Season of Glory

by Lisa Tawn Bergren

  But he glanced over his shoulder, as if sensing my presence, and seemed genuinely surprised. “Ronan,” he said, edging to his right, making room for me. “I was just admiring the view.”

  I stepped forward and looked out over the Valley with him. It was beautiful. A three-quarter moon in a cloudless sky made the river below us a glittering, waving ribbon. Even in the relative dark, I could make out the deep umber and fading gold of trees steadily preparing to molt their leaves. A cold breeze that more than hinted at Hoarfrost rushed through the trees, and I closed my eyes to let the whooshing sound seep into me, reassuring me. It was the song of home, of the Maker on the move, of a hope and a future.

  After the day we’d had, it was what I needed most. Thank you, Maker, I prayed.

  “There is much joy here,” Keallach said, eyeing me sidelong for a moment before looking out again. “Even after all you—we—have experienced of late. It’s joy that I sense the most. And it seems both oddly timed and yet perfect too, in the midst of everything.”

  He seemed mystified by this, and I had to think it over a moment before I could respond. Dri’s words came back to me. He’s so far behind. “It’s the Community,” I said. “Even in sorrow, we have one another. We know morning comes after the night. And we know the Maker has not abandoned us. In those things alone, we have cause to celebrate, to find hope and joy, regardless of what we face.”

  Keallach was silent for a while, then asked, “How does Andriana fare?”

  “She is resting again,” I said, trying not to betray how his question rankled me. “Tressa prayed over her and set new poultices across her eyes. She thinks Dri will be much better after another night’s rest—she thinks the Maker wants her to rest, and this is how he’s seeing it done.” I paused, trying to gather myself together to say what I must. “Listen, Keallach, I wanted to thank you. If you hadn’t been there, when she was so vulnerable …” My voice cracked, and I coughed, embarrassed.

  “It’s what I would’ve done for any of you,” he said earnestly, “and what I hope, in time, you all would do for me.”

  When I didn’t respond, he turned away and stared back out to the Valley. “I suspect you didn’t seek me out to simply express your thanks,” he led.

  “No.”

  I took a deep breath. “I suppose I am seeking confirmation. Reassurance that you are here to stay with us. That your time with Sethos last night didn’t sway you.”

  “Weaken my resolve, you mean, to join you.”

  “That too. Andriana …” I paused to choose my words. “After her encounters with Sethos, she’s been … susceptible, in a way. It’s as if he leaves a trapdoor in her mind and heart that can be utilized by the dark long after he leaves.”

  Keallach nodded. “I know of what you speak. And perhaps it is what leaves me with this lingering sense of separation. It’s as if I know I am to be with the Community, but I cannot fully engage. Something holds me back.” He paused, looking out to the Valley, thoughtful. “Sethos holds me back. I hear his words in my head. Old words, whispered to me over the years, and new words too.”

  “My trainer always told me that the adversary had no sway in our minds and hearts that we did not allow. My current experiences validate that thought,” I said.

  Keallach let out a hollow laugh. “Sounds easy. But it is harder than that.”

  I nodded. “It is hard. But it is also simple.”

  He crossed his arms and turned to look me full in the face. “Explain.”

  “It is hard, because it essentially means submission to the Maker. As a man, as a Knight, I think we resist this submission. We want to conquer our adversary ourselves. Beat him down.” I gestured to the water below us. “Consider the river. If you were a part of it, you could choose to make your own way, on the edges, fighting through rocks and dirt and trees to create your own current. Or you could enter deeper into the center of flow that has already found its path, and follow where it leads. It’s working with the current, absorbing and utilizing its power, that makes the difference.”

  Keallach studied me and nodded. And I didn’t need Andriana’s gift in order to feel his gratitude, his relief, in comprehending what I was saying. “So simple … so terribly simple,” he muttered, looking back to the river. “But hard.” He let out another half laugh. “I’ve spent my whole life on the edges of the river. Making my own way. Forcing my own way. Or Sethos’s.”

