Airlean Tales S2E14: Homecoming (2)

There was no use in keeping appearances. Halcyon slipped back into his mother tongue—clumsily, at first, but gaining confidence as he continued.

“Xiph,” he said grimly. “I didn’t think you’d deign to come in person.”

“Would you look at that! The boy does remember me.” Xiph leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin in her hands. “Been busy, Ry-ry? You didn’t even write.”

“With all nations isolated by the Storm? What a surprise.”

“You let that stop you? What a pushover.” 

She grinned. He didn’t grin back.

“Imagine my shock when dear old Simon relays that the lost Leventis is still alive and kicking. Thriving as one of Airlea’s top Hunters, no less. Must be quite the story you’ve got.”

So, that was who’d ratted him out. Halcyon had hoped that Simon wouldn’t recognize him, but now he recognized it as wishful thinking. Simon had seen him as a child, and Halcyon hadn’t changed all that much from those days. The silent mask. The dependence on water mana.

The permanent undercurrent of anger.

“I cried when you left, you know,” Xiph said. “Thought you ran away because you found me ugly. But then all the posters went up asking for your head on a plate, so I guess the Senate found you uglier.”

That was kind of funny, but Halcyon didn’t laugh. “Is that what you’re here to do?” he said evenly. “Present a fugitive to the Senate? Gather more influence under your banner?”

Xiph spread her hands with a spark of mischief. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t. Entertain me.”

It was as if they were tossing around ideas for pranks, not bargaining for his life. But Halcyon was not cowed. It had been over a decade since he had last seen Xiph, and she had undoubtedly changed—but still, she was easy to read, nearly an open book. She was curious more than anything. She had questions, and killing Halcyon would only result in those questions going unanswered.

Besides, Halcyon had gambled in worse odds.

So he casually laced his fingers together, as if he wasn’t bothered by his arms being chained. “First reason. You don’t like the Senate.”

Xiph’s smile widened. “I like power.”

Halcyon arched a brow. “A power that’s failing.”

Xiph leaned forward, intrigued. “What makes you say that?”

“Why the offer of political marriage now?” Halcyon countered. “Our countries aren’t at war and are in no position to enter one. So you’re looking to bolster your ranks with some power, likely martial.”

“Marital, not martial.”

“Not if you’re aiming for the crown prince. Unless…”

Finally, Xiph was silent. But her piercing coral eyes remained trained on him, a shark lying in wait.

Halcyon spoke into the silence, his voice hushed. “The miasma is stirring, isn’t it?”

Xiph had never been good at masking her emotions. The surprise that flickered over her face was unmistakable, even as she quickly replaced it with her ordinary glib smile.

“Nothing we haven’t dealt with before,” she said loftily.

“What are you even trying to do? Marrying the prince will take you to Airlea. Would you really do that? Doom another country to save yours?”

“Hey, chum, I’m the one asking questions here.” Xiph tapped her spear on the ground. Her good humor had departed, and the undertone of quiet danger had returned. “Why did you come back if you knew you’d be risking your life, huh? I hope you weren’t expecting a grand homecoming parade.”

“One can always hope.”

“You’re a real barrel of laughs.”

Halcyon sighed. “I know it’s difficult to believe, Xiph, but I don’t mean any trouble.”

“Then why, Ry?” She folded her arms, that suspicious glint entering her eye again. “I already know you don’t miss your family. You don’t miss me. You don’t miss anything about Atlantis, but here you are, waltzing back in with the Airlean delegation of all people. As what, an informant? A spy?”

“Is that what this is about?”

“You weren’t just an average citizen. You were a Leventis.” She tilted her head challengingly. “You have too much knowledge of the Senate. The nation’s defenses.”

Halcyon’s jaw hardened. “I’m not Orion Leventis anymore.”

“But you were.” Her gaze was unrelenting. “And the strongest product of your family’s eugenics.”

