Remnants: Season of Fire (19 page)

I was escorted off the ship, but not in chains. Keallach again offered his arm, at the bottom of the gangplank. I cast him a curious look. “I’m more than capable, Keallach, you know, of
walking
.”

He rolled his eyes and lifted his hands. “Is it so awful? To bring back some formal traditions? I think you’ll see that it’s a benefit of Pacifica. In a world gone mad, often degraded to its worst possible common denominator, you’ll find that Pacifica is remarkably genteel.”

He again offered his arm, and with a sigh, I slipped a hand through the crook of it. I wasn’t entirely certain of all he’d just said or meant, but I got the gist. He thought a lot of his country; he was proud of it.

We’ll see.

But I’d promised Keallach I’d give him the chance to show me the golden side of Pacifica. Perhaps I was making all my decisions based on preconceived ideas. I’d give him a chance, just as I hoped he would give me the same. If we could somehow meet in the middle, if I could bring him back to the Remnants, see his complete gifting unfold, who could stop us?

I was not outside of the reach of the Maker. He was here, with me, just as he was with me in Wadi Qelt, or Castle Vega, or Georgii Post, or with the Drifters, or back home in the Valley. I either believed it or I didn’t.

And I believed.

My pulse picked up. Had the Maker brought me here, into Keallach’s confidence and inner circle, so that I might bring my lost brother home? Bring him to a point of reconciliation and wholeness?

“What is it?” Keallach asked, looking at me with a secretive smile.

I realized I had to be casting hope and joy toward him, without even meaning to. “Oh! Sorry!”

“For what?” he said, putting his other hand over mine. “Don’t apologize for that. You can send me those feelings all day long.”

We kept walking away from the wharf to a nearby street, where five identical, sleek black cars were waiting. But I slowed as I sensed who was waiting for us even before I could make out who it was.
Sethos.

Keallach’s smile faded as he felt my reluctant pace. “It’ll be all right. I shall see you are safe, Andriana.”

But it didn’t matter what he said. Around the Sheolites, I felt nothing but cold dread, in tandem with my armband. I longed for my lost sword or my confiscated daggers. To be armed around men such as these left me feeling more than a little wary.

We stopped a few steps away from Sethos and four Sheolite guards.

“Highness,” he began. “I’m afraid I have distressing news. May I have a word with you?”

Keallach gestured toward a car, and one of the Sheolites obediently opened the door. “Wait for me in here,” he said to me. “I’ll be only a minute.”

I had little choice. I stepped inside and slipped back into the wide seat. The guard closed the door, and all sound from outside was blocked, keeping me from eavesdropping. I looked around.

The fabric of the seat beneath me was smooth and cool to touch. I realized the engine was running and frigid air was emerging from tiny vents alongside me. I lifted a hand to it,
wondering over the coolness. The windows were dark, shielding me from the sun, and ahead I could see the silhouette of a driver behind another dark glass. So much shading . . . because Pacifica had so much sun? Truly, I doubted I’d experienced as much sun in all my collective Harvest seasons. Did this place even experience Hoarfrost? I knew Keallach had his Winter Palace, but was that a nod to tradition or born out of a true need?

Just the thought of all the sun made me thirsty. To my left was a crystal decanter, full of amber liquid, and glasses. To my right was a matching pitcher, full of water so cool it was sweating on the outside, sending droplets sliding down its smooth face. I eagerly poured a goblet full, drank it down, and then another.

I looked outside to where Keallach was talking to Sethos. Keallach had his hands on his hips, head down, listening as Sethos continued to talk, gesturing with one hand, palm half up. So he wasn’t demanding something of Keallach, he was asking.
Interesting . . .

Keallach turned to look at me, then back to Sethos. I sank down in my seat, feeling embarrassed that he’d caught me watching. It made me feel childish. A moment later he came over, opened the door and peered in. “Listen, I have to go away for a few days. I know it’s poor timing, but there are some things that only I can resolve. You’ll be taken to my palace and shown to your guest quarters. Every need will be met. Rest. Eat. I’ll join you as soon as I can.”

“No, Keallach!” I cried, but he was already shutting the door. A Sheolite leaned down and talked through an open window to my driver and glanced back at me, a small smile tugging at his lips. Cold fear rippled through me.

