by Sacha Black
His hand drops, his gentle touch moving over my chest and down toward my trousers. As his fingers hover over my button, I tense. He freezes, pulling his lips away from mine.
I didn’t mean to tense. I want this. I do. I feel stupid for even thinking about her. But we’ve not talked about his and Evelyn’s relationship. I’m not an idiot, I know they had sex, and thank God I never had to sleep with Victor, but that means he’s experienced and I’m not. What if I’m not good enough?
“I’m sorry,” he says, “we don’t have to…”
“No, it’s fine, I just…”
There’s a crackle, and the CogTV hanging above the mahogany desk flickers to life.
“What the…?” I say, silently grateful for the distraction and scramble down from the bed to find the off switch.
I’m half way across the floor when static flashes across the screen and a face appears. I halt, the blood pumping through my veins. Both mine and Trey’s discarded CogTrackers in the middle of the floor flare to life simultaneously. Trey gets off the bed, picks his Tracker up, and moves over to stand with me. We stare up at the CogTV, silent, horrified, as Victor’s pale face fills every screen in my room. The same maroon vein that tracked down his temple at the Coronation Ceremony throbs on the side of his face.
There’s a series of muffled screams from the floor below, followed by doors banging, and the thud, thud, thud of feet running through the corridors. My blood turns ice cold; he must have hacked the entire network.
“Good morning, Trutinor,” he says, calm and straight-faced, as if it’s normal for him, a dead Shifter, to come back to life and take over our comms channels.
His head snaps backward at a strange angle, making me flinch. When he rights himself, his face is contorted, sharper, maroon filling his eyes. His voice isn’t his usual whine but a gravely rasp I’ve only heard once before.
“Oh, Cecilia,” Victor says, his eyes narrowing at the screen. “Be a dear, lift my banishment, won’t you?”
I turn to Trey; any normal Keeper listening might think it’s Victor threatening the First Fallon, that he’s the one banished. But it’s not. It’s Rozalyn: the Last Fallon.
“I’m coming back whether you like it or not. If you assist me, I’ll negotiate terms. If you don’t or you try to stop me, I’ll consider it an act of war, and I’ll destroy the Balance. For good.”
Victor’s face stretches into a strangled expression and then slackens. As the screen fades to black, he mouths two words. I frown; I must have read his lips wrong.
“Did he just…?” I ask Trey.
“…say ‘Eden, help’?” Trey says, nodding, “yeah, he did.”
Three
‘Darique, while proud and ruthless, was driven by reason and fairness. After the war with Rueben and the banishment of his mother, he established the first Council of Trutinor comprising each of the First children: Darique, Rueben, Aurora, Karva, and Clarissa.’
Excerpt from the History of Trutinor Vol. 1
Kato and Bo appear in the doorway their breathing rapid.
“What in the name of actual fuckery just happened?” Kato asks, striding through my doorway. He raises his eyebrow at Trey, who is still topless so he takes the hint and gets himself dressed. Kato picks up my abandoned CogTracker, gesturing with it as he speaks. “Victor hacked the entire network. It was a work of art. Fifty CogTV channels, the entire satellite system, CogTracker networks, even steam radio. The point,” Kato says, flipping open my Tracker and tapping it, “is that even I couldn’t do that, and I’m a god damn genius. So… I say again, people… What the actual fuck just happened?”
Bo rolls her eyes at Kato and takes a seat in one of the green arm chairs in the sofa area. “Remind me why we’re Bound again?” she says.
“Oh please, Beatrice, you know it turns you on,” Kato says, flashing a grin at her.
“I think you’re missing the big picture here. One, Victor is meant to be dead. Two, it wasn’t actually him speaking and three, did you blank out the part where the Last Fallon declared war on Trutinor?”
“Well, there was that,” Kato says, sticking his bottom lip out, “but I still want to know how he hacked the system.”
My CogTracker beeps, so Kato throws it across the room at me.
I catch it and flip to the message screen. “It’s Nyx,” I say, grimacing. “She’s in Stratera foyer waiting for me. Titus has my train in Stratera station ready to collect us for Council tonight.”
