The Lotus Effect (Rise Of The Ardent)

by Bridget Ladd

  Spinning on his heels, he snapped his fingers. Three guards flanked him suddenly, escorting him from the Stadium through the Council’s viewing stand.

  I glanced at Xander for confirmation. The ruthlessness in his eyes told me he knew exactly of this place we were to fight tomorrow.

  We were to fight in Sector 9, the deteriorating and ghostly scene of The Purge.

  Chapter 38

  Declarations ~ Forbidden Friendships

  That night as Xander hurried us out of the Stadium and back into the Compound, we saw two dark shadows looming in front of our hut—two more, hesitantly coming around the side.

  I reflectively reached to my hip but remembered I didn’t carry my axes outside the Barrage. To my relief Xander stilled my hand and nodded for me to look closer.

  As the shadows neared, I recognized the huge build of Bubbles McGee and the smaller one of Afina walking into frame, the fog of the night wisping out around them.

  “What’s going on?” I asked in a hushed whisper.

  Afina looked behind her to the other shadows that stood hesitant next to the hut. “Are you with us or not?” she asked in her melodic, exotic accent.

  The shadow grumbled, but gestured for the other to step closer, both remaining a few feet behind Bubbles and Afina. As the pair of shadows stepped forward, I was shocked to recognize the large builds of both Margie and Damaris. Damaris looked bored; Margie looked skeptical, but otherwise desperate. They stood a few feet behind the others, but close enough so they could hear what was to be said.

  “Why are you here?” Xander asked, his face unreadable.

  Bubbles looked down at Afina. “You sure we can trust those two to not go pipe’n about? I’d rather not wake with a knife stuck in me back.”

  Afina looked at Margie for confirmation who quickly averted her eyes, but nodded. Afina directed her attention back to Xander. “Are you sure all recording devices were removed from this area?”

  “Quite positive.”

  “Good,” Afina responded, looking back to me.

  “Lily, we’re here tonight because we want to make you aware that we fight on your behalf. There have been too many rumblings in the Council since you’ve taken up this fight of yours. You’ve made them nervous. Made them weary of opposition from within. A threat they never considered since before—”

  “—my grandmother,” I finished for her.

  Afina nodded, her dark hair glistening as she spoke. “Our spies tell us that Briggins has the Council on lockdown. He’s already taken over all operations of the Warehouse and will deny access to any and all who oppose him.”

  I stood and clenched my jaw, chafed raw by her sudden confession. “And my father? He’s allowing this to happen?”

  She shook her head. “Your father has not been seen since your mother’s death. We believe he’s being held against his will.”

  I remembered Briggin’s words in the stadium, ‘I assure that we are taking every precaution to make certain what happened to the former Mistress Emerson will not happen to the Magistrate—or to your father.’ I knew she was right. They had my father.

  “Our people already starve,” Margie said suddenly from behind the others, taking the risk to step closer. “You can’t allow that to happen.” Her voice was hardened with fear.

  “What is it that you need us to do, Lily?” Bubble’s deep voice added, urging me for action.

  “I . . . I,” I stumbled to respond to their wants and declarations. I was thrown off balance by their deep and overwhelming trust and admiration. They were coming to me for leadership? Not Xander, the seemingly perfect military strategist, but me.

  The inferior thought shamed me. I was Mistress now and it was my duty to fix this.

  “We do nothing. Tomorrow Xander and I will fight in the final round. We will face all challenges that Briggins throws at us alone. You will not unnecessarily risk your lives for us.”

  “Guardin’ you is never an unnecessary risk,” Bubbles said, taking a small step forward.

  “He’s right. Now as Mistress, your life is worth more than any of ours combined,” Xander added beside me. “I will protect you with my own, but I cannot make any guarantees of your safety. We may need their help.”

  I shook my head, unsatisfied. “Xander, we have to finish this fight on our own. I don’t want to give Briggins the satisfaction, believing we may have schemed our way to the Key. I will not have him use that against us.”

  “After the Barrage then.” Afina shifted on her feet. “You will need our help if you’re to defeat Briggins and the Council. Tensions are too high for him to simply allow you to—”

  “—to continue breathing?” I finished for her.

  She lifted her soft eyes to mine. “You have the support of the citizens, and he doesn’t. He knows this.”

  I nodded in agreement. Biting at my lip in thought, I directed my attention to the four who stood before me. “Then prepare yourselves. If situations become dire, we’ll meet at the guard’s post behind the Estate. It’s been abandoned for years now. I know of this place well enough—I would sneak there as a child.” I looked at each pointedly. “If we should survive tomorrow’s round, I’m going to find my father. I may then, require your assistance. We have plans . . .” I glanced behind me, hoping we were truly secured in this area. “Plans of a future that will start with a bang.” I risked saying, thinking of the necklace and its use as a distraction. Xander and I had discussed earlier that after the Barrage—if we survived, we’d blow the walls. Give back what had been taken from the citizens.

  Bubbles nodded his large closely-shaven head and bowed, winking as he did so. “So be it Mistress. I hav’ to find some way to make up for what I did to that face of yers’. Show ‘em no mercy,” he added before stepping away in the direction of his own hut.

