Still. It was odd. Back home, half-breed abominations were, at best, looked down upon, and, at worst, killed.
“Christopher.” Lucio snapped his fingers, his brow lowered with impatience. “Focus. Did you hear what I just said?”
Christopher’s jaw twitched, and he shook his head. “No, sir, I missed it.”
“I asked,” Lucio drawled out his words in an almost-whine, “what do you remember from your home?”
“What?” Christopher looked across the grassy road to Deirdre. She shrugged and spiraled a finger by her head while Lucio’s attention stayed on Christopher. “We’ve already told you all about Tastow.”
Lucio waved his hand with a laugh. “No need to be coy. Not Tastow, home. You know, where you came from?” He raised a thick eyebrow at the confusion on Christopher’s face and looked back at Derrick. “You’re Void Born. You crossed the Void. You weren’t born here. What was your home on the other side like?”
Derrick stared at Lucio. Andrew turned in his saddle, his forehead scrunched nearly to his receding hairline.
“We aren’t from another side,” Deirdre said finally. “We’re nobodies. Monsters without a soul.” She stroked the neck of her horse, her motions heavy with clear sadness while her tone remained nonchalant. “Why else would the military want us? We’re the perfect soldiers for these missions. No loss of life when it’s just us.”
Lucio’s sudden laugh rankled Christopher’s nerves. Lucio waved a hand at Deirdre. “Is that what they taught you in military school?” He shook his head, grimness sinking over him like a black cloud. “They deprive me of my research. Whale scum.”
Christopher stretched his neck and tried to ignore Lucio again. What was the sage implying? That they had souls? That they had a home somewhere? Preposterous.
“I wonder if I can order you to tell me what you remember?” Lucio mused aloud. “Maybe it will override whatever they brainwashed you with.” He cast a speculative eye at Christopher. “You lot better all be Void Born. None of this plan will work if you aren’t.”
Christopher rolled his eyes. “Only Void Born can go through the barrier. Which we did.”
Lucio harrumphed to himself and looked away, clutching at his pocket where he kept the used bloodstone. “Never doubt the power of the Void Born blood you have.” His lips curled. “We’ll need a Void Born before this mission is over.”
“And you have four with you right now, sir.” Christopher reminded through gritted teeth.
“Yes, so you say.” Lucio grinned at Deirdre’s bared arms and her exposed blood-bond tattoo. “Lucky me.”
Despite how much Lucio insisted he counted as an Elph because he didn’t age, the blood-bond didn’t link them. Christopher was safe from unexpected compulsion. He ran his fingers along the sleeve of his shirt, over the recently healed checkered tattoo on his upper arm. The promotion hadn’t surprised him, but the faint changes in his blood-bond did. As had the reactions of his team: the subtle drawing back, the glimpses of jealousy, the bitterness of those older than him that he’d surpassed ...
But once the barrier was done, it would all be worth it.
Already, they were working back home for war. Coven leaders working together for once, each one working to amass food, weapons, soldiers. They’d theorized that the south had remained strong in case of an attack, but now that Christopher had seen part of lower Terrene, he knew how wrong his leaders were. Complacency was a plague everywhere.
Doldra had no true monarch, just a token queen and a recently discovered reluctant princess. A very small army to speak of. Perennia had an army, but they were all pampered, used to dining off the wealth of the land. Victor had mentioned that Vodan may put up a fight—but Vodan relied on its people, not an actual army. Christopher could only imagine what Piovant, Lasim, and Antius were like. It would be laughably easy to take hold of southern Terrene.
Aerugo being the only exception. But Victor’s team would work to take care of that particular problem. The Leaders’ Summit was in a month’s time, and Victor would be ready to cripple the nation by then.
No mercy for the kingdoms that had turned their backs on Central Terrene during the Barbarian War. The southern nations had let their fear of the blood-bond rule them, and their answer to the call for a truce and aid had been to erect the barrier. But now that the barbarian threat was eradicated back home, it was time for the Elph nations to exact their revenge on those who had abandoned them in their time of desperate need.
