The Seers

  Another scream echoed into the corridor. She rolled her eyes and stormed through the steel gate to the atrium. Blood had spattered across the white marble in too many directions to count, but all of it originated from a single subject cowering on the ground in the center of the room. Cyrus’s lanky frame towered over his victim as he circled, deep-crimson blood covering his pale-white hands.

  Inarus, Cyrus’s assistant, stood off to the side by the black rose bushes. Just like Cyrus, he’d developed quite a thirst for violence—surprising for a man who wasn’t much bigger than herself. He’d never miss a good beating, but what was Commander Bishop doing here?

  He’d been leaning on one of the Romanesque pillars but stood up as she stormed in. He was known to be ruthless, but he wasn’t sadistic like Cyrus. As usual, his deep black eyes revealed nothing, never surprise or anger, especially not happiness—but it hadn’t always been that way.

  Commander Bishop, Head of the Tavian Guard, used to be Jasper to her, her friend and only confidant. Time and duties had changed that years ago. She hadn’t spoken to him since the attacks on her family had ended. He barely acknowledged her now.

  Doctor Fry coughed and gurgled up blood in the center of the atrium, and Cyrus chuckled. Her fingers curled into her palms. How had it come to this? Doctor Fry was a geneticist, not some dumb peon Cyrus could beat until he couldn’t remember his name. But Cyrus couldn’t help himself.

  He should have let her handle this mission. She was twenty-one now, old enough for a leadership role, but Cyrus had completely boxed her out. Years of anger threatened to boil over, but lashing out wouldn't help matters. “Having fun, Cyrus?”

  “Run along, Annabel. I'm busy.” He dismissed her just as he always did, but she wasn’t leaving.

  Doctor Fry mumbled through swollen lips, “I've done everything you’ve asked. This procedure takes time and planning. There are grave risks—”

  “Shut up.” Cyrus extended a long, spindly arm and struck him so hard he flew sideways.

  Annabel shook her head. He’d beat an intellectual asset until he was brain dead, but she hadn’t been able to convince him to kill an exiled Seer?

  “What's the matter, dear sister? Can't handle the dirty work, or have you developed an affinity for our esteemed guest?” He gestured to Doctor Fry, who trembled below him.

  “Not at all,” she snapped. “I'm taking a moment to marvel at your foolishness.”

  The smile dropped from his face. “Watch the way you speak to me. You know better than anyone what I do to people who disrespect me.”

  “We had a plan, Cyrus. The other Elite Families are circling. We need a Seer to help us regain control over the Niotians, and if we don’t announce a breakthrough soon, the Sacarro family will gain the support they need to unseat us.”

  She looked past Cyrus to Doctor Fry, eyes swollen shut, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. “Is he even capable of starting our Seer program anymore? You’ve given him so many blows to the head, he may be of no use at all. It's not like we can find another geneticist.”

  “He’s fine,” Cyrus replied, glancing over his shoulder. “I suppose we can be done for today. Jasper!”

  Commander Bishop stood in front of him, ready for orders. Cyrus stood a few inches taller, but Commander Bishop’s lean, muscular frame left little doubt he would handily defeat Cyrus in any test of strength.

  Like many in the Guard, his tan skin revealed he spent a considerable amount of time outside Octavius—not surprising for a leader with a reputation for getting his hands dirty. Cyrus and Annabel rarely left Octavius, and without any natural sunlight, their skin was pale as porcelain.

  Commander Bishop looked like a Greek god standing next to a scrawny mole rat. How was it that Cyrus was deemed to have the better genetic profile?

  She knew, of course. Like Uncle Tiberius, Commander Bishop had dark hair. She’d met him when he’d been a low-level guard just after Mother and Father’s murder. He was only a couple of years older than her. In that dark moment, he’d been the friend she’d needed.

  Sadly, she knew the cruelty of Octavius better than most. Even though he’d performed his duties admirably, there’d always been someone there who wanted him filtered out for his poor bloodline.

  It never happened.

  He’d made it through, garnering the respect and fear of those around him. Now, he occupied the top position in the Guard and was Cyrus's most trusted adviser.