  “Maybe it’s time you give sway to the Maker and discover what peace and joy truly mean. It doesn’t mean we don’t encounter our share of rapids and waterfalls. But we’re always in the river, surrounded by him. And that makes all the difference.”

  He nodded, smiling with me—and in that moment, I wondered what I was doing, doubted what I was doing—but soon, his eyes narrowed. “Why are you helping me, Ronan?”

  I shrugged and shoved my cold hands into my pockets, wondering the same. But after a few seconds, the answer came to me. “Because I am the last one you would have expected, right?”

  “Well … Kapriel or Azarel and Bellona might have been close.”

  I smiled at that. “True. But I’m well aware that I have my own unique complaints against you. The Community is only as close as the two farthest individuals allow it to be, and I never wish to be a hindrance to the Community.” I glanced in his direction. “And yet there are a couple of things that make me hesitate. As Dri’s protector and husband, I want to know you’re true to your word, Keallach. That you’ve left Pacifica and your dreams for her—and you—behind. That you can hold to this new path and not be swayed by the nets you still feel bind you—Sethos’s nets. But as your brother, I also feel pressed to reach out a hand. To pull you into the current before the moment has passed and you are too far behind to catch up. No matter how much I, as a man, wouldn’t mind if you were far in the distance, as far as Dri is concerned.”

  Keallach laughed, and this time the sound was genuine. “I never expected to hear something so eloquent out of you, Knight.”

  I grinned. “Believe me, they are not my words. They come from my trainer and the elders of the Citadel, and those who came before them. But I am a good listener, and I am glad to pass along wisdom to another.”

  Keallach nodded. “You are a good man, Ronan. I’m telling you here and now that I’m here to stay. I will prove myself in time—to you, to Dri, to the other Ailith. The Maker has called me anew.”

  “Good,” I said, measuring him carefully. “But I must know what you feel now for my wife, Andriana, specifically.”

  He eyed me and straightened. “You said it yourself, Ronan. You’ve won her. You are handfasted and to be formally betrothed five seasons hence. I’ve put my feelings for her aside. I am now nothing but her brother and she my sister. I swear it to you.”

  His words seemed true, but there was just a hint of something else beneath them. “You attempted to … win such a vow yourself,” I said. “From Andriana. Back in Pacifica. You abducted her, held her captive, and then attempted to make her fall in love with you.”

  “Because of Sethos’s insistence.” He took a deep breath and rubbed his forehead. “I was not in my right mind. I believe that Sethos held me spellbound, or something. Pressed me to use my gifting against her, rather than for or with her. It shames me to this day.” He gave me a raw, open look, as if he desperately wanted nothing but forgiveness and acceptance.

  I felt my resolve and suspicion crumble a bit. “But yesterday … Keallach, I heard Sethos mention Dri. What did he say?”

  He waved me off. “Idle attempts to lure me to return,” he said, grimacing. “He was using everything he could. He knew he was losing me. That I was turning my back on him.” He shrugged and shook his head.

  “But in mentioning Dri—”

  “Look, Ronan,” he interrupted, lifting a hand. “Andriana is beautiful, inside and out. I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit to finding her attractive. But she is yours. She always has been. Even in the palace, when we had time to be alone, I knew it
was you she longed for. Never me. The Maker put you two together for more than serving the Way. I will honor that.”

  I studied him for a long moment. He seemed completely earnest. “So I will ask this of you but once. You are not here to try and get close to her again?”

  He tilted his head a bit. “Only as a brother longs for a sister’s company. No more than I long for Tressa’s. I swear it.” He reached out an arm to me and waited.

  And after a long moment I took it, accepting his pledge and, in doing so, allowing him past my defense, deeper into the Remnants’ circle at last.

  KEALLACH

  Andriana’s Knight left me, and I turned back to the view again, inhaling a deep draught of fresh, Valley air. A tiny grin tugged at the corners of my lips.

  They would cave, the Ailith, one by one. Give in to my persistence. Allow me full access in time. I knew it was true.

