Was he trying to intimidate her? She’d faced scarier things than a pampered prince. Refusing to back down, she asked, “Then what are you doing about it? Are you trying to get the laws changed at all?”
“It’s not that simple. My father keeps a tight lid on the outer ring to discourage crime, and so far, it’s working.”
“But at what cost? And that’s just the outer rings. The people in the dreg encampment have it far worse. There are people living out there with no shelter, little food—”
“If it bothers you so much, why don’t you start a humanitarian project.”
That pulled her up short. “A what?”
“A humanitarian project. You raise money or collect supplies to improve the quality of life for a particular group. My mother hosted a gala last year to raise money for an animal shelter. She likes animals more than people, and it broke her heart to see all the neglected strays. Now, Brutums collect them off the street and shelter them until proper homes can be found. It’s a tradition in our family that the emperor handles politics while the empress benefits our citizens in other ways. As my future bride, you’ll be expected to do the same. Maybe this could be your project?”
Mara opened her mouth and closed it. While the situation wasn’t ideal, she could at least make a difference in her own way. Her mind raced with the possibilities, from building proper homes for the dregs as well as helping Ella improve conditions in the outer ring. Maybe something good could come out of this situation after all. “And my… humanitarian project… would this be noted in the Gazette to draw interest?”
“Absolutely. You’ll probably be approached soon for an interview. The people will be eager to learn about their future empress, after all.”
Mara winced. She didn’t want to be empress at all. But for now, she’d play along, and maybe do some good while she was at it. “Thank you.”
“It’s my pleasure. Now, can we please order before I die from starvation?”
She laughed, and he waved over the flustered waitress. A few minutes later, a Cultor and an Irrigo arrived at their table with a wheeled cart filled with dirt. He sprinkled seeds onto the soil. The Irrigo diverted water from the fountain and pulled it through the air, transforming it into different shapes from a swan to a cat before sprinkling it onto the dirt. The Cultor dug his fingers into the soil. Before their eyes, tiny seedlings poked up through the surface, leaves curling. The plants grew, and flowers blossomed before turning brown and falling off, replaced by fruit. Mara’s jaw dropped as green tomatoes appeared, growing larger by the second before turning a bright shade of red. The branches drooped beneath the weight of the fruit.
Then, the Cultor and Irrigo repeated the process with broccoli, carrots, asparagus, and herbs. The Cultor pulled a basket from beneath the cart and set it on their table. Mara and Isaac stood and walked around the table. They picked the fruits and vegetables and set them in the basket.
Wynn’s statement that people used their Gifts in funny ways suddenly made sense. When they left to take the freshly grown vegetables to the Pistor in the kitchen, Mara turned to Isaac. “I’ll admit, it’s incredible seeing people use their Gifts like this.”
“You should see the Articae who do quick paintings for tourists. It never fails to impress when they can create a full portrait in realistic detail in only a few minutes time.”
“Isaac, as amazing as that sounds, shouldn’t you be preparing your people for an invasion?”
He sighed. “I’m sure you’re overreacting. Our army is the greatest in the world.”
“You saw the article in the Gazette. Tomar will come for Tamil, you can be sure of that. Wouldn’t it be better to send a small delegation to Lingate to escort Tamil back to his father? We could avoid this whole mess.”
“I agree with you, but it’s not up to me. My father is going to speak with his council and decide on the solution that carries the least risk for Merrowhaven.”
“That sounds like a sneaky way of saying they’ll waste their time talking without getting anything done.”
“See? Now you’re catching on to politics.”
“If politics means ignoring the obvious solution in favor of the easy one, then I want no part of it.”
“Hm . . . maybe we’d better stick to talking about the weather and other uncontroversial topics for now.”
Thankfully, the waitress chose that moment to arrive with their food. She set their plates on the table and removed the silver dome, allowing the tantalizing smells to swirl around the table. Mara grabbed her knife and attacked her meal, taking her frustration out on her poor chicken.