Halcyon knew then: he was not leaving Atlantis alive. He was too much of a threat. Xiph recognizing him had been a stroke of the worst luck. She would have no desire to grant him pardon, and as a senator, she had reason to see him executed. He would go down swinging, of course; he hadn’t come here just to die. But his most important, immediate action was to disconnect himself in every way from the Airlean delegation, or he would risk the lives of everyone he held dear. Once they were safe, he could worry about how to save himself.

So Halcyon nonchalantly shrugged and spread his chained hands. “Informant, spy, make up what you want. The landwalker caravan was an easy way in.”

“Not so easy if it made you go through gateways.”

“I thought I wouldn’t be recognized.” A truth.

“Well, then, you were stupid,” Xiph said. Also a truth.

“It’s been over a decade. I didn’t realize Atlantis had such a good memory.”

“Atlantis remembers everything.” She smiled without humor. “Especially betrayal.”

Halcyon said nothing.

Xiph stood, pacing slowly. “You’ve doomed the Airleans with your folly,” she said. “Relations are precarious enough as is. Do you have any idea what would have happened if Daryn had gained wind of this before me? Or worse yet, Irene?”

“They never would have recognized me.”

“If they did, then kiss any diplomatic immunity goodbye.” Xiph snapped her fingers. “Dishonor? Starting an international war? They wouldn’t care. They’d kill every single person in the delegation without hesitation.”

A drop of ice pricked at Halcyon’s spine. “You’re exaggerating.”

“I exaggerate many things, Ry, but Irene’s depravity is not one of them. Count your lucky stars that this hit my ears first.”

Halcyon tried to read her face, but despite the myriad of emotions that crossed her features, he couldn’t discern the truth. Had he placed everyone’s life in deadly peril in the very attempt to save them? Or was this all simply Xiph’s blind stab at emotional manipulation? 

If it was, he was disturbed that it was working. He should have ignored Clara. He should have ignored Karis. 

He never should have returned to Atlantis at all.

“Spare the Airlean delegation,” he found himself saying. “If you have to punish me, then leave them out of it. None of them know the truth.”

“Heroic, but the Senate wouldn’t see it that way,” Xiph said grimly. 

She whistled quick and sharp, and in a blink, the cell doors opened as the warriors slipped back in.

“Summon the crown prince,” she told them, a glint in her eye. “We’re all gonna have a little discussion.”

Halcyon started. “Why the prince?”

“Well, unless you want me to air out your lifetime of lies and deception in front of your whole country,” Xiph said wryly, “I thought we could keep this private.”

Fair enough, he thought. He watched as two Atlantean warriors left the room while the rest encircled him, as if he could beat down veteran warriors and the Warmonger Senator with his weapon confiscated and no manawell. Xiph really thought rather highly of him.

The cell door shut. Five pairs of eyes stared silently at Halcyon, waiting for him to make the smallest move. He leaned back in his stiff seat.

“Can you at least unlock the bracers?”

“No.”

It had been two thousand three hundred and fifty-eight seconds since the guards had ushered Halcyon away.

Karis had been counting. She had intended to leap into action when she reached a certain number, whatever number seemed concerningly high. Unfortunately, she hadn’t decided what that number would be before she started counting. So she continued to count.

Two thousand and four hundred. Two thousand four hundred and fifty.

She was too distracted to pay much heed to her surroundings. The nobles were settling in their guesthouses, chittering among themselves like rodents. The High Houses were probably scheming, Violet Forsythe was probably pulling strings among the Garrison, the sages were probably scoping out the surrounding magitech for weaponry. Karis couldn’t bring herself to care. Her senses thrummed like a bolt of lightning, all singularly focused on the entrance of the embassy plaza, waiting to see a familiar shock of black hair.

At three thousand seconds, someone appeared at the entrance. But not Halcyon Yuden.

Captain Mathias Galeus, flanked by his warriors again, stepped into the embassy plaza. His eyes roved the surrounding buildings—for what, Karis could not say. But most importantly, he was alone. Or rather, a certain important presence was lacking.

