A Matter of Truth (Fate Series 3)

by Heather Lyons

  He wipes his hands on a napkin before running them down his face. “Christ. Ask the easy questions, why don’t you?”

  I mute the television. It’s just him and me in the apartment; Jonah had to go into work for awhile, and Cameron is out grocery shopping.

  “How much damage is this Cora going to reverse? How does it work?”

  “I’m not a Shaman, so I can’t really answer that,” I say, “but I would assume Becca’s spine would be fixed and she’d no longer be paralyzed. She’d probably be off the ventilator, too.”

  “And . . . her mind?”

  “Cora can probably repair any brain damage associated with the crash,” I tell him quietly.

  “What about memories?”

  “Okay, that Cora will have no control over. She deals in physiology. I have a friend who is a Dreamer that deals with stuff like that. Sometimes Emotionals do, too.” I lay a hand against his knee. “We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, Will. I offered simply because I’m tired of seeing you trapped in this endless loop. It’s not fair that you haven’t had closure.”

  He looks away.

  “Two people you loved betrayed your trust.” I’m fully aware of the irony of me eschewing the unfairness of this situation to him, but I plow on anyway. “Your girlfriend cheated on you with your best friend. She was going to have his baby. He died before you could ever confront him about what he did. She . . . for all intents and purposes, the girl you knew died that day, too—except her ghost comes back to haunt you way too often, reminding you of what you guys had. Any confrontation you have with her, any chance you have at making a clean break is lost when her mind scatters once more.” I lean my cheek against his shoulder briefly. “You deserve a chance to move on one way or another.”

  After slipping an arm around me, he’s silent for nearly a minute. “Is it bloody awful that I’m terrified she’s going to want to pick up where we last left?”

  “That can only happen if it’s what you want, too.” I, of all people, know this lesson too well, so I don’t push him any further today.

  “Chloe . . . if you’re not ready, I can go back to my office and call in to the meeting today.”

  I tear my eyes from the glimmering glare of glass on the front door to Guard HQ approximately twenty feet away. Jonah’s been quiet for most of the walk from my apartment to where we’re supposed to have a meeting in fifteen minutes. “What? Don’t be silly. Why would you do that?”

  He sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. “You know why.”

  He’s right. Today the Guard and the Elders Subcommittee are convening; it’s the first meeting we’ll both be in attendance for since getting back together several days ago. At least forty-to-fifty members of both the Guard and Council will be present, plus several Métis who came back with Erik just for the occasion. While this is daunting enough, we’re not worried about any of them.

  It’s Kellan’s presence that has my stomach in knots.

  For the moment, Jonah is still living with Kellan in his apartment, and from what he’s told me, a conversation occurred between the brothers after Jonah and I decided to give our relationship another try. It went . . . badly, which is both surprising and predictable all at the same time. Jonah tried to talk me off the ledge I quickly placed myself on when I heard they nearly came to blows, explaining that, rationally, they both understand the situation; it’s just, Connections aren’t always reasonable. If they were, I would never have run away, nor would have Kellan. Jonah wouldn’t have shut down. Kellan, Jonah assured me, meant everything that he had promised that night on the roof. It’s just . . . it’s going to take some time.

  Everything always takes time—the one thing we are forced to suffer through with no hopes of fast-forward or rewind. Like a cruel mistress, time marches forward with no regard to feelings. All we can do is follow and pray that each second we live through gets easier like promised.

  Before we get to the door, I whisper, “I don’t want to hurt him.” And myself. And Jonah.

  Jonah sighs and gently steers me toward the wall. “He knows that.” I can’t see his eyes behind the dark plastic of his glasses, but I’m positive they’re filled with just as much guilt as mine are.

  I lean my head back against the textured stones of the grandiose building behind us. “Is he aware we’ll both be here?”

  “Yeah.” Jonah’s just as hushed as I am.