  My mind raced as I thought about Ronan’s analogy of the river, because, truly, I felt like I was getting closer and closer to the center’s pull. And yet I could not deny the desire to lead a portion of the water away, to forge my own river, to carve new territory from the earth, bring forth new growth, and explore farther, rather than be trapped in an old, tired path not of my own making. Standing here, I felt like I approached a split in the river, and it gave me power to know I had the ability to choose. And that power made me feel stronger than I had in some time.

  This wasn’t about what the Remnants wanted.

  This wasn’t about what the Maker wanted.

  This wasn’t about what Sethos wanted.

  This wasn’t about Pacifica, or the Trading Union.

  This was about me. What I wanted. Solely me.

  It niggled at me that I hadn’t told anybody how Sethos had so easily found Andriana in Zanzibar, and now here, in the Valley. Of the tracking devices still pinging away like homing devices within her and Kapriel. For the time being, I wanted to know that I could use them myself, if necessary. And as far as we’d planned, Sethos was to leave me for a week or more, to infiltrate deeper. So he and Pacifica would not be an imminent threat, which gave me full sway. I knew I’d given him cause to wonder, the way I’d acted, the things I’d said. But I wagered he’d think he could win me back on a moment’s notice.

  But he’d be surprised if he tried.

  Because this is about me, and what I want now, I repeated to myself. About how I fully come into my own. Into my own power. Me.

  CHAPTER

  28

  KEALLACH

  The next morning, I finished my breakfast, ignoring the fact that no one spoke to me or sat beside me, then I watched as the Ailith rose to follow Niero, never looking in my direction. I followed Andriana with my eyes for but a moment—just long enough to tell that her vision seemed perfectly normal now—then looked away before Ronan could catch my wondering glance. At the doorway, Niero turned and watched them file past, then stared over at me. He grabbed Kapriel’s arm, said something in his ear, and I saw my brother hesitate and then nod once.

  I wiped my mouth and returned Niero’s gaze, trying not to blink. He’d been revealed as both man and angel. Could he discern my inner thoughts?

  I concentrated on what I knew he’d approve of within me, what I honestly felt anyway. I wanted to be one with the Ailith. To take my place among the Remnants. To know what it was to be in the Community—fully a part of it. Maybe it was even more than I dreamed. Maybe it was all I needed, deep within. Who knew? Maybe it’d be enough for me to turn away from Pacifica forever. I was open-minded enough to consider it.

  I just needed a chance. A chance to see. A chance to try.

  Others around me had fallen silent, waiting and watching.

  Give me a chance, Niero. Just one.

  I wanted to will him to obey me, as I willed others to act. But since the night of the attack, I had not used my lower gift. I’d sworn to Niero that I wouldn’t. “Not until the day you or a trainer or another teaches me how to make it a higher gift again,” I’d promised.

  His lips parted, and I held my breath. The moment was finally here. I exalted in it.

  But then Niero clamped his lips shut and turned away, disappearing through the arched doorway.

  Stubbornly, I grabbed my plate, took it to the dish bin, tossed it in—ignoring the cracking sound—and followed him out. No one left me behind. No one refused me. I was the—

  I caught myself at the doorway. Grabbed hold of it, as if to physically restrain myself.

  Here in the Valley, I was nothing more than anyone in the room. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that many stared after me. Some mocked, some appeared like they felt sorry for me, and others looked upon me in open distaste. I supposed that made sense; many blamed me for the pain they suffered. I was the scapegoat for their hatred.

  I wrenched away and strode down the hall toward my quarters, turned the corner at the far end, and came up short.

  Kapriel was leaning against the wall, head down as if praying, arms folded.

  I stepped closer to him, and he winced.

  I stilled, waiting.

  Slowly, my brother opened his eyes and looked into mine. “He said it was up to me. Whether or not I let you train with us today.”

  His hesitation told me all I needed to know. “Don’t worry about it,” I said, starting to walk again. “I already know the answer. This place is full of hypocrites,” I said, throwing up my hands. “They say they believe in the ways of the Maker, of the Way itself. Of love, and peace, and forgiveness, but do I see any of that?”

