by Eden Reign
With shaking hands, Manda reached for his neck to feel for the steady pulse of life.
It was weak and thready, but still there, nonetheless.
“Jack!” Manda sobbed. “Wake up.” She buried her head against his neck. “Please.”
His fingers brushed her cheek, a feather’s touch. “Manda?”
“Jack,” Manda cried, throwing herself over him.
He gently rubbed her back. “I’m all right,” he whispered. “My throat hurts like fire, though.”
Manda raised herself to a seat, supporting him as he struggled to sit up as well. He looked over his shoulder at the sea where it danced, turgid, under the first light of the gloaming moon. His glance fell on the pocket watch clasped in Manda’s fingers. “You got it back,” he said, a tinge of awe in his voice. “Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Take it,” she whispered. “It’s yours.”
His hand trembled as he lifted the watch and stared at it. “So much pain in so many memories. I want to smash it, Manda,” he said, “but I won’t. Not until every last piece of my father’s evil legacy is eradicated. I will not permit him to win.”
Manda placed her hand on his cheek and turned his face back to hers. “I will help you overcome the pain of the past.” She leaned forward, meeting his lips, struggling to put all of her emotions and panic and heartbreak and despair and relief into one solitary kiss.
He responded as she’d hoped he would, pushing closer, laying her down on the grass, leaning over her, tasting her as though he’d never have enough. He rested his weight on one elbow, and his other hand tangled in her hair, his thumb brushing her cheek. “Manda,” he rasped, and an ocean of feeling lay behind the word. “Marry me.”
Manda raised a trembling hand, tracing the v-scar beneath his eye. Her reservations, the excuses she had clung to, all her fears melted into vapor as she stared into his brown gaze. He was everything to her, her world. She could not do anything else.
“Yes,” she whispered, simply.
Jackson captured her face in both hands, pressing her back against the ground as they kissed.
“Papa?” Grey’s voice called, and Jackson, who had just parted Manda’s lips with his, moaned. He pulled away. Manda raised herself onto her elbows, squinting into the dusk. Many figures moved across the green, with noise and confusion and calls echoing in their wake.
“Grey,” Manda murmured, “and Rose Westerly and Mr. Flacks. It looks like they’ve brought help.”
Jackson ran one finger down her cheek. “We’ll get to this later, my love,” he murmured, his gaze full of promise.
Grey barreled into both of them before they could stand, so that they all had a moment of scrambling like puppies in a pile before they righted themselves. Jackson helped Manda to her feet. Neither of them were all that steady.
“Me and Mr. Flacks and Miss Westerly went to Savana!” Grey cried, gesturing at the cook and the overseer a few paces down the hill. “Mr. Flacks wasn’t able to undo the wards on the western property, so he came back and insisted we go for help in Savana together with Traveller. I got to see the clock tower in Four Scythes Park, and General Asher—that’s him, the tall, dark one with the big horse at the front—he let me see his sword collection that he keeps on the wall of his office in the Capitol building! Sky—that’s his son—said he’d teach me how to duel. Sky couldn’t come, though; he set sail on his ship called the Tempest. In the war he fought real pirates! Or—or block runners.” His brow creased as he struggled to remember the term.
“You mean blockade runners?” Jackson asked. During the war, the Levelers had depended heavily on sea captains to sneak past Arcana’s naval blockades to bring supplies to their oft-time starving front lines during the heaviest fighting.
“That was it! Blockade runners.” Grey attached himself to Jackson’s leg, beaming. “Everybody’s all right! Mr. Flacks told me that’s how it would be, and he was right. Now General Asher’s going to arrest those people.”
“Is he?” Jackson put one hand on Grey’s shoulder and kept the other on Manda’s waist. She heard the anxiety in his tone and sent him a questioning look.
“He was one of the top generals for the Arcanan Army,” Jackson explained quietly. “Not exactly my natural ally.”
She covered his fingers with hers. “Mr. Flacks would not have brought him here if he did not have reason to believe he would help.”
“We’ll see,” Jackson said, keeping his hold on both Grey and Manda as they moved back toward the house.
