“Oh, Leiani says they are having a wonderful time in San Francisco! They are staying with Kale and his mother—you remember Kakalina?”
“Of course—and if I remember correctly, she changed it to Katherine, didn’t she? When she married Noah?” She gave a pointed look to Keo, who had the grace to look embarrassed.
“She did, which is ridiculous! She should have kept it.”
“Now, Keo…”
“I know, I know! Noah Davis is the most narrow minded, bigoted—“
“How is Kale faring?” Alix interrupted before Keo could really get going. “I remember him doing extremely well in his Rite of Passage.”
“He’s doing quite well—in fact, I was hoping that he and Alan would get along. They could always use a strong administrator in the west.”
“I take it that isn’t happening?”
Keo snorted, then clapped a hand over her mouth. “Pardon me! No, not at all. Alan has been protective of Leiani since she drew her first breath. And Kale is…”
“A red-blooded male?” Alix suggested when Keo seemed at a loss for words. She leaned forward and lifted a small sandwich from the platter.
“Exactly. Alan has been even more territorial lately. Especially since…” Keo trailed off, turning red.
Alix put the sandwich down without even taking a bite. It was unlike Keo to be at a loss for words so often. She was a master of diplomacy and wordplay. “Keopelani K’Oliu, look at me. I’ve known you from the womb. I’ve seen you grow up, I’ve been your friend since you joined the Council. Why am I really here?”
“For lunch!”
Alix merely stared. Keo wrung her hands for a moment before bursting out, “Oh, alright! I wanted to know if you had any other information on Nolan!”
“Surely if we knew anything else, Michael would have called a Council meeting,” she said, hedging.
“Please, Alix! Nolan is Alan’s brother. Mara is heartbroken, Robert has taken her to Wales of all places, and no one seems to know what’s going on!”
“Wales? Why are they in Wales?”
“Looking for Nolan! Alix, you of all people know how important it is that the Swordsmith returns! Some of my lesser numen have lost their abilities completely. I have people petitioning me every day in a panic, asking what they’ve done to disappoint Neptune.” She dropped her eyes to her plate. “Sometimes, I’m afraid.”
Alix took her hand across the table. “Afraid of what, Keo?”
“War.”
“War! Don’t be silly! We haven’t had a war in over two hundred years!”
“You must warn Michael—he won’t listen to me, but we all listen to you. Nolan… I don’t think he’s going to give himself up. Not without a fight.” She took a deep breath. “Azar seems to think that Pyrrhus is assisting Nolan, and I know that Arias’ sister Giada is with Pyrrhus this summer. If they defect, and take Leiani and Alan with them, almost half of the Council-in-Waiting will be alienated. I’ll lose my daughter. That cannot happen!”
“What do you suggest, then, if he won’t come in without a fight? The boy is accused of serious crimes, Keo. We can’t ignore that.”
“I don’t know anymore. I—I just don’t know. Can’t you peek into the future? I know that Juno lets you see any potential problems.”
Alix squeezed her hand hard enough that she looked up and they locked gazes. “Keopelani, what I’m about to tell you is strictly confidential. It cannot be repeated under any circumstances. Do you understand?”
“Of course, Alixandra.”
“Pull yourself together, please—I’d like to speak to the Lady, not the mother.”
Keopelani took a moment to gather herself. “I’m ready.”
“There are only two possible solutions to this problem. Nolan can turn himself in, or he can be killed. There is no third option. I’ve lived through more Swordsmiths than I can count, and I tell you this: he is the most dangerous one I’ve ever encountered. He must be stopped.”
“He’s a child!”
“A child raised by a seditious man, a man who ordered the death of his own son! A child who, in one short year, managed to turn half of the children against us! I tell you, Keopelani—I can no longer see the future.”
“What?”
She nodded, maintaining eye contact to drive home the point. “There is no future for us as a people if Nolan Aeron is allowed to run about unchecked. Please—tell me I can count on your support.”
