The Reformation

by Garggie Talukdar

  “We went over all the connection wires for the comms about a thousand times yesterday, you have replacements, and you know how to contact us undetected,” Z listed off, his smile fading into a serious line. “Everything on my part is done for this stage.”

  “Good,” Celine said, for once not fidgeting with her purple pens or the band in her hair. Her eyes were steely, and Stel could see the nurtured instincts of a leader that Jax had first saw when he gave her the position of Head Strategist. “You’ll contact us once every day, circumstances allowing-”

  “That’s too often,” Fey interjected. “Higher chances of discovery.”

  “No. Z ran the calculations; Stel comming in everyday won’t be suspicious. And Celine used the words circumstances allowing. Stel’s smart enough to decide when she’ll make the call,” January said, and Fey met his gaze, dark eyes burning.

  “The entire mission might go down,” Fey reasoned. “Everything, could be compromised.”

  “Could be,” Jan reminded her. “We don’t know how it’s like up there. And we won’t compromise her sanity knowing how difficult this is going to be for her, just because we want the most seamless integration of Arleyene Crawford back into court. Now will you agree, or do we have to go to a vote?” he asked, his voice nothing less than steel.

  Fey held his gaze for a few prolonged seconds before nodding, some sort of an agreement reached between them. Then she turned to Celine, a bit glumly. “We need to ensure Stel’s safety first. Contact once a day is ideal.”

  “Good,” Celine said, arching her brows at the two’s interaction. “Arleyene is General Kessia’s beloved sleeper agent. She’s a prodigy in her field, and seeing you perform, we know you’re nothing less. But even though she has such a close tie to her General, Arleyene isn’t under her just yet. She’s been reporting to Major Hawthrone O’Fathaige. He’s been inactive in recent times, so clearly something has changed. But all of Arleyene’s calls went straight to an Immortale database that the Queen directly gets her information from, so we don’t know what changed.”

  “And as soon as I arrive, I’ll be greeted by Royal Advisor Srey and from there I’ll be given my lodgings in the city of Elix. Aside from the Queen, no one stays in the Citadel,” Stel added. “I’ll stay low, observe enough to fill in the holes, and I’ll collect information until 3 weeks have passed, from which I’ll come back here under the excuse that King Jaxcon will get suspicious otherwise. Then we’ll pretend as if the accident with the pre-crashed boat with Arleyene’s body, happened on the way back.”

  “Perfect. When you’re there, you’ll need to get close with Kessia; that’s the only way you’ll get access to the files. We need to know what’s being done on Elix, to see if there’s any way we can compete with them. You’ve got this, Stel Hathaway,” Celine said, her spine straight, and Stel knew that if Celine Hollingsworth conquered Scorchen and kept a steel backbone even through her current pain, she could suck it up and be Arleyene Crawford for a measly three weeks. (couldn’t she?)

  “Celine’s right. I asked you if you could be the perfect spy, and I can tell you now, that you are,” Jax said, his face almost completely healed and as regal as ever, the only memory of his abduction apparent by the scarring on his forearm that still somewhat read Killer King. “We all believe in you, Stel.”

  And that’s all that Stel could really hope for right now. She came into this unsure and determined on finding some way out. And when it was apparent that escape wasn’t anywhere in sight, she stuck through it for Fallon, but now she knew that part of it was for herself too. This might be her only chance to really do something, and with all these people behind her, with this chance, she would be damned to let it go.

  “This is it then,” she breathed, looking around the table. They all knew what was happening, what they had been working so hard for. Even if she wasn’t on Elix yet, there was no going back. From this point onwards, she was Arleyene Crawford, and no one outside of these walls would know otherwise. “I’m ready.”

  “And that’s all we need to know,” Jax said, voice firm with finality. “Good luck, Arleyene Crawford.”

  “I don’t need your luck, though I appreciate it all the same,” she drawled in her perfect AR accent, standing up with more confidence than she felt. “Thank you, everyone. Especially Fey,” she said, and the older girl who had almost become her elder sister smiled. “Keep Fallon safe.”