All his life, Christopher had heard stories of how southern Terrene had riches, resources, and food in abundance, and he hadn’t believed such lofty talk. Now he believed. And the sheer surplus awed him. The humans of southern Terrene were beyond spoiled by the wealth around them, while Christopher knew of families back home that were barely scraping by.
Leather squeaked as he tightened his grip on the reins. If they succeeded, he would be able to sleep at night, for he’d helped to bring order to all of Terrene.
It was time to flip things around and balance the nations. They would all be equal under the blood-bond, and the Elph would see to it that the resources were shared fairly. Not hoarded among the rich while the children starved.
And seeing the prideful nations fall would be spectacular.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Weston
Weston trailed after Francene’s butler, Renny, cautious to keep Niles between him and the murderous-looking group that had come to escort Jade. The narrow rug that ran down the center of the hallway reduced some of the noise of their steps, but not by much. Francene must be expecting them.
Weston gnawed on the inside of his lip. What in Terrene was his father playing at? Count Mendez being dead was no accident. Not with this timing. And there was no way Jade would ever consider marrying Weston himself. For his father to just announce it like that? Without forewarning? Weston slowed his pace to let Jade catch up. It granted him the opportunity to study her without drawing attention to himself. She’d regained some color to her face, but she gripped Samantha’s hand while walking so close to Zak that it amazed Weston they didn’t bump into each other.
Would Father have done this had I stayed home?
Rufus pushed open an elegantly carved door and marched to the center of the sunlit, sparsely furnished room. He tilted at the waist in a stiff bow, then lifted a black-gloved hand to Weston and motioned for their group to enter.
Weston wasted no time. He needed answers from Francene before he could return to the palace and face his father. He stalked in, “Francene, what in all of shehalla is—” The words choked in his throat and momentum finished his step as all other brain function ceased.
His father was here.
Lord Everett simply smiled at him as Jade’s group piled in, shocked mutters and oaths rippling through them. Everett stood behind Francene, his fingertips resting on the back of her chair and his eyes narrowed in calculation while a small smile played at his lips. Francene sat at a long receiving table, straight-backed and tight-lipped, her hands intertwined on her lap. Her eyes burned.
Everett circled around Francene, avoiding the sound-muffling rug in the center of the room, so that his boots clicked on the tile as he walked closer to them. Weston’s stomach clenched at the naked fear in Jade’s expression. She shrank back, bumping into Zak’s chest.
Weston stepped in front of Jade, facing his father. Dread fluttered in his ribcage as he lifted his chin. “What were those posters out there?”
His father didn’t spare him a single glance, merely looking around him at Jade. “Adeline.” A smirk grew on his lily-white face. “It’s been a while.”
Jade’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water, but nothing came out. Samantha settled her arm around Jade’s shoulder and glared at Everett. “I believe we asked you a question.”
Everett flashed a cold smile at her and he tutted, wagging his finger. “You didn’t ask me anything, Captain.” His gaze turned to Weston.
Weston’s heart
stuttered at the cold triumph in Everett’s black eyes.
“Buying the brothel only works for a day or two, Weston. And the guards can be bribed to sell secrets to the highest bidder.” Everett’s mouth tightened as he crossed his arms. “Did you think you’d really escape my notice?”
Weston shook his head, mute. All the steam he’d built up to unleash on his father evaporated. What could he say right now, not knowing the full situation? He couldn’t risk saying the wrong thing here, now, in front of Jade and her entourage.
“We’ll talk later,” Everett said, his tone promising unpleasantries in the future. His falsely polite smile crossed his face, and he held out his hands, raising his voice to echo in the room. “So good of you to bring your bride home, son.” Everett stood before Jade, ignoring everyone grouped around her. “Such a daring rescue, preventing more death.” His eyes darted to Weston and his lip curled. “You played your role well.”
Weston’s stomach dropped to his feet. It took little imagination to envision Jade’s reaction to his father’s lies. And he could already feel Zak’s eyes burning into him, speaking of promised death.