  “Summon the medical team,” Cyrus ordered. “I need him healed and operational by tomorrow.”

  Annabel frowned as Commander Bishop heaved Doctor Fry over his shoulder with little difficulty and teleported away in a crackling blue flash.

  “How could you possibly expect him to be ready tomorrow?” she asked, letting disdain permeate her voice.

  “I assure you I'm as committed to producing a Tavian Seer as you.” He grinned, wiping the blood off his hands with a towel. She knew that grin; he was hiding something.

  “Speaking of Seers,” she said, refocusing.

  “There’s nothing to discuss. All seven Niotian Seers are dead, and Doctor Fry is in our custody. My plan is moving along as expected; that’s all you need to know.”

  Annabel intensified her glare. “Not the final Niotian Seer. That's why I'm here.”

  Cyrus groaned, tossing his head back. “Not this again. We’ve discussed this already. I won’t do it again.”

  She pressed her lips together. They would discuss it again—and again, if necessary, until he saw her point. It had taken years to snake their way into the Niotian government, a plan so secret that Cyrus had refused to reveal the contact's identity even to her. It took even longer to eliminate every Seer without arousing suspicion. Their plan hinged on secrecy. A new Seer—even an exile—might reveal their plans. It would be over before it began.

  He shook his head. “For the life of me, I can't understand your obsession with that girl. She was exiled. They rewrote her memories. She may possess a genetic predisposition, but they broke her. There's no going back. If I thought for a moment she could be restored, I would take her myself.”

  She fought a smile. Giving him the news would be the highlight of her month. Casually studying her fingernails, she focused on his dark silhouette in her periphery. “If she's so damaged, why did two Niotian operatives extract her today?”

  Cyrus paused. “Where are you getting your intelligence?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes. My source insists she's a civilian. No one has contacted her since her exile.”

  Annabel shifted on her feet but kept her shoulders back. Now wasn’t the time to look weak. “I assigned guards to her.”

  He glowered. “You did what?”

  “I assigned guards to her,” she repeated in a confident tone, but it was only posturing. He had the power to crush her—he’d actually tried to kill her once—and no one could do anything about it.

  He roared with laughter, and she tugged at a curl along her shoulder. Why wasn’t he livid? He nodded to Inarus, who skulked along the wall of the atrium toward the gate. None of this was making sense, but she planted her feet. Even if he didn’t like it, she was still a member of the ruling family. She could assign guards for small operations.

  “Oh, Annabel.” Cyrus chuckled. “If what you're saying is true—and that's yet to be determined—you’ve demonstrated amazing foresight. You’ve made this so much easier.”

  “She's a Seer,” she insisted. “We can’t make the same mistake again! All the Niotian Seers must die before we start another eugenics program.”

  “Eugenics?” Cyrus sneered. “Even if we could breed a Seer, do you really think the Sacarros, or any of the other families, will wait the twenty years it would take for that person to grow and develop?”

  She folded her arms. Maybe not, but if that wasn’t the plan, why had they gone through all the trouble to kidnap a geneticist from the Niotians? “Despite the time it would take, a Tavian Seer would mean victory ove
r the Niotians—”

  “We agree on that point.” Cyrus nodded, a smirk stretching across his face. “But I’m looking for more than that. The only thing that has kept the other families in check was our relation to Octavius Renaud. That’s not enough anymore, but if the first Tavian Seer was a Renaud, no one could dispute our right to rule.”

  “From our family?” she asked.

  Arms clothed in black closed in around her from behind. Inarus. Before she could fight back, a stinging pain pricked the side of her neck, forcing her into silence. Her vision blurred as she batted a numb hand at the prick mark and hit Inarus’s knuckles wrapped tightly around a syringe.

  “What did you do?” she demanded, glaring at Cyrus.

  “The other families want results now, not in the twenty years. Doctor Fry wasn’t just part of the eugenics team in Nios; he altered DNA sequences after birth. That got me thinking. What if we could alter someone's genetic profile on our side to possess the predisposition? There would be no need to wait the decades it takes to breed and develop a Seer. We'd have the only fully functional Seer on either side!”