Bo sits a little straighter on the sofa, “I’ll call my parents. Victor hadn’t made contact with them the last time I asked, but you never know. I’ll also put The Six on standby. You two can CogMail us any Council developments. I’m sure they’re all freaking out and on high alert now.”
I hesitate; neither Trey nor I want to go to another Council inquisition, but maybe given Victor’s public appearance, we won’t have to endure another truth trial.
“It’s fine,” Kato says, “we’ve got this. I’ll try tracing the source of Victor’s hack and see if I can locate him. You guys go.”
“Okay,” I say, “CogMail us any updates you have. We’ll be back Sunday morning at the latest.”
“Good luck,” Kato says, giving Trey’s shoulder a squeeze. Then he pulls me in for a hug. “Don’t let them break you,” he whispers in my ear.
“I’ll try,” I say, then Trey and I leave our dorm.
When we reach the academy foyer, I place my hands on the oak doors, and just like they did with Professor Astra, the doors swing open of their own accord. The foyer, although still busy, is quieter than earlier because most of the students are where I should be: settling into their dorms and finding out who lives in their block.
The students still hovering in the foyer have huddled in small groups. The mumbles quieten as we enter, a hushed whisper circles around the foyer, and every pair of eyes in the room fall on Trey and I. My eyes glance up at the massive screen hanging on one side of the foyer. Perfect.
“Is there anyone in Trutinor who didn’t see his broadcast?” I growl at Trey under my breath.
I spot Nyx in the center of the room. She’s the only one not pouring over a CogTracker. She has a strange expression on her face. Her hand is raised, hovering millimeters above the Door of Fates’ frame, and her face is twitching, like a cat catching the scent of catnip. Something must startle her because she recoils, her hair all spiky and stiff, as though her cat-hackles are bristling.
“You okay?” I say as I reach her.
“Huh? Oh, yes, I’m fine. Sorry. Strange old door, isn’t it?”
“I guess.” I brace as she puts her arms around me squeezing me far too hard as usual.
“Anyway,” she says, letting go and straightening herself out, “shall we leave? There’s a lot to discuss on route.”
“Did you see the broadcast?” I ask, looking from Trey to Nyx.
“I did. Very troubling. But hopefully, the First Fallon will leave you alone now there is unequivocal proof of his return.” She blinks at me, long slow cat blinks with her green cat-eyes and vertical pupils.
“Are you sure you’re alright?”
“I’m fine. We just have a lot to talk about, and Titus has to do some stops on route so it will be late evening by the time we get to the Ancient Forest.”
“Okay,” I say, and we leave, the students’ eyes following us as we exit the foyer.
It’s a short walk back down the hill toward Stratera station. Titus and I decided to retire my parents’ train. I couldn’t face using it, walking the corridors, and still smelling their perfume. It hurt too much. So he spent the rest of the summer refurbishing our reserve train. It’s sat in Stratera station, docked, shiny, and ready for us to board. Except for the brass tubing that traces the lines of the exterior, my train is long and sleek, like the sky scrapers in the East.
Titus steps out of the engine cabin, his blond dreads drawn up in a loose knot. His navy Steampunk Transporter uniform is tight over his stomach, the gold buttons
straining over his port belly. He waves, the nubbin of his thumb in the air making a surge of guilt roll through my chest. During the summer, I lost control of the Imbalance that’s resident inside my head and accidentally burned Titus’ hand. The Dryad doctors fixed him, but he still lost the tip of his thumb.
“Hello, trouble,” he says, pulling me into a hug, “it’s been a while. Magnus has been greedy and kept you all to himself.”
“I missed you,” I say, squeezing him.
“Are you okay?” he says, putting me at arm’s length so he can see me. “I saw the…”
“I’m okay. Kato is trying to trace the source; I’m sure the Council are all over it.”
“Good,” he says, and shakes Trey’s hand.
“Let’s go see what the Council have to say, shall we?” He places a kiss on the top of my head and clambers back up into the engine cabin.
