Remnants: Season of Fire (18 page)

“What? No,” I said, embarrassed. I rose, needing to put some space between us. His words reminded me of something Ronan has said to me once — it seemed odd that he would be that intimate. I dropped the blanket behind me, feeling no need for added warmth at the moment. As he joined me at the small window, I belatedly realized I wore only the damp leather of the Aravanders’ sleeveless tunic, that covered me from shoulder to thigh, and it left my armband exposed. Not that Keallach wasn’t already completely aware of my cuff. But leaving it so open made me feel . . . vulnerable. It practically gleamed in the candlelight.

He glanced down at it and then let his sultry eyes drift up my arm and face like a caress. Was that part of his gifting? That gaze that felt like a physical force?

But instead of asking me about the armband, about the others, he simply stood beside me and sipped from his crystal goblet.

I wondered why Keallach hadn’t used his gifting against the Aravanders, as he had his brother. Was that because he’d used it up, in a sense, for a time? Without the armband, without the ceremony, he would not receive his gifting in full. And yet what I’d witnessed on the Isle of Catal had been significant. What would Keallach be like if he was given the full might of his gifting? Keallach with his power to move inanimate objects?

The thought overwhelmed me.

“What is it?” Keallach asked, shaking me from my reverie.

“Ahh,” I said, turning away from the window and returning to a sitting chair. “Where should I begin?”

He chuckled lowly and settled in a chair across from me, leaning over his knees, goblet balanced between his hands. “You are weary,” he said. “I should leave you to rest.”

“No,” I protested automatically, and then, realizing that I merely drew comfort in his Ailith presence, quickly amended — “No, you’re right. It’d be good to get a good night’s rest.” I leaned forward, rubbing my forehead. It had been what? A week? Two? Since Wadi Qelt that I’d slept — really slept?

He remained where he was. “You feel it, then too. My presence. As comfort.”

I rose quickly. “As surely as I feel Sethos’s presence as danger.”

Keallach stood and set his empty goblet down beside mine, which was still half-full. He started to reach toward me, caught himself, and then clasped his hands before his chest. “I will hope that in time you and Sethos find your way.”

I stared at him. “Keallach. Never, ever, will Sethos and I ‘find our way.’ Only when one of us dies will that way be found.”

His brow lowered, as if he was confused. His lips clamped together. “So say you. But I believe in an alternate ending. Perhaps one that you cannot yet see.” His eyes slid down my damp clothing. “I’ve been remiss, keeping you up. I’ll send a servant straightaway with a change of clothes. There will be two guards at your door, with my strict instructions that no one — not even Sethos — shall enter before morning. Can you trust me that far, Andriana? Until morning, at least?”

He lifted his palms to me, an offering.

“Tell me one thing,” I said, crossing my arms.

He folded his own arms. “Anything.”

“Did you kill or capture any of my Ailith kin? Either Remnant or Knight?”

He swallowed, but I sensed no duplicity in him. “No. We tried to
capture
them,” he said, lifting one hand, “because I’d very much like to speak to them as well. But we did not succeed.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“Andriana,” he began, remorse etching his brow. “About your knight . . . Ronan. Forgive me for injuring him. I only sought to keep Kapriel with me.”

I held my breath for a moment. Ronan would’ve killed Keallach had he had the chance. It had been battle. “I understand. But if you ever hurt him again, I will try and inflict the same wound upon you.” Let him think I could. I’d certainly be willing . . .

“The feelings between you two run deep.”

“As they do between all Remnants and Knights.”

He gave me a funny smile. “Not quite like what runs between you and that one.”

I felt the heat rising in my cheeks and turned slightly away. “Until morning, then?”

He nodded. “Until morning.” I felt the hope, the glimmer of glee within him. He sensed our connection, and took my acquiescence as trust.

I saw him to the door, then closed and latched it behind him. A moment later, a soft knock made me open it again. Two male servants delivered fresh linens, a bucket of hot water, soap, and a change of clothes. They exited without ever looking me in the eye. Again, I latched the door and laid my forehead against it, feeling the rhythmic stroke of the steam engine escorting us back to Pacifica.

