The Complete Chosen Trilogy (The Chosen #0)

by N. M. Santoski

  “How long are you staying?”

  “I’m afraid all the Gravis have been recalled to Hemmington,” Manas interrupted. He gave Claire a nod. “Miss Connor, I hope your classes are going well.”

  “Very well, Lord Younger Artifex,” she said, erring on the side of propriety. His smile told her she was right to do so, former classmates or not.

  “Have you had much trouble with unruly students? We’ve heard some rumors on our travels.”

  Oh, I just bet you have! She fought to keep the scowl from blooming on her face. “High spirits in the beginning of the year, nothing more.” Though her face was blandly cold, Noel’s expression as she glanced at her friend told Manas all he needed to know.

  “We didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch,” he said abruptly. “Angus, we were heading down south anyway—we can drop you off at Hemmington on the way.”

  Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed out the door.

  “Ladies, as always, a pleasure,” Angus fumbled before turning to follow, Jonas bringing up the rear.

  As they turned to leave, Claire jumped from her seat and hurried after them, catching the edge of Jonas’s t-shirt as he went through the door.

  “Jonas—I just wanted to say that I’m happy you’re well again.”

  His expression softened just a bit. “Thank you, so am I.” He looked as though he wanted to say more, but a sharp word from Manas made him jump like a kicked dog and hurry from the room.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  “Anything, Robert?” Mara asked with a yawn, joining him in their small kitchen.

  “Some news from Anna, if you’re interested.”

  “Why didn’t you ever marry her?”

  He groaned. “This, again? Anna and I are very satisfied with the way things are now, thank you very much.”

  Mara knew better than to push, though it had been worth a try. “What did she say?”

  “There are some rumors circulating that Nolan may be in New York City. I’ve already forwarded this to Pyrrhus and Gia, see if they can check it out for us. Otherwise, she says someone is still pushing Nolan’s case at Caer Anglia. Speculation is that it’s a student, but I don’t think so, and neither does she.”

  “Nolan himself?”

  “Doubtful. John didn’t raise a fool. I think it’s a staff member. I’d suspect Anna herself, but she would have told me.”

  “Claire? Isn’t she Giada’s friend?”

  “She seems the most likely candidate. I hope she’s careful.”

  “Me, too. She’s a nice girl.” Mara seemed as if she wanted to say something.

  “What is it, Mara?”

  “Are we wasting our time here? I know you’re enjoying picking Addie’s brain, but Nolan isn’t here.”

  “We need to stay here in case he surfaces in Europe. Besides, every tidbit of information Aderyn gives me is something I’ll be able to pass to Nolan when we find him, making him that much more likely to succeed.”

  “I know, I’m just worried...”

  “I know, Mara. If he doesn’t resurface by the end of the year, we’ll regroup at Beachhead and see what our next step is. For now, just pray that the New York lead pans out.”

  A sudden knock at their front door drove Robert to his feet. “Good morning, Addie,” he said cheerfully as he opened the door to their temporary home. “I’m afraid I haven’t finished making breakfast yet, but you’re welcome to tea or coffee.”

  “I would like to invite you for a walk, if you will. Perhaps tea when we return?”

  Robert looked back into the kitchen, where his sister was studying the morning paper like she’d never seen one before. Her dark brows were drawn together in a frown just visible over the top of the page. He frowned back and reached for his cane. “Of course.”

  They walked in silence, cane matching cane as they strolled down the sidewalk. Only once they stepped into the park did Aderyn speak. “I worry.”

  “What do you worry about?”

  “Our people. We are running out of time.”

  Robert frowned. “It’s not that bad yet.”

  “It is. Our minor numen have lost all touch with their numina—the local hedge witch came to me three days ago, crying. She’s lost her touch with her plants.”

  “We are doing what we can, but until we find him…”

  She stopped and struck a tree with her cane, making the branches sway dangerously. She swatted a falling leaf out of her face and glared at Robert. “It’s not enough! He is your nephew and your responsibility!”