How could he act so blasé about Tomar? Did Isaac think he wasn’t a threat? If that were the case, he would be in for a painful surprise when the Rei showed up at the gates of Merrowhaven, demanding his son.
They spent the remainder of their meal not speaking to each other. Isaac wiped his mouth and set a stack of gold coins on the table. He held out his arm, and Mara took it reluctantly, letting him lead her out of the restaurant. The street was filled with eerie silence, but empty of people.
The carriage pulled up next to them and they climbed inside. Mara wanted nothing more than to go back to the palace and climb in bed, but Isaac insisted they go to the opera. What better way to experience Merrowhaven than to actually go out and enjoy the nightlife? Unable to argue with him, Mara crossed her arms and stared out the window.
This betrothal would never work. They were two fundamentally different people. Mara was content with a bowl of stew and hunk of bread with butter while Isaac had no qualms about spending a fortune on gourmet dining. While Isaac didn’t have an issue with waiting on a political solution, Mara preferred action to sitting around and talking about their problems.
She couldn’t help but feel jealous at her parents’ relationship. They balanced each other perfectly and always supported each other, no matter the circumstances.
Was it wrong for her to want that for herself?
The carriage shuddered violently to the side, sending Mara careening into Isaac. What was that? They stared at each other, wide-eyed. Mara pulled herself onto her seat and braced her hand against the wall. A loud crack echoed through the carriage as the door was ripped off its hinges.
Mara called on her Gift, letting energy crackle to life in her palms. The first person who poked their head into the carriage got a ball of energy to the face.
She pushed out a shield to cover them. “Are you planning on using your Gift now, or are you waiting for an invitation?”
Isaac paled. “Unsanctioned use of a Gift for violence is illegal under section three hundred and twenty-four of our bylaws.”
“Would you mind telling them that?”
A soft crackling sounded outside the carriage, followed by a series of sharp pops. The air heated, raising the temperature until it was blistering. Smoke filled the space and her lungs burned. The attackers set fire to the carriage to flush them out? Knowing she was walking into a trap, she grabbed Isaac’s hand and pulled him outside. Better to fight than burn to death. Mara gulped in a lungful of fresh air while Isaac doubled over, coughing.
Their driver slumped over in his seat, unmoving. Something whacked the back of her head. On reflex, she reached back, grabbing the nearest thread of energy. She pulled, draining her attacker until he collapsed. When he stopped moving, Mara stepped closer. He had a young, boyish face still covered with a soft layer of peach fuzz. Long, shaggy hair fell over his eyes, and his full lips parted as he gasped for breath. But what stood out most were the gray robes he wore.
Bootsteps thudded on the road as more disciples raced toward them. Heart thudding, Mara planted herself in front of Isaac, hands outstretched. She counted at least ten—more than she wanted to risk on her own. Still, she could give them a chance to escape.
She took a deep breath and latched onto their individual threads, siphoning their energy. One by one they fell to the ground. How long would they be unconscious? Five minutes? Ten? They’d nev
er make it to the palace on foot before they woke up.
“Come on, I know where we can hide.” Mara grabbed Isaac by the arm and pulled him toward the middle ring.
Twenty minutes later, a very disgruntled Pete let them into his restaurant and ducked into the kitchen to make them a cup of tea. Mara peeked out the window, but she saw no sign of pursuers. Hopefully heading in the opposite direction of the palace had thrown them off.
Isaac stared blankly at the wall. Had he never been in a life-threatening situation before? Mara had figured he’d been sheltered his whole life, but this was ridiculous. How was he supposed to rule a country if he couldn’t save himself?
“Mara, why did those disciples attack us?”
