by Devri Walls
Drustan looked over at her, eyebrows raised. “You weren’t even watching.”
She half smiled and shook her head. “No, I wasn’t.”
Emane ran forward and pressed the tip of his sword to Alcander’s neck before he could get up. Tossing his sweaty hair back off his forehead, Emane grinned. “The ground is never a good place to be, Alcander.”
Kiora sighed. The Taveans watching the demonstration looked more concerned now than they had before.
Stepping back, Emane sheathed his sword at his side and offered Alcander his hand. Emane pulled him up, clapping him on the back before addressing the rest of his students. “You will not be fighting against someone like myself—someone trained with a sword. What Alcander just did would be more than sufficient under the circumstances you will be in.”
“Sufficient?” Alcander said. “I am not satisfied with sufficient, Witow.”
The Taveans laughed. Emane grinned, sliding his sword free. “Again, then?”
Kiora leaned over. “Drustan, can I talk to you? Somewhere else?”
“Of course.” Drustan helped her up and the two slipped out as Emane and Alcander prepared for the next sparring match.
They headed up the short flight of stairs that led into one of the tunnels. Kiora chose one free of threads and picked an empty room, slipping inside. Drustan shut the door behind them.
She turned to face him. “Are the Shifters truly capable of making the weapons we need?”
“Yes,” Drustan said. “Is that really what you dragged me down here to ask?”
“You’re absolutely sure?”
“Of course . . .” He hesitated. “As long as we had someone to teach us the technicalities of weapons making.”
Kiora’s eyes widened. “What? You don’t know how?”
Drustan chuckled bitterly as he leaned against the wall. “We can grow claws the size of swords. What possible use would we have for weapons?”
“Where did Lomay get the other sword for Alcander?”
“I have no idea. But I highly doubt you are going to find anyone here capable of teaching us the skills we need.”
Kiora made an irritated sound in the back of her throat. “Why didn’t you say something in the meeting? You said we needed craftsman and that the Shifters were the ones who could do it.”
Drustan shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “I may have gotten a little ahead of myself.”
Kiora dropped to the bed, drumming her fingers against the edge and pursing her lips. “The Guardians made Emane’s sword. Could they teach you?”
“If we could get them here.”
She took a deep breath. “I want to take the bracelets off the Shifters.”
Drustan stilled, tilting his head as if he hadn’t heard her correctly. Realizing he had, he crossed his arms in front of himself, scowling. “What?”
Kiora deflated. “I thought you would be more excited than that.”
“I . . . I don’t know.” Drustan paced around the room. “I am not sure how the Shifters would react, or what they are capable of without those bracelets. Some of them are exceedingly angry.”
“With good reason.”
“Absolutely. I have been against their slavery from the beginning—you know that. But being justified in their anger will not change their actions when they are finally free. Many of them want revenge.”
“If we want their help, it must be under their own free will,” Kiora said. “If we bring them here with those bracelets on, they will resent it—even if they would have made the same choice had they been given the option.”
“And how do you plan to manage this?”
“We’re going to let them choose sides.”
Drustan was silent for a moment, waiting to see if there was more. When Kiora just stared at him, he asked the obvious. “And if they all choose the Shadow?”
“Then we are no worse off than before.”
“Maybe. But it will supply the Shadow with more weapons—and the Shifters are very dangerous weapons.”
Kiora snorted. “If we hope to win this battle on numbers, we might as well surrender now.”
“Lomay will be a problem,” Drustan pointed out.
“I know. I don’t think he will agree.”
Drustan waved her off. “That’s not what I meant. I am not worried about him agreeing—which he won’t. But if you are trying to convince the Shifters to join you, it will be nearly impossible with Lomay in the mix—they have some very bitter feelings toward him.” He shrugged. “Toward Alcander too, for that matter.”
“What about me?” Kiora asked.
“They were oddly impressed with you. Just as I was.”
“Oddly?”
