by Liz Delton
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But she seems to really like you.”
He said it without inflection, but Sylvia could sense something buried in the words.
“Why does she treat you the way she does?” she asked quietly.
Atlan closed his eyes briefly, and then his words tumbled out in a rush.
“It all comes back to the same problem, doesn’t it? Seascape has always been ruled by the female line—Karalyn, then her daughter Korryn, and now Naomi.”
“She never wanted a boy,” he continued with quick words. “But with the serum, she probably won’t have another. I think that’s why she likes you. She sees you as the daughter she’s always wanted. You’re driven, courageous, and smart—like her.”
He glanced at her, perhaps guiltily. It sounded like a theory he had been pondering over on for a while.
She took him in her arms and leaned in close, but she didn’t know what to say. It was not the goodbye she had been expecting.
“I’m sorry I have to leave,” she whispered by his neck.
His head settled onto her shoulder with a comforting weight. “I understand,” he said. “I just wish I could go with you.”
“Are you going to do it then?” Sylvia asked in a tiny voice.
He sighed, with the weight of a thousand year tradition on his shoulders.
“I don’t know.”
Fifty
Water lapped against the sides of her little boat as they glided through the water. The ocean breeze tickled her nose, salty and crisp. One of Lady Naomi’s guards sat at the oars, propelling them forward, away from Seascape.
Sylvia’s eyes were swollen, but dry now. She had said goodbye to Atlan in the clearing, leaving him to contemplate his decision before the ceremony tonight.
It was a heavy decision, but it was all Atlan’s to make. Nearly a thousand years of his family’s legacy came before him. It was still something she was struggling to comprehend; not to mention the complete shock of Seascape’s biggest secret, or so she hoped—she couldn’t stand to find out anything more strange or sinister about the isle.
The Lady’s strange interest in her seemed to make sense now, but the blow of learning Naomi’s family history had struck her soundly. And just before she was to return home.
She stared out at the shore ahead, her face like stone as her original mission returned weightily to her shoulders. She was going to return to Meadowcity, carrying her gifts from Lady Naomi, which she would use to protect her home, and defeat Greyling.
The drone was tucked carefully in her pack, but she wore her earlink and half-sleeve. She tried to recall the frame of mind she had sloughed off while tucked safely away inside Seascape. She was about to enter the wilds once again; the forsaken land between the Four Cities, full of predators—beast and man alike. Her defenses had to be ready, but she worried that she had grown complacent.
She had lived within the safety of Castle Tenny for months, spoiled with a comfy bed and luxurious bath, and walls and guards to protect her. She grit her teeth knowing she’d be sleeping on the ground tonight, something she used to enjoy, or at least tolerate.
How she wished the boat would turn around; dissolving her of the responsibility of the Four Cities she felt was hers, returning her to Atlan, to the weird wonders of Seascape.
But she missed her family, and Ember, and Ven—even Flint. And to let Greyling carry out his vicious plans was something she couldn’t endure.
She would fight for the Four Cities, with all of her might. But the reasoning behind it had grown and changed. Not only would she fight to protect her sister, her parents, and everyone who lived peacefully in Arcera; but she would fight to end the war so she could begin a new life. So she could return to Seascape and learn how to manipulate the strands, to submerse herself in Seascape’s constantly evolving technology; and so she could be with Atlan, whether he chose a long life or not.
Her stomach jolted as she remembered something. She had never asked Atlan whether linking would work over a distance. Oliver had whisked her to the docks as soon as she called him. She had given the man a fierce hug goodbye—after asking Atlan how old Naomi’s assistant was; and realizing happily that he was only fifty, though he looked half that.
Panicked, she reached out, knowing she was growing further from the island with every stroke of the oars. Already connected to her earlink, she sought the only person she needed.
Atlan? Atlan?
Nothing came back through the link.
Every time she called his name the boat was closer and closer to shore. It wasn’t reaching.
Tears returned as she stepped off the boat and back onto land. She had truly lost touch with him.
She called his name one more time.
In nothing but silence, she struck away from the shore and entered the wilds, her heart icing over until the day she would return to the beautiful island.
Until then, she had a war to fight.
Fifty One
Sorin couldn’t believe it. Airic stood before him uttering words that no longer made sense to Sorin’s ears.
“Stop,” he burst, cutting off the Scout with a sharp gesture.
He spoke slowly, with each word painfully ripping through his chest as he said it: “What do you mean destroyed.”
The Scout began again, regaling the horrid tale once more. He had been returning to Lightcity to take over for the commander that was to go with the shipment, when he came onto the plain Lightcity stood upon.
But it no longer stood.
It had been blasted into the ground with the orbs that were supposed to be in Riftcity by now. A savage headache blossomed between Sorin’s temples quite suddenly. He clenched his eyes shut.
“Get out,” Sorin muttered.
Airic took one look at Sorin and obeyed, skittering out of the office in only a few seconds.
The book Sorin had been reading before Airic interrupted soared across the room at the closing door and slid down to the floor in a pile. He slammed his fist on the desk.
He couldn’t imagine a worse setback. The assault on Seascape would be delayed even further now—they hadn’t nearly enough firepower stored elsewhere in Arcera to mount his attack.
Now that he finally had the vessels assembled in Riftcity, shoddy though they might be, now he had nothing to strike with.
After that fiend in the fifth city had disabled his Scouts, he had craved to retaliate; but the past few weeks had been slow going. And now this.
His dreams would take hold. The Four Cities would have Seascape’s technologies: a train that united the cities, limitless light and power, and whatever else they were hoarding. They deserved it. And all would be united under Skycity, under him. He would just have to adjust his plans.
For some reason he couldn’t help but think of Savannah, stolen away to the city that defied him, huddling under Gero’s wing, that imbecile who took her from him.
His failure in the fifth city was somehow linked to his failure with Savannah.
And he was sure Meadowcity had something to do with the loss of Lightcity, the loss of his advantage, though he didn’t know how. They had been meddling since the beginning.
As he unrolled his map of Arcera onto the desk, and weighed the corners down with books, he vowed he would retrieve Savannah from Meadowcity before the war was out.
Before he ground their headstrong city into the dust.
About the Author
Raised in the Northeast, LIZ DELTON has spent a lot of time in both woods and cities. While living for five years in Philadelphia, she got a taste for the city, but didn’t find it green enough, and currently resides in what some would call “the middle of woods”.
Visit her website at LizDelton.com.
iends