  Margie and Damaris each nodded slightly before Margie turned and shoved Darmaris from behind. He snarled at her before getting out of her way.

  As Afina turned to go, I reached for her slight wrist, stopping her. “I’m so sorry. I heard what happened to Affery. How is he?”

  Afina looked at me sadly with her green eyes. She attempted a smile. “It will take some time before he is well again. His spirit remains high. That is what counts.”

  “He’s relieved he saved you from a horrible death,” Xander reassured. “He’s your brother. There was no other choice.”

  Afina swallowed the pain that shone in her eyes. “Perhaps you are right.” She turned and began to walk away, her footsteps so light I could hardly make out her position in the dark. “Good luck to you both. May you define the worth of a true leader of Prosper,” she said softly over her shoulder before disappearing completely.

  And with that, Xander and I were left standing alone in the darkness before our hut, thoughts left running rampant of alliances and forbidden friendships.

  ~

  That night I sat on my cot and brushed out the tangles caused by the unruly ringlets in my hair. Xander lay on his own bed, his feet crossed casually and his fingers intertwined across his chest. He stared up at the ceiling; he too, lost in his own thoughts.

  I thought back to Sector 9. Making us fight in the abandoned Sector was irreverently a low blow, the threat behind the location directed not only at myself, but towards the citizens also. Briggins wanted to prove something by sending us there. To remind us of just how much power the Council really had if they sought to utilize it.

  The thought disgusted me to the core. To be fighting on the soil in which so many innocent lives had been lost . . . had been taken in the name of Prosperity.

  I swallowed the injustice and took a determined breath.

  So be it Briggins.

  I paused with the brush’s bristles caught halfway through the length of my hair. I eyed Xander. Fighting in Sector 9 would be the hardest for him.

  “What’s wrong? What troubles you?” I managed to ask, filling the quiet void of tension that lingered between us in the small space of the hut
.

  Xander thumped his forefinger on his hand absently, the only indication that he had heard me.

  I blinked away the disappointment of his continued silence and began combing through my hair again though the tangles had long disappeared. The act of brushing my hair was one luxury I would never want to forfeit. Any anxiety I ever had was always soothed away by the rhythmic motions of the bristles as they massaged my aching head.

  If Xander had something to say, it wasn’t my right to force it from him. Laying my brush on the nightstand, I lowered myself onto my side, staring into the empty space between us.

  Was he troubled that I hadn’t yet expressed my feelings for him? That I’d not made a verbal noting of it? I knew my feelings for Xander were strong—I just wasn’t prepared to admit to it. That if I did, fortune and luck would undoubtedly try their best to ruin it for us.

  With heavy lids, I gave up the hope of trying to tinker at the locked door that shielded his thoughts. My eyes however, opened to life when he took in a shuddering breath and began to speak, the deep tenor of his voice somehow more soothing than the bristles of my comb.

  “My father found the Key that day, thirteen years ago and yet never had the chance to open the Vault. The Council denied it to him on the accusation of . . . conning the system.” Xander sighed sadly and with resentment. I heard him shift his head on the rough fabric of his pillow. “Lily, even if we retrieve the Key, you know they’ll not allow us to open the Vault. We have to be prepared. We’ll be lucky if they choose to dispose of us into the Outlands as they did with my parents. I fear Briggins has something much worse planned for you.”

  “Briggins doesn’t frighten me,” I said quietly from across the room. My voice wavered and sounded strange even to myself from being long unused. “What I do fear, is the length he’ll go to hurt the ones I love.” I paused. “And no matter what Briggins has planned for us tomorrow, I must find my father.” I swallowed and bit at my lip. “I never had a relationship with him, but he was never cruel to me. And for that I must give him a chance. I owe him that much.”

  “Your father may already be dead. Afina’s information could be outdated. Is he worth the risk?” Xander said suddenly, his voice sharp.

  I repositioned myself and sat up slightly. “I’m not sure if he’s worth it, but what kind of person . . . leader, would I be if I didn’t try to save my own father’s life?”

  “You have already proven your worth, Lily. You cannot keep risking your life to justify that you’re up for the task.”

  An angry resistance flooded my chest at his words. “It’s not about proving my worth, it’s about saving a life. There’s nothing more important than that,” I said, sitting up completely now. “Being a leader cannot mean I only have to prove my worth one time and be satisfied. It’s a process, a process which must never cease.”

  Even in the shadows of the hut, I could see Xander’s all too knowing smile. “I completely agree. I just wanted to hear you say it. And of course I’ll help find your father,” he said, resting his weight onto his elbows. “And I promise to not try to kill him this time too.”

  I scowled at him for his trickery and threw my pillow in his direction. He dogged it effortlessly and grinned. Reaching down he tossed it back to me. He sighed before blowing out the small candle between us and stretched out comfortably across his cot.

  “Sweet dreams, deadly flower,” he said as he turned his back to me.

  I rolled my eyes in the darkness before shimmying under my own covers. “Goodnight, Xander.”