Trey, Nyx, and I board the train and climb the stairs to my private quarters on the second floor. I’ve only been on this train a couple of times since Titus finished it, and this is the first-time Trey’s been aboard. Which makes me smile to myself as I enter the glass-roofed private quarters. The sun sets in here, and the view is mind-blowing.
I push open the door. There’s a bar immediately on the right as we enter. On the left is a seating area comprised of sandy colored square sofas and after that, a door to sleeping quarters.
Nyx drops behind the bar as the train shudders, and we pull out of the station. The carriage judders at first until the train gathers enough speed to find its rhythm. Billows of steam roll past the window, and the carriage falls into a lulled rocking. There’s the crack of a lid flicking off of a bottle, and her head reappears with a small glass of milk, or maybe it’s cream.
“Want one?” she says.
“Umm, I’m good thanks.”
“Suit yourself. Trey?”
He shakes his head.
“Fine. Take a seat, you two,” she says, “we need to talk East business.”
“Okay,” I say, bracing myself as I take a seat on the larger sofa, so there’s room for Trey. He swings his arm around me as Nyx pulls open her CogTracker, and a stream of notes fly across the screen.
“Eden…” Nyx starts, her expression stiff.
“Don’t,” I say, raising my hand, knowing exactly what she’s about to say, “I’m not ready to come home yet.”
“When are you going to be, honey? We can’t have a State without a Fallon. I know you’re at Stratera, but that’s not really an excuse. You’re going to have to come home soon. Your people need to see you lead.”
My jaw tightens, my fingers rubbing the throbbing pressure building behind my forehead.
“I’ll be with you,” Trey says. “I can make it easier…”
“I know,” I say. “But I don’t want you compelling the pain away. I will go home. I just need time to prepare.”
“There’s a long weekend break from studies in a couple of weeks. What about then?”
“Will it get the pair of you off my back?”
Nyx nods, Trey shrugs agreement.
“Fine. I’ll think about it. That’s the best you’re getting.”
Nyx smiles, the lunchtime sun streaming through the glass roof and speckling her face. I narrow my eyes; her birthmark looks dark, almost brown instead of the pale orange it normally is. She slides a black envelope across the table, which has a white label on the front with the word REPORT typed in big font.
“What’s that?” I say, curious.
“It’s, umm. Well, you need to sign it… It’s the official inquest into your parents’ death. The Guild’s asked me to get you to sign the death records as suicide.”
I look up at her, tears pricking the backs of my eyes.
“I see,” I say. I pull out the sheet and scrawl a signature, shoving the packet away as fast as I can, and try to push the lump in my throat away.
“I’m sorry,” she says, but I shake my head.
“Can we move on?”
Trey squeezes my hand, but the softness in his touch makes the lump even harder to swallow.
“Of course we can,” Nyx says, pressing buttons on her CogTracker, and a map of the East State appears. She zooms in. “There are outbreaks of civil unrest and a variety of Shifter attacks right along the Northern border.”
“Any intelligence on the attacks?”
“Some. A couple of water Elementals on the ground are suggesting the most recent attacks are from the Third House in the North.”
“Third?” I stare out the window, trying to rack my mind for the names of Bo’s six elite generals. I’ve only met a couple of them. Then it comes to me. “Delphine?” I say, unsurprised. “Delphine Delacrois.”
“Correct,” Nyx says. “Israel is claiming no knowledge of it. He’s also said Delphine herself has no part in it. But nonetheless, he’s given her an official warning about any of her house breaking the treaty. Especially so soon after it was signed.”
I nod, unsatisfied, but also unsure of what steps to take next. Israel and Maddison were furious with me when Victor died. There was an incident outside the Council Chamber. Understandably, Israel blamed me for Victor’s death but he also blamed me for Bo losing her leg. So when he saw me for the first time in the Council foyer, he saw red and tried to choke me, and he would have done if it wasn’t for Trey who had to compel him to stop. After a few weeks, and I suspect a strong word from Arden, Israel came to me and suggested we have a Siren mediate a session between us. Those sessions are what led to the treaty being signed. I can’t help but wonder what my father would have done in this situation. I know he would have been proud the day the treaty was signed. Despite the tensions on our borders, and their differing opinions on politics, he and Israel were in the same year at school. Children don’t care about politics and power. They saw through the hate they were supposed to feel because they knew each other before Trutinor’s system corrupted them. That’s why as adults, when they were forced to bend and obey as Councilors, their friendship lasted through their differing opinions. I decide Father would have wanted me to take the most diplomatic stance possible. I can almost hear him saying, ‘protect the treaty at all costs, Eden.’