  “How?” he growled back, dignity forgotten. “Do you know something I don’t know? Is there a way to track him? If you know how it’s to be done, you do it!”

  She visibly deflated. “I cannot.” She looked her age for the first time since Robert had met her. “Have you anything? Any hope at all?”

  “Two of our best are working on it as we speak—we hope this new lead will pan out.” He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his elbow. “Let’s head back. We will find him, I swear it.”

  Gia and Pyrrhus had travelled as far south as Beachhead and were in Washington, D.C. on their way back north when they ran into some unexpected guests.

  "Pyrrhus, look!" Gia hissed, horrified. Pyrrhus glanced quickly to the left and cursed under his breath.

  "How did they find us?"

  "I don't know, but let's get out of—Pyrrhus!" She tried to snag his sleeve, but he was too quick.

  "Manas! Fancy meeting you here!"

  Manas smiled and slapped Pyrrhus on the back. “Jonas and I thought we'd take in a little culture—a little tour of the states, as it were. And you? Ah—Giada! I didn't even see you there."

  She tried to smile, but it came out more like a grimace. "Manas. Jonas."

  "Jonas, glad to see you up and about. No permanent damage, I hope," Pyrrhus said with a quick smile.

  "Good as new, no thanks to him. What are you two doing here?"

  "The same as you—plenty of culture to absorb before we get stuck at our respective courts, learning the tricks of the trade. It's good to see you—where's Isabella?"

  "Home with her mother—lots to plan for the betrothal party and the wedding."

  "Finally making it official, are we? And Angus? I would have thought he’d be with you.”

  Manas stared at them. “You haven’t been in contact with other numen lately?”

  “No—as I told you, we’re on vacation. Why, what’s happened?”

  “Magnus is dying.”

  Pyrrhus swore under his breath. Gia forgot that it was Manas she was talking to for a moment and took him by the arm. “Dying? What’s happened, was there an accident?”

  “Lady Medica thinks it may be something left over from his days working at the family coal mines—lung cancer. Unimaginable—a big bear like Magnus brought so low by something man made.”

  “Oh, not him… he’s such a good man.”

  “All of the available Gravis have been summoned back to Hemmington—it looks like it won’t be long now.”

  They were silent for a moment, each lost in their own thoughts.

  Pyrrhus tried to rescue the discussion. “Where are you staying?"

  "The Hilton—we'll be moving on in a few days, though. It was nice to see you both, but we have some visits to make before this evening."

  "Of course—keep in touch, let me know how things are going," Pyrrhus said, putting his arm around Gia and digging his fingers into her shoulder to keep her from exploding. "You have my cell phone number."

  "Hopefully we'll see you soon—if not, you'll both be at the Ball this year, yes?"

  "Wouldn't miss it," Gia said through her teeth.

  "Great! Come on, Jonas… see you both later!"

  Pyrrhus didn't let her go until the duo had disappeared out the door and down the block. The moment he let her go, she turned on him in a fury.

  "Why would you do that?" she snarled. "Now they know we're here!"

  "That's a
good thing."

  "How could that possibly be a good thing?"

  "It's a game. Now the players are out in the open, we know where he's staying, and we know what they are doing. We're winning."

  "We won't be for long if they find him first!"

  "I need to keep communication open with him—there's a chance he will tell me if they find Nolan first. I promise, I know what I'm doing." He took her arm again and led her out of the bookstore, scooping her intended purchases out of her arms and dropping them on a table by the door.

  "Hey! I was going to buy those!"

  "I know better than to let you loose in a bookstore—I won't be able to drive the car if I let you have your way. Read one you already have. Now, are we sticking to our plan to head up to Manhattan tomorrow? Jenkins said his contact up there may have a lead."

  "You're the master architect!" she said, throwing up her hands. "Are we?"

  "I think we should stay here until Manas and Jonas leave. See if we can figure out what they're up to."