Jaw clenched, Karis marched through the plaza in an unbroken line. Several heads turned to watch at the sound of her uncharacteristically heavy footfalls. As she approached, some of Mathias’s warriors leveled spears at her, but he held up his hand to stop them.

“Captain,” Karis said tersely.

“Lady Caelute,” he replied with a nod.

She arched a brow. So he had asked about her name. Maybe he had also been informed that it was best not to irritate her.

“I notice you returned without Lord Yuden,” she said bluntly. “And that is in direct conflict with your word given to return him safely.”

Mathias met her gaze. He had piercing eyes, some shade between red poppies and violets, and they formed a forceful impression together with his strong jaw.

“You’re in his cohort,” he said, studying her. “A Royal Hunter, I presume?”

“What of it?”

“Your concern is understandable. Meritorious, even. Lead me to the prince, and we can settle this immediately.”

A chill thrummed down her neck. “The prince?”

“Lord Yuden is detained for matters requiring the prince’s attention.”

Detained. For a matter important enough to involve the prince. Karis’s sharp burst of anger was undercut by a deep wave of fear. What had they done to Halcyon? Sedated him? Tortured him? Was he stretched out somewhere, already dead and rotting? 

If they had laid one finger on him, then damn the consequences; she would draw her sword this very moment and slice off their heads.

Feeling the weight of the curious gazes around her, waiting for her to snap, Karis lifted her chin imperiously. She turned and marched out of the plaza up to Sethis’s guesthouse, as if she was in perfect control of her emotions. As if her hands were not shaking with the desire to strike.

She found Sethis waiting at the entrance of the estate, face fixed with a very puzzled frown. This puzzled Karis in turn, until she suddenly remembered with a pang that—she was supposed to be his bodyguard.

So was Halcyon, and yet both of them, who were expected to shadow the prince’s steps and tirelessly protect him, had disappeared without a word. That was not acceptable. Karis was a guard now, not a Hunter. She could not simply go off on her own, no matter the reason.

She shook her head and scolded herself silently. This was why she had to rein in her emotions. The moment one let loose, all of them fell apart like a house of cards.

As they approached the guesthouse, the bewilderment cleared from Sethis’s expression, replaced by wariness as he recognized Mathias. He regarded the captain with a polite yet distant nod.

“Captain Galeus,” he said. A question more than a greeting.

Mathias drew up to the steps of the villa and bowed his head. “Your Highness,” he replied. “Senator Vascea has summoned you for an urgent audience.”

Karis wanted to laugh. She summon him! The sheer audacity. Were they cattle to be herded, not guests?

Sethis’s mouth hardened. “Would this have anything to do with your unexplained removal of one of my personal retainers?”

“Yes, Highness.”

Sethis paused. “I’ll admit that your candor surprises me.”

“I’m a military man, not an envoy.”

“You don’t wonder how I learned of Lord Yuden’s removal?”

“We made no effort to be discreet, Highness.”

“That you did not.” The steel was back in Sethis’s voice. “Yet before you acted, you failed to confer with the most important authority: me. As Halcyon Yuden’s liege, he cannot leave the estate without my express permission.”

“Apologies for overstepping your authority. The reason was urgent.”

Karis veiled a flinch. Had they already discovered Halcyon’s identity? So soon? They’d barely set foot in the country.

“Urgent indeed it must be, to disregard all procedure,” Sethis replied.

“All will be made clear if you were to respond to the senator’s summons, Your Highness.”

Again with the summons! This senator had not even deigned to greet them in person before beckoning the prince of Airlea to and fro like a lapdog. Karis bit her tongue at the insult, her hand itching to draw her weapon. A quick flick of Sethis’s fingers barely stayed her hand.

“If your senator will summon me before the basic courtesy of greeting us,” Sethis said frostily, “I at least invoke the right to hear the charges laid before I acquiesce. A right provided even to foreigners, as laid out in the Law of Ancients.”