“Alas, our dear Count Mendez just had a tragic accident that took his life.” Everett spun on his heel, waving his hand at Francene. “She has graciously opened her home to you, Princess, as a place to stay in the meantime.” Francene didn’t say anything, her face carefully blank as she gave a single nod. Everett peered over his shoulder and shot a pointed look at Jade. Then his eyes lingered on Zak, who stepped in front of her. “As Francene reminded me when I had planned to bring you to the palace with us, it’s best if you stay elsewhere.” His lips twisted. “Helps avoid a scandal, you know.”
Everett paced back to Jade, his stride smooth, sauntering, even. He approached her, ignoring the glowering Monomi. Everett side-stepped Zak and leaned closer to Jade, lowering his voice. “You will marry my son.” His eyes fell to her neckline, and he reached out, the pads of his fingers grazing over her exposed skin as he lifted the wrench charm. He raised an eyebrow at it. “Simple jewelry may fit a simple mechanic. But you’ll do well to remember that you’re a princess now.” He let the charm fall against her neck, and he leaned even closer, his exhale ghosting over her face.
Jade’s face tightened as she held her breath.
Weston ached. This was all his fault. He’d brought her here. Right into his father’s clutches. And already, Everett was sinking his venom into Jade.
“I don’t want to see this on you again, Adeline. It’s not fitting for my future daughter-in-law.” Everett stepped back, and his cold gaze took in Samantha, who’d come up to clutch Jade’s free hand. He motioned with his index finger, encompassing both Jade and Samantha, as well as Garnet, Zaborah, and Zak within the imagined circle. Everett’s predatory smile sent chills down Weston’s spine. “And you will be my daughter-in-law. Or all you hold dear will be annihilated. We wouldn’t want any accidents like that now, would we?”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jade
Everett’s poisonous smile didn’t dim when he stepped back from Jade, the click of his boots against the floor echoing in the large room. He gave her a mocking bow. “Until next time, Your Highness.” He turned, and the burgundy-painted doors slammed behind him.
Jade clutched Samantha’s arm, the room spinning as her vision blurred. Her mother led her to the same table where the other woman still sat, her posture perfect, as if all that had just happened didn’t concern her at all. Jade sank onto the seat, eyes unfocused.
Marry Weston? Truly? Over her dead body. Her hand trembled as she clutched the pendant that Everett’s fingers had sullied. How dare he touch her so casually? Nausea prickled her throat, and she jerked at the sound of heated male voices. Zak loomed over Weston, taking advantage of every inch of height he had over the prince, Zak’s red face contrasting with Weston’s sickly green hue.
Was it all a lie? Had Weston been working with his father to get her to come here? Did he not want to get Andre back? Jade’s fingers scrabbled, grasping onto the arm of the chair. If he had been lying, he was a good actor both then and now. And while she wouldn’t put anything past him, the terror in Weston’s eyes right now seemed real enough.
Terror that matched her heart’s pounding. Garnet sat across from Jade at the table, her own hands trembling. Zaborah crouched by Garnet, whispering something too quietly to be overheard. Garnet nodded and Zaborah walked out the door.
“Jade,” Samantha murmured, rubbing Jade’s shoulder. “Talk to me, honey.”
“Not now,” Jade whispered. “Please.” She closed her eyes, shutting out the deep blue and rich red of the furniture that reflected in the mirror on the wall behind the table. Her stomach threatened to rebel. What was she going to do now? She swiped at a tear that leaked from her eye. Did the world truly have to continue to collapse around her? Freedom seemed so unattainable.
A whisper of air over her arms and the slight squeal of a chair being moved announced someone sitting next to her. She set her jaw, determined not to cry any further in front of a woman she hadn’t met.
“Jade.” The voice was unfamiliar. It had to be Francene. Jade took a deep breath before cracking her eyes open. Yes, it was Francene. The marchioness leaned forward, her eyes gazing at Jade with a soul-felt sadness. She reached out, gently pressing her soft fingers against the back of Jade’s hand and offered a sympathetic smile as she tilted her head. “I am so sorry that you arrived to this madness.”
Tears brimmed and Jade shrugged, unwilling to test her voice.
