Finally, the man gave me a brief look of understanding and let go of me. Involuntarily, I reached up and touched my cuff; it almost hurt, it was so cold. Like it felt in the Valley when I was a child, holding my hand beneath the frozen crust of the river, hoping to catch a fish. His eyes followed my movement with interest, and something kindled in his dark eyes. I let out a breath of exasperation and turned, striding to the railing.
Neither of them said another word to me as shouts and commands and whistles filled the air. We were entering the tiny harbor of the island, and two guard boats came out to circle us, each with a machine gun mounted on the top. When they spotted Keallach and Sethos, they saluted and sped off.
A loud noise came from belowdecks, and I could feel the big ship begin to slow. Churning sounds emerged from the back, and we came to a neat stop in the slip of a huge dock. Sailors tossed down heavy ropes, and soldiers below tied them to enormous cleats on the pier. The gangplank emerged and Keallach stopped beside me. “Ready?” he said, looking excited, as if he was truly eager to reunite with his brother, not face a man he’d sent away to prison.
I stared at him for several seconds. He was utterly confounding. One moment standing as leader of his menacing forces, the next as close to my heart as any other of my Ailith kin.
“Come,” he said, turning to shimmy down the ladder.
I followed him down to the main deck, well aware that Sethos had disappeared. As much as I detested his presence, having him away from my line of vision made me all the more nervous. Taking a chance on the moment’s camaraderie, when I reached the end of the ladder, I touched Keallach’s arm. He glanced down at my hand in surprise.
“May I have a quick word?” I said.
He frowned and then nodded, pulling me a bit away from the nearest soldiers. He folded his arms and faced me, cocking his head as if waiting, clearly wary of my touch.
I licked my lips. “Keallach, you need to dismiss Sethos. Send him away. He is vile — the very definition of evil.”
His frown deepened. “More of this, now? What can you know of Sethos?”
“I know that he fights against everything — and everyone — who fights for the Maker. And he has powers …” I shook my head. “Fearsome powers.”
“And you know this by …”
“Because every time I’ve been in his presence, I’ve felt it.”
“He was after you,” Keallach said with a dismissive shrug, pulling away. “On my orders, he was out to capture any Ailith he could and bring you to me. Perhaps you confuse his intense drive with something more grave.”
“I don’t think so.”
“This is a conversation for another time.” He turned to leave and I grabbed his arm. Pointedly, he looked from my hand to me.
I dropped my hand but edged closer. “It’s a conversation for now,” I pressed. “Don’t you see? It’s he who has drawn you away from the Ailith cause and calling. He who divides us.”
“Nonsense. Has he not allowed you and Ronan to be aboard my very ship?”
“Only to see if he might find a way to stop us. Or destroy us.”
Keallach let out a dismissive noise. “You feel too much, Empath. It has confused you.”
“There is no confusion in this,” I insisted, following him when he strode away from me.
He folded his arms and turned toward me again. “You’ve gotten the wrong idea of Sethos, Andriana. He is … challenging at times. But there is good in him. If not for him, I don’t know if I’d be here today.”
My mouth dropped open, ten different retorts tying my tongue.
Taking in my expression, he scanned the docks to make sure we were still out of earshot of any of the men and then turned back to me. “It is Sethos who masterminded the public health operation that keeps Pacifica Cancer-free. It was he who began imports and exports with the Trading Union, which have saved countless families from starvation. From both sides of the Wall.” His hand pierced the air in angry emphasis. And then he dropped his voice. “It was he who came to me and told me that Kapriel was ill, and convinced me I ought to reach out to him again. Does that sound like the voice of evil to you?”
My mind whirled and I shook my head in confusion.
“Come,” he said, gesturing toward the gangplank.
I passed him, agitated and angry. It made no sense. Sethos was wholly evil. Wasn’t he? Again, I looked for him, and a shiver ran down my back when I couldn’t find him. My armband was cool, but not frigid. He and the Sheolites were present … just not where I could see them.