A smile tugged at the corner of Drustan’s mouth. “It was actually quite humorous to watch. You could tell the Shifters didn’t want to like you—you were there with Lomay and Alcander, having meetings, being friendly. But that little outburst of yours, when I tried to run—” Drustan shook his head and grinned. “You were so infuriated with Lomay. I don’t think they had ever seen anyone question him before. They were impressed, and they watched you after that. They whispered about the things you did, the kindness you showed. The only thing that gnawed at them was when you allowed Lomay to bracelet me.”
Kiora jerked up straight. “I did not!”
“I know that, and you know that—but they don’t know that.”
Kiora hadn’t even thought about how it had looked to the Shifters. How could she ask them to trust her when they believed she’d allowed Lomay to bracelet Drustan? “Could you explain it to them?”
“I can try, but what if they attack?”
Kiora held up the talisman that was still unsheathed. “I can keep them from shifting if I need to. I’m more concerned that we’ll be coming home alone.”
“That is a very real possibility.”
“And I’m worried that there may still be a spy among them.”
When they eavesdropped on King Aimon and his council in Tavea, they heard about Shifter spies at Lomay’s camp. One possible explanation was that the spies had been discovered and killed. But judging by Alcander’s surprised reaction, the more likely option was that the spies, whoever they were, were still there.
“I always assumed the spy was the Shifter who pushed Alcander out of the boundary before we left the canyon.”
“It could be. But if it’s not, the spy is skilled enough at masking their thread to keep the bracelets from registering their intentions. If they are still with the group, I won’t be able to feel their true thread when I take the bracelets off.”
“Kiora, you know that’s not truly a problem. If they decide to come back here with us, the magic of the city will discern their intentions.”
CHAPTER THREE
Sacrifices Must Be Made
EMANE WAS SUPPOSED TO join Kiora for lunch as soon as he was done with training, but he had been stuck standing outside the training room doors talking with students. Kiora attempted to pass the time staring at her lunch, trying not to focus on the courtyard full of rebels who were currently trying not to stare at her. But their furtive glances were no less noticeable, and it wasn’t working.
She gripped the table until her knuckles were white. What they all must be thinking. How despicable she was. How she had failed. How their families were gone.
Stop it! she thought. She was going to move past this and stop blaming herself. And to prove it, she picked up her plate of food and moved to a table where two Winged men sat. They both looked at her with mild surprise.
“Hello,” she said.
The tall, blond Winged man smiled. “Decided not to eat alone?”
“Something like that. I’m Kiora.”
They both chuckled. “Yes, we know who you are,” said the Winged man with shoulder-length dark hair. “I’m Maddox.”
“And I’m Ky,” the blond man said.
Kiora’s mouth went dry. “I knew someone named Ky.”
M
addox cleared his throat and looked down at the table.
Ky leaned forward. The smile on his face was too tight, his eyes pained. “Redhead, I assume.” His tone was gentle, but undercurrents of grief broke through his mild manner.
Kiora immediately felt ill. “Yes.”
“That was my son.”
She could see it now, looking at the Winged man before her. Little Ky may have had his mother’s hair, but he had his father’s eyes. She could still see those eyes twinkling with excitement as they had entered the city.
She was so distracted by the emotions running through her that she didn’t feel Emane approaching.
“I . . . I loved him so much,” Kiora managed to croak out as she furiously blinked back tears.
Ky’s smile softened. “Yes, I can see that.”
“Your wife was beautiful,” she added. Her voice cracked and she swiped away a tear.
Ky leaned forward and gripped Kiora’s hand for a quick moment. “She still is. And I will fly with her again someday—of that I am sure.”
Emane briefly touched her shoulder. “Kiora,” he said gently. “I need to go visit Alcander. I was wondering if you would join me.”
“Um, yes. I will.” She took a deep breath, grateful for the interruption. As she stood, Maddox and Ky did as well. They both bowed their heads. “Thank you,” she said with a lump in her throat. “For being here.”
