by Jeanne Allen
Kieran only grins wider. “Technically you are, Princess-Agora. Jackson may not be in line for the throne, but your kids—”
“Stop!” I throw up my hand to cover Kieran’s mouth.
Forrest quickly removes it, his voice as stony as his eyes. “No talk about children. It’s too early for that shit.”
Kieran’s navy eyes widen. He nods and shrugs. “I was just joking around.” He looks remorseful and a bit embarrassed as he runs a hand through his shaggy black hair. “Sorry,” he mutters.
“It’s fine. Just, let’s not talk about that subject again, okay?” I don’t want to think about children any time soon; not with what mine could mean for us as an Omás and to the entire Phósopoi race. It’s a big burden to carry, along with the whole becoming-a-mother thing that I also would rather not consider until I have to.
“Did you have something to tell me?” I question Kieran, eager to get away from our current topic.
“Oh, yeah. Jackson says we should get going soon. I think your Omás is meeting in the master bedroom to say goodbye.”
I look up at Forrest who nods. His expression turns even heavier. I have a feeling Forrest dreads this separation almost as much as I do.
I give his arm a squeeze. “It’s only for a few days.”
He nods again but doesn’t say anything as he leads me over to the bedroom.
Chapter 15
“Are we sure she knows where she’s going?” I whisper to Birdie, holding out my hand to help her over bits of fallen fence.
We’re in some weird back alley in the middle of downtown Atlanta. Sarah claims her contact sent her a Google Maps pin, so we’ve been following the little dot on her phone for almost an hour, weaving between back alleys until I don’t know which way we came from and which way we’re going.
Birdie must feel the same because she shudders, holds my hand close, and uses her free one to cover her mouth. “I hope we’re going somewhere that smells less rank.”
The others are almost out of sight, and there’s no way I want to be left with just us in this alley. Even though Birdie, I’m sure, can hold her own, alleys make me particularly nervous since what happened in Minneapolis.
By the time we catch up with the others, they’re already gathered around a small metal door set into the brick building on our left.
Sarah glances back and nods at us stragglers before knocking on the door sharply, her knuckles making an ominous thudding sound against the surprisingly thick door.
A few moments pass and nothing happens.
Sarah checks her phone, moves to the left, then back to the right. She sighs and shrugs at us.
She’s about to knock again when the door opens slowly, revealing darkness and a small face that peeps out. It’s a boy about nine or ten-years-old. His springy red curls fall into his eyes as he peers at us.
When he catches sight of Sarah, his eyes widen, and he disappears.
From inside comes the faint sound of his little sneakers running over what sounds like more metal.
I look at the others, who seem just as perplexed as I am.
“Who was that?” I whisper to Kieran, who sidled up next to me.
“Dunno. Could be our contact’s kin, or just a local Phósopoi child.” He shrugs, much like Sarah had.
It seems nobody is one hundred percent certain of the details of this meeting, which leaves me less than confident in our ability to pull it off.
I’m about to mention my concerns to Sarah when a man appears at the door.
His beard is as red as the child’s curls, and they share the same deep-green eyes. But that’s where the resemblance stops. There’s nothing youthful about the man who grumbles at Sarah before gesturing for us to follow him inside. Even if age didn’t line his face and bend his back, I would have guessed that he was ancient. Something about him seems experienced.
I don’t know if it’s my Agora Power picking up on his power-level or my own intuition, but I have a feeling this man is one of the oldest Phósopoi I’ve met, which is saying something when some of the Phósopoi I’ve met in Phóspolis have lived centuries, and they still look twenty-five.
I can’t imagine how old this guy must be if he’s showing his age so clearly.
We follow him through a musty smelling hallway. The few hanging lights cast a dim yellow glow over metal walls that meet metal floors. I can’t imagine this place gets very warm in the winter. It’s the beginning of April now, and I shiver in my long-sleeved t-shirt. It was fine for the Atlanta weather outside, but now I wish I brought a sweatshirt with me.