  “We will,” Z promised, and Stel was reminded of how he was the first one she ever properly spoke with. “Goodbye.”

  She nodded, moving towards the door. “Have fun with Dmitri, guys!” she called over her shoulder before exiting, and she heard their groans even as she left the room.

  And walking through the palace, she knew that this was the After Stel Hathaway. After thieving on the streets, after training, after all the problems that were significant to her, but not the world. And as she watched as NNR became less than a dot on the horizon, and Elix drew closer, she knew that this was it. There was no messing up now.

  Arleyene Crawford was about to make her most explosive debut yet.

  Forty-Nine

  JANUARY was going over Stel’s status with Fey when they bumped into a somber Jax.

  “What’s wrong?” Fey asked immediately, hand resting on the sheath of her favourite knife.

  “Nothing that requires spilling blood, Downcley,” Jax told her, holding out his hand as if to pacify her. She scowled, letting her hand drop to her side.

  “Then what’s up, Jax?” Jan asked.

  “There’s a riot outside-”

  “What?” Fey asked, but Jax continued on.

  “-regarding NNR’s disappeared king. Sorry, I should clarify; there was a riot outside. I just made a speech, shook hands, and most of the crowd’s gone,”

  “How come we didn’t hear a word of this?” Jan asked, knowing that Jax wasn’t lying.

  “And most importantly, what kind of riot was this? They left peacefully after you made an appearance?” Fey asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “You didn’t hear anything, because you guys have been engrossed with making sure Stel is alright and haven’t been in much contact with the rest of the world. Which makes sense; you’re taking on a lot. And this was apparently a riot full of the only people who actually support me as the king. Oddly enough,” Jax said, eyes sarcastically wide.

  “I still don’t know how this is a problem—which it obviously is because you are in a clear state of distress—if everyone there were not only supporters but also left when you told them too,” Jan said.

  “They didn’t, though. Not everyone was, and there is still a group outside, doing god knows what. Now I have to get things done, and having a group outside that won’t disperse unless I get someone to go down and do it for me, isn’t ideal.”

  “I’ll do it,” Jan found himself volunteering.

  “You will?” Jax asked, shooting him the most confused face that Jan had ever seen. Sighing, he looked up at the king, irritated that everyone was so surprised when he volunteered to do something nice.

  “I will. Z, Fey, and Celine have Stel covered, and I might as well get some fresh air. No big.”

  “Z and Celine got it covered,” Fey was quick to correct. “I’ll help January.” Fey stalked in front of him so he had no time to argue. Sighing and rolling his eyes, he gave Jax a quick salute, jogging to catch up with the Manaroan girl. “Don’t fight it, January. I’m coming.”

  “I said nothing,” he informed her, scowling as he went.

  “You didn’t have to. I know you well enough. So, what the hell is plaguing your mind enough for you to volunteer to handle a riot? Or what’s left of one anyway,” she muttered the afterthought.

  Jan licked his lips, huffing. “And why is it that no one believes I can do something out of my own goodwill?”

  “Because—like I said—we know you,”

  Jan let out a wry chuckle at that. “Well, it’s out of my own generous heart and kindness. Be
sides, if I actually had a reason, you’re on the list of the last people that I need to explain myself to.”

  Fey’s mouth pulled up in an amused smirk languidly, and she cracked her knuckles. “Figured it was worth a shot,” she explained. “Now, ready to pacify people for a cause that comes from a place close to your heart?”

  Jan felt his lips twitch at her sarcasm as he shoved the door open with his shoulder. “Do you know who you’re talking to, Downcley? Of course, I’m ready.”

  …

  It was way less messy than Jan had expected, to be fair. He had expected that they would need to use a lot of force, maybe some guns, and a slight possibility of tear gas. Instead, they had to yell as loudly as they could to get everyone’s attention.

  Yeah. Not how Jan was imagining his afternoon going.