Even this invocation did not cow Mathias. “Senator Vascea says that you would appreciate hearing said charges in confidence.”

So the worst had happened. Halcyon had likely been discovered. Now he was captured and the entire delegation to Atlantis was in peril. Sethis had apparently drawn the same conclusion, for he sighed and turned to Karis. 

“I will return,” he said.

“Yes, you will,” Karis said. “I will see to it.”

“You must protect the rest of the delegation. They will be unsettled upon seeing my departure.”

“That is why all the nobles have brought their private retinues,” Karis said readily. “But as the Royal Guard is not present, the one most in need of protection, Your Highness, is you.”

He shook his head, though the motion felt approving. “I suppose I’m blessed to have such a vigilant guard,” he said. “Lilian would be pleased.”

Vigilant? Hardly. She had already left his side once. She could not do it again.

With that, he turned to follow the Atlantean warriors, Karis trailing on his heels. She felt the weight of many pairs of eyes boring into them as they passed through the plaza, no doubt wondering why the prince was being taken away.

She hoped that war wouldn’t break out while they were absent. She would hate to miss out on the fun.

The Warmonger’s palace was built to impress, and despite Karis’s inclination to despise them, impressed she was. Thankfully, Mathias Galeus left her no time to gawk like a country bumpkin. He led her and Sethis down a side path, through an ominously layered gate, and down a long staircase that felt not unlike descending into the bowels of hell.

And they said they hadn’t arrested Halcyon. The idea that this was anything but a dungeon was absurd.

“I take my leave here,” Mathias said with a short, sharp bow. “The senator awaits you.”

“Captain Galeus,” Karis said suddenly.

He stopped and turned to face her with a crooked brow—which surprised her. With his self-assured arrogance, she had actually expected him to ignore her. Instead, she held his genuine attention…before she had formulated the correct words.

“I—we—hope that this is a rare occurrence,” she said, attempting to sound severe. “No matter how significant your reasons, we have a duty to protect our citizens.”

He nodded. “Your concern is founded, my lady. But so is ours.”

He turned and departed without further words, his civility just as perplexing as his reticence. Karis scowled slightly as she turned to follow Sethis down the corridor.

The doors scattered throughout the corridor were made of solid stone, cut with one small barred window. Karis immediately recognized them as holding cells, though the furnishings were much more luxurious than the dank caskets she sometimes saw in the noblemen’s cellars. The walls were dim and oppressive, the confines pressing in on her from every direction. 

An itsy bitsy spider, Halcyon’s voice whispered.

She threw back her shoulders and held her head high. She was not an itsy bitsy spider, and she would not let a hallway, of all things, unnerve her. 

A cloaked figure flanked by Atlantean warriors awaited them at the end of the corridor, bearing a magnificent spear. At first, Karis thought the spear to be disproportionately large for the one bearing it—but as she approached, she realized that, in fact, the figure was just kind of small. A similar height to little Azalea Fairwen, and slight of build to boot. Still, the figure held the spear with a firmness and confidence that spoke of years of martial experience, and Karis would not be one to underestimate them.

“I didn’t recall allowing a retainer,” the senator said in a voice much younger than Karis expected.

Karis masked her surprise with a frown. “Nevertheless, you’ve received one,” she said. A bit imperiously for a simple retainer, but alas. This senator had done nothing worthy of polite society.

The senator lowered their hood, and a young woman’s face surfaced from the shadows. Coral-red hair was tied back from her face, which managed to be pretty in a sharp kind of way. Her draped clothing was cut at the knees for ease of movement, the edges gilded with ornate, flowery embroidery that Karis was beginning to attribute to Atlantis. But most curious were the fin-like decorations clasped to her ears and protruding outward, given her the artificial appearance of a half-dragon. Or a half-fish, though that was a less flattering concept.

“I am Xiphia Kairhea Vascea, Senator of the Warmonger’s Seat, Inheritor of the Ensign of War,” the senator said.