  “That's... ridiculous... and... imp... imposs...” She fought for every word. Her legs wobbled. Seers had never been produced that way. They had to be born with the genetic mutation. Maybe if he’d taken the time to read a single research brief like she had, he’d know that.

  “Impossible? No, no, no!” His unfettered giddiness shined through his pale, slender features. “We already have everything we need.”

  She barely raised an eyebrow in response.

  “We already have a blood sample from your beloved Leonora, taken by Mother and Father shortly after she was exiled. Between Doctor Fry and our team of biological engineers, they believe they can replicate her genetic mutation in a subject, and that subject will inherit the cognitive markers. I'll admit, it's too risky to try on myself, but I couldn't waste this opportunity on anyone. No. This had to stay in the family.”

  She swayed and fell into Inarus’s waiting arms, and he pawed at her body to get a better grip. Her senses numb, she clung to consciousness with what little she had left. She’d always known that Cyrus was capable of horrific atrocities, but this? Altering her genes? It couldn’t work.

  And the risks…

  His pursuit of power might get her killed. She needed to fight back, but she couldn’t move.

  “Congratulations, Annabel. You're going to be a Seer.” His words sounded as if they’d been spoken through a pillow, but his arrogance had been as obvious in his tone as it was in his puffed-up chest and sadistic smile.

  A crackling sound from behind her was followed by quick and sure footsteps. Jasper. She tried to turn her head in his direction, but her body didn't respond. Her unfocused gaze remained on Cyrus, who rubbed some remaining blood from his fingernails.

  The footsteps paused. “Is everything all right with Annabel?”

  Cyrus waved a dismissive hand. “She’ll be fine. Why would the Niotians sabotage themselves so greatly by throwing away a Seer?”

  She detected a subtle, but familiar, quiver in Cyrus’s voice. Her news about Leonora had shaken his confidence.

  I’ll do far worse than that once I regain control of myself.

  “I don't pretend to understand their self-righteousness,” Jasper replied sardonically.

  “I'm not questioning your loyalty,” Cyrus said with a bitter smile. “Five years ago, a young Niotian Seer predicted our plan and notified their council, and what did they do? They exiled her for disturbing the peace and erased all her memories. My mother and father made sure she couldn’t remember anything, but I’ve received word that Niotian operatives extracted her today. What do you make of that?”

  A long pause hung in the air.

  “If I may speak freely, sir?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “There are two possibilities.” Commander Bishop's words were calm and measured. “Either our contact developed a backup plan to counter the deal you had reached with him, or someone else in Nios has discovered what you're up to.”

  Cyrus nodded, folding his hands behind his back. “My thoughts exactly. I need to get to the bottom of this. Tell our contact I need to speak with him now, and I don't care what he has to do to comply.”

  Annabel had never wanted to wrap her hands around his neck more than she did right now.

  Typical Cyrus.

  He always rushed to react without any strategy. She tried to rear back against Inarus to free herself, but she hung lifelessly in his arms.

  Cyrus gave no thought to what would happen if his demands exposed their Niotian contact. Not surprising since he gave little thought to his plan’s risks for his own sister.

  “Sir, I think you can spare yourself the trouble,” Commander Bishop said, still calm.

  Cyrus inclined his head.

  “I believe you can resolve either problem in the same way without revealing anything to the Niotians.”

  Cyrus’s black eyes lit up like embers. “Cut the formalities. Out with it.”

  “Kill the Seer,” Commander Bishop replied.

  Finally. Someone else saw her logic. If the drug hadn't prevented it, she would have beamed at Cyrus.

  “If our contact is trying to double-cross you, you end his attempts and our plans move forward as scheduled. If someone is acting alone, you end an uprising before it begins,” Commander Bishop reasoned.

  Cyrus bobbed his head, revealing Commander Bishop’s plan—her plan—had finally taken root. She wasn't sure whether to be grateful to Commander Bishop for suggesting it, or livid with Cyrus for rejecting it every time she had proposed it. Probably both.

