by Walsh, Sara
“It was that or go crazy,” I replied, frantically. “Sol, it didn’t mean anything.”
“It meant something to me.” He took my arm, squeezing my wrist as if willing me to understand. “Mia, Delane is like my brother. Whatever he wanted, if I could give it to him, I would. But not you.”
This was a dream. The times Sol had watched us with that strange look in his eye . . . “You were jealous of Delane?”
“I’m not proud of it,” he said. “And if there is anything between you, please say, and you won’t hear another word of this from me.”
“Delane’s my friend, Sol,” I replied. “That’s all.”
Sol’s eyes twinkled, his lips moving as if to smile. I couldn’t let him smile, not if we were to avoid doing things you really shouldn’t do in an alley behind somebody’s house. I slid from between Sol and the wall, certain that if I didn’t move I’d be unable to stop myself from dragging him to the ground there and then, to hell with the world and its problems. That couldn’t happen. There was too much I had to say.
I put a few feet of distance between us before I spoke, “Then I’d better tell you too. Delane knew I was crazy about you. He saw through me from the start. He warned me off.”
Sol frowned. “What did he say?”
“That all you care about is the war and that there isn’t room in your life for anything else. I have to know, Sol. Is that what I am? Just another pawn in your war?”
“Mia, no,” he said, aghast. “Why would you even ask that?”
“Because this is complicated,” I replied. “Sol, just think about your life. You have all of Brakaland to worry about. You’re the king’s son, remember?”
He came at me, his long legs covering the small gap between us in an instant. “I remember,” he said, his voice low. “And for just a second, why don’t you think about what that means.”
Right away, I saw the change in his expression. It was the look he’d flashed the sentinels in the Wastes. Shoulders back, head up, a warning of danger in his eyes. That was how he looked at me then. He looked like a king’s son.
“Every second watched,” he said. “Every decision crucial. So few people I can truly trust. The daughters of men I can’t stand thrown in my path night and day all to further ambitions at court. A click of my fingers and whatever I want is there—money, friends, girls.”
I flinched. “Is there a point to this?”
“Yes,” he replied, and he took my hand. “You are the point. I never told you who I was because I cared about you, Mia. I didn’t want that between us. People change around me when they know who I am. You’re one of the few people whom I can truly trust.”
The intensity in Sol’s expression dissolved. He wandered to the step at Vermillion’s gate and then sat.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Mia, you just say the strangest things sometimes. If this was about the war, Jay would have gone to the Suzerain and that’s where he’d stay. Jay can’t manipulate the Barrier. It would help our cause more to let Elias keep the boys and waste his time wondering why he can’t forget his Equinox. If this was about the war, I could have taken the Solenetta on the Ridge and you would never have seen me again.”
“You would have done that?” I asked.
“I didn’t because of you, Mia. The night Jay disappeared, I went back to the Ridge with the Solenetta and the grain I’d saved for my return. If the police hadn’t been searching the rise, I might have crossed over, and never come back. Instead, I returned to Tiamet’s, and used the map to search for other weaknesses where I could sneak through.
“But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t stop thinking about your face on the Ridge when Jay’d disappeared and how you’d looked at me when I’d lied about what had happened. Your brother was gone and you’d never know where he was and you’d never get him back. Your life would have changed forever. You had friends, but you were an island among them, different. Jay being gone would have isolated you even more. I know how that feels.”
I hung back, arms folded, stunned that he’d felt this way and never said a word. “Do you mean your life in the West?” I asked.
“You don’t want to hear about that.”
“I do.” Wanting to be close to him, I joined him on the step. “You must have given up so much in leaving your home. I can’t believe the people at court let you do it.”
“It was my choice,” said Sol. “Besides, I answer to no one but my father.”
“So what’s it like out there?”
“It’s a city of politics,” he replied, his voice thick with disgust. “Politics and pandering. I was born into it, but I’ve never wanted it. Everyone’s too busy forcing their own agenda, scrambling for a place close to my father. I have only to ask and there would be a place for me on my father’s council. No one refuses the king’s son.”