Keopelani got to her feet, pacing the length of the deck as she thought about Alix’s words. Alix watched her, refusing to speak further. She’d said enough. It was up to Keo now.
After a few minutes of tense silence, Keo returned to the table and placed her hands back in Alix’s. Her face was so white she looked like an alabaster statue, but her voice was steady as she spoke.
“You know you can count on us. We must do this.”
***
For a night, Claire wanted to forget the horror gathering at her doorstep and just enjoy herself. Matthew stopped her after a particularly difficult class and invited her to join him in his rooms for dinner on Friday night, and here she was—trying to convince herself that it wasn’t a date. To that end, she threw on one of her casual sweaters (though it was emerald green and even softer than her usual sweaters) and a pair of jeans, only running her brush through her hair long enough to make it presentable. She did put on just a smidge of perfume, but not so much that he would smell her coming. She brought her tea tin, thinking that she would offer to provide the after dinner refreshment. They were just two co-workers, enjoying a meal together.
Right?
“This is not a date!” she said under her breath as she locked her door and headed down the hall.
Matthew’s face when he opened his door to her told her she was wrong. He was dressed up, the room was darker than usual, and something that smelled absolutely delicious was set up as a cozy meal for two on the table.
To his credit, he recovered much faster than she did. “Good evening, Claire. Please, come in.”
She attempted to smile, but she was afraid it came out as a grimace. “Thank you so much for the invitation.”
The next ten minutes were awkward, to say the least. They were well into their salads when Matthew let his fork hit the plate with a clang.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be silly,” she said, trying to sound light and carefree. “It’s just a fork.”
He made a face and rose to stand next to her, looking pained.
“I’m sorry that I wasn’t clear when I invited you here. I had intended for this to be our first date, but it was obvious from the look on your face when I opened the door that you weren’t expecting this.”
“Matthew…”
“If you’d like to leave, I totally understand.”
“Matthew.” He finally looked down at her, and she smiled. “I’m pleasantly surprised. Let me go home and change—“
“No! You look lovely.” He put a hand on her shoulder and checked, startled. “Your sweater is so soft!”
“It’s very comfortable. How about this, then? You go change out of that suit and into something just as comfortable, and we’ll pick up the main course from there.”
He smiled. “Deal. Just a minute!”
He disappeared through a side door in a flash. She could hear drawers slamming, a muffled curse or two, and water running for a moment as he hurried to change. Soon enough, he was back through the door in dark pants and a long sleeved cotton shirt, his hair wet from where he washed the product out of it.
“Better?”
“Much.”
He smiled and rejoined her at the table. They spent the next few hours talking about anything that didn’t have to do with Nolan Aeron.
“There were so many numen at one point in the 600s that there was a danger of open revolt,” Claire explained as they sat on the couch, her eyes shining as she began talking about her first love: history. “One man threatened to expose them
to the King, and they had to do something. So the Council killed him, but they had a problem—they didn’t know who had been helping him. So they did the only thing they could do—they brought back the Roman concept of Decimation.”
“That sounds violent,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as he watched her gesture so wildly that she almost fell off of the edge of the seat cushion.
“Oh it was! Incredibly. Since they couldn’t determine who had been working against them, they randomly chose one out of every ten people to be killed, as a lesson. Men, women, children—it didn’t matter, even though the original concept was limited to soldiers.”
“Wow—that’s terribly unfair.”
“I know, but it was so effective, the Decimation hasn’t been used by the Council since.”
“Why didn’t they revolt?”
“You mean the numen?”
“Yes—why would they tolerate the murder of innocent people? Shouldn’t they have done something?”
“I think the people were afraid—they knew that the Decimation wasn’t something to be trifled with. If a Council was willing to use it, they were willing to do anything. And the Council isn’t so easily replaced. The Sword and the Swordsmith have to be in agreement to strip a single standing Councilmember of their Seat. It takes something truly earth-shattering for an entire Council to be disbanded, and in this case—the security of the numen were threatened. The Sword must have felt they were justified in using it.”