Emane put his hand in the small of her back and steered her toward the main house.
“Thank you,” she whispered, knowing his interruption was intentional.
“Of course.”
Emane opened the door for her and gave her a knowing look. “I have spent a lot of time with the rebels while we train. They talk about you. How you went up against the Shadow, the previously thought undefeatable foe, in defense of their families. Honestly, Kiora, they’re not asking any more of you.” He turned and started up the stairs.
“Wait—why are we going to Alcander’s room?” she asked, scurrying up behind him.
“He broke a few bones during practice today. With the talisman unsheathed, I couldn’t heal him.”
Kiora hurried up the next couple of stairs. “You could have told me.”
“He decided not to. Yell at him.” Kiora heard the smirk in his voice. He turned down the hall, throwing open the door to Alcander’s room and shouting, “All right then, where’s my patient?”
Alcander was on his bed, propped up with some pillows, his arm over his stomach, his face pinched with discomfort.
“Shut up and get over here,” Alcander said. “You took your sweet time. I felt the magic come back ages ago.”
“My apologies.” Emane stuffed his hands in his pockets and strolled over to the bed as if it were a pleasant afternoon excursion. “Some of my pupils had questions, and then I had wise words to impart to Kiora. My schedule was packed.”
Alcander groaned, rolling his head to the side. “Emane, if I was any condition to—”
“But you’re not,” Emane interrupted. “Don’t waste your breath with idle threats.”
“Emane, stop torturing him and heal him.”
Emane placed his hand over Alcander’s collarbone and then over his ribs. Alcander sighed in relief as Emane mended his broken bones. Swinging his legs over the bed, Alcander put an elbow on his knee, glaring up at Emane. “Pupils, you say?”
“Many.” Emane nodded, rocking back on his heels. “Lots of questions.”
Kiora rolled her eyes and plopped down next to Alcander. “Did training go better?”
“Much,” Emane said. “Surprisingly, the fact that the Taveans were locked up for so long is proving to be an advantage. Alcander has had to fight against his magical training, and it’s slowed him down. Without so much drilled into them, they are actually picking up the new fighting style a little faster.” He shrugged. “Once they had no choice but to learn it.”
“How long before we’re going to need more weapons?” Kiora asked.
“Yesterday.”
There was a knock at the door, and Lomay poked his head in. “Sorry to interrupt you all, but I need to borrow Kiora.”
“Did you find a solution to the barrier?” she asked, hope filtering in.
“I did.” His tone was melancholy, which she didn’t understand. He looked wistfully toward Alcander, which only confused her more.
As they walked down the stairs, Kiora watched Lomay. The usual twinkle in his eyes seemed dimmer, and his shoulders bowed further forward than usual—as if physically weighed down by something.
“I never had any children of my own,” he said abruptly. “Alcander has always been like a son to me.”
“Why didn’t you ever have children?” she asked.
“Ah.” He smiled bitterly, using his hand on the wall for support. “I was young and stupid, too busy for relationships, and obsessed with becoming great—it consumed me. By the time I realized that greatness is not in the amount of magic you possess, it was too late.”
Kiora raised her eyebrows. “Too late? Lomay, you have been alive for a very long time.”
“There are some matters in life in which I have found myself to be a very slow learner.” He leaned forward on his cane as they reached the main floor, his feet dragging. “I knew I had missed out on things, but to be honest, I didn’t care. It wasn’t until I ended up raising Alcander that I realized exactly what I had missed.”
“Does he know how you feel?”
“I think deep down he does. But he is Tavean, after all, and he was a very angry Tavean. I didn’t think telling him I loved him would be received well.”
“Maybe. But you should still tell him.”
Lomay paused with his hand on the library door. “Perhaps I will.”
The library was a disaster. Books and scrolls were strewn over every surface—tables, shelves, and even the floor. Lomay shuffled in, his cane clacking on the tile.