Would we return by daybreak? Tomorrow afternoon? All I knew was that sometime soon, I’d be in Keallach’s realm.

And never farther from my own.

CHAPTER
16

ANDRIANA

I
n the morning, after a surprisingly decent night’s sleep, I dressed in the Aravander leathers. I had reluctantly changed into the white Pacifican gown that had been laid out for me but had hung up the leathers to dry overnight. It was a small act of defiance, but it made me feel less the conquered prisoner and more myself.

Keallach came to my door with two guards a respectful distance behind him. His green eyes flicked down to my bare toes and back up, but he said nothing about the rejected gown. “Hungry?” he asked.

“I could eat,” I admitted, while inside my stomach screamed
famished
.

He offered his arm but I elected to walk beside him, hands clasped behind my back. We strolled to the back of the ship where a table for two had been set up. Keallach pulled out a
chair for me and gestured to it. I sat, my eyes hungrily taking in the bounty before me. An egg dish of some sort. Delicious baked goods, golden and laden with fat. Fruit, like I’d mostly seen in books. Berries, grapes, melons. I didn’t wait for him to offer — I loaded my plate with some of everything, my mouth watering. It had been a day and a half since I’d eaten with the Aravanders.

Keallach slowly took his own much smaller portion, watching me with delight as I shoved one forkful after another in my mouth. “Easy, Andriana. We can always order more if we run out.”

I considered him. Nowhere, even at the Citadel, was food in such ready supply that one of us might say the same thing. Obviously there were additional stores in places where the Community resided, but no one would be so cavalier in referring to food. It was a commodity. Every village and city carefully monitored their foodstores. But apparently this wasn’t the way in Pacifica.

I gasped as I bit into a piece of fruit, its tart-sweet glory sliding over my tongue. “What is this?” I asked, mouth full, lifting the fork.

Keallach smiled and leaned forward on the table and casually picked up a cup full of steaming hot coffee. “Pineapple,” he said, a gleam in his eyes. “We just established a trade route out to the islands. And down south. Both are eager to trade pineapple for grain.”

I lifted one of the light and flaky baked pastries. “Pacifica has been successful in harvesting grain?”

“In certain sectors,” he said, taking one himself. “If our weather trends keep on the same track, we’ll do even better next harvest. We may have enough for trade with the Union.”

I ignored the fact that they’d traded with foreign lands rather than us this harvest and bit into the pastry. Again, it was a taste explosion. Rich and yet light at the same time. After months of camp and trail food — porridge, soup, unleavened bread — I thought maybe I’d want to stay at this table forever. And then I had a hard time swallowing, feeling guilty and traitorous as I thought of the other Remnants and Knights out there somewhere, probably hunting or fishing for their food this morning. I reached for the glass and took a quick swallow of clean, fresh water.

We were heading south, it appeared, following the coastline just outside of the waves crashing toward shore. I considered a dive off the deck — an attempt to make it to shore — but here, there was nothing but wild hills and scrubby trees and brush. Keallach’s men would easily find and recapture me, even if I made it to shore.

“After the Great War, when so much was flooded,” Keallach said, following my gaze, “many of the old cities were lost to the sea, and what had once been desert became farmable land. In a way, it worked to our advantage, as we began to irrigate and sow seeds.” He gave me a wry smile. “No buildings to remove in order to plant the crops.”

I frowned, thinking of the millions of people who had lost their lives during those harshest of years.

“Forgive me,” he said, wiping his mouth with a thick napkin, like one I belatedly saw beside my own plate. “That sounded cavalier. I suppose I feel that we have to see blessings wherever we can find them in this day and age.”

“That’s true,” I allowed, taking another bite of the pastry.

He sat back in his chair. “So tell me, Andriana. What will it take for me to obtain an armband?”

