Eve of Destruction (47 page)

“Fine,” she murmured. “So what do you want me to do, then?”

“I want you to clean up and be ready for a late-night appearance at another gala tonight,” he told her. “Polard assured me the bruises wouldn’t be visible.”

She tried not to wince. Goddess forbid she might have a scratch on her calf or bruise that people might see…

“All right.”

He signaled for a carriage, and it only took a few moments for a rider to pull alongside the curb. She hopped inside and tried to ignore the knot twisting in her stomach. 

“You’ll have a good time, don’t worry,” he said coyly as he tapped her arm gently.

Amaya remained silent, and the carriage started off down the street.

***

“You know, this is my first time on one of these death traps,” Jean Lashowe said, “but you’re the one who looks like he’s about to lose it.”

Maltus blinked out of his reverie and glanced over to her. “I…just have a lot on my mind is all.”

She smiled. “I know. I’m sure anyone who walks by and glances in here knows too.”

He grunted softly, and some of the tension managed to seep away. They were less than two hours outside of Selerius Station, and a part of him was still expecting a dozen Enclave magi—or perhaps even a Vakari—to leap out and ambush them. The Council knew full well he had been planning to leave the city, and they’d had ample opportunity to confront he and Jean again before they’d ever boarded this train. But they hadn’t, and somehow that actually made him feel worse.

“I’m just surprised, is all,” Maltus told her. “I was expecting a lot more resistance.”

“Maybe you’re coming at it from the wrong angle,” Jean suggested. “You already know they made their move on Eve last night and failed, but I’m sure they have a backup plan, probably one they can spring before we get there. Now assuming that’s true and they have any faith in their operatives, then they probably don’t think there’s any danger from you—they’re confident Eve will be dead before you can arrive to help her. And on top of that, they know you’re not going to join Chaval.”

He smiled thinly. “Not the type of grim logic I would expect from a Sister.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Am I wrong?”

“Probably not,” he admitted. “The hard part is dealing with the fact we’re not going to make it on time.”

“Gregori isn’t exactly helpless, and you do have this Shaedra watching over them also. They’ve survived this long on their own.”

“That doesn’t make the waiting any easier.”

“Then why not talk to me instead?” Jean asked. “You don’t want to think about Eve, and I’d rather not think about this rickety metal carriage.”

Maltus nodded. “Good idea. I did drag you along, after all. I suppose a little conversation is the least I could do.”

“You could start by telling me why you left me all those years ago. The real reason, I mean.”

He froze, but one look in her eyes told him she was serious. “I was expecting some small talk about the weather or something.”

“I’m not letting you off that easily,” she said, though her usual levity was notably absent from her tone. “It’s a question I’ve always wanted to ask. I figure this might be the only chance I’m ever going to get.”

He rubbed a hand across his face and scratched at the stubble on his chin. He had forgotten to shave this morning, which was as good a sign as any how distracted he was. He had always been a man of routines; it helped him stay focused no matter what imminent crisis was about to unfold.

“I told all of you what I thought back then,” he said softly. “After the Enclave destroyed Simon and Tara’s work and threatened to block all of us from the Oath Rituals.”

“I’m not talking about why you went to join the Enclave,” she murmured. “I’m talking about me. Why did you leave
me
?”

He tried to close his mouth but found it was stuck open. Before he’d even gone to meet with her several days ago, he had planned out an entire explanation for his defection to the Enclave. It wasn’t a defense, exactly, but he thought that maybe he could at least give some context to his decision and maybe dull the blow of his desertion.

But he hadn’t been prepared for this. Not even close.

“I always assumed that maybe you never really thought about it,” Jean went on. “If maybe I was just an afterthought in the whole process. It wasn’t like we ever really talked about the future when we were together. We were less than six months from taking the Rituals and I don’t think we ever spoke once about our plans after that.”

His throat was still parched, but at least he forced himself to swallow. “That…that wasn’t it at all.”

Her eyebrow slowly raised again. “Was it Tara, then? When she left Simon I figured it was only a matter of time before the rest of you tried to horn in on her. I couldn’t believe it when I heard she was marrying someone else.”

“I assumed you hated me,” Maltus whispered. “The Enclave had just showed up and trashed a year’s worth of our work, and then here I was supporting them. I figured all of you would be furious.”

“Who said we weren’t?” she asked. “But that still doesn’t answer the question.”

“It’s…all I can give you,” he managed. “I didn’t think I’d ever look any of you in the eyes again, to be honest.”

Jean studied him but didn’t reply. For the first time since they had spoken in her temple, the fire in her eyes had gone out…and been replaced with pain. Maltus couldn’t help but feel nauseous.

“I made a choice to save my career,” he murmured. “I…lost faith, I guess you could say. When we finally made it to our senior year, everything suddenly started to feel so
real
. Simon and Tara started to push harder and harder, and it was like I could feel the rest of my life slipping away.”

