crowd for a golden-haired man like I had all those months ago. Only now I had a different reason. To avoid him.
My ears tracked the performances while I searched for Davin or Heir Talon. I kept Ari close while we moved through the press of wings and bodies, needing her presence to keep me steady. She was my only ally here.
I’d wanted to decline this Revue for many reasons; anxiety and fear among them. And temptation, a little voice whispered. A voice I’d been ignoring because of Ari’s injuries. Still, Larrikin was a place where I could let go of my family’s glacial expectations. All my concerns had melted away with th
at drink, and for a moment I’d been free. Doing exactly what I wanted—even if it was with the wrong man. A fact I knew but wouldn’t tell Ari.
Thinking of that night, I realized the only way to salvage the situation was to be agreeable. To fake repentance and manipulate what would happen next. And to do that, I can’t have Ari around. She won’t go along with it.
I paused, bumping into someone. “I’m a little famished. Do you have any food left?” I asked Ari.
She wrinkled her nose, sheepishly holding up the small, empty sack. I grinned. Just as I thought. She’s already eaten it all.
“I really want some bread slices and dried meat. Do you think you can get some?” I said.
Ari looked at me, startled. I’d never asked her to get me food from the guest’s table. On cue, my stomach squeaked unexpectedly. I flushed, realizing I was hungry. At least my errand wasn’t a complete lie. My appetite must be increasing because of the…fledgling, I thought, touching my stomach.
Ari quickly scanned the crowd before nodding, signaling for me to wait. Guilt pricked me when she turned to leave. I have no intention of being in this spot when she returns. When I couldn’t see her cropped, curly hair in the crowd I allowed the ebb and flow of guests to move me through the room. Scanning the faces around me, I looked for Davin or Heir Talon. Instead, I saw a vaguely familiar face.
The woman smiled, slinking through the crowd with her ample bust on display. Her name floated foggily through my memory, pushing past months of Revues, men, and Festivals. Tannen. One of Davin’s pretty birds. Despite the Rime weather she’d chosen a thin silk dress that undulated with every step. I almost snorted, a habit Ari had when she thought something was ridiculous. Ever the pretty bird, I thought derisively.
Tannen’s crimson lips parted in a cat-like smile. “Finally send your nose-bleed off?” she said.
I stiffened at the insult but refrained from retorting about the back-breaking work she would be doing tonight. “Do I know you?” I said blandly.
A subtle reminder that you aren’t worth remembering, I smirked. A satisfied smile curled my lips when Tannen’s nostrils flared angrily. I was being petty but didn’t care.
“I’m Tannen,” she ground between clenched teeth, “Davin’s intended Life-Bond.”
My heart pinched. “Life-Bond? Davin doesn’t seem like the ‘til death do us part type,” I said casually, dismissing the prick of jealousy I felt at Davin returning to a pretty bird after our encounter. It was nothing, I reminded myself. Just fun.
“Well, I guess it takes a special woman to keep his interest.” Tannen said proudly.
“Yes, it takes a special woman to think his interest would remain on her,” I said sardonically.
Tannen huffed. “He loves me. He said so. Anyway, I don’t have to prove anything to you, so stop distracting me. I’m supposed to tell you that Lord and Lady Durus want to meet with you.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Doing an Anomaly’s job now?”
Tannen’s lips tightened but she said nothing, nodding to someone I couldn’t see. The hairs on the back of my neck stood, and I warily searched for Ari. Without warning Tannen grabbed my arm. Panicking, I jerked backward, pulling her in the opposite direction.
“What are you doing?” I said, alarmed.
Several guests gave us disgruntled looks, and Tannen pasted on a serene smile, tightening her grip. For someone that looked as soft and bountiful as a cloud she possessed strength I wouldn’t have guessed at. When I resisted again, Tannen glared at me in frustration.
A warm breeze created by Tropos Caelum floated through the room, shifting past my nose. A heady scent, reminiscent of Larrikin’s sweetness, made me sway. I blinked, balancing against Tannen’s taut grip as she towed me through the crowd. We were in the foyer and passing the staircase before I could protest. Shoving me through the secret door, Tannen snapped it closed. I’m trapped, I thought in alarm. I took a breath, collecting myself.
Tannen blocked the only exit, and the occupants inside stared at me expectantly. The furnishings remained the same, but there were additional people. Davin and Heir Talon sat in chairs sneering, but my attention was on the figure that emanated the most power: Lady Durus. I swallowed, sending up a desperate plea this wasn’t a trap to punish me for what had happened to the Heir.
Lady Durus gestured for me to sit, and I walked confidently to the only absent space. Plastering on a proud smile, I hid the apprehension curling in my belly when Lady Durus settled next to me. When Tannen said Lord and Lady Durus wanted to speak to me, I’d hoped it wouldn’t be like last time.