Thankfully, it doesn’t take long for the old man to lead us to another metal door. He pauses to make sure we’re all following before pushing the door open and hobbling inside.
Birdie takes my hand. I don’t know if it’s for her comfort or mine, but I’m grateful for the warmth and support. I squeeze it slightly and offer her a small smile.
Lakshimi comes along and takes her other hand. Neither say anything, but I’m happy to be included in their little duo.
We’re led into a surprisingly cozy room compared to the industrial hallway. The walls are done in soft shades of green, with the bottom halves covered in expensive-looking wooden panels. The floor is the same shade of wood as the panels and is covered with intricately woven Moroccan rugs. The only furniture in the room is a large desk and antique-looking velvet couches that face each other in front of it. A coffee table sits in between them.
Piles of papers are stacked everywhere—on the desk, the table. The man moves a couple piles so that we can all fit on the couches. He hobbles over to the chair behind his desk, sitting slowly and settling himself before eyeing us, waiting patiently for someone to start talking.
I sit next to Birdie, with Lakshimi on her other side. She takes Birdie’s hand in her lap, tracing the knuckles in a way that seems to be unconscious. It reminds me of the way Lyle always draws circles with his thumb on mine. I clutch my hands tightly in my lap. It’s only been a few hours, but I already miss my guys desperately.
“You’re in need of transportation, all of ye?” The man’s voice is gravely with age, but his heavy Irish accent sneaks through.
Across from me, Kieran perks up in his seat.
I wonder if it’s someone he knows.
Normally, I wouldn’t assume such kinship just from hearing an accent, but I’ve learned from my time in Phóspolis how tightknit most of the Phósopoi communities are. Phósopoi who choose to live in the outskirts of their Region are considered outcasts. The rest usually live in several designated areas of a Region, especially since most Phósopoi are contracted Knights and move at the whims of their Royal or noble employers, which makes me even more curious about our host.
He’s clearly not originally from this Region, though with how ancient he appears, it stands to reason he might have been here when Region Five first formed. I’ve heard that when the Phósopoi moved to Canada, and later the Americas, the Regions were completely redrawn and distributed. There were only six Regions before they built Phóspolis, but over time, those six Regions grew so big they needed to each be split in half, with the exception of Region Six, which has always been somewhat set apart from the rest of the Phósopoi. Regions Two, Five, and Thirteen were newly created at the time.
I have to intentionally pull myself back into the conversation. If I let myself, I’ll spend all day pondering about the history and culture of the Phósopoi, and then I’ll never get to hear where we’re going. Even my Omás has grown weary of my obsession with all things Phósopoi.
I tune in to the conversation just in time to hear the tail end of Sarah’s explanation. “—will be compensated by the Royal Treasury after we arrive safely, along with the deposit I wired you earlier today.”
The man nods, the folds of skin on his face moving as he considers all of us carefully.
I’d feel awkward with his scrutiny if I didn’t know his Gift. I imagine even a Teleporter has to take into account the size and proporti
ons of those they transport, though it’s not like I’ve ever teleported anywhere before.
His eyes widen and his head comes up when he gets to our section of the couch. I glance over at Lakshimi, thinking he recognized her from the Games. But to my surprise, when I look back, he’s staring directly at me, the corners of his mouth lifting just enough to be noticeable.
“You look so much like your mother,” he whispers.
I’ve never had a mother to be compared to, so it’s a nice sensation, but it’s quickly followed by a shot of fear.
“Cheezenips,” I mutter.
Nobody was supposed to be able to recognize me as the supposedly dead Princess. We’d spent so long in Phóspolis and nobody recognized me as Greta’s daughter. Or Alexander’s, for that matter. At least, not that we know of.
I glance at Sarah, whose expression mirrors my own.
She looks as shocked as me; too shocked actually.
That’s when I remember Sarah hadn’t been told that part of the story.