“Where is he?” I asked him, panting as we left the sun-bleached slats of the pier and took to the steep, cobblestone road that presumably led up to the prison. “Sethos and his men?”
“Sethos and his men tend to upset my brother,” Keallach said. “I thought it best if they wait for our return down at the docks.”
I turned away before he could see my small smile. It was good to put some distance between me and the Sheolites, and it gave me hope about finding some way — some crazy way — to free Kapriel. Mentally, I sized up Keallach, wondering if I could take him, if we could somehow ditch the guards. He was taller than I by several inches, and certainly broader at the shoulders. And yet maybe my training had been better than his own. Hadn’t he just admired how I took down that guard with a few swift moves?
But the thought of Sethos back aboard the ship, with Ronan tied up and unable to defend himself … any small sense of hope I’d felt was immediately snuffed out. I slowed alongside Keallach, sensing his trepidation, his fear over what I assumed was the coming meeting with his brother. Anger and frustration were present within him too. Was he preparing his defensive argument to present to his twin?
Around the next bend, there was a heavy gate. We stopped and the others — six guards in gray — gathered around me.
Keallach glanced at me and then gestured to two men. “Chain her and see that you never let go of her arms.” His eyes met mine again. “Forgive me. But I can take no chances.”
“What? Wait —” I began, but my protests were buried beneath the soldiers’ quick agreement.
“Yes, my liege.”
“Right away, Highness.”
It rankled, their titles for him. His claim on any measure of royalty had sent his brother here, to this cold prison isle, for season upon season. I hoped guilt would rot within Keallach, tear at him, poke at him. Perhaps it would open him up to his brother — and to his fellow Ailith — anew.
Heavy, rusting iron rings clamped down on my wrists, tiny anomalies in the steel poking at me. A chain spread between them and then down to meet another, which they clamped around my ankles. I looked to Keallach in disbelief, playing upon my femininity. “Is this truly necessary?”
“From what I know of you and yours, yes,” he said abruptly, then moved on ahead of me and up a winding staircase. He looked over his shoulder. “You will wait out here,” he said, gesturing to the platform beside him. “When I am done speaking with my brother, you will have your turn to meet him.”
He disappeared then, and I shuffled over to the staircase and made my way up it with some effort, given the extra thirty pounds of chain and long gown that encumbered me. I could hear the soldier behind me, snickering, and ignored him. At the top at last, I moved over to the far wall and looked down. We were on the very edge of the prison wall, and far below the sea crashed against dark gray rocks. I quickly edged away, my stomach flipping.
A soldier pretended to push me, with a shout meant to startle me, but I managed to not cry out. I looked at him with as much loathing as I could muster, and he gave a small, nervous laugh and looked to his friend, who chuckled with him. But he took a step away from me, even as he continued to toss out derisive comments I chose to ignore. My eyes moved to the horizon and the gathering storm building there. Would we be trapped on the island? Already the swells of the sea were growing, much bigger than when we’d crossed, with whitecaps on their long crests.
That was when I felt the emotion from within the very walls, it seemed. I actually pulled my hands away, so fierce was the hurt, the anger. After a second, I put my hands down on the stone and concrete again, and there it was … explosive and excruciating. It was Keallach, I knew, and his twin. I could feel my Ailith brothers’ emotions, almost as clearly as if I was in the same room with them. Agitation. Frustration. And yet beneath it all, still, love. It was such a cacophony of emotion I couldn’t bear it and pulled away. The storm over the sea seemed to echo what was happening inside the prison, the clouds climbing in a billowing, angry mass. I inhaled deeply. The air carried the spicy tang of lightning even before I could see it. I shivered, the chill sending goosebumps over my arms. Or was the chill internal?