  "What is this, a spy movie?"

  "Do I look like that most famous of spies?" He struck a pose, making her smile in spite of herself.

  "Not even remotely."

  "A shame—he'd do better with the ladies if he looked like me."

  "You're a ridiculous egotist."

  "Stop flattering me."

  She rolled her eyes. "I think we should try to get the jump on them. We already know Nolan isn't here… why wait?"

  "You're the boss."

  "Pyrrhus…" She narrowed her eyes at him in warning.

  "You're right, you're right. We'll leave as scheduled. Jenkins’ email wasn’t terribly specific, but better that than sitting here doing nothing."

  ***

  Noel passed her mother in the kitchen without saying a word and left the house. They were only about half a mile from Conleth, and everyone there knew where she was going. She followed the path worn by her own feet, absentmindedly rolling a small rock in her palm as she let some of her excess heat escape.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Dix. Welcome back,” the guard at the back entrance said, giving her a smile. Well used to the procedure, she tossed the rock away and put down the bag she was carrying, spreading her arms and letting him search both her and her bag. Satisfied that she was clean, he picked up the bag for her and handed it back. “He had a bad night, miss. I’m not sure how fit he is for company.”

  “He’s my father, Tev. I’m going in.”

  “I’m not sure he understands where you’ve been… he’s been more violent than usual. Time doesn’t seem to mean much to him anymore.”

  She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded. “Open the door.”

  Tev hesitated, but complied. She stepped into the darkness, fighting the urge to conjure a flame. Her father didn’t react well to fire these days.

  “Knock when you’re done.”

  “Tev, I’ve been doing this longer than you have. Go on, I’ll be fine.” She managed enough of a smile that he nodded. She waited until Tev closed the heavy metal door behind her and walked down the narrow hall to a second door, where she could hear something thrashing around.

  Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

  The room reeked of waste, sweat, and blood. A man was huddled in the corner, occasionally smashing a fist or a foot into the wall next to him. Slowly, she got close enough for him to notice her, then stopped.

  His black eyes shone through clumps of matted hair as he looked her over. When he spoke, he sounded remarkable sane for a madman.

  “You’re late.”

  “I know, Dad. I’m sorry—I was away at school.”

  “Couldn’t shave—don’t trust anyone.”

  “I brought the safety razor.”

  “Have they killed Zahra yet?”

  “I don’t—“ She paused, unwilling to admit that she didn’t know who that was. “No.”

  “They will. Azar will never let it go.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that. Was Zahra his first wife?

  “They won’t want the baby to be born.”

  “I was, though,” she protested.

  He tsked under his breath. “Not you. Zahra’s baby.” He froze suddenly, as if realizing where he was—or when he was. His entire posture changed.

  “They think I’m crazy.”

  “I know, Dad.”

  “Am I?”

  She blinked back tears. “I don’t think so.”

  He grunted with what seemed like approval.

  “When was the last time you showered?”

  “Water? I’m not letting them near me with anything like that. That’s what they want, isn’t it? They’ll send that old bitch Iolana in here to drown me.”

  She didn’t have the heart to tell him that Lady Iolana had been dead for longer than she’d been alive.

  “Do you trust me to protect you? Can we get you cleaned up?”

  “For what? Have they finally decided to execute me?”

  “Dad, no, I-“

  “Get out.”

  “Dad!”

  “GET OUT!” He struggled to get up, but he’d been curled up for so long that his legs refused to work. He fell to his side, still clawing at the ground in an attempt to reach her. “Council bitch! I know Azar is the one sending you! Tell him to face me like a man!” His howls followed her down the hall as she fled, her mission unaccomplished.

  Tev looked as if he were pitying her, which was the last thing she wanted. She threw the backpack at him with a snarl. “If you can get him to calm down, my mother sent some of his favorite food—and get him clean, for the gods’ sake!”