Nobody had.
I scramble to do some damage control, desperately trying to school my face into something resembling nonchalance. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Watching the old man roll his eyes at my attempt at smoothing things over would be comical if I wasn’t panicking. “Yes, you do, but that’s fine. Keep your secrets. Though, you might want to tell your friends at some point. Your heritage could prove more useful than you think.”
His solemn advice perplexes me. What did he mean by ‘prove useful’? I’m an Agora, so my Royal blood doesn’t really mean anything special. Except—
You’re an idiot, the voice at the back of my head chides.
I can’t help but agree. Royal Phósopoi, be they Kladí or Agora, receive a Royal Gift as part of their inheritance. Jackson has the ability to call his sword, and I’ve seen Princess Nadira unlock doors with her Royal Gift. Agoras don’t usually get physical Gifts like the Kladí. At school, they told us that Royal Agoras usually inherit something more mental, like the ability to see if the decision they’re about to make will be fruitful or not, which is handy to have when you’re a monarch, I suppose.
I can’t believe that none of the guys thought of this after our talk with Alexander.
I suppose we’d been so busy Bonding and getting away from whoever Nathaniel’s working for, and now the goonies of Velus as well. I can see how the whole you’re-a-princess-Rose thing might have gotten lost along the way.
Still, now that I know, I’m kind of excited to see what kind of Royal inheritance I have.
But that will just have to wait. We need to get away from whoever is trying to kidnap me and kill my Kladí.
It doesn’t take long for the man, who introduces himself as Cathal O’Sullivan, to figure out what we need. He claims he can take all of us at once, since his Gift isn’t constrained in the same way as Sylvia’s. His limitation is that he can’t take the same people more than once. Meaning, once we get to our destination, we have to find our own way to England.
The guys already knew about this, and Sarah claims that where we’re going, she has contacts who can help us out.
After more pleasantries, and the passing of coordinates from Sarah, our meeting draws to a close.
As the others stand to leave, I make my way toward the Aporthètos. “You still won’t tell me where we’re going?”
I eye the rest of our group as they follow Cathal out through the only other door in the room. I can’t see where they’re going, but I assume Cathal needs more open space to Teleport out of, since he says anything we’re touching will be taken with us, even if it’s an accidental touch.
Sarah sighs and links my hand through her arm. When I first met her back in October, I would have been so uncomfortable by the action, but now I barely even register her closeness. My anxiety with touching and social situations had begun to ebb since meeting the guys, and has all but disappeared now that we’re Bonded. I smile at her, sensing her coming acquiescence, and I’m eager to finally discover our destination.
“Fine. You’re no fun. We’re going to Region Twelve.”
“Queen Njay’s Region?” I question.
Sarah nods and doesn’t seem surprised at my hanging mouth. Region Twelve is notorious amongst the Phósopoi. They had a civil war not long ago, and Njay took the throne after her cousins, the Princes and Princess, were slain. She’s not only the youngest monarch at thirty-years-old, she also gained a reputation during the war for being particularly ruthless. There was only one Kladí from Region Twelve at PhosU, and he refused to even mention her name, he was so terrified.
Region Twelve is the last place I expected us to go.
Whoever is searching for us might think the same, though, which is probably why we’re going.
I close my mouth and stay silent for a moment. After a deep breath, I say, “I trust you.”
Sarah gives me an appreciative smile and turns toward the door, tugging me along so that we can catch up with the last of our group. Behind us, the door closes with a heavy thud. In front, of us is exactly what I imagined: a wide-open room with nothing in it except metal walls and floors, with a low hanging ceiling light illuminating the austere space.
Is all this metal here to protect us, or Cathal?
Certain Gifts are more sensitive to the elements. Cathal seems powerful enough to warrant such precautions.
Or maybe it’s because, with Cathal’s Gift, we take anything we touch with us.