  “Send some guards,” Cyrus said. “If she hasn’t reached Nios, it shouldn’t take too long to track her down.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Annabel waited for the hard notes of Commander Bishop's footfalls to move away, but all remained quiet. He didn't move.

  “I will send some guards right away, but what about Annabel?”

  “Huh?” Cyrus glanced at her lifeless body. “Oh, right. She’s been given a motor sedative to help her relax.”

  He laughed as if he’d found humor in his own joke.

  Arrogant, impulsive, reckless…

  “She’s going to be the subject we’ll be using for genetic therapy.”

  He would pay for this. She would see to it.

  “That sounds… risky.” Commander Bishop replied evenly.

  “Our deal is still intact, if that’s what you’re wondering,” Cyrus said. “Doctor Fry has performed similar procedures before. The risks will be minimal.”

  “I’ll escort her to the medical facility to ensure there aren't any problems, sir,” Commander Bishop said as if he was about to simply escort her upstairs to her suite.

  Cyrus rubbed at the remaining blood on his hands now sloughing off in dried flakes. “Sure. Do whatever you think is best.”

  Inarus turned, allowing Commander Bishop to enter her field of foggy vision. He stared at her with an unreadable expression for a moment before nodding toward the atrium gate.

  Inarus tossed her over his shoulder and followed Commander Bishop to the main hall. Her silk dress pulled and shifted, threatening to tear and expose her chest. Her cheeks burned. She had been reduced to nothing. Even Inarus treated her like chattel. She wanted to break free, or at the very least, cover herself, but it was no use. Her arms dangled below her head.

  Rounding the corner, a jarring force sent Inarus stumbling backward with a yelp.

  “She’s a member of the ruling family,” Commander Bishop said. Though groggy, Annabel cringed at the viciousness in his voice.

  “I—I'm sorry, sir, I just—”

  “Give her to me,” he ordered.

  Inarus complied, slipping her off his shoulder and into Commander Bishop's arms. Warm blood streamed from Inarus’s nose onto her shoulder.

  Commander Bishop shifted her with ease and cradled her in his arms. Her head rested against hi
s chest. Her dress no longer pulled. She wanted to sigh in relief. They might no longer be friends, but at least he wouldn’t stand by as she lost all dignity.

  “If anything like this happens again, I'll slit your throat.” He stormed away with her, leaving her just as shocked as Inarus.

  Chapter 4

  Nora peered out from behind the pine tree as Charlotte and Henry scoured the woods for the sound's origin.

  Henry blinked, and his gaze swiped back and forth before he threw his arms up. “This is ridiculous. I’m not used to looking at terrain like this on the map. I have to project it so I can see it better.”

  “No. We agreed.” Charlotte said through tight lips. “It’ll scare her.”

  “The Tavians will scare her. This is just a map, and we’re in a hurry.” Henry blinked hard, and an icy blue holographic map stretched out in front of him, complete with three-dimensional peaks, valleys, and two blinking white dots in the center.

  Not normal. So not normal.

  Nora clambered backward.

  Charlotte held up her hands at Nora. “I know this must be very shocking, but we’re in a hurry. This will allow us to see everything around us in greater detail. Look. See? If the Tavians were here, we’d see red dots.”

  “No teleportation signature, either,” Henry announced, still leaning over the map. “It's not the Tavians, but we won’t have much longer before they’re able to trace us here. We should get going.”

  The map disappeared, and they both looked at Nora. The hues of pink in the sky had turned to purple. Nighttime was fast approaching, and they were in the middle of nowhere. At least they had a map—even if it was a holographic one.

  She pressed her palms into her eyes and thought of her home—now without a door. She had been so close to leaving. Now she was being chased, and the Tavians probably wouldn’t listen if she tried to explain that this was all a mistake.

  She pushed herself off the ground and brushed away the pine needles. “Lead the way.”

  Henry wasted no time forging ahead. They hiked the next twenty minutes in silence, Nora’s feet slipping around in her ballet flats.