He smiled despite the less-than-pleasant topic. “I love when you talk about history.”
She blushed, afraid he was mocking her. “I’m sorry, it’s a bad habit—you can blame Gia and Noel, they indulge me too often.”
He gently took her chin in one hand and shushed her with the other. “Claire, I said I love it. I wasn’t joking. You get so animated, and you lose some of your shyness.”
“Matthew—“ She didn’t know what to say, so she decided against speaking at all. She screwed up her courage and leaned forward, meeting him halfway for their first real kiss. It was just on the verge of getting interesting when they were interrupted by a knock at the door.
Claire broke away, ignoring Matthew’s groan of protest. “We should see who that is.”
“Forget it,” he said breathlessly, winding his fingers through her hair.
She laughed and gave him a push towards the door. “It could be important!”
“It better be.” He tried to compose himself, in case a student was on the other side of the door, but he needn’t have bothered. Sensei Stone came barreling through, slamming the door behind her and plopping down on the armchair across from the couch.
“Sorry to interrupt your date,” she said, not sounding sorry in the least. “Looks like I came at a bad time.”
“Not at all, Sensei,” Claire said sweetly, sitting on her crossed fingers.
“Listen, girl, I know you’re behind the graffiti popping up all over the building.”
“Sensei, that’s ridiculous,” Matthew started, but Claire knew better. She leaned forward and looked her former teacher directly in the eye.
“I am.”
Sensei squinted at Claire fiercely for a moment before nodding, seeming satisfied. “Good.”
Matthew looked back and forth between them, bewildered.
“Nolan needs all the help he can get. Even the smallest seed of doubt about Warrington’s version of things can make a difference. Do you plan on stepping it up?”
“Not until spring.”
“Why?”
“Wanted to start slow—I don’t want someone to see this as a credible threat and have Artifex or Castillo breathing down everyone’s necks… at least not until there’s nothing more they can do.”
“I’ve been in contact with Robert—Dr. Jenkins,” she clarified when Claire looked puzzled. “He is in Wales, gathering information and looking for Nolan. We need to hold down the fort here and keep Warrington guessing.”
“Wait a minute,” Matthew said loudly, drawing their attention at last.
Sensei raised an eyebrow. “Something to say, Dr. Graves?”
Still at a loss, the best he could manage was, “I helped!”
The ladies stared at him for a moment before bursting into wild laughter, grinning at each other. “Oh, Matthew, never change,” Sensei said finally, wiping her eyes. “The three of us will have to work together to misdirect Castillo—she’s like a hound on point, that one. Nolan will need all the allies he can get.” She rose again to her feet. “That’s all I have to say for tonight—I will be calling Robert in the morning. If he has any updates, I’ll be sure to let you know.”
He didn’t. On the roof deck the next morning, she tucked the phone between shoulder and ear as she stretched, hearing his frustrated voice ring over more than three thousand miles.
“Not a sign of him, Anna. Nothing!”
“Not here, either,” she said quietly. She tried to avoid being specific on her end, in case she was being watched.
“I didn’t think there would be,” he admitted. “Still, I’m glad you’re there. Just in case…”
She hummed under her breath in the affirmative.
“I’ve been learning all sorts of things from Aderyn, though.”
“Ah, yes, how is she?” The venom in Anna’s voice was subtle, but Robert knew her better than that.
“Still almost 60, and still not my type, Madam Stone.”
She snorted in spite of herself, nudging the phone closer to her ear as she changed positions. “Anything useful?”
“A lot of information on the Sword… and some worrying trends. Keep an eye on the kids and let me know if it seems like they’re having trouble controlling their numina.”
“Why would they—“
“Promise me, Anna!”
“I promise.”
“Thank you. I’ll call you next week. I love you.”