I forced myself to touch the wall again, knowing I had to learn what I could. But what I felt then was only a deep, harrowing sorrow. I wanted to weep it was so strong, like diving into a dark pool of grief itself. The door opened behind me and I turned. Keallach, ragged, his eyes red-rimmed, emerged. He paused when he saw me, and even in that moment, he seemed to really see me, enough to notice me rubbing away the cold along my arms. He again pulled his tawny cape from his shoulders and wrapped it around me. “My brother will see you now,” he muttered to me as he passed.
I stared at the dark doorway, partially afraid.
Because it wasn’t only his grief, fear, and agitation I felt. But his twin’s too.
CHAPTER
5
ANDRIANA
I paused at the threshold of the door, feeling Keallach’s trepidation and sorrow — sorting it out from his twin’s. Ahead, Kapriel promised nothing of that to me. All along, he’d been nothing but hope to me — the lost prince — the end goal in every Ailith’s mind. Somehow we knew that in freeing Kapriel, our destiny would be that much closer, a key piece in place. But now, in trying to extricate my own feelings from what Keallach had experienced, I battled anxiety on several levels and fought to separate myself. It is his pain, not mine, I reminded myself. His frustration, not mine.
Half of me wished I’d been present to hear their conversation.
Half of me was glad I hadn’t.
I pressed through the doorway and felt the relief of being out from the howling wind, even with the protection of Keallach’s cape. I glanced backward, but no guard accompanied me, apparently on the emperor’s order. I supposed they figured that in chains, within the very prison, I wasn’t able to go far. I shivered and moved forward, the metal between my ankles scraping over the stone. I sniffed and regretted it, my nostrils filling with the scent of human waste as well as the foul scent of rotting flesh.
I turned a corner and heard the weeping, then, over the wind, so gut-wrenching that tears immediately sprang to my own eyes. It was an honest cry, the sort of wail that didn’t care who heard, who knew. Total brokenness.
It made my decision to move forward an act of will. Half of me was drawn to my brother, crumbling, and half of me was repelled, overcome by the desire to run away. Far away. It was as if the memory of Keallach’s feelings had left an imprint, a place to live within me, even now that I was disconnected. And all I hungered for was my prince. A strong, stalwart prince.
Regardless of what you feel, Niero had once fiercely told me, remember what you know. I began to repeat silently what I knew for certain.
I am a Remnant.
I was born to serve with my brothers and sisters.
To save the world, one at a time.
And we are called to save Kapriel now.
The Ailith were on the ship, somewhere, along with Ronan. And if they couldn’t make it to me, I had to find some way to free myself and Kapriel and make it back to them. Maybe we could fight off the soldiers and force the sailors to take us to safety? But with the chains …
Kapriel’s weeping waned, and yet his grief was still visceral. I went back to repeating the things I knew to be true in my mind so that I would not be lost amidst the tsunami of his sorrow. I rounded the corner and saw him then, face turned toward the tiny window. “Why?” he muttered, his voice ragged. “Why, Maker? Will you not do something? Even now? How is this your way?”
I was rendered mute by his similarity to Keallach. But he was so much thinner, so bedraggled and weary, it was like seeing a skewed reflection of his brother. It struck me then that Keallach carried his own ragged weariness too, but it was carefully hidden away deep inside him, rather than on his flesh.
I clenched the rusting bars in both hands, and the chain between my wrists clanged against them. I froze, as did Kapriel, and his blue-green eyes turned to me. Relief washed through him as he recognized me as a fellow Remnant, and he turned toward me on weak, shaking legs. He reached out a hand toward me, and there was such anguish, such joy, such immediate love in the gesture, that tears welled in my own eyes, then crested and ran down my cheeks. My arm cuff warmed, as if in pleasure.
“You have come, my sister,” he said, and took another step.
“Such as I am,” I returned, lifting my chains. “Hardly the rescuer you imagined, I’d wager.”