  “We ask that you all leave the palace’s premises, otherwise force will have to be used!” Fey hollered, teetering on the edge of a marble column. Only a small group of people stirred.

  Fey, much quieter this time, seemed annoyed, and asked him to go around and find out what the stragglers were waiting for. As much as Jan wanted to refuse her, simply to spite her, he realized that she was palming her sheath again. The livid look on her face because people weren’t listening to her, wasn’t helping either, so Jan decided to suck it up and try to find out what was happening.

  It only took him 5 steps to get an answer, because a woman grabbed his arm to pull him in. Startled, Jan quickly removed himself from her grasp, though he seized the opportunity to talk with her. “What’s the matter?”

  “The king! That’s what the matter is. He just disappears, and expects us to accept his excuses without batting an eye? No; we have the right to challenge him and get answers, so we will!”

  “Who are you all?” Jan asked, keeping his voice icily level.

  “Mainly reporters, though we have a few others as well. You tell His Majesty that we proudly are the Wentworth’s Weekly, where we bring to light the situation of our government.”

  Jan had to keep himself from rolling his eyes at that one. “His Majesty already has made his public address. He has business to attend to and is unable to speak at the moment. Now, we kindly ask you to remove yourself from the premises, or-”

  “What is this business?” the woman interrupted, pulling out a notebook that Jan hadn’t noticed before, intently scratching at the paper with a pen as she stared up at Jan.

  “Ma’am; as I have asked you before, please leave the premises before we have to use force. I am not asking again.”

  “But-”

  “I will make a personal suggestion to the king to have a private audience with Wentworth’s Weekly,” Jan cut in, gently turning her so she was facing the exit. “But for now, I’m afraid you will have to wait.”

  “Do you have any commen-”

  “Off of the royal premises. And take everyone with you. Kindly,” Jan said, a tight smile on his face.

  Thankfully, the woman seemed to have caught the message, albeit disappointed with the statement that she got. But she turned to her friends around to her as well, so January proclaimed it a job done. With everyone slowly trickling out, Jan shoved his way back to where Fey was unsteadily standing, preparing a scathing one-liner for her when someone called out his name.

  “January?” Jan froze, recognizing the voice. It was one that he had last heard long ago and dreamt of when he was at his weakest. Maybe he was imagining it. Maybe it wasn’t her- “January! It’s you.”

  Gods above. It was most definitely her. His body finally remembered to move as his mind went blank, unable to process this newest onslaught of information. But his feet spurred him on, and he made a new path in the crowd, cutting through the sea of people moving away from the palace as he headed towards the gardens. Breathe, he reminded himself, temporarily forgetting the concept of respiration.

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  “January?” Jan felt his chest tighten again, until he realised that it wasn’t her, rather than Fey, standing confusedly at the top of the column, looking at him curiously as he kept going, breaking out into a run. Breathe.

  He had made his way all the way to a cracked stone bench, carefully seating himself on it before the memories took complete control over him.

  She was back. After years she decided to waltz right back into his life, thinking about herself, just like she always did.

  …

  “Aunty Ann? Where are they gone?” A young Jan asked the woman, her light hair somehow tinged with grey over the last few days.

  “Just a vacation. They’ll be back, January. Don’t worry. Now, about that trip I had planned…”

  The young January didn’t have to wait for another word, breaking off into an excited monologue filled with the toys he was going to bring and the things he was going to see. The palace was on the top of his list, so he could see the guards that stood around the walls, faces determined. “I wanna be a guard too, Aunty!” he told her, a little breathless from anticipation and childlike joy.

  “And you will, someday. And we’ll see the palace, and we’ll stay together forever. We’re going to London, after all,”

  They did go to London. They spent 10 whole days together, one of which she actually took him to get ice cream. It was cold and delicious, and all sticky as it melted in the London summer heat. But he did not turn out to be a guard. Nor did they stay together forever. Because after 10 days of fun and bliss and pure detachment from the bitterness of the world, Jan found himself alone in front of a building that looked vaguely like abandonment. Aunty Ann, nowhere in sight except for the night before, when she kissed his forehead goodnight and told him that-

  …

  Breathe, he angrily reminded himself, feeling hot tears spring to his eyes. “January?”