She punctuated this announcement with a quick rap of her spear against the floor, and Karis swore that the weapon hummed in response.

This is the Warmonger? Karis thought in disbelief. The Warmonger’s Seat brought to mind towering warriors upon armored, feral steeds. Certainly not whatever short pixie this was.

Sethis looked stunned, and Karis briefly remembered that not only was he meeting his potential betrothed, but she was nothing like he’d expected. How did it feel, she wondered idly, to meet one’s promised for the first time in what felt like a dungeon?

He mastered himself quickly, affording Xiphia the courtesy of a shallow bow. “Senator,” he said.

“Xiph.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She blew a section of fringe out of her face. “Call me Xiph. ‘Senator Vascea’ is for bookworms and bootlickers. Neither of which you seem to be.”

Sethis folded his arms, unamused. “Pardon my lack of humor, Senator Xiph—”

“Gods.” She cringed. “Just Xiph, please.”

“—but these circumstances hardly seem appropriate for empty jests. Where is Lord Halcyon Yuden, and why have you withheld him from the delegation?”

Xiph’s keen gaze studied Sethis’s face, heavy with suspicion. Then she stepped back into an open doorway, jerking her head at her guards.

“Out,” she said.

“Domina, the visitors bear weapons…”

“Did I stutter? Out.”

The warriors saluted and filtered out of the corridor. Xiph motioned for Sethis and Karis to follow as she stepped inside.

It was indeed a holding cell. That much was evident, despite the varnish of polished stone and bright wall sconces. A small table was fixed in the center of the room, at which Halcyon Yuden calmly sat, visibly unharmed. A knot in Karis’s chest eased ever slightly, until she looked closer.

Cuffed. They had cuffed Halcyon to the chair. Karis could not decide whether she was more amused or outraged. Had he sat like a docile housecat and let them collar him? Where was his fight?

“Lord Yuden,” Sethis said from beside her. “Are you injured in any way?”

Halcyon looked up, and Karis braced herself for a soulless, tortured look in his eyes. But no. He seemed perfectly normal. His mouth even twisted up in that familiar, slightly lopsided way that always made her heart stutter for a moment.

“Maybe my dignity,” Halcyon said. “Nothing else.”

Sethis’s gaze dropped to the bracers around Halcyon’s wrists, and his expression darkened. He looked at Xiph in thinly veiled accusation.

“Senator,” he said tightly, “those bracers appear to be suppressors.”

“Aptly spotted,” Xiph said with a shrug. “They don’t just appear to be suppressors. They are suppressors. Nihil cuffs.”

“Might I ask what infringement of ours has warranted treating one of our own as little more than a beast?”

“Your own.” Xiph snorted as she laced her fingers together, regarding Sethis with that unnerving, piercing stare. “You don’t even know who you’re looking at, do you?”

Karis looked at Halcyon, who steadily met her gaze. 

Xiph bowed with a flourish in Halcyon’s direction. “I present to you Orion Leventis. Born to a lineage of peerless warriors. Everything from pedigree to education crafted him for one purpose: to kill.”

The senator paused, scanning Karis and Sethis’s faces, as if she expected some grand reaction. They provided none. Killing was nothing scandalous to seasoned Hunters, and Halcyon had already mentioned his ties to a martial family.

Eventually, Xiph shook her head and continued. “Through selective breeding, every Leventis is extraordinarily gifted in manacraft and combat. Orion held the greatest potential of his brothers and sisters, despite his youth. Until he scurried away from Atlantis like a bilge rat.”

Halcyon’s expression did not budge, but nor did he refute her.

“And what is it to you now?” said Sethis.

Xiph blinked, shock etched clearly over her face. “What is—what do you mean?”

“Lord Yuden is legally an Airlean citizen,” Sethis said. The slightest tremor of anger belied his even-keeled tone. “Had he committed any sins, he long paid due for them with his tireless service to the country. He is now under Airlea’s protection. And responsibility.”