  After Xander had made me voice my intentions as being a leader, I realized I was now content. A calm awareness washed over me, soothing my worry despite the inevitable danger that was to come tomorrow.

  Thanks to Xander—I now understood what I must do.

  Chapter 39

  Becoming A Unit Of Utter Destruction

  I awoke the next day feeling well rested and hopeful. But then I remembered.

  Today was the day. The final battle.

  I blinked, wishing the dim light would help coax me out of bed. Xander was already on the move, packing his things and strapping on his leg armor, the springs of his mattress hardly even making a sound as he did so.

  “Glad to see you finally awake,” Xander said as he sat on the edge of his bed, notching the strap behind his knee with a firm click. “I was beginning to think you’d fallen under a powerful spell. A spell in which I would have to break.”

  He rose from the bed and brushed down the brown tunic he wore beneath his armor. “But I doubt you’d be fond of such an endearment,” he said with a half grin.

  I frowned at his comment and sat up stiffly, stretching my tired body. Ignoring Xander’s watchful gaze, I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and looked up carefully, forcing my brain to piece together what I needed for the day. At the end of a yawn, I blanched, looking down the length of my arm and saw that I sat in my frilly nightgown like some bedraggled Dollymop. I pulled the covers up over me again, not understanding why I was suddenly so embarrassed. Xander had seen me wearing this for what seemed like a thousand other occasions already.

  Xander sniffed outwards, finding something amusing. He turned his back as he strapped on his shoulder armor, allowing me my privacy.

  With a late to react, sleepy nod towards his back in greeting, I quickly and clumsily grabbed at my things to make for the washroom. Closing the door behind me, I scowled upon seeing my reflection in the mirror. My hair stood in haphazard tuffs around my face—my scarred eye making me look even more savage. After sufficiently taming my hair and wetting my tired eyes, I heard Xander knock on the door, a light rasp in the quiet still of the morning.

  “Yes?”

  “Will you allow me to help you with your armor?”

  “What? Why?” I asked though the door. “I’ve not needed your help for the previous fights.” Thinking he had another wry explanation in which to humor me with, I opened the door to look at him. My eyes however, widened upon seeing him.

  Now fully armored, Xander looked glorious as he stood before me. And though marred with divots and dark smudges, his armor still shone brilliantly in the early morning rays that managed to enter the small window of our hut.

  He looked at me, gray eyes thoughtful and not hiding the joking mirth he had earlier. “My father once told me of an ancient tradition, upheld by warriors long past who aided their brethren before battle. They suited each other into their gear before fighting, believing that it honed their power of trust, of their ability to fight as one—eventually allowing them to become a unit of utter destruction.”

  “I’ve never heard of such tales.” I rested my shoulder against the door’s frame. “Where did your father learn of this?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  Xander shrugged. “I don’t know, but I do remember the day of his final fight. My mother helped with his breastplate while I struggled to notch his belt that was almost twice my length.” He smiled inwardly to himself before his feature’s tightened, his jaw shifting as he remembered the injustice of that battle. “Technically my father did win that day.”

  I nodded in sympathy. “Your father won because he fought for something special. For his family.”

  Perhaps it was their love that truly protected him. Armored him. The act of sending him to battle confirmed the notion of love’s protection into a physical manifestation.

  Xander smiled sadly. “He did. He always fought for us.” His eyes fell to mine then, waiting for an answer.

  “Oh—my armor. Well, if you must,” I said quickly, but then I sighed, ashamed by my uncaring attitude. “Thank you. It takes me forever on my own anyways,” I added with a smile, not wanting to make it seem I was being disrespectful towards his father or his mother’s memory.

  Xander gestured for me to step from the washroom and into the open space beyond. I had already laced up my tight jumpsuit and was working on my shin armor before he’d interrupted. “You’ve already suited up. This seems a little one side
d . . . . When am I to help with your armor?” I asked, eyeing him.

  “How about after today’s battle, I’ll have you take it all off for me?”

  I narrowed my eyes.

  Xander grinned. “You’ve already helped me plenty,” he amended. He reached across my bed and handled my shoulder pauldrons reverently in the palm of his hand. “Turn around for me,” he said, twirling his finger in the air.

  I raised an eyebrow at his order, but didn’t argue. There was something about him that exuded such confidence, such care. And when he looked at me now, armored and deadly, I felt as though I was the only thing he saw.

  He stepped closer and gently pushed my loose hair over my shoulder, his fingers barely brushing across the skin of my neck, raising the little hairs on my arms.

  I remained silent as he went through the motions. Xander exuded focus and seriousness through his energy, energy that even I could detect. It was a sacred moment, not to be broken and marred by abrasive words.

  A moment to honor our final battle.

  He reached down and slowly maneuvered my left arm into the air—his skin hardly even touching mine and yet I could feel the strength of him ripple and energize the air around me. Placing the larger three-tiered shoulder pauldron firmly atop my arm, he reached under, grabbing the straps and pulled tightly, securing it into place. A few stray strands of my hair caught in the lotus-bulb spikes that spiraled to protect my throat. I reached to disentangle them, but Xander was already aware.

  He removed each and every strand, careful not to pull, and placed them at my back.