But Aeolus has a sense of humor. The circumstances aren’t like last time. They’re worse. My gaze scanned Heir Talon’s contemptuous expression, searching for wounds Ari had inflicted. His skin was mostly unblemished but patches of soft down scattered across one of his wings as though he’d molted unevenly.
They were probably negligible to most people, but I knew the reason for those patches. They were the places Ari had burned him—while burning herself. Remorse surfaced heavily, and I pushed it down. I need my mind focused on this situation. Emotion has no place in meetings like this.
Emotion, I knew, could be a dangerous adversary in a meeting when someone with more power wanted something from you. That was a lesson I’d learned from my parents and Caelum Greerson. I focused on Lady Durus, ignoring the oily silence in the room.
“Your choice of messenger was,” I paused derisively, “Interesting.”
Lady Durus’s eyes gleamed maliciously, “She’s marginally better than an Anomaly, don’t you think? Anomalies have eyes and ears—and those can be bought,” she smiled knowingly, “I’m sure your parents would agree.”
My eyes narrowed at the mention of my family’s spies, and Lady Durus grinned at the small slip. Skies! I thought angrily. The conversation had hardly begun, and I’d already faltered. If I’m not careful I won’t have any maneuvering power in this exchange.
“I’m sure.” I murmured, recovering.
Lord Durus burped loudly, and Lady Durus frowned heavily. He slouched nearby, his florid complexion a testament to his drunken state. Lady Durus gave him a disgusted look, pointedly ignoring him.
“There might not be enough wine to appease him—or anyone—before long,” Lady Durus said craftily. I knew Lady Durus was revealing this information purposely. Considering, I took the bait.
“Is there a problem with the wine?” I asked.
Lady Durus turned her cerulean gaze on me. “We have enough stocked for now. It’s the future I’m concerned about.”
“The future? Rime has always been a time of shortage for Summit,” I said with raised brows.
General Fernon, sitting on a settee with Rose, cleared his throat. “What Lady Durus is beating around the bush about is that Summit is experiencing a severe shortage of resources.”
I frowned, confused. The conversation had nothing to do with what had happened to Heir Talon. There has been no mention of that night at all. If that wasn’t the point of this meeting, then what is?
“A severe shortage of resources? There are a few posted notices, but surely there’s plenty of food in the city. What about the trade expeditions the Aerial Council sends to meet with the Dwellers?”
General Fernon shook his head gravely. “The last successful trade expedition was months before the Annul Festival. The one we sent out after the festival was attacked, and our men barely returned alive.”
The unease in my belly tightened and I swallowed. I could feel the solid ground I’d tried to build in the conversation crumbling. The exchange was not going the way I’d expected it to, and I wasn’t prepared. What does this have to do with me?
“I wanted to speak with you and ask for your help.” Lady Durus purred.
“My help?” I repeated.
An invisible noose tightened around my neck, and the shadows in the room drew near. Think, Maewyn, think! Lady Durus mentioned being worried about the future. Now she wants your help. What does
it mean?
“Yes. Your Talent is invaluable and will be needed.” Lady Durus said abrasively.
I had no idea how Story Weaving had anything to do with a supposed resource shortage, but Lady Durus was tying them together. There’s missing information. I tried reading everyone’s expression, searching for a clue.
The only open expression was Lady Rose’s, and she was upset. All the gaiety she normally displayed was gone, and her sole focus was on chewing her bottom lip. My only option was to display my ignorance.
“I don’t understand how I can help, Lady Durus. My Talent doesn’t have anything to do with the food or supplies of Summit. The Warders take care of that, and if there’s a problem it should be brought to High Lord Bera’s attention.”
Lady Durus’s mouth curled derisively. “The matter was brought to High Lord Bera’s attention, Caelum Maewyn. His solution wasn’t satisfactory and is why you’re here. When you’re a part of the family, you’ll know everything.”
Shock coursed through me at the abrupt announcement. “A part of the family?” I echoed, glancing at Heir Talon.
Perhaps this conversation is going better than I thought. Heir Talon lounged on a couch wearing a cruel sneer. When our eyes met his laugh cracked across the room, breaking the slick silence that had descended after my question. Heir Talon twirled a finger dramatically.
“Not me.” Heir Talon said.
I tried masking my confusion. “Not…you?”
A shadow stirred in the corner, but Lady Durus distracted me by picking up my hand. She patted it, her cerulean eyes gleaming predatorily. I snatched my hand away.
Lady Durus chuckled. “The arrangements have been made. Once your parents were informed of the upcoming situation, they were more than eager to have you Life-Bonded into our blood-line. Of course, it’s likely they would have done so anyway, but we couldn’t take any chances.”
The crumbling conversation shifted, breaking under a tide of panic rising over me. My mind buzzed fearfully. What does she mean everything was explained to them, and arrangements have been made?