“So you ran,” she whispered.

“As fast and as far as I could,” Maltus said. “I was a coward. That’s really all there was to it.”

She turned towards the window and stared out towards the rolling mountains in the distance. “I always thought you’d come back. Once Simon and Tara left and the rest of us were there alone finishing up the Rituals. I…waited for you. For a while, anyway.”

Maltus tried to swallow again, but this time he found it impossible. “I made a mistake. I made a lot of mistakes.”

“We all have,” she told him. “I just always wanted to know, that’s all.”

His favorite philosopher had once written that unspoken words were the foundation of most tragedies. He had long ago decided that it was the most eloquent way to describe his past. First with Jean, later with Tara, and now with Eve.

Perhaps it was finally time to correct that.

“There is something else,” Maltus said softly. “I was scared.”

She turned back to face him. “You already said that.”

“I mean I was scared of you—of what I felt when we were together.”

Jean snorted. “You mean that it might actually amount to more than a few tumbles in the park?”

“No,” he breathed. “I mean because I would have been willing to do anything to be with you, even if it meant turning away from the Enclave or the Rituals themselves. If you had asked, I don’t think I could have said no. And that terrified me.”

Her eyes locked with his again, but this time he couldn’t meet them. He turned away and rubbed at his temple. He wasn’t sure how long the two of them sat there in silence, but eventually a server came by and offered them drinks, and they were both quick to order.

“I might have followed you, if you had said something,” Jean whispered eventually. “All the way to the Enclave.”

She wasn’t looking at him anymore, but he could tell she was being serious. Maltus wet his lips and tried to find his voice again.

“I never would have asked you to do that,” he said. “Not you. You were too…pure.”

Jean snorted. “Oh, please. With the things we used to do together?”

“That’s not what I meant,” he told her. “You were pious. You deserved better than what they were going to offer. You would have been miserable.”

“I didn’t say otherwise. I just said I would have followed you anywhere. I meant it.”

“Then maybe it’s best you didn’t,” he murmured. “And maybe it’s best I didn’t stay.”

“Maybe,” she said, a wry smile tugged at her lips again. “But you still should have said something. At least we could have had a last tumble or three.”

He laughed despite himself. “I...I guess that wouldn’t have been such a bad idea.”

She reached out and put a hand on his. “How about we ditch the regrets for now. Why don’t you tell me about Evelyn?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean her, this girl you love. Tell me about her as she grew up.”

Maltus smiled. “All right.”

He told her. It took hours, all told, and she was as good a listener as he remembered. She took it all in and shared with him the important bits of her own life. They were still talking by the time night had fallen and the only illumination left in their cabin was the pale moonlight filtering in through the window.

It made him appreciate how long it had been since he’d been able to share something like this with anyone—not just stories, but an honest-to-Goddess conversation. Since he had left Tara behind in Lushden a few years ago, he had been almost completely isolated. And he hadn’t realized until that moment how much he had missed it.

Or, even more importantly, how much he had missed Jean.

Finally a long silence fell over them and they both tried to get comfortable enough to catch a few hours of sleep. He smiled when he looked at her as she scrunched into the plush cabin seat, and he took off his overcoat and tossed it on top of her.

“I don’t know what’s going to happen when we get there,” he said softly, “but I do know that I’m very, very happy you’re coming with me.”

She smiled. “We’ll save her, Glenn. We’ll figure out a way to set things right.”

“I know,” he said.

And for perhaps the very first time, he meant it. 

Chapter Twenty-Two

When Eve and Zach were younger, she liked to think they had lived a healthy, active lifestyle. Between the numerous parks scattered throughout Lushden and their many derivations of vatraball in their back yard, the two of them had probably been in a lot better shape than most magi children, especially the wealthy ones who never had to spend a single hour in the fields. She’d never considered herself particularly athletic, but she had been a good rider and even a respectable runner given her compact frame.

All of which made the aches riddling her body after two days of travel across the western plains that much more embarrassing. Halfway through the first day she had been reasonably certain her feet were going to fall off, and by nightfall even haunting dreams about her destiny as the Avenshal couldn’t keep her awake. During the next day she wouldn’t have been surprised if Shaedra and Zach left the other two behind in disgust. The heavyset man had done a lot better than she’d assumed he would, but apparently even his impressive weaving skills weren’t up to the challenge of bolstering his physical endurance.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have age or weight as a convenient scapegoat. She was simply out-of-shape from multiple sedentary years at Rorendal with her face stuffed in books. Her outfits hadn’t helped either, of course. For whatever reason, eastern fashion seemed to enjoy folding women into restrictive clothing, and she had quickly learned the limitations of her dresses and the lack of padding in any of her shoes. By the time they had been able to see the smoking fires of the Steamworks factories in the distance, she had vowed never to buy anything but shirts and trousers again.