“What about the Siren peace keepers?” I ask Trey.
“They’re patrolling, twenty-four hours a day. But they’re not trained as peace keepers, so pockets of violence are still breaking out. I’m going to negotiate some training with Bo. The Six can give the squad of Sirens the basics, and hopefully, that will make them more efficient.”
As the sun sets, I yawn and tell Nyx I can’t discuss any more skyscraper bridge constructions, proposals for East State Council members or state dinners and retire, with Trey, to the train’s bedroom quarters. We lie on the bed, me in his arms, both of us staring up at the sky streaking past in a blur.
“Told you it was spectacular,” I say, leaning into him, my eyes already heavy.
“It really is,” he says, kissing my forehead.
Above us, baby blues turn to deep pink, and then to slate gray. The sky darkens as evening arrives and the twinkling sparkle of stars blinking to life fills the cabin. I close my eyes, telling myself I’m just resting them, it’s not bedtime, and it won’t be much longer before we arrive. But I’m lying to myself. My breathing slows, and I drift into sleep.
I am alone on the peak of a mountain somewhere deep in the Eris region of the North State. It's freezing; snow covers the mountain tops like whips of ice cream. Swathes of white smother the ground leaving only sparse patches of rocky boulders. The air whisks a chill around me; a few gray rocks crunch under my feet as I shiver and pull my jacket tight. The mountains are dull somehow like everything is tainted with age. Something splatters against the snow behind me. I spin around, and the mountains vanish. I’m standing in the middle of Maddison and Israel’s castle courtyard; the same courtyard I killed Victor in. Only this time, the walls are crumbling. The doors are splintered and hanging off their hinges. Under the arches where
the snow hasn’t reached, photographs, papers, and ornaments litter the area, abandoned remnants from the lives that used to fill the castle. Snow covers the rest of the stone square, hiding the names of the residents that were once etched into the concrete slabs. The turrets that used to impale the clouds are broken. As I crane my neck up, a few black tiles crumble and fall from the sky only to be swallowed by the snow. Everywhere I look there’s decay; Trutinor is dying.
The splattering was blood. Red droplets speckle the snow in an arc, like a sword that’s sliced open a body. A figure stands a few feet away from me; it’s motionless. Another appears next to him, then another.
One by one, the Shifters, Elementals, and Sorcerers who fought with and against me in the battle with Victor, materialize in the courtyard. They replay the same battle but in slow sweeping moves, like I’m standing in the middle of a slow-motion video game. I shout at them to stop; we don’t need to fight anymore, it’s over. But they can’t hear me.
Wisps of Evelyn’s green magic shoot past my head and collide with a giant bear’s paw; the bear spins and hits the ground in his Shifter form. Dead. In the corner of the courtyard next to a row of stone pillars, Trey stumbles, gripping his chest. His life is connected to Victor’s. His chest bleeds where I stabbed Victor. I run, reaching out to staunch the bleeding, but the harder I run, the faster he shrinks away.
Suddenly, there is a hand around my throat. Victor’s eyes glint as the sun beams through the clouds and illuminates the square. He wants to kill me. Any moment now, he will try and suffocate me, so I die and he survives our broken Binding. A strange knife shaped like a key appears in my hand; it’s tipped with a smudge of dried red: Bo’s blood. I know what I’m meant to do; I have to pierce Victor’s heart.
But Trey is in Victor’s place, and as I glance at the knife in my hand, a cold chill trickles down my spine. I’m no longer me. I am Victor.
Trey’s voice echoes around me. “I love you, Eden,” he says, over and over. Three little words that give me the energy to fight on.