“And I you,” she said softly, sliding the phone shut and putting it away while she launched into her usual early morning exercises, hoping the combination of a beautiful day’s fresh air and exertion would sharpen her for the trials to come. As she used the edge of the wall to support her, she spied Claire bouncing down the road toward the Village.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Claire decided to walk into the Village to clear her head and pick up more of her favorite tea—it was disappearing at an alarming rate this year. Stopping only to grab her wallet, she swung down the front steps and out into the early September sunshine, breathing in the smell of freshly trimmed grass with a smile.
Her walk into town was invigorating, and by the time she reached the outskirts of the Village, small creeping plants were cropping up in her wake. She paused before entering the town proper and took a few breaths to calm herself, firmly ordering the plants back into the soil. For a moment, the plants ignored her.
She froze, trying not to panic. "Claire, keep it together," she muttered under her breath. It wasn't the first time her numina had been hard to control, but it was the first time it had ignored a direct order. She tried again, more forcefully, and was relieved to see them finally respond.
"Good morning, Miss Connor!" Mr. Boone said with smile as she entered his shop, the little bell on the door jingling behind her. "A bit early for a new batch, isn't it?"
"What can I say—teaching is stressful work! Good morning, Herc," she cooed at the tortoiseshell cat lying across the counter, giving him a rub under the chin. To anyone else, Sir Hercules McStuffins the Third (named by Mr. Boone's seven year old daughter, Nancy) may have looked supremely indifferent to her attentions, but she knew better.
"That cat is nicer to you than almost anyone else who comes in here," Mr. Boone said with a frown for Herc, who yawned in his face quite deliberately. "Let me mix you up a tin to take with you—will you be able to get back down here in December for another batch? Or do you want two?"
"Just the one tin is fine—I'll need to come back into town for other things
, and if I have two tins, I'll drink two tins."
"You got it!" He disappeared into the back, leaving her alone in the storefront with the cat. She browsed for a few moments, eventually decided to get a sleeve of her favorite cookies while she was there. The occasional sparring match with Matthew and Sensei—who most decidedly did NOT want to be called Anna, at least by her—would allow her waist a cookie or two.
The bell jingled again behind her, and she glanced up for a moment to see a tall figure with a baseball cap and a hood covering his head come through the front door. The man's step seemed to check for a moment as he saw her, but he recovered so smoothly she could have convinced herself that it was all in her head, except... he turned his back on her. She'd spent a year staring at Nolan Aeron's back as she sat behind him in every class.
"Ah, Mr. Johns!" Mr. Boone said, coming back in with a closed tin in hand. "Right on time, as always!" He tipped a wink at Claire. "Mr. Johns is one of my most reliable customers. Let me ring up Miss Connor, and I'll be with you in a moment."
The man simply nodded, stepping to the side. Claire frowned and shook her head. "No, no, I'm not quite ready yet. Still browsing, you know? Please let Mr. Johns finish."
"As the lady wishes," Mr. Boone said with a small chuckle, putting down her tin and reaching under the counter. The man tensed for a moment, only relaxing when the shop owner brought out a small box marked "Johns".
"Two loaves of bread, milk, eggs, five pounds of bacon..." Mr. Boone went through the entire box, waiting for Mr. Johns to nod confirmation to each item before continuing. "And finally, your special request. How many boxes would you like?"
Finally, a question he would have to answer out loud! Claire strained to hear him, but when he said, "Three," in a low, rumbling voice, her heart dropped to her toes.
It was him.
She'd heard Nolan put on that voice once before, when they were goofing around at the dinner table. In a rare moment of levity, he'd been goaded into impersonating his uncle, and his impersonation was so poor they'd laughed about it for days.
She didn't know what to do. She couldn't expose him, but she knew Gia was searching the country for him. Warrington was watching her like a hawk, so she couldn't even follow him to see where he was staying. She was stuck. She stood by helplessly while he paid for his food and packed it into an old, drab green backpack. She watched as he walked out of the store without another word, and she did nothing. It was all she could do.
The Complete Chosen Trilogy (The Chosen #0) Page 29