“Alexander was killed during a training exercise, and then Everett announced your engagement to the city the next morning. Three days ago. I’d hoped to talk to all of you before he learned of your arrival, but as you saw proof of, his spies are everywhere, and they notified him before I could get you here.” Her sigh strained the confines of her bodice. “I am truly sorry.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Samantha said softly.
“My—” Francene laughed, genuine surprise coloring her merriment. “Thank you, but no, I am quite happily unmarried. He was a ...business associate, and a friend, but nothing more.”
Weariness sank its claws into Jade’s heart, numbing her to the suggestive inflection of Francene’s words. Of course Weston’s friend would be someone like her.
Francene stood and smoothed the clinging plum satin of her dress with a bangled hand. “I’ll have my butler, Renny, show you to your rooms. Get acquainted with my home.” She offered her hand to Jade, and the sound of the bracelets’ jangling felt more like vicious mockery than cheerful clinks. Jade stared at Francene’s soft hand, unmarred by scars, cuts, or signs of manual labor. She curled her own fingers together, all too aware of her dirty nails. Francene bounced her hand with a light laugh. “Stains don’t bother me, love.”
Jade glanced back at Zak, who was still berating Weston. She needed to talk to him. To her mother. In private. She needed to escape this foreign room and foreign woman that smelled of vanilla and rose. Jade awkwardly climbed to her feet, ignoring Francene’s hand.
Francene stepped back, seemingly unruffled by Jade’s silent rebuff. “Dinner is at six.” Her elegant eyebrows lifted as she nodded to Samantha and Garnet. “But we should talk before then.”
***
Jade stared at the floor of the open sitting room that attached to the sleeping chambers she shared with Krista and Zaborah. Krista paced in front of Jade, Samantha, Garnet, Briar, and Zaborah, her movements sharp and jerking.
“So what, that’s it? We trust that prince, we come here, and what happens? You get thrown between two gears with no way out! And what do you say? That you still need to take up the crown?” Krista threw her hands in the air with a strangled shriek. “You’ve lost it, Jade. Lost it!”
Jade winced at Krista’s high pitch. Krista didn’t get it at all. She only saw the side of Jade being a mechanic thrown into royal politics. She still didn’t understand the weight hanging around Jade’s neck, the stori
es she grew up with, the sudden invisible responsibility pulling on her. She could do something good. If she had the strength to give up all she had.
Maybe that’s what was bothering Krista. She already understood the price, and she didn’t like it any more than Jade did. She was just more vocal about it.
Zaborah leaned against the wall closest to the door, idly twirling a dagger between her fingers as she listened in, her eyes roving between Jade and Krista, Samantha and Garnet, and Briar.
Garnet lifted her hands in a pacifying gesture. “Losing our heads over this isn’t going to help anyone.” She shot Krista a pleading look. “Zak says that Weston truly had no idea, and I’m willing to believe Zak’s word, knowing how he feels about the prince. He wouldn’t write Weston off as innocent unless he truly believed it.”
“Even if he had no idea, the fact remains that we just brought Jade straight into danger,” Samantha growled. She turned away from the window and crossed her arms over her leather vest. “Now we’re all in a position in which Everett can threaten any of us to get to her. There’s no middleman, no way of us learning about things in advance. He could just send an assassin through a window and slit any of our throats as we sleep as a means to show his strength!”
“Can’t we just leave?”
Jade glanced sideways at Briar. He’d been unusually silent ever since he’d arrived at Francene’s. He rubbed a hand against the beard shadow growing in and nodded to Jade. “I mean, we came in on our own airship. Why not just go?”
“Because politics.” Garnet sighed. “Even if we just leave, the world at large will expect her to be marrying Weston now that it’s been announced, just as they will expect her to be stepping up to be queen. If we just leave, Everett can spin that however he likes, and that can put her in even more danger. Suppose he brands her a traitor for not following through with the duty she ‘said’ she’d do?” Garnet frowned and adjusted the sapphire-blue feather fascinator in her hair. “If Jade isn’t here to defend herself or speak for herself, it’ll be his word as a known ruler against her word as a lost-princess mechanic.”
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