“He’s in pain, Mina—can you help him?”
She placed a hand on his forehead. “This is the final separation of body and soul—not even I can dull that pain.”
They stood in a circle around the bed, watching their friend take his final breaths. His throat contracted, his body clearly struggling to continue the fight even as it shut down. At the last, his face contorted into a grimace, his lower teeth clearly visible. His body tensed as it realized it was no longer receiving oxygen. After a moment, it relaxed, his face smoothing into a slack mask. The eyes behind the half-closed lids were dull.
Michael called his name three times, but he did not answer.
“Mina?”
She tested him in the age-old way of the Medica—she drew the sharp edge of her thumbnail across his arm and attempted to heal the cut. When the skin began to turn to ash under her hands, she pulled back. “He’s gone.”
They exchanged a look over the body before Michael slowly placed Magnus' hand on his chest. Mina did the same, crossing the hands over one another and pulling the blanket up to cover him.
"Who will tell them?"
"We should talk to Angus first," Arias suggested.
"I agree," came a chorus of voices.
"Very well." Michael opened the door to a crowd of Gravi pushing to get through the door.
"Back up!" he barked, but it was too late. The first person had seen the covered body on the bed and began to wail.
The sound rippled through the crowd as people fell to their knees in their grief. Distracted by their mourning, very few noticed Michael gesturing wildly for a hesitant Angus to join him in the front of the room.
He thought of announcing it right away, but the room was getting nosier by the second. Instead, he yanked the poor boy into the room and slammed the door behind them. Silence instantly fell as the door clicked shut.
Angus stopped as the Council turned to him as one, some still with tears on their cheeks. They stood watching as he resumed his walk to the bed, where his Lord was lying in state.
He lowered himself to his knees and bowed his head, praying to the gods that his Lord was free of pain and suffering. When he was finished, he got to his feet and turned to Lord Artifex as the most senior in the room.
"Lord Artifex, I don't understand. Why did you bring me in first?"
"Angus Kinniard, Alpha of the Lions, you have been Chosen."
All the blood drained from Angus' face. "My Lord, I do not understand."
"I think you do, son," Michael said gently. "Magnus named you as his successor."
"I—that's not possible," he managed. "Lord Magnus and I were barely acquainted." Angus left unsaid that Lord Gravis barely trusted any lion, much less the alpha, but they all knew it.
"He agreed to our ... suggestion," Michael said.
Angus snapped his mouth shut and bowed his head before the look Michael Warrington was giving him.
"If my Lord deemed me worthy, who am I to challenge him? I accept this temporary assignment until the Sword is returned home.”
At that, most of the Council came forward to shake his hand and offer quiet congratulations, even while the body of their previous companion cooled on the bed. Arias Disanza gripped his hand and pulled him close to murmur, “Perhaps we can discuss a further alliance?” His raised eyebrow left no doubt to what he meant.
His traitorous heart leapt, but he tamped it down ruthlessly. “Perhaps.”
Michael stepped into the group and led Angus toward the door. “We should announce the sad news, and the joyous.”
Angus balked ever so slightly, but Michael felt it nevertheless. He put his arm around the boy and gripped his shoulder hard enough to make him wince. “It must be done.”
“Do I have to be there?” he asked under his breath.
Looking at him as if he’d lost his mind, Michael simply pushed harder against his back. “Go.”
The entire room froze as they processed back out, the might of the Council at Angus’s back. The wailing stopped, and they remained kneeling, waiting.
“Magnus Leith, Lord Gravis, is dead.”
A smattering of small moans, though it was no surprise.
“He died without issue, without family. He was the last of his line. Before he passed to the gods, he named Angus Kinniard as his successor.”
The crowd began to buzz, mostly with anger, though there were lions who seemed grimly pleased.
“Angus Kinniard, Lord Gravis!” Michael announced.
Slowly, they bowed their heads to him—all but one. One girl got to her feet instead, baring her teeth.