Chapter 29
Jackson
Jackson did not want to take his hands off Manda, but as they stepped into the house, he did, fearing the judging eyes of Arcanan soldiers and General Asher. Coalhaven looked as though a flood had washed through its first floor, and an inferno the upper ones. Half of the great balcony that joined the twin staircases had fallen away, blackened by flame.
Mr. Stone was deep in conversation with General Asher near the far water-damaged wall, but as Jackson entered, the butler faced Jackson and said, “The croppers are all safely secured in their cottages, Master Coal. All unharmed.”
A wave of relief surged through Jackson.
Mr. Stone then turned to construct a cage of briars around Daniel Lake’s fullmages, those who had survived Manda’s fury. Wilcott Blazen stood among the prisoners, blustering with indignation at his treatment. Mr. Stone’s briars sprouted through the floor of the main foyer. Tendrils of the temporary prison curled around the burned banisters.
Jackson turned to Miss Westerly, who’d followed them into the house, and offered her Grey’s hand. “Please take Grey upstairs to his room and stay with him, Miss Westerly.”
“I don’t want to go upstairs,” Grey cried. “I want to stay here with you and Manda.”
“Grey, remember what I told you about how important it was for you to listen to the adults?” Jackson said. “It’s still important. Miss Rivers and I will be up to see you shortly.”
Grey permitted Miss Westerly to take him towards the servants’ steps, the only remaining staircase, but he cast several glances back and dragged his feet more than necessary as he departed.
General Asher, an Akwa Islander, was broad and dignified in body, with traces of grey tingeing the tight, wiry curls at his temples. Fine lines at his eyes deepened in his dark skin as he surveyed the scene, his top hat in hand. His boots rapped as he approached the briar prison.
“Wilcott Blazen,” he said sternly, peering through a gap in the brambles, “You are under arrest for the unauthorized use of magic on mundanes. We are aware of your activities at Blazenfields, and we have several witnesses willing to testify that you—and your daughter—” The General scanned the inhabitants of the bramble cage, but Leah Blazen was missing “—were operating an unsanctioned research project that unduly abused mundanes.” The General wore a look of distaste as he peered up at the ruins of the foyer and balcony. “And it seems I must add charges of trespassing, breaking and entering, and damages to property as well.”
Jackson frowned. What had happened to Leah and Abigail?
“Those were my mundanes, the little beasts!” Wilcott raged through the bramble cage. “I could do what I wanted with them. And they burned my fields! Are you arresting them for destruction of property?”
General Asher pulled a paper from his haversack. “At this juncture, no. Our concern is these allegations of your use of magemarks to rob mundanes of their personal sovereignty.” He lifted a brow. “Really, Master Blazen, I knew you were one of the more extreme members of our Brotherhood, but using magemarks—spellwork that is questionably legal at best—to control the minds and actions of others? You give us a bad name.”
“They were mundanes! It wasn’t as if they had much mind in the first place,” Blazen whined.
The General glared through the bramble boughs. “Sir, I find your sentiments a disgrace. You only give fuel to the fire of those who rebelled against fullmage power in Arcana. Possessing elemental
magic does not give us a right to cause harm to those who do not share our powers. You remain under arrest.”
“Y—you cannot do that!” spluttered Master Blazen. “It’s Coal you should be arresting.” A pudgy hand poked through the gap and pointed at Jackson where he stood beside Manda near the staircase. “Him! Jackson Coal, the Leveler rebel! Harborer of Halfbreeds! Ow!” Blazen snapped his hand back into the bramble cage as a twisting vine circled his wrist and squeezed, jamming thorns into his flesh and preventing his power and any further motion. “Curse you, earthmage!” he spat at Mr. Stone, who remained impassive beside the cage. “I’ll see you arrested for this, you filthy nutskin knife-toter!”
General Asher turned away from Blazen to face Jackson and Manda, his stern face unreadable. He pulled another packet of papers from his haversack. “Master Coal, it pleases me to tell you that the Bill for Halfmage Integration that you helped author as part of the Armistice package has been approved by the Arcanan Congress.”