“So, if he’s wronged Atlantis, then the delegation is willing to pay the price?”

“Is that what you demand?”

Xiph huffed and slouched back in her chair, casting a dour look at Halcyon. “You explain this, Ry. Your friend here clearly won’t trust a word out of my mouth.”

Ry, Karis thought bitterly. Close enough to share some endearing childhood nickname. Who was this senator to Halcyon, anyway? Family? An old friend? Something more?

Not that it mattered. It didn’t. It didn’t.

Halcyon shifted slightly in his uncomfortable seat. “Will you remove the handcuffs first?” he said dryly.

“They don’t bind your mouth,” Xiph replied.

“They’re unpleasant. You try suppressing your manawell, and then I’ll…” Suddenly, his words drifted away, and an odd, tight expression crossed his face.

Xiph burst into laughter, high and strangely sweet. “Fine,” she said. She stood and leaned over the table, waving her hand over Halcyon’s bracers. They snapped open immediately with a soft click. “Free as a bird, Ry-ry.”

Halcyon distantly rubbed his wrists as if they ached. He turned to Sethis and bowed his head.

“Xiph is not our enemy, Your Highness,” he said. “She’s warning us of the others in the Senate. People who might not be so…forgiving.”

Karis scowled. “Suppressing you in an isolated prison cell with no one the wiser. That is forgiving?”

“She knows that I don’t mind too much. Xiph and I were…formerly acquaintances.”

“Betrothed to be married,” Xiph corrected, that impish grin still alight on her face. “Destined to be husband and wife.”

A claw like steel tightened around Karis’s chest. She tried to wave it away, barely withholding a scowl. Betrothed? Really? It appeared that Halcyon was hiding yet more secrets. When would they end?

Sethis’s brow furrowed. “Was this before or after you were promised to the prince of Airlea?”

Xiph’s amusement dropped away. “I gave no such promise,” she said sharply. “My father might have exchanged words with someone else’s father.”

“That was not the implication when your envoy announced the engagement before the entire Airlean gentry.”

Xiph frowned and turned to regard Sethis fully, as if this were the first time she deemed him worthy of her notice. Which it probably was. The senator appeared the type to simply ignore anything that didn’t bite her.

But what others could construe as hostility—the way she squinted up at Sethis, brows drawn, mouth tight, hands on hips—Karis knew to be admiration. The acknowledgment that the Airlean prince was a point of interest, more predator than krill.

Karis knew, because she herself inclined towards such dangerous interests.

This was further reinforced by Xiph’s gaze slowly traveling up and down the length of Sethis’s body, taking in his strong shoulders, steady hands, sharp jaw, lake-green eyes. The open gawking was probably rude. She also probably didn’t care. To his credit, Sethis remained unmoving under her close perusal, as ironclad as a fortress, though Karis did notice a light scattering of red over his ears at the attention.

“What’s this?” Xiph said, lifting a brow. “Is the crown prince hiding behind his pretty bodyguard?”

What? This threw Karis for a loop. How could the senator not recognize him? Xiph’s warriors had fetched Sethis as the crown prince, and beyond that, any member of Simon’s delegation surely could have pointed him out.

Xiph seemed to read the bewilderment stamped on their faces. “Please, I’m not a fool. The crown prince wouldn’t be willing to separate from his flock in a foreign country without heavy guard.” She snorted. “Sweet old Lunaren senior pulled the same trick when he came to Atlantis. Presented one of his bodyguards as the king and disguised himself as a common knight the entire trip. We didn’t learn the truth until after they left.”

An odd look overtook Sethis’s face, and his lack of rebuttal made Karis think that this was, in fact, an event that actually took place. King Asher Lunaren had always tended towards distrust of others, tempered only by the compassion and curiosity of his wife. Even so, a ruse of that scale seemed entirely unbelievable.

“Yet your envoy personally met with the crown prince back in Mythaven,” Karis said.