  Jan blinked back his tears, trying to compose himself, turning his head slightly so he could properly glare at this intruder.

  “January! —it really is you. Heavens, you’ve grown,” she excitedly blabbered, not sounding too different from the Aunty Ann of that young Jan, so in love with the world that the wonders it had to show him. That was before this same woman took that all away from him.

  But even as he reminded himself of these disappointing truths, he couldn’t do anything to stop her as she sat down beside him, her arms wrapping around him, embracing him in a way that felt more like home, than anything Jan had felt in a long time. Except it wasn’t, because she left him.

  She didn’t deserve forgiveness, not even when she pulled away and looked at him with those blue eyes that looked so much like his father’s.

  His dead father, because he was gone, she was gone, and Jan was left alone.

  Suddenly, those blues only reminded him of the truck—the one that was painted a pale bluish hue—that transported the bodies for a mass dumping. Suddenly, that warm feeling of home was gone.

  “Ma’am. Please leave him alone for a minute,” a voice sounded behind them, and suddenly, Jan could only feel his chest relaxing, his muscles unravelling as the tight feeling of losing control subsided. Even though she was probably the most irritating people on this earth, thank god for Fey Downcley. “I would like to have a word in private, if Jan is consenting.”

  Jan just looked up at Fey, nodding slightly, and she caught the message, pulling the woman that had almost driven Jan to the edge within minutes, back, with a look that Jan could barely call civil.

  “I need to know what your business with Jan is,” Fey told her, not wasting another smile on her.

  Her response was faint, and Jan had to strain his ears to hear it over the blood rushing through his body. “January Tormont-”

  “Kurata-Tormont,” Fey immediately corrected, almost automatically. “January Kurata-Tormont.”

  The woman just gave Jan an odd look, full of understanding but confused as well, before turning towards Fey again. “My name is Ann Tormont. I am January’s paternal aunt.”

  Fey’s dark gaze flittered up to meet Ja
n’s, to which he only bit the inside of his lips, trying to focus in his panic. “Well, Ann Tormont, it’s been a pleasure to meet you. But now is not the best time for January, so I politely ask you to leave.”

  “You don’t understand. It’s a family thing,” Ann explained, and if Jan wasn’t so shaken up, he might've laughed. Because what right did she now have to call it a family thing?

  “You’re right. I don’t understand. But I do understand that Jan doesn’t want to talk to you right now, and I also understand that this is something that is purely his choice. So, family or not, don’t think for a second that I’m going to let you talk to him when he doesn't want you to. So again, I ask you politely Ann Tormont—leave.”

  Ann gritted her teeth, before pulling out a slip of paper and a pen, quickly scribbling something down. “Fine. But here’s my address,” she said, holding out the paper to Jan, her eyes pleading. Jan wearily eyed it, still somewhat shocked. “This is where I’m staying for now, so if you ever want to talk, January-”

  “He’ll know where to find you,” Fey said for him, taking the piece of paper.

  “January-” Ann started, and Jan found the power in him to raise his hand.

  “Please, don’t. I cried every day for you, for a year. You made your choice, and I’m making mine now.”

  “It wasn’t that simple, January!”

  “Don’t worry Aunty Ann,” he started morosely, and he could see Ann’s eyes widened as she realized what he was going to say, how he was going to echo her exact words from all those years ago.

  …

  “Don’t worry January. It’s for the better,”

  …

  “It’s for the better,” he told her, shoving past her as he stalked off towards the castle, where the crowds had long since dispersed.

  It always was, wasn’t it?

  …

  “January.” He shrugged off Fey’s hand, continuing his fuming strides.

  “Don’t, Downcley,” he spat, though Fey’s hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “What the hell do you want? Because I’m not explaining myself to you.”