I gave him a small smile. “Leave Pacifica, pledge your loyalty to the Maker, and join us.”

“Ahh,” he said, sipping his coffee. “Such minor demands.”

I started to reach up to touch my cuff, conscious of it now. It was neutral. “The Sheolites are gone?”

“Who?”

“Sethos and his men. Are they traveling by separate boat or something?”

“Actually,” he said, eyes narrowing, “they are. They are in search of any remaining Ailith or Aravander.”

“To kill them?”

“To capture them.”

I popped two berries in my mouth and reached out to try and search him. There was only a sense of ease, as well as curiosity, within him. He wasn’t lying to me. In fact, he’d given me a very direct answer.

He stretched out his arms. “Find anything objectionable within me, Empath?”

“Not at the moment,” I said, barely covering my surprise. I put two more small blueberries in my mouth. “Is it that obvious?”

“No,” he said, with an easy smile. “You simply get a very intent look in your eye. Your pupils dilate a bit.”

“Truly?” I remembered Chaza’el, when he was receiving a vision, and how his irises disappeared.

“Truly.”

I shifted my eyes from him, feeling somehow exposed. “So . . .” I said, taking a forkful of the egg dish. “What about your gifting?”

He considered me. Then he lifted his hand, concentrated
on the table, and swished his fingers to one side. My napkin fell to the floor.

“So it’s true. You can move inanimate objects.” I bent down and retrieved the napkin.

“As well as the animate,” he said, looking again at the table. Without touching it, he slid the basket of pastry toward me and then shrugged. “Not quite as impressive as a command of the weather, right?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Moving objects is pretty amazing.”

He gave me a catlike smile and leaned back in his chair again. “It does help keep my men in line, on occasion.” He gestured to my cuff. “But I’d like to see what I could do with one of those.”

“It’s not only the armband,” I said. “It’s the ceremony. You don’t get one without the other. And I’ve already told you what it will take to get either.”

He smiled and lifted his hands. “Right. Just give up being emperor.”

“No,” I said, leaning forward and dropping the pastry on my plate. “Give up a role that wasn’t ever yours alone and rejoin the Community you were born for.”

He let out a huff of a laugh. “Such easy words of treason you drop, friend. Just wait until you see what Pacifica has to offer. It may change your perspective.”

“That’s unlikely.”

“Give me a few weeks, Andriana. I think you’ll be surprised.”

I tried to absorb his reference to “a few weeks” without reacting. “And then?” I asked casually. “You’ll let me go?”

His lips closed and he studied me a moment, then fiddled with his knife. “That remains to be seen.”

“Why?”

“Because you and yours pose a certain threat to my goals.”

“So I am to be your prisoner.”

“My
guest
,” he said.

It was my turn to laugh. “Are you truly that delusional?”

“It’s not delusion,” he said, and I felt a wave of irritation from him, then a darkness that made my mouth go dry. “It’s perspective. I could’ve taken you prisoner, Andriana. I could be bringing you to Pacifica in chains. Utilized your presence in far more nefarious ways. But you are my friend.” His face softened, the longing and loneliness within surfacing. “At least I hope you shall be.”

“I am your friend, Keallach. Your sister,” I added. “And I will give you the chance to show me the glories of Pacifica if you give me the chance to convince you that you are far from home.”

He rose, slowly, and so did I. “So we have a deal? We each have a few weeks to convince each other of what we hold as truth?” He reached out a hand.

“We have a deal,” I said, taking his hand in mine. And as he touched me, I pushed feelings of connection and conviction.

He dropped my hand as if it was hot, and then smiled. “Oh, that is not fair, Remnant. Not fair at all.”

It felt odd to enter the harbor again and tie up alongside the weathered planks of the pier — the same pier where the Ailith had stolen aboard the
Far North
. Pangs of longing for them swept through me, and I actually paused a moment, trying to catch my breath. Where were they? Were they all well? Killian had taken a terrible blow in that fight. What if —? I forced
myself to continue on, pushing away the awful thought of Killian dying.