“Instead you’re sitting on a step with me,” I said.
He smiled. “Which is exactly where I want to be.”
“But you’re in the middle of a battleground here, Sol. It’s dangerous, especially if you’re recognized.”
“Everything is dangerous these days,” he replied. He leaned back on his hands, his legs outstretched. “I volunteered for the Sons of the West as soon as I was old enough to be of help. My father supports that decision. It was the right thing to do. Talk only takes you so far; if we’re to defeat Elias, we need to be where we can see him.”
“And if your father . . . you know.”
“You mean, what happens if he dies?”
I shrugged.
“A king here isn’t the same as a king in your world, Mia,” he said. “He is an elected official. My father was elected because he comes from the line of the Lunestral and that is needed in a time of demons.”
“So if something happened to him you’d be elected too?”
“It’s too soon to say.”
I thought about what he’d told me at Bromasta’s house about one’s path to adulthood in Brakaland. “But that’s why you’re here, isn’t it? You’re proving yourself worthy.”
“No,” he said. “I am here to help stop Elias’s war on your world.”
The drums continued their thrum and the occasional cheer rose from the streets. Here we were, sitting side by side, talking of blood rites and kings of faraway places moments after sharing our first kiss. Brakaland and its problems weren’t about to wait for us.
“This is a mess. What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know,” said Sol.
I welcomed his hug. The space between his shoulder and his neck—it was like it was made for me, it fit just right. I squeezed back as hard as I could. The Suzerain himself couldn’t have made me let go. Being with Sol felt like home.
We broke from the embrace, but Sol’s arm remained around my shoulders.
“You know Bromasta’s going to kill you if he finds out about us,” I said. “He didn’t seem happy about the prospect of you and me.”
Sol grinned, his face alive and alert. “Bromasta, I can handle. I’ll have him thrown in jail.”
“Do that anyway,” I declared. “I still haven’t forgiven him for dumping us.”
“But one day you will,” said Sol. “You have the capacity to forgive, Mia. I see it in you.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but he was probably right. What would I, or anyone else, have done in Bromasta’s place? Could I have left my kids in Brakaland when I knew what their futures would be? That would have been as cruel a choice as the one Bromasta had been forced to make in hiding me and the Solenetta. Don’t get me wrong; he was a stranger to me. As hard as I tried, I couldn’t find any trace of daughterly love simmering inside me. But I did now feel bound to him. Our family had been destroyed in order to keep the Solenetta safe. I couldn’t let that sacrifice be for nothing.
“We should get ready for Malone’s,” I said, though inside I felt reluctant to leave. Sol and I should have been together to talk and to touch. There was no time.
He gently hel
d my face. “Mia, after all you’ve heard, do you really think you should come?”
I held Sol’s gaze, drawing on his strength, determined he see my strength, too. “More than ever,” I replied. “It’s my blood. I want it back.”
He kissed my forehead, his hand stroking my hair. “Then we better break the news to Bromasta.”
We found Bromasta at the kitchen table studying architectural plans. As soon as we entered, he looked up.
“It’s the Velanhall,” he said, gesturing to the papers. “I don’t know what changes Elias has made to the place. The Velanhall was never used for prisoners. But he must have Jaylan somewhere secure.”
My father appeared fresher than the night before, but the wrinkles around his eyes were deep. The parler stone lay on the table, but I didn’t ask about Pete. Bromasta had been right about that. Pete couldn’t help me now. It was time to play my cards.
“I understand why you didn’t tell me about the blood rite,” I said. “All that matters is that I know. It’s better that I know.”
Bromasta pushed the drawings aside. “A million lifetimes wouldn’t be long enough to make amends for what we did to you.”
I glanced at Sol before joining Bromasta at the table. “My life’s actually been pretty good,” I said. “I’m not saying that I never thought about you or hated you for leaving. I certainly didn’t think you were in another world.”