  I ask what’s pressing heavily against my heart. “Will there ever be a day in which we won’t have to worry about hurting him? Or hurting ourselves?” Or me not wanting his brother so much that it clouds my judgment?

  He gently touches my cheek. “I don’t know, honey.”

  I bite my lip and look up. The sky is hard to see here in this part of Annar, where all the building reach high and lean toward Karnach. “I tried to break the Connection to him once in Alaska. Right after I called you.”

  His intake of air is sharp.

  “I was . . . gods. Miserable. Freaking out. It occurred to me that maybe I could will away Connections if I tried.” My smile is bittersweet. “It killed me to try it, but . . . all I could think was how I couldn’t tie either of you down to me any longer. How it wasn’t fair to you guys, that you deserved a better life. I had a few shots of whiskey and then tried to break the one to him first.”

  His head tilts away, like he’s peering into one of the windows nearby. “And . . .?”

  I shove wispy strands of hair freed by the light breeze caressing Annar back behind my ear. “And . . . I felt even worse than before. Like I punched myself in the heart. I had another shot and tried again, but all I ended up doing was making myself so miserable I ended up drowning in whiskey.”

  He’s unbearably quiet when he asks, “Did you try ours?”

  It hurts like hell to do it, but I tell him the truth. “Had it worked with Kellan, I would have.”

  Twelve breaths pulled in and out of my chest occur before he speaks. “We tried to influence each other when you were gone. Make it so the other didn’t feel the Connection’s pain, so we didn’t care you were gone, or that we even loved you at all. Or perhaps even convince ourselves that we could move on, love somebody else.”

  Gods, that hurts to hear. I’d hoped for something like that, of course, but it doesn’t stop the pain of the knife to the chest any less.

  “Did it work?” I barely whisper.

  He shakes his head slowly, his hand clenching repeatedly by his side. It’s the first time since reuniting that I’ve seen him do that.

  “You two coming?”

  We turn to find Will, sipping a cup of coffee. Jonah takes a step back from me and shoves his hands into his pockets. “Yeah,” I tell him. I clear my throat. “Are Cameron and Erik already up there?”

  “I believe so. They wanted to bring in the Métis reps early to meet Zthane. They’re bullying me to join their merry little party, you know. Become official and whatnot.” He takes off his mirrored sunglasses and squints at us. “Everything okay? You two look like somebody died or something.”

  I bark out a quiet laugh. “Just admitting more of my sins.”

  Will’s eyebrow shoot up, the paper cup halfway to his lips.

  “Chloe,” Jonah says, reaching out and grabbing my hand, “it’s water under the bridge. Don’t beat yourself up for this, not when we tried the same.”

  I let him pull me closer. “Is it, though?”

  Somehow when he tells me it is, I believe him.

  Kellan’s deep in conversation with Karl and Giuliana, but the moment I cross the threshold of the doorway of the conference room, the tug between us flares to life. He must feel it, too, because he quickly apologizes to Giules for cutting her off, and then heads our way.

  Will quickly dismisses himself to go over to where Cameron and Erik are talking with Zthane and Astrid. I don’t blame him for wanting to get the hell away from the complicated mess created by our Connections. And although somebody calls his name from across the room,
Jonah stays by my side. My heart thumps hard with every step Kellan takes toward us. I don’t know how to do this. I still love him. I love them both. I don’t know how to—

  “Hey,” he says casually, but there is a genuine gleam of concern reflecting back at me in the blue of his eyes. “Was worried you guys were going to spend the entire meeting downstairs or something.”

  The oh-so-familiar prick of tears attacks me without notice. He’s trying so hard right now to act normal, like I haven’t basically cut out his heart and flaunted it in front of him. Like I’m not standing here with his brother after telling him that, despite our shared Connection, I need Jonah more.