She sighed, preparing to give him a placating answer, but before she could stop herself, she told him everything. Starting with her childhood in Stonehollow, she told him what it was like to be a dreg in a town of Gifted. She talked about Tobias, and how she was forced to run away from her family and her home, about how Ansel had stayed by her side. About teaming up with Wynn, Steel, Mikkal and Tova. He listened, enraptured, as she painted pictures of Kearar, Lingate, and Tregydar. When she revealed the truth about Gifts and the Order, he didn’t even blink.
Long after their tea had cooled in their cups, she told him of their attack on the Order, Tova’s betrayal, and Ansel’s death, followed by her capture and why Cadmus would do everything in his power to get her back again.
When she was finished, Isaac sat in silence, showing no reaction on his face. Did he believe her? Or did he think she’d made the whole thing up? She pushed back from the table, her eyes blinking back tears that her story had dredged up.
“I understand now,” Isaac said.
She paused, keeping her face turned away.
“Why you’re so passionate about the conditions in the dreg encampment. About all of it. I can’t promise that things will change overnight, but I promise that I’ll speak to my father as soon as I can.”
Tension drained from her shoulders. “Thank you. I’ll go ask Pete to hire a carriage.”
27
By the time they returned to the palace, the moon was a tiny sliver in the sky. It was like someone had sliced open the darkness, allowing light to shine through. Isaac made a beeline for the emperor, determined to give his report on the events of their evening. Though Mara had apparently broken a dozen laws saving them from the disciples, Isaac assured her that she wouldn’t get in trouble.
Now that her adrenaline had worn off, Mara was exhausted. She headed up the stairs toward her bedroom. With the exception of almost dying, the night hadn’t gone as poorly as she’d expected. While she still didn’t want to marry him, Isaac wasn’t as bad as she’d thought. He might even make a decent emperor one day. Maybe.
The guards nodded to her at the entrance of the hallway. Mara paused outside of Ethan’s room. When she and Isaac had been ambushed, she’d been terrified that she’d never get to see him again. Her fist hovered over his door. Was he sleeping? She got the sudden urge to talk with him and make sure he was okay. That was all. Before she could stop herself, she knocked. There was silence on the other side. She knocked again. Nothing.
The door to her room opened, and Tamil stepped out into the hallway, rubbing his eyes. “Ethan hasn’t come to bed yet.”
Mara frowned. “What are you still doing awake?”
“Waiting for you to get home.”
“Why don’t you go to bed? I’ll be back soon, okay?”
Tamil yawned and went back inside the room. Mara gnawed on her lip. If Ethan wasn’t in his room, there were only two other places he could be. He’d spent almost every waking moment since they arrived in either the library or the alchemy room. Turning on her heel, she walked back down the hall. She checked the library first but found it empty. Then she went to the alchemy room, having to stop twice to ask for directions.
Humming trickled into the hallway as she approached the alchemy room.
She leaned against the doorway, watching as Ethan ground ingredients with a mortar and pestle before funneling them carefully into the bottles. He adjusted the heat on a nozzle before stepping back. One bottle glowed purple while the others turned a putrid green.
His face lit up like sunlight over a frozen tundra, warming the surrounding land. His long, black hair clung to his face, which was smudged with something dark. Her breath caught in her throat. The joy radiating from his eyes outshone the dark circles beneath them.
She must have made a sound, because Ethan looked up and surprise flashed across his face. “Mara . . . you’re back!” His lips pulled back in a relieved smile.
Mara mirrored his grin. “Yeah, we just got back.”
“Did you have a nice time?” His eyes tightened as if he were worried that she did have a nice time.
“Sure,” Mara said. Then she added under her breath, “Other than almost getting kidnapped by disciples.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.” She shook her head and stepped into the room. Twelve individual work stations filled the space, each with their own sink. Counters lined one wall with cabinets both above and below them. The other wall was made entirely of shelves that held thousands of tiny bottles and jars. “Let’s just say that the inner ring doesn’t exactly agree with me.”
Ethan picked up a rag and began wiping down his work station. “Very few would be comfortable surrounded by this level of excess.”
“You could say that again. It wasn’t a total wreck, though.”