He took from his pocket a notebook bound in battered leather and held together with a silver cord. He opened it to a wallet-size photograph, which had been tucked between the pages. “It’s the only one I have,” he said, and handed me the picture.
It was my second-grade portrait, the one with the blue turtle-neck and missing front teeth. “Where’d you get it?”
“I have my sources,” he replied. “I always knew how beautiful you’d grow up to be, and I was right. How could you not, when your mother was the most beautiful woman in the world?”
I handed back the picture, suddenly self-conscious of Sol seeing my toothless grin.
“Parting with you and Jaylan was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”
“You did what you had to do,” I said. “Now it’s my turn. The Solenetta is a part of me. I have a responsibility to keep it safe.”
He watched me intently and a look of pain entered his eyes like when he’d spoken of my mother. “Why did we ever give you up?”
“Because you had to,” I said. I offered him my hand. “A truce?”
It was like looking in a mirror when he smiled. “Of course,” he replied, and shook back.
His touch broke something inside me. This was my father.
“Okay,” I said. After a moment, my hand fell back to the table. “Now how the hell are we going to get this thing back?”
TWENTY-FOUR
Sol drew a map of the streets around Malone’s safe house, and we huddled around it on the kitchen table.
“Cloaks on as soon as you’re in position,” he said, again pointing to our marks in the alley behind the hideout. “Mia, you’re in charge of supplies. Stay close to me or Delane. Under no circumstance does anyone pass by the eye out front.”
“And me?” asked Bromasta.
Since calling our truce, Bromasta had barely moved from my side, but he seemed resigned to the fact that I was going to Malone’s, and for that I was grateful.
“You really shouldn’t come,” said Sol. “You’re a dead man if you’re spotted out there.”
“One could say the same for you,” Bromasta replied.
“But my face isn’t plastered across every reward board in town.”
This was interesting news.
“Is that true?” I gasped.
Bromasta made a sound in the back of his throat that might have been a “yes.” So my father was a wanted outlaw. It was actually pretty cool.
“What did you do?”
Bromasta shuffled, uncomfortable in the spotlight. “I put the Solenetta far from the Suzerain’s reach.”
“And wiped out one of his demon armies on the Theadery Plains,” said Delane. “The Suzerain doesn’t forgive and forget.”
So Sol had been right. My father was a legend. And by the sound of it, a hell-raising legend at that. “You really did that?” I asked, impressed.
Bromasta raised an eyebrow and scowled at Delane. “It was a long time ago.”
“But not forgotten,” said Sol. “We can’t risk your being spotted with us. We go in as opportunistic thieves—nothing more.”
There was one problem we hadn’t yet discussed. “So how do we intercept the delivery guy without anyone noticing? It’s a pretty big part of the plan.”
“We lure him somewhere quiet,” said Delane.
“And how do we do that?”
Delane grinned. “That’ll be with Vermillion Blue.”
Vermillion entered on cue. I kept my gaze firmly off Bromasta’s face. Having seen the “Vermillion Effect” in action, I thought I’d vomit if I caught the same dreamy look in my dad’s eyes.
“No offense, Vermillion,” I said, as she sandwiched herself between Sol and Delane, “but everyone in town must know who you are. You’re not exactly hard to spot.”
“Then we will make it hard.” She snuggled against Delane. “Delane, you choose. I know you have favorites.”
“Twenty-eight,” crooned Delane. “Do twenty-eight.”
I tried not to laugh. Vermillion was growing on me, especially since I knew that she and Sol weren’t together. I don’t think I’d ever met such a self-confident person. I would have loved to have seen her in action with Kieran and Seth; she’d turn them both into quivering wrecks.
Though Delane looked like he’d be happy to have Vermillion stay at his side forever, she swept to the corner of the room where she drew back a curtain revealing an alcove of shelves, crammed with bottles and jars. “Twenty-eight,” she said, scanning the rows. “Here she is.”