“By what right?”
“By right of choice.”
“Whose choice? Yours?” She was spitting each word in her fury, fists clenched at her sides. “Lord Gravis would never have given a lion the position, much less a Kinniard!”
Her words were like a spark to tinder. Suddenly, they all began to shout at once, straining to be heard over each other.
Rather than shout himself, Michael simply took a step forward, bringing his hands together like a thunderclap. The ground rippled under their feet, startling them into silence.
“Lord Gravis has much work to do. Magnus’ funeral will be in two days. The Council thanks you for your attention in this matter.” With that, he put his hand on Angus’s shoulder and steered him from the room.
The protesting woman ducked from the room before security could grab her, dragging her half-brother with her.
“This will never stand,” she said in a fierce undertone as they fled Hemmington. “Lord Fulmen will not allow it.”
“If we can find him.”
She paused for a moment and slapped him smartly across the cheek. He allowed it with only the smallest of smirks. “Bentley, don’t be an ass. Go back to your ‘posh suite’ in New York.” Her mimicry for his accent was cruelly accurate. “Send word if you hear anything from your aunt.”
“And what will you be doing, Idella?”
“Me?” she seemed genuinely surprised he would ask. “If I remember my history correctly, the Swordsmith saw a vision of our new Lord as soon as Lord Gravis died. To know who I must serve, I have to find Nolan Aeron.”
***
At the moment Magnus Leith let out his final breath, Nolan Aeron was almost 300 miles away, without the Sword in his possession. It didn’t matter. The Sword knew one of its own had died, and it let the Swordsmith know immediately. Blinding pain spread outward from his heart, speeding out to his limbs. He dropped to his knees, clutching his chest as his head filled with light, blinding him for a moment.
“Lady Gravia—Cherrie DuBois.” He saw a glimpse of a young woman in her twenties, on some sort of island. She, too, was on her knees, staring in horror—staring at him, he realized.
“Lady Gravia—Cherrie DuBois,” the voice repeated, more insistently. He couldn’t tell if she could hear the voice as well, or if it was only in his head.
He raised a hand to her, and she repeated the gesture, her dark curls blowing around her face as she acknowledged him.
With that, he was suddenly back in the tiny house he and his grandfather had shared, his cheek smashed against the wooden flooring in the hallway.
“What the hell was that?” he groaned, rolling onto his back with difficulty and running a hand over his face. “Who the hell was that?”
As he struggled to his feet, he saw the floor was scorched where he had been.
Lady Gravia… did that mean Magnus was dead?
He vaguely remembered this happening to his grandfather, many years ago. When he was five years old or so, his grandfather had keeled over in the middle of dinner, falling to the floor and glowing like some sort of blue, alien sun. All of the yelling in the world wasn’t enough to break him from the trance, and Nolan knew better than to touch him when he was full of numina. Instead, he had run around and closed the blinds, then waited. After almost half an hour, his grandfather has stirred, looking as if he’d been run over by a truck. Had t
hat been when Gia’s mother died, and Arias became Lord Zephyrus?
Was this girl their new Council member?
It was almost too much for him to process. Instead, he staggered into his bedroom and dropped onto his bed, asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. He’d think about it later.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Ocean Beach during San Francisco autumn was not the time or the place to be swimming, but Leiani was desperate. The rip tides didn’t bother her—her ability to breathe even while underwater meant that drowning wasn’t exactly a problem. It was the frigid water that was uncomfortable. She was wearing a wetsuit to try to alleviate the worst of it, but Alan seemed to have no problems at all with the temperature. He was swimming with powerful strokes out beyond even the worst waves, ignoring the angry glares of the local surfers. Leiani let herself sink down to the bottom, opening her mouth and taking in mouthfuls of water. The briny mix filtered down through her gills, activating them and letting the gas exchange take place that kept her alive. She made a face at the taste—it certainly wasn’t the best water she’d ever tasted—and settled down on the bottom, eyes closed. She created a bubble of water around herself, stopping predator fish and other dangerous things from interrupting her meditation. The seawater coursed through and around her, recharging her numina. It had been too long since she’d spent this much time in contact with the Sea. She was pleased to see her hair lightening to its habitual aquamarine after her teach year away turned it jet black.