  She stalked back up the path, her tears blinding her. She knew where she was going well enough that it no longer mattered—this was the only father she’d ever known, this crazy, pitiful man.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Though the Medica did their best for Magnus, it was painfully obvious that his time was up. Out of respect for a reigning Lord, all of the Council members were present—except for Nolan, of course. They were waiting outside the room with everyone else, as Michael had requested a few moments alone with his old friend. Every Gravis that could be spared stood in the large hallway outside Magnus’ rooms, waiting for word of his death and his successor. Angus stood as far back as he could, shuffling his feet under the stare of several Lions just looking for an excuse. They would never challenge him here, not while their Lord was dying, but they were sizing him up. One particularly vicious looking female kept running her tongue along the bottom of her canines, staring at him.

  He felt naked.

  Inside the Lord’s chambers, the Medica nurses had all been dismissed from this final vigil. Lady Medica herself was managing his pain, but even she had left in the face of Michael’s sorrow. Magnus had wasted away considerably in his final days—from a strapping, barrel-chested man to a wasted skeleton, his rib cage standing out in stark relief under the blanket. His eyes were half closed, and he was taking an odd, hitching breath every few minutes.

  Michael took a seat next to the bed, taking Magnus’ hand in his own. In contrast to his trunk, his hands were still shapely and strong, as if merely refined rather than destroyed.

  “Magnus.”

  No response. The strange breathing continued steadily, but there was no sign of recognition.

  “Magnus, if you can hear me, squeeze my hand.”

  Nothing.

  “Magnus, where did you leave your orders? Your will—where is it?”

  He stood up and began to rifle through the papers nearest the bed. Finally, buried at the bottom, he found a sheet with words scrawled in a shaky hand. He read it, his eyebrows rising.

  “This never would have passed. No man can hold a Seat unless its numina sings in his veins. Your guilt over John Aeron is noted, my friend, but this cannot be.” Slowly, he tore the paper to shreds. “I would not allow Nolan Aeron to take his rightful seat, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let him have yours, even temporari
ly.”

  He eyed the collection of flowers and plants around the room, gifts from a worried people for a dying man. He strode over to a particularly large ficus tree and summoned the soil upward from the pot, scattering the paper through it and sending it to rest at the bottom before resettling the dirt around the tree’s roots.

  Satisfied, he arranged his face in more somber lines and headed for the door, inviting the rest of the Council in. Once they were circled around the bed, he resumed his place next to Magnus and once again took his hand.

  “Magnus Leith, Lord Gravis, you have served your people well in life,” he said softly. “Do not fear what comes beyond—that is in the hands of the gods. Do not fear.”

  The Council repeated this last, a quiet chorus of murmurs that made Michael shiver.

  “Your devotion was to your people, so much so that you leave no heir of your body behind. The line of Leith shall end unless you name a successor. Are you able to name one now?”

  There was no reaction from the body on the bed—Magnus was too far gone now. He had waited too long.

  Triumph was unseemly at the side of a dying man, so Michael looked at the blanket to conceal his feelings. “He does not answer—he is beginning to touch the mists of the other side.”

  “Perhaps he wrote it down somewhere,” Azar said.

  Michael shook his head. “His nurses said that he asked for nothing—just a beer.”

  They shared a small laugh. “How very Magnus,” Lady Terra said with a fond look at the dying man, smiling through her tears. “And how like him to leave it to the last minute!”

  “This shall have to suffice.” He turned back to Magnus, still holding his hand. “Lord Gravis, the Council suggests Angus Kinniard as your temporary successor. Do you approve?”

  After a moment, Michael declared, “I felt the pressure of his hand—he approves!”

  “Angus, Michael?” Mina said quietly. “Is it appropriate for the Alpha of the Lions to also be their Lord? How could he be fair?”

  “There is precedent. It is merely a stop-gap measure, until the Swordsmith is returned to us.”

  “But—“

  Mina was interrupted by a sudden change in Magnus’ breathing. He began to take tiny, shallow breaths, almost like a woman in labor. His hand tensed within Michael’s.