He covered the few remaining steps between us and covered my hands with his own, as if we were old friends — kin, rather than strangers. And it was exactly right. It was as if I’d known this man my whole life, just as I’d known the other.
“It matters not,” he said. “The Maker specializes in unlikely heroes.”
“And impossible odds?”
“Especially those,” he said, smiling. He was close enough for me to see the tracks of his tears through the dirt on his thin face. The smudges where he’d wiped them away. How long since he’d had a bath?
“I am Andriana,” I said.
“And I am Kapriel.”
I glanced back to the empty stone hallway, amazed that Keallach was giving us this time alone. Perhaps he was still too grief-stricken to move. But undoubtedly he was making plans. Pulling himself together again. When I turned back, Kapriel had moved to a stone in the floor and was removing it. Beneath it, he pulled out a shard of iron and quickly returned to the bars between us.
“Give me your hands, quickly.” He set upon the lock at my wrist, his fingernails caked with dirt. “This was too small to jimmy the lock of my cell, but it might be just right for —”
A click stopped him and he grinned. The manacle popped open, and I carefully eased it from my arm, trying not to jostle the chain too much and alert those outside with the noise.
“Keep talking as if nothing is going on,” he whispered, kneeling to reach through the bars to my ankles.
“He cannot keep you here forever,” I said, more loudly than before. “Surely there is some way for you two to come to an agreement.”
“He’ll hear none of it,” Kapriel muttered, and it sounded like he spoke as much from the heart as for the stage. “It’s either his way or nothing. It’s always been so.”
“He needs you, though,” I said urgently, almost forgetting that others might be listening. “You two were born together for a reason. Together, you would bring balance to the throne. You could rule Pacifica, and even beyond, in a manner that would please the Maker.”
“I’m rather certain” — a second click freed my ankle — “that is the farthest thing from my brother’s mind.”
He rose and I stepped out of my chains, relief flooding through me.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I said.
Sounds of a scuffle outside brought my head up. A man cried out, another swore. I reached for my cuff and felt the alternating waves of both cold and heat.
The Ailith had come.
Bu
t our enemies had too.
I looked around madly for another loose rock, anything to arm myself with, but there was nothing. Grimly, I leaned down to gather the skirt of my long Pacifican gown and sheath and tore them to the knee, freeing my legs.
Three soldiers backed into the prison hallway, as if to defend their precious prisoner. The closest one caught sight of me and his eyes widened. I whirled and caught him in the throat with a roundhouse kick, just as he brought his sword up. He fell back against the one behind him, choking, and I turned to the third man, ignoring the warm trickle of blood running down my leg where the man had nicked me. It was only because he hadn’t time to fully raise his sword that I hadn’t suffered a mortal wound.
But this one before me now was fully ready.
We circled each other, and it ate at me, the precious seconds that were evaporating, allowing the other two to rise and gather themselves. I caught a glimpse of another soldier falling into the far end of the passageway, but he was immediately on his feet and back out again. My fellow Ailith clearly were bringing the fight to them outside. Could I hold these three off in the meantime?
The soldier before me flicked his sword back and forth in a teasing pattern. “Come now, girl. You can’t hope to make it out alive. Give yourself up. The emperor will be dismayed if he finds we had to kill you.”
“And what will he do when he finds you three dead?” I snapped back. “Will he give you a second thought?”
“Not likely,” he said, waving his sword, “but what choice do I have? Die here in the fight, or die later for losing. My only hope is to fight and win, if I want to live.”
I frowned. Keallach would kill his men for losing? I’d never heard of such a vicious thing. And it didn’t square with what I’d learned of him.
The man swung his sword at me and I leaned back. It just barely missed my belly. “You said you’re intent on taking me alive, right?”
He smiled and continued to circle me. “Alive, but with a memory of why you shouldn’t fight a Pacifican soldier.”
Kapriel caught my eye and gestured toward him. He wanted me to maneuver the man closer to the bars.
Season of Fire Page 5