“Oh?”
“Isaac said that I could start a project to improve the conditions of the dreg camp. I thought we could start by raising funds to buy food, and hire some Farbers to build sturdy homes, and Healers where needed,” Mara said, her words rushing out like a wave. “We could spark real change here.”
“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
“Thank you. I want to see if I can help Ella with the outer ring, too.”
“You never do things halfway, do you?” He chuckled, setting the dirty equipment in the sink to wash.
Mara shrugged. “I figure, if I have to marry Isaac, at least I can make something good out of the situation.”
His expression fell, and she regretted bringing up the engagement.
She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted when three adolescent boys, looking no older than sixteen, walked into the alchemy room, talking and giggling under their breath. They shot a quick glance at Ethan and Mara before hurrying over to the shelves. Their long, gangly limbs knocked into one another as they pawed through the bottles. It became apparent that their search was unsuccessful as their whispers grew frantic, and they pulled potions down by the arm-full, dumping them on the counter.
“Looking for this?” Ethan asked, pulling a vial from his robe. He turned it over, allowing the flickering light from the candles to illuminate the pink liquid inside. “Yerrowseed extract, more commonly known as Pink Sky.”
The boys jumped and whirled around, staring at the vial with comically wide-eyes.
“Curious that I found it sitting amongst the other tonics, isn’t it? Use of this substance to induce hallucinations is frowned upon by Healers, not to mention illegal in every country except for Aravell. I wonder who’s been brewing it? This particular batch, I discovered, was tainted with Merrowart, which can cause painful stomach cramps and other unsavory side effects, which shall remain unnamed in a lady’s presence. You’re fortunate I removed it.”
One boy, who had an impressive case of acne that made him look like he’d caught the pox, stepped forward and said, “It’s not what it looks like.”
“Oh? Then perhaps you merely discovered it earlier and were fetching it to give to the authorities?”
“Yes. Exactly! That’s exactly what we’re doing.”
“Relax, I’m not going to report you. Everyone tries Pink Sky at your age.” Ethan laughed, pulling another vial from his robes and tossing it to the boys. “Try this one i
nstead—brewed from the root of the Riven tree. I think you’ll find the results far more . . . refreshing.”
The boys tripped over each other as they raced from the room. Mara turned to Ethan, eyebrows raised. “Did you just help them break the law?”
“Certainly not.” Ethan tucked the vial of Pink Sky back into his robes. “The emperor banned the use of mind-altering elixirs for recreational use. The potion I gave them was nothing more than a sleep serum. They’ll get a full ten hours of sleep, and hopefully an important lesson about trusting strange Magi.”
“Well, you did warn them that it would be refreshing,” Mara said with a smirk. She leaned against the counter, watching as he began to tidy the elixirs the boys had carelessly left on the counter. He cradled each one like a baby bird before setting them back on the shelves and turning the labels out. “You really love it here, don’t you?”
He looked up. “What?”
“Here, I mean. In this room. I’ve never seen you so at home. It’s like you light up from the inside out.”
“There’s something incredible about taking random ingredients and combining them into something special. The slightest change can influence a potion, whether for better or for worse. And sometimes, even an accident can have the best results.”
Somehow, she didn’t think they were talking about alchemy anymore.
“I have something for you.” Ethan crossed the room and opened a cabinet, pulling out a basket, dozens of corked tops peeking over the top. He walked over to where she stood and set it on the counter. “I admire your determination to improve the quality of life in the dreg encampment, but I worry that your plan might be ambitious. If a Healer in a remote village holds such a prejudice against dregs, I doubt that the Healers in the city will aid you willingly. Maybe one day, but change is universally rejected, even by the most open minded. Keeping that in mind, I’ve been brewing these since we arrived.”
Mara reached into the basket and pulled out a bottle, reading the label. Clear liquid sloshed inside the glass. “What are they?”
The Dreg Trilogy Omnibus Page 54