It stands to reason that we’d teleport the dirt or materials we stand on as well. My musings are answered soon enough when the little boy who answered the door hands out plastic shoe covers like the ones worn in hospitals.
Lakshimi holds one of hers up and scrunching her nose in distaste at the sight of it. “What are these for?”
“So that ye don’ teleport the damn floor with ye when we go,” Cathal grumbles, gesturing for her to put them on over her shoes.
“But we’re not the ones touching the floor? Our shoes are.” Birdie’s voice is so quiet, I’m not sure he heard her.
He sighs and says slowly, “Look. I don’ know why the bloody floors goes with if ye shoes aint covered, jus’ that is does. That good enough answer fer you, yer highness?” In his agitation, Cathal’s accent grows stronger.
Birdie shrinks back, furiously nodding as she attempts to hide behind Lakshimi, who steps over to cover her.
“All of ye get in a circle and hold hands. Hold em’ tight cuz if you break the link ye lose a friend,” Cathal’s gruff voice directs.
I hurry to put the covers over my sneakers and join the circle. I squeeze in between Sarah and Raul. Wiping my sweating hands on my jeans, I reach out to both of my friends and am comforted by the fact that at least Raul’s hand is just as sweaty and shaky as my own. Sarah, however, seems completely composed, as does Lakshimi, who looks almost bored by the whole ordeal. Birdie looks like she might faint any second, but Kieran only grins at Cathal, his jade eyes shining with eagerness.
Shaking my head, I turn back to Cathal who eyes all of us, checking our connections and making another sweep around the room. Once he’s satisfied everything is in order, he closes his eyes. Dark-green mist forms around his palms.
I’m shocked enough at the difference between his Gift color and mine or my Kladí’s that I don’t even notice anything is happening until a flash of something out of the corner of my eye distracts me. I look up to see the seven of us still in the circle, but the room spins around us and under our feet. Soon, everything is a moving blur of colors.
I stumble a bit, and would have broken our connection, but Sarah pulls me back. “Close your eyes, Rose!”
I shut my eyes and try to keep as still as possible. There’s no sound except the rapid beating of my own heart. I don’t feel anything, no wind or pressure to indicate we’re traversing thousands of miles.
A couple seconds later, Cathal speaks, his voice even more gravely with strain than before. “You can ope
n yer eyes now, wee one.”
Blinking my eyes open, the first thing I notice are large gray rocks. Bright-green foliage covers the side of what looks to be a steep hill lying near the rocks. Scanning past the hill, I see that we stand in what looks to be a small forest. Colorful plants dot the landscape, and the sweet song of the birds plays in the trees.
The only people around are my friends and Cathal, who shakes Sarah’s hand before he turns to me, his ancient eyes heavy. “You gon’ need to be careful, wee one. Our world is full of beauty, but tis dangerous, ’specially for someone like you.”
I don’t get the chance to ask what he means by “someone like you.” He’s gone before I can blink, soft trails of his dark-green Gift wafting through the air before it, too, disappears.
Chapter 16
Sarah scans the trees and rocks around us. “This isn’t right.”
The clearing we stand in leads to a path that winds around the hill. I hear the sound of water, so I assume the path leads to some sort of pond or river.
“I agree,” I say as I step through some of the overgrown grass to join her.
The rest of our group gathers closer as well.
“I wish he’d stayed longer,” I add.
Sarah shakes her head at me. “No. Not that. I mean, we’re near the entrance to the Seat of Region Twelve. But there are no guards coming to greet us.”
At her comment, Lakshimi and Bridie scan the area as well.
Kieran grins. “Maybe they’re sleeping?”
“The Warrior Knights of Region Twelve do not sleep.” Lakshimi glares at him for a moment before joining Sarah on her search of the perimeter.
“Shouldn’t we just go in and ask?” I wonder.
“Go in where?” Kieran questions.
“To the Royal Seat? I’m assuming one of you knows Queen Njay, or we wouldn’t be here.”