Xiph grinned. “Oh, yes, after royalty had an entire day to…what did Simon say? ‘Prepare the encounter?’ To doctor it with a stand-in, more like.” She pointed right at Sethis. “I’ve never met a Lunaren with such a spine. You’re a bodyguard, or I’ll eat my own shoe.”

Well, the good senator would later be eating her own shoe. But Karis would not be one to correct her. If all Atlantis truly thought that Sethis was merely a stand-in, then all the better; his life was less likely to be endangered, and scrutiny would fall on the rest of the delegation instead.

“Now, I don’t blame you,” Xiph told Sethis. “You’re just fulfilling your duty. But honestly, your prince is looking like a lame duck. Couldn’t even be bothered to see me himself?”

Sethis opened his mouth to respond, but Karis seized the opportunity before he could correct her. “With the nature of this meeting, I’m sure you could understand his reservations,” she said sharply.

She felt Sethis falter beside her, but he quickly regained his composure. Deceit was not in his nature, but he had to know more than anyone else that this environment bode ill for the delegation. Right now, Karis’s priority was to get him through this journey alive.

Even if it meant deceiving the Atlantean senator the entire time.

Simon Kourios had been on guard from the very beginning, Karis realized. When he recognized Hal as Orion Leventis, and saw that he hid behind the title of the First Hunter…The envoy must have already believed us to be liars.

Then what? Did Simon also believe that the entire aristocracy was full of liars? Or, more unbelievably yet, that the entire kingdom of Airlea had been deceived in the identity of the heir to the throne?

If so, this delegation had been doomed from the start. Sethis had come with the intention to forge a lasting peace between their countries. But they hadn’t even secured a single grain of trust.

Xiph tilted her head, her signature grin playing up her lips again. “I won’t bother asking which of you in the delegation is the real prince. He’s clearly tucked away in his shell with no intention of coming out. But what I’ve told you, pretty boy, make sure you relay to him.”

“Pretty boy?” was all Sethis said. Xiph’s volatile behavior seemed to progressively stump him more and more.

She grinned devilishly. “What, never been called that before? Because you’re as pretty as a daisy on a summer day.”

That sparked a shred of anger in his gaze. “A daisy may not have thorns, Senator, but you may find that I do.”

Her grin widened. “Just the way I like it.”

Sethis stepped back, utterly perplexed.

“Can we stop with the flirting until after my acquittal?” Halcyon said dryly. “Xiph, maybe move on to your proposition.”

“Proposition? Chum, you’d be rotting in the trenches right now if it weren’t for me.” Xiph straightened and slapped a hand on the table. “I’ll give it to you straight, landwalkers. Harboring a fugitive for murder in your delegation party when tensions are this high? Not the world’s best idea. I think some might even call it the second-worst idea. The worst, of course, is crossing me.”

Sethis recovered, his gaze stern. “And you have a desired solution, I take it.”

“A perfect solution, as a matter of fact, pretty boy.” Xiph leaned back, resting her head on the wall. “Ry is a Leventis. Other people are going to recognize that. Bad people. Powerful people. Airlean protection or no, they’re gonna want to indenture him. Even if it means going through you.”

They can try, Karis thought fiercely. Aloud, she said, “Does his lineage really mean so much?”

Xiph looked to Halcyon. “You didn’t tell them,” she said.

“You’re the one who made me bloodbound,” Halcyon said.

“Oh, yes. I did, didn’t I.”

Bloodbound? Karis had heard of Old Magick that stirred like an undercurrent around the foundations of Atlantis. Curses. Boons. Prophecies and ancient bloodlines. Old Magick had been the raw, unfettered use of mana before the stable, repeatable arts of manacraft. Most of it had faded into legend with time—Airlea, as a young country, practiced none of it.

Karis knew of bloodbinding, at least. It was an old and somewhat terrifying way of holding manacrafters to their oaths. A small incision was made in the palms of both the oathmaker and the oathkeeper, drops of their blood let out onto a runic device. From there, mana was channeled as the oathkeeper ritualistically recited their vow, and the oathmaker ritualistically accepted it. Once the ceremony was complete, it was impossible for the oathkeeper to break their vow while mana still ran through their veins.