  Kellan sighs and takes a step closer to where we’re standing. “Chloe . . . don’t . . .” He sighs again. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

  He can’t promise me that. How can he? How can any of us ever think it’ll be okay? Because I’ve chosen, and I mean it, and yet . . . the tug between me and Kellan is just as strong, and I love him, and I love Jonah and—

  Jonah’s name is called again; as he leans toward me, his hand goes to my lower back. “I’m going to leave you two to talk. Just remember, we’re all on the same page here, honey. No more secrets, remember?”

  I nod and then he goes over to where several members of the Subcommittee are, huddled around an iPad.

  The smile Kellan gives me doesn’t reach his eyes. “He’s right, you know.”

  I want to collapse into the safety of his arms, but I hold back. Maybe some day we’ll be able to do that again, but right now is too soon for any of us involved. “How are you?”

  He ducks his head to run his hand through his hair, the action eerily reminiscent of Jonah’s just ten minutes before. And then he leads me out into the empty hallway. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, C . . . but I need you to try your best not to focus on me in the coming weeks, starting right about now.”

  I also need to try my best not to break down sobbing right now, too.

  “I know it’s going to be hard. I know you’re freaking out right now, and you’re worried, and confused, and there’s all this toxic guilt building back up in you.” He holds a hand out, but I think it’s more for him than me. “The three of us are going to find a way to deal with this. It can’t be right now, because we’ve got to turn our focus on the Elders situation. But we will find a way to make all this work. For now, you’ve got to let me find a way that works for me to deal with everything that’s gone down, and I can’t do it when I’m worried about you worrying about me.”

  Panic blooms in my chest, faster than before.

  “I meant what I told you,” he says quietly. “I’m not going to abandon you. I won’t do that to my brother, either. You two . . . you’re the most important people in my life. You always will be. But right now, I need to take a step back and look at ways I can personally deal with this. And you two need to be focusing on how to repair everything that’s gone down between you in the last few years.”

  I want to cry so bad right now. Just break down and ugly cry over the unfairness of it all.

  Why did Fate do this to me? Us?

  “Please believe me when I tell you that, despite what I feel for you, C—what I’ll always feel for you, and what I know you feel for me—I will never wish for anything other than your happiness. Jonah’s, either. I may be jealous as all hell over . . .” He swallows hard. “Let’s just say that I will always want and fight for the best for the two people I love most in the worlds. If this is what makes you happy, if this is what makes him the same, I will never stand in the way of that. I almost lost both of you guys over this. I’m not willing to risk that again.”

  “What about your happiness?” I choke out. Because right now, I’m pretty sure I’d give everything I have to ensure that.

  Somebody calls out that the meeting will start in two minutes; it’s enough to drive Kellan several steps back away from me.

  Tiny pieces of my heart chip off with each step he takes.

  “They need us in there,” he says quietly. “Let’s let that be our focus today, okay?”

  I do as he asks, even though it hurts to do so. For the next three hours, everyone in the conference room focuses on the Elders problem. Two more Métis colonies on two separate planes were attacked in the last week; three people are in intensive care, two others dead. It sounds horrible to admit it, but I was incredibly relieved neither colony was Anchorage. Several Magicals were attacked over the same time period, resulting in one death on the Goblin plane. All accounts have the monsters constantly evolving into more humanoid figures. People are scared, and rightly so.

  I’d foolishly thought that, once I discovered I could kill the Elders, the problem was basically solved. Nothing could be further from the truth. As we’d discovered on the last two missions I was sent out on, the Elders are careful not to come anywhere near me.

  “Councilwoman Lilywhite,” the head of the Subcommittee, a Gnomish Informer named Johann Baldurrsson, asks in the aftermath of another round of futile arguing over what we should do to counteract this line of evasion, “are you certain you must be touching the beasts to eradicate them?”

  All eyes are on me. “I’m afraid so.”

  Baldurrsson strokes his snowy beard. “There’s no chance you’re mistaken?”

  I feel like I’m letting them all down. “I wish I were. I tried it, only to fail. I have to be touching them.”