“Which version?” Jackson asked. All his breath had left his body. Full rights of citizenship for halfmages and mundanes? Manda and Grey, safe and legitimate members of society? He could only hope.
“The latest revision.” Asher peered down at his paper. “Halfmages shall enjoy the right to full participation in Arcanan society, including the right to vote and the full privileges of private and public spaces.” He spoke over his shoulder to Blazen in the brambles. “As of the ratification date three days past, harboring a halfmage”—he cast a knowing gaze at Manda—“is no longer a crime. However,” he turned back to Jackson, “halfmages living openly must be registered with the Arcanan Home Office, and they must have a fullmage sponsor willing to vouch for their character and commitment to safe use of magic. There is a grace period of three weeks during which halfmages may register. So—Master Coal, I urge you to assist your halfmage friends to the registry as soon as possible.”
“A registry was a revision the Levelers did not approve,” Jackson said hotly. He did not like the idea, not at all.
General Asher inclined his head. “Compromises negotiated during an armistice do tend to favor the winning side’s terms, Master Coal. Be glad you got as much as you did. There was great resistance to your bill from certain members of Congress. I did what I could.”
“And intermarriages—between fullmages and halfs or mundanes?” Jackson tried to contain the emotion in his voice; he didn’t want to show how much he wanted this.
General Asher snapped his pages. “Not approved. Government marriage contracts between those of different kinds will not be permitted. However, parties who choose marriage in the Wells following the Nanu traditions will not be prosecuted, and couples who take that path will not be separated. Such unions will be considered private acts. Couples who choose Wells marriage may dwell together without interference from the law, provided a fullmage witness can attest to their ceremony. Mr. Stone could serve in that capacity, if you have need of such a witness.” He glanced significantly between Jackson and Manda. “I have granted him Arcanan citizenship, and he is familiar with the Nanu Wells marriage ceremony.”
It was not as much as Jackson had hoped, but it was something. It might even be enough. For the first time, he took Manda’s hand in the sight of others and brought it to his lips. “Thank you, General,” he said. Asher had straddled an uncomfortable line in negotiating the Halfmage Integration Bill, and the man had shown moral fiber in holding to the interests of the Levelers as much as he had; he’d done it out of his own conscience more than out of any need to appease the defeated rebels.
“Now,” General Asher waved to his rows of men standing on the verandah. “I shall remand these trespassers and insurgents into the custody of the Arcanan Army. Master Coal, I regret the damages to your plantation. We shall seek to recompense you using the law. By confronting these insurgents, you have eliminated a great threat that might have toppled the tentative peace Arcana is striving to build.”
The General’s Arcanan soldiers marched through Coalhaven’s front doors and formed a circle around Mr. Stone’s bramble cage. General Asher nodded to Mr. Stone, who released his hold on the brambles, allowing them to retract as Asher’s men used their own elements to create individual restraints on each prisoner.
Wilcott Blazen struggled against the soldier leading him to the front doors of Coalhaven. “Do not think I will forget this,” he said. “When Daniel Lake learns of this treatment of one of the top fullmages in the Brotherhood, you all will fall! He will take you down, you and your notions of miscegeny and leveling. Power, Purity, Order! And you, Asher—you think your reputation as a war hero will protect you against Daniel Lake and the Time Keepers? Ha! You’re nothing but an Akwa darkling!” He spat on the General’s boots as he passed out the door.
“What an unpleasant person,” General Asher said, more to himself than anyone else.
Once all the intruders had been removed from the house, Mr. Stone began cleaning up debris with great care. Mr. Flacks joined him.
General Asher turned to Jackson and Manda. “Blazen mentioned Daniel Lake, but he was not among the prisoners. Mr. Flacks said he was the leader of the attack on Coalhaven. Where is he?”
“He is gone, General,” Manda answered. “I could not hold him; the water was too much for me. It dragged him into the sea. I saw him, and then I lost him. I’m afraid he swam away, assisted by his element and the southerly currents.”