  He followed behind me, eventually catching my stride. “You and your people have kidnapped and enslaved and oppressed and dominated ours for years,” he said. “Did you really think you could just come in here and all would be well? They’re wary. We’re all wary! And for good reason.”

  I turned and faced him. “For how long, Kapriel? We’re in the middle of a battle with Pacifica, a battle about to become a war, and I’ve just switched sides. Thrown it all over to be a part of this,” I said, gesturing at the rock walls. I took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of my nose, then put my hands on my hips and looked him in the eye again. “I threw it all away, Kapriel, so I could be a part of your life again. Part of the family that is the Ailith. I know I made horrific decisions, made terrible mistakes,” I said. “But I was only a kid. Please,” I said, reaching out to him, but he edged away from my touch. “Please. Niero’s right. It’s your place to decide if I should be officially allowed in or escorted to the desert to be abandoned there. Of all people, it’s your place. But Kapriel … I’m begging you to forgive me.”

  I swallowed hard, remembering the day our parents died. The day our Knights died. The numbing horror of death upon death of people we loved most. The cascading sensation of it all falling away from me, spinning out of control. I pressed the palm of my hand to my head and closed my eyes, wanting to block the memories but now unable to stop them.

  It was all there. Present. More vivid. Like I’d never fully remembered it before.

  Had I?

  Had I?

  Mom. Dad. Their blood spreading across the marble floor, their eyes wide yet unseeing.

  Kapriel, being led away, his hands tied behind his back. Beseeching me with his eyes that saw all. Trying to make sense of everything that was transpiring around us.

  “Not my brother too—”

  “It’s the only way,” Sethos had said. “The only way for you to rule a kingdom of peace and prosperity.”

  But had I known a day of peace since then?

  Had I ever appreciated a single portion of the wealth granted me?

  It was all so empty … so empty.

  “Oh, Kapriel,” I uttered, sinking to my knees, my legs suddenly weak and wobbly. “What did I do that day? How could I have given up all that mattered?”

  It wasn’t until I felt his hands on my shoulders and his forehead touching mine that I recognized that tears flowed unabated down my cheeks.

  I hadn�
��t cried since the day before it all changed. The day that Sethos found me, weeping in my room, frustrated about my brother’s favor with my parents and crying over some injustice. Sethos had grabbed that as a foundation and had built upon it every day forward.

  Kapriel’s own tears fell upon my cheeks, mingled with mine, and ran down my cheeks and neck. Then he straightened, wiped his eyes and nose, and helped me rise.

  Giving me one last, searching look, he uttered a simple sentence. “Come, join your Ailith kin, brother.”

  I saw them then, gathered at the end of the hall. Every one of the Ailith. Waiting.

  My cheeks burned. Had it been their combined power that broke through my walls of false protection and partial memory? My steps weren’t as sure now as I walked toward them. I felt weak, vulnerable, exposed. Yet the looks on their faces were more open, cautiously approving, and welcoming than ever before.

  As I joined them to leave the Citadel for the day’s training, all I could think was, What just happened to me?

  But all I could feel was brilliant, blinding hope.

  ANDRIANA

  I was both surprised and utterly moved when Ronan finally told me what he’d done three nights past, as we walked to the dining hall for supper. We were among throngs of people, so his words were brief, but I understood the magnitude of what had occurred, given his fluctuating feelings of caution, elation, and lingering fear. I imagined that if we were to allow Keallach complete access, we’d all be feeling that way for a while. I shook my head, wondering over it. How had the Maker made such a thing possible? And why was I continually surprised by his might and reach?

  Niero caught up to us, moving to my other side. “We have new arrivals in the Citadel,” he murmured.

  “New arrivals?” Ronan squawked, glancing Niero’s way as we got jostled about. The passageway was packed with people, all excitedly talking and laughing or grumbling at once. “Where will we put them?”

  “Believe it or not, there’s still room in the south quadrant. The elders planned this fortress well.”

  “Thank the Maker,” Ronan said. “Where are the new ones from?”