She only came back to her own when she felt Alan testing the edges of her bubble. Frowning, she let it collapse and pushed against the sea floor, bursting through the surface of the water and turning to face him, still treading.
“You know better than that! Why did you interrupt me?”
Alan tossed his wet bangs back out of his eyes with an annoyed flick of his wrist and gestured to the shore, where Kale was scanning the water for signs of them.
“Your boyfriend is worried about you,” he said with only a fraction of the malice he would have had when they first arrived in San Francisco.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” she said automatically, rubbing her pinkie finger against her wedding ring. “I was under for a long time.”
“He’s an Aqua. If he’s worried about his Lady Younger drowning, he has deeper issues than I thought.”
She caught the ghost of a smirk around the corner of his mouth and wrinkled her nose, laughing. “Stop being mean!” She swatted a handful of water at him, which he deflected with ease—right back into her face.
Sputtering, she used her numina to push water back at him, and their squabble devolved into a childish water fight, ending only when she stumbled into his arms.
Kale saw them embrace from the shore and turned, trudging back to where his mother was sitting.
“I thought I had a chance,” he said quietly. “You told me they were fighting.”
“I also told you they were intimate, didn’t I?” his mother snarled back. “They’re married—she’s not going to risk her mother’s wrath by putting the succession in doubt. Once she’s Lady Aqua and has a few squalling brats, then you might be able to get her to look twice at you. That’s not our job, anyway.” Her smiling face belied the ferocity of her words.
“I may not even want her by then—any sign of the brother?”
“None—Lord Artifex sends me requests for information fairly often. I’ve got nothing new for either of you. Where ever the Swordsmith is, it’s not here. We’re supposed to keep them distracted and not let them build a network here. So far we’ve done a good job of only introducing them to people loyal to Artifex and our cause.”
“They’re too wrapped up in each other to expand their search—besides, Alan is angry at my presumption—imagine how angry he is at his own brother for poaching?”
They shared a laugh, watching the young couple emerge from the water and make their way back to their pile of blankets. Just before they were in earshot, she leaned toward her son and said in an undertone, “If we can do this for Artifex, we’ll be well rewarded.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
"Who is our contact in Manhattan?" Gia asked with a yawn as she looked over her notes again.
"This is one of Jenkins'—I'm not sure who it is. Just gave me an address."
They parked the car in one of the innumerable lots dotting the streets and walked the few blocks to the address. It was Halloween, and the winter winds were starting to kick up... they'd been searching for three months now, and their success was beginning to seem less and less likely. Once they were into November, they would have a hard time with the snows in the upper states.
A small girl dressed as a witch made a face at them as she passed, clinging to her mother's hand.
"Halloween," Pyrrhus said with a sneer. "I'll never understand it."
Gia stopped dead. "We can't be friends if you don't like Halloween."
"Gia, you of all people—it's a terrible mutation of a sacred..." He stopped as he realized she was making a bored face and mocking his speech with her hand. "Oh, shut up!" He shoved her good-naturedly, worried when he realized he could feel every bone in her thin shoulders.
She opened her mouth to retort, but stopped as they reached the address, an impressive brownstone on the Upper West Side. "This is it," she said with a deep breath. She ran her hands over her hair once to pat down the bits the wind had mussed, then rang the bell.
A thin young man opened the door, smiling down on them. He seemed to be a bit older than they were, with wide-set hazel eyes that seemed strangely familiar.
"Lady Younger Zephyra, Lord Younger Ignis, welcome to my home," he said with the slightest stirrings of an English accent. “Please, follow me, I've been expecting you."