“So he has escaped. That is unfortunate. I’ll send some of my men out to patrol the shore.” General Asher sighed. “Master Lake believes he is above the law. Once a man goes renegade to law and order, he might do anything. I urge you both to be on your guard. Lake is the most vehement voice in the Brotherhood against level rights, and he has made it his life’s crusade to push stricter and harsher laws against both halfmages and mundanes. I have evidence that he has been acting as a vigilante “eradicator” of those he believes impure. He may have killed his own former wife. We believe Lake and Blazen are part of a secret coalition in the Brotherhood who call themselves the Time Keepers, dedicated not only to halfmage eradication, but also to illegal researches enhancing fullmage abilities so they can control people via magemarks. The Blazens’ magemark project was at the heart of the Time Keepers’ aims. Your father, Master Coal, appeared to have been part of it as well. Each leading member has a pocket watch, I’m told, manufactured by Daniel Lake himself, with the four elemental symbols on its face. They started out as only four leaders, one for each element, but by all reports, the Time Keepers are gaining more members and supporters from among the Brotherhood.” General Asher inclined his head at Jackson.
“My father’s participation in such a group wouldn’t surprise me at all,” Jackson said, restraining himself from touching the elemental timepiece he’d stuffed in his pocket.
“On a side note, we received an anonymous tip regarding your father’s death the other day. The letter said that Henry was adept at casting these new experimental “indigo ink” magemarks pioneered by the Time Keepers, and that your father’s killer is likely marked in such a manner. We shall follow up on the lead and let you know what comes of it.”
Jackson swayed on his feet. “I see,” he said weakly.
Manda clapped a hand on Jackson’s shoulder and offered the General a wide smile. “General, surely you are a busy man. But would you care for some refreshment? Lemonade, perhaps? A pastry?”
A smile creased the rich brown of Asher’s face. “That is a mighty kind offer, Miss, and I do thank you, but—”
A scream rang through the foyer, echoing from the upstairs bedrooms.
Everyone sprang into action. The General, Mr. Stone, and Jackson all lurched toward the tea kitchen and the only remaining set of stairs, while Manda inexplicably raced across the foyer to Mr. Flacks. Jackson lifted a questioning brow at her as he followed Asher toward the servants’ stairs. She gestured at his arm, where a magemark tendril peeked from beneath his cut sleeve. He yanked the sleeve down as best he
could as the party proceeded to the second floor.
Mr. Stone found the source of the scream first, throwing open the door of Grey’s bedroom. Manda caught up to Jackson and threw a coat over his shoulders. “From Mr. Flacks,” she murmured. “Put it on. Just in case.”
He squeezed his arms into the too-tight sleeves, ignoring the pain that shot across his burnt arm, and followed Asher into the nursery.
Leah Blazen stood pinned against the wall, drenched from head to toe and surrounded by wavering walls of water.
“Get that wretched little halfbreed away from me!” she wailed. “He’s a monster!”
Grey stood in the middle of the room, his hands outstretched, his small face pinched with concentration. Even so, he managed to speak while keeping up his water walls. “She tried to do it again. She tried to put a mark on me, like last time, but without any porcelain heart.” He jerked his chin toward the corner of the room by the window. “She got Miss Westerly with the mark and made her—” Grey’s mouth trembled “—made her hurt herself.”
Poor Rose Westerly lay crumpled in the corner, limp, her simple dress torn down the center of the bodice and wet with blood. In the middle of her chest, above chemise and corset and blood, a blazing blue heart mark throbbed. Beneath that, a bloody, pointed curtain rod impaled the cook’s body. The girl’s hands were curled around the rod.
“Oh, Merciful Rivers!” Manda cried as she raced to Miss Westerly.
If anything could be done to help the maid, Manda, with her healing powers, was best suited to do it. The room looked so ransacked Jackson couldn’t imagine how they’d not heard a disturbance below.
Mr. Stone and General Asher went to assist Grey, Asher crafting a waist-high fire barrier that ran all the way around Grey’s water wall and Leah, Stone putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Leah Blazen,” General Asher said over her screams. “Calm yourself.”