She returned with a small green jar. “Beseye,” she said, and, after unscrewing the lid, removed a strand of long, dark hair. “A touch of Balian, though weak.” She inhaled. “And Fauna Demon somewhere along the line. Unusual mix.”
Beyond mystified, I stared, as mesmerized as Delane. “I love twenty-eight,” he said, almost drooling on the table.
Stunned and slightly repulsed, I watched as Vermillion placed the tip of the hair on her tongue and then closed her mouth.
The change started gradually: a couple of twitches beneath Vermillion’s skin. Her lips, firm and plump, pursed to a heart. Her ice-blue eyes darkened to brown. Vermillion’s scarlet hair blackened and then receded into her scalp until it lay at shoulder length. Her silvery skin transformed to tan. And as all of this happened, the metamorphosis gained pace elsewhere. She was shrinking, for one.
There was no violence or jerkiness to the transformation. Everything slipped and slid, like melted chocolate poured into a mold. And where it settled, it set, until finally Vermillion was gone, and a petite dark-haired girl, who couldn’t have been much older than me, stood in her place, her body dwarfed by Vermillion’s long white gown. The girl—Vermillion?—smiled and the entire face came alive with a stunning, exotic beauty. She looked Hawaiian to me—big brown eyes, golden tan, glossy waves of ebony hair. Gorgeous.
I scanned the others’ faces, but they weren’t shocked like I was. Delane in particular. The only way I could describe his expression? Half-baked.
I looked back at the girl. “You’ve got to be kidding,” I blurted. “Did that really just happen?”
“I’m rarefied Simbia, Mia,” said the girl, her voice deeper than Vermillion’s. She batted huge black lashes at Delane. “A shape-shifter. And this is number twenty-eight. Delane’s favorite. Do you think our man will like her?” She raised her arms and twirled. Vermillion’s gown almost slipped down to where it shouldn’t. “Now excuse me,” she whispered, and she pulled the strand of hair from her mouth.
“You are still Vermillion, right?” I asked. I couldn’t help it.
“Of course,” she replied, as she returned the hair to the jar. “But I need a template to change. I found twenty-eight in Jova City many years ago. So beautiful.
“‘Vermillion,’ she said to me. ‘One day I will be old and ugly. Use this hair. Keep my beauty alive.’
“Now she is a part of my collection.” She pointed to the jar-filled closet. “And now I must change this dress. The girl is so short. How did she see anything from down here?” Clutching the dress to her body, she breezed to the door, but not before she shot Delane another provocative wiggle.
“We’re gonna use Vermillion to get into the Velanhall, right?” I said, as soon as she’d gone. The costumes in the upstairs closet finally made sense. “She could transform into a guard.”
“She’ll be part of the plan,” said Delane.
“But this is perfect. She even has guard uniforms in the upstairs closet. It’s simple.”
“It’s not as straightforward as you think,” Bromasta replied. “Not even a guard can wander at will into the Velanhall.”
Okay, so my father was a glass half-empty kind of action hero. I’d yet to hear a better suggestion.
“Let’s just worry about Malone for now,” said Sol. “We’re going to need the decimators. Where’s the bag?”
“It’s upstairs,” replied Delane.
I jumped to my feet. “I’ll get it,” I said, glad to prove I could be useful. “I am supposed to be in charge of supplies.”
Inside the guys’ bedroom, the bag of spells lay on a chair beneath the window. I checked what was left—a handful of repellers, plenty of the exploding decimators Sol had used on the demons, and a couple of larger greenish-yellow orbs that I didn’t recognize.
The distant drumbeats penetrated the room’s silence and my nervousness returned. It was getting close to the time when the celebrations would begin in earnest and the parade would start its slow journey through Orion’s streets. And the Suzerain? Was he already here? Might I even see the man who’d brought so much darkness into my life?
I stared at the decimators as I envisioned the parade marching by. Just one man had caused so much trouble. I imagined him waving to the crowds, me among them. I’d shuffle closer to the road, reach into my pocket and . . .