"Sir, you find us at a loss," Pyrrhus said as they trailed him up to his apartment. "You know our names, but we don't know yours."
"Yes, my apologies. My name is Bentley Stone-Sheppard, it's a pleasure."
He let them into his living room and closed the door behind them, offering them drinks and taking their coats.
"Are you related to—" Gia began, her eyes narrowed.
"My aunt is your Sensei, yes. Dr. Robert said you needed some help locating a certain someone?"
"Yes—the Swordsmith is missing, as I'm sure you are aware."
"Word has gotten out in the international community," Bentley said with a twist of his lips. "I've kept my ear to the ground—discretely, of course—and there have been rumors of someone fitting his description hiding out down in Brooklyn."
Gia fought to keep her composure, but her heart leapt into her throat. "Any independent confirmation?"
"Not yet—I wanted to wait for you two. Aunt Anna said that I might spook him if I went after him alone, but that you two might convince him it's safe."
"Where has he been spotted?" Pyrrhus asked.
"In one of our gathering places—numen only."
To Gia's disappointment, Pyrrhus immediately looked dubious. "He ran—why would he be anywhere near numen?"
Bentley shrugged. "I can only pass on what I was told by people I consider to be reliable sources. He's supposed to be at Feria tonight. I've spread the word that the two of you will be there—if it's him, he'll be there too."
“I hope we don’t scare him away.”
“We’ll have to see. Until then, can I offer you anything? You can put your bags in my guest room, if you’d like.”
“Thank you, that would be lovely,” Gia said before Pyrrhus could protest.
“We’ll leave here around 9:30, if you are amenable. I’ve taken the liberty of arranging for dinner here whenever you’d like to eat.”
“You’re too kind,” Pyrrhus managed.
They got themselves settled in and Pyrrhus left to join Bentley for dinner after a brief argument with Gia, who wasn’t hungry…again. The tension was palpable between them, and when Gia threw the book she was reading at his head and screamed at him to leave her alone, he took her ad
vice.
Despite his argument with Gia, Pyrrhus found dinner with Bentley to be incredible enjoyable. The man was well-versed in any number of topics and was good-looking, to boot. It was the first time in a long time that Pyrrhus had been in the company of a handsome, available gentleman, but he couldn’t really enjoy it… not when worry for Nolan and worry for Gia tangled in his mind and fought for dominance. He tried to relax again, but it was impossible.
“Have you heard the news from Hemmington?” Bentley asked, snapping him out of his thoughts.
“No—has it happened?”
“Yes, Magnus passed away a few days ago.”
Pyrrhus bowed his head for a moment, pressing a finger against the bridge of his nose to stop the sudden urge to cry. “He was a fine man.”
“Yes. The Lions are in ascendancy.”
“What do you mean?”
“Your year-mate, Angus Kinniard, was Chosen.”
“What?” Pyrrhus leapt to his feet before he realized what he was doing. “You’re joking!”
“I am not. He is merely a temporary solution, of course, until the true Heir can be sworn in, but it is still a triumph for us.” Bentley swirled the wine in his glass thoughtfully. “My sister was not as pleased.”
“You have a sister?”
“Yes—Idella. Well, she’s my half-sister.”
“Is she related to Sensei, as well?”
“No—she’s on the other side. Would you like pudding?”
It took Pyrrhus a moment to realize he meant dessert. “No, thank you. I think I should check on Gia, actually.”
Bentley nodded and smiled. “Of course. Would you like to take something up to tempt her appetite?” He paused as if measuring his words, then met Pyrrhus’s eye and smirked. “Perhaps as a peace offering?”
It was the first time Pyrrhus had ever seen his own smirk reflected on someone else’s face. He liked it on Bentley. “She’ll see through that in a second—but thanks for the offer.”
A few minutes later, Pyrrhus stopped in the doorway to the guest room, his eyebrows raised. "We're leaving in an hour... aren't you going to change?"
The Complete Chosen Trilogy (The Chosen #0) Page 32