All in all, a somewhat ghastly business. Worse yet, Halcyon was physically and magically beholden to this spiteful little creature. The very notion throttled Karis with a hot burst of anger that startled her in its intensity. 

It was his business. 

It didn’t matter.

But it did.

“Sorry, I forgot that little detail,” said Xiph, not sounding sorry at all. “Let’s just say that Ry’s family is a little special. Either way, if word gets out about who he really is, then it’ll mean trouble. Who do people say he is back in Airlea?”

“Halcyon Yuden,” Karis said testily. “A child from the streets who was taken in by a Yueraian Hunter.”

“That won’t fly,” Xiph said. “A street kid leaves room for him to be born in Atlantis. Just say that he was born into a Yueraian family, or something.” She pointed at Halcyon’s face. “Also, you’ll need to start wearing a mask. You’ve got the Leventis eyes of your pops. People will wonder.”

“A mask would make our own delegation wonder,” Karis said.

“Your delegation won’t kill people because they wonder,” Xiph countered. “Give him the mask of a shark, a rabbit, a platypus if you so like. Just hide that handsome little face.”

“What about my family?” Halcyon said. “If they recognize me, like you did?”

Xiph’s smile died. The gravity of the silence that followed was tragically familiar. It was the silence of Guildmaster Nicolina’s study, the silence of the guild following a Storm. The silence of a graveyard.

Halcyon rose to his feet, fingers curling against the table. “What happened?”

“Not now,” Xiph said. The ever-present coil of energy and humor had vanished from her voice, as if magicked away.

“What could possibly have killed every Leventis? A leviathan?”

“Not now, Ry,” Xiph repeated, her eyes darting to Sethis and Karis.

Halcyon sunk back into his chair. His face melted into a grim emptiness. “Gods. It was civil war, wasn’t it? They tore themselves apart.”

The room fell into a long, stilted silence. Halcyon hunched over the table, looking tormented. He never seemed to harbor any love for his origins or his birth family, but it was another thing entirely to learn that they had torn each other to shreds, that he was the only one left. A bitter and lonesome pill to swallow. 

Much as her family aggravated her, Karis could not fathom a world where her mother had died, and her uncle and cousins had died, and they were all dead because they had killed each other. That she was the only one left in the world, inheriting a family name known for turning steel against their own brethren.

“Yuden,” she said softly, but Xiph quickly rapped the butt of her spear on the stone floor.

“Sorry, but we don’t have time for tears right now. Any longer, and the other senators will wonder what’s holding up the delegation.” Xiph took Halcyon by the arm and hoisted him up. “Get a mask, get to the guesthouse, stay out of trouble. You’re only here for a few months, so let’s wear our best smiles and play nice. Gods willing, we’ll all get out of this mess in one piece.”

“If the entire delegatory visit is a charade,” Sethis said tightly, “then why continue it at all? Why not send us back?”

“I might know of your deception, pretty boy,” Xiph said, “but the other senators don’t. How would it look for the Airleans to dip out as soon as they’ve arrived, wasting weeks of careful arrangements? The scale of that discourtesy might start an entirely different kind of war. Let’s keep this little secret between us, hm?”

She stepped through the door with a spry little wave, as if they had all been out to tea and not an interrogation in a dungeon cell. 

Sethis leaned after her. “Wait—”

But she was already gone. Not a soul, not even her guards, were left in the corridor.

“Delicate,” Sethis muttered inconceivably, running a hand through his hair. In a moment, he too vanished down the hall.

Karis turned to Halcyon. He was still leaning on the table, staring emptily into the gilded veins that sprinkled its surface, as if he could divine answers from wherein.

“Come, Yuden,” she said gently. “Let’s get you to your room.”

He barely stirred as she linked her arm through his and tugged him out of the cell.

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