“It took me a while to find what I needed,” he said in explanation of the mess. He made his way to the round table in the center of the room. “I made a few adjustments to the spell to ensure it holds against Jasmine. I won’t be able to do it myself—I am going to need your help, but it will work.”
Kiora breathed a sigh of relief. “That’s wonderful news. What do you need me to do?”
Lomay shuffled some papers with his back to her, pulling a book out from beneath. He turned and clutched the book against his chest. “I had a vision of you visiting the Shifters.”
“I was going to tell you,” Kiora said, feeling foolish. “I just . . . hadn’t got to it yet.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” he said hoarsely without looking up. His thin gray hair hung down, hiding his face. “They are camped along a river between here and Lake Everleen. Alcander should be familiar with the location.”
Kiora paused for a moment, waiting for the “but”. When it never came, she said, “I thought you would tell me it was a terrible idea.”
“There was a time when I would have. But sometimes it takes others to see what we cannot.” He looked up with some wonder and smiled. “Especially when one of the parties happens to be very old and very set in his ways. You are a marvel, Kiora. So young, but wiser than I ever was.” He handed her the Book of Creators.
Kiora blushed and looked down at the page he had opened for her. Words had been written and rewritten, some crossed out, and new ones scratched over top. Occasionally there was an upwards mark, indicating added spell-work between words.
“What does it do?” Kiora asked.
He pointed to the bottom half of the page. “I need you to say this part after I am finished with the first part.”
“This is all for the barrier?” Kiora frowned, looking up. “It’s a huge spell.”
“We are trying to keep a very large problem at bay.” He took one hand off his staff and placed it on the table. He swallowed, and his eyes closed as he bowed his head. He took a slow, deep breath in through his nose and muttered the first half of the
incantation. “It is time. Finish the spell.”
Something nagged at Kiora. He was acting . . . strange. Even more so than the last few days. She had never seen him do anything, even things he wasn’t completely sure about, with anything other than unwavering confidence. Everything about him now was unsure, hesitant. She scowled at the page, running her finger over it. “Lomay, what is this?”
“Kiora, the spell is time sensitive. Quickly now.” He waved his wrinkled hand at her.
She began the spell. As the last words flowed from her mouth, Lomay groaned. His knees buckled and he leaned heavily on his staff. .
“Lomay!” Kiora ran over to him. She put her hand on his back, feeling anxious. “What’s the matter?”
He smiled wearily. “We don’t have much time, and I have so much to tell you.”
“What . . . what are you talking about?”
He grunted again, falling forward on the table. His cane clattered to the floor.
“Lomay!” Kiora linked her arm beneath his, trying to pull him back up. Something was wrong. “I’m getting Emane.” She ran toward the door.
“Kiora, stop!” His voice was the loudest she had ever heard it, and she froze. He pushed himself straight and tried to face her. But he stumbled, falling back against the edge of the table. Gold magic swirled around his legs. “Emane cannot help me. And if you leave, I won’t be here when you get back.”
“Wh—what?” Her tongue was thick as she watched the magic brighten.
“I apologize for the trickery. It was the only way.”
“Trickery?” Kiora’s stomach rolled with dread and she wanted to shove her fingers in her ears. She didn’t want to hear what he was going to say. The look on his face, the tone in his voice—no, she didn’t want to hear it.
“This is something I should have done when I first met you. I knew you weren’t strong enough to take on Jasmine, despite all your many strengths. I told myself that you would grow, that a way would be provided. You were the Solus, after all.
“But deep down, I knew there had been a way provided, and I knew what that way was. I have known for a very long time. But somehow, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.” He shook his head. The gold magic around his legs flared brighter and swirled up to his thighs. “Imagine my disgust with myself as I stood there, lecturing you about following your destiny, while I knew that I had failed to follow my own.” He chuckled bitterly. His wrinkled face had never looked so old. “You have sought me for advice—for wisdom.” He dropped his head. “Even your Witow is stronger than I am.”