  “And yet, with each touch, you risk your own life,” he murmurs. “Which leaves us at quite the quagmire. How do we send in our assassin when, chances are, her life is just as at risk as theirs?”

  I want to argue that it’s my risk to take, that it’s my responsibility to go out there and at least try, but I see the point he’s making. If I die, not only with Magical-kind be thrown into a tailspin, but so will the worlds we govern. My death is nothing but chaos for all involved. That said . . .

  “I don’t think they want to kill me,” I admit. “Cailleache made it seem like they want me in particular taken alive.”

  “That frightens me every more,” Astrid says. So far, she’s spent the majority of the meeting quiet, taking notes. Here she is, though, and there’s no hiding the worry in her lyrical voice. “Our history with the Elders shows they are thirsty to eradicate anybody with Magical blood—everyone, that is, but a Creator.”

  Uneasy silence follows these words.

  Will’s the first to break it. “Chloe told me a story once, of how some early Creator stripped these beasties of their bodies and whatnot. What if they think a different one will reverse what’s been done?”

  I’m aghast. “They could never make me do that.”

  “Ah, but that’s the thing.” Zthane taps his pencil against the table. “They’re constantly evolving. We don’t know what they’re capable of, Chloe—except their ability to kill powerful members of our kind. The possibility that they could make you do that is something we cannot discredit.”

  “So what’s our option here?” Maccon Lightningriver asks. “Because from where I’m sitting, it’s sounding like you are all claiming we don’t have any viable options right now other than to sit on our hands. People are dying—Magicals and Métis alike. What’s to say the Elders will stop with our kinds? What happens when they spill into the general populations?”

  Baldurrsson says quietly, “We cannot risk the Creator. Until we can absolutely guarantee her safety during such confrontations, we shall not sanction any such missions. Until then, we will simply have to play defense the best we can.” He turns to the Métis members sitting nearby. “What are the chances that we can convince your colonies to relocate to Annar? Our boundaries are secure.”

  Erik is the one to answer. “Although there are those who are heartened by recent attempts by Annar to mend past wrongs, there are still many Métis who fear and distrust Magicals. I’d say . . .” He turns to his bleak-faced colleagues. “Maybe twenty, thirty percent could be easily persuaded. Others will need to be swayed
, while pockets of Métis will never agree to such measures.”

  Baldurrsson rubs his forehead; the long hairs of his eyebrows go askew. “Some are better than none. Nightstorm, we sanction the process of bringing Métis families into Annar as soon as possible.” His weary eyes flick my way. “Councilwoman Lilywhite, your immediate task is to expand the boundaries of Annar to create room for an influx of citizens, as well as new housing.”

  “Is that what the Métis will be?” a representative of the Russian colony asks, his accent harsh. “Will they be considered equals or simply poor refugees who must line up for handouts from the mighty Magicals?”

  Astrid is the one to answer. “The Council meets tonight to discuss just this matter. This Subcommittee has been tasked to decide whether or not diplomatic ties with your colonies are within the best interest of Annar.”

  The Russian frowns. “And?”

  “And,” Baldurrsson says, “it is our recommendation that anyone with Magical blood, no matter the percentage, be afforded full citizenship.”

  “What about the discrimination we have been subjected to?” a representative from one of the Dwarven colonies asks. “What is to stop Magicals from devaluing our kind, as they have always done before?”

  “For one thing, you need to stop thinking of this as an us verses them situation,” Jonah says. It isn’t the first time he’s voiced his opinion today, but he’s been selective about what he argues about. I love that he doesn’t go crazy like some of the other people, high on emotions with precious little logic. He’s been levelheaded the entire time. Focused. I could not be more proud of him. “That only exacerbates the problem. Why should any of the Métis want to come here when their own leaders propagate their differences? You have to remind them that they belong here, too. That, just because they can’t practice Magic, it doesn’t mean Magical blood doesn’t run in their veins.”