The car pulled out, with another behind it. Guards? I couldn’t see anyone but the driver, but I doubted they’d send a Remnant to Keallach’s palace without a good number of guards.

Keallach moved toward the third vehicle, but he watched as we drove away.

Sethos was no longer in view.

And I realized that if I’d ever felt alone before, I’d been mistaken.

CHAPTER
17

ANDRIANA

I
exited the car, ignoring the driver’s offered hand, and glanced around. We were in a clean courtyard with a luxurious building rising eight stories all around me. Everything was pristine, white marble and lush, flowering vines . . . oddly screaming
life
while my armband was tolling
death
.

I turned to face the sorcerer. “So you managed to separate me from Keallach. Do you think you can do that forever?”

His full lips curved up in pleasure. “Ah, there is the fight in you I so enjoy. We shall have such a lovely few days together before the emperor returns to us.” He reached out as if to caress my cheek, and without thinking, I bit him. But I didn’t just bite down and release him; I bit down and held until I tasted blood in my mouth, choking on it, but refusing to let go as he shrieked. I pummeled him with my fists, going for his kidneys.

He bashed at me with his left hand in a frenzy, striking my jaw, my eye, the edge of my nose, but still I stubbornly held on.

And then someone rammed me on the back of the head.

My vision swam. My jaw grew slack. Then . . . nothing.

I awakened in a bedroom. To my relief, I could tell that for once I’d been left in the clothes in which I’d arrived.

I sat up, looking around, straining my good eye in the dark to see where I was, who was with me. “H-hello?” I called out. But no one responded. I heard nothing but the feel of yawning, cold space all around me. No other person breathing. After months in the constant company of others — and always with Ronan — the silence unnerved me as nothing else might. I pushed back and back until I leaned against the headboard, comforted by the knowledge that at least no one was behind me.

My head ached. It throbbed in back from where I’d been struck and from the front where Sethos had beaten me. My left eye was swollen, and I realized it hurt too. I let my head lean backward until it pressed against carved wood and reached up to gently probe my face.

A split at my lip and the edge of my eye, wounds that would likely leave scars if left untreated. I wished Tressa was here, tending to me. She’d have foxglove in her basket of herbs for my aches and others to mix with healing oils she’d lather on the cuts once they were cleaned. I sighed and rubbed my arms, trying to get my mind off my pains and this desperate turn of events.

For as high as I had felt a couple days ago — in the midst of the Aravanders, seeing the Maker’s power flow through me and the other Ailith and into Kapriel — I felt just as low today.

From found . . . to lost. From invincible . . . to weak.

I knew he approached before I heard a sound. The chill in my cuff grew until it hurt almost as much as any other pain in my body. Then I heard the metallic scrape and click of a key in a lock, the creak of a massive, thick wooden door opening and closing. I refused to look at him. The warm light of a lamp held by the man filled the room, and I could see I was in a luxurious chamber indeed: the walls covered in elaborate paper and crowned with thick moldings, the marble floors covered by thick, finely woven rugs.

“Go away, Sethos,” I muttered wearily, not looking at him. Even his presence seemed to make me hurt more.

He turned and placed the lamp on a table beside him. “Do you not wish to have some food? Some tea? A healer to tend your wounds?”

“I want nothing from you.”

“Come now. This can be so simple. All I ask is a bit of information.”

My eyes slipped down to his hand and I didn’t bother to hide my smile. The bandage that covered his palm felt like a medal on my chest for at least trying to fight my capture.

His dark eyes followed mine and then narrowed. “Take pride where you can, Remnant. It will be the last time you harm me.”

“Oh, I hope not,” I said sweetly.

He sat down on the edge of the sprawling bed and leaned closer. I had to fight the urge to push away. “Perhaps you need another day here, alone, before we have this conversation.”

“Perhaps,” I returned.

We stared at each other for a long moment. “Very well,” he said, rising. “I’ll return tomorrow.” He moved toward the door, taking his lamp with him.

“Wait,” I said, before I could stop myself.

He turned partially back toward me and lifted a brow.

“When does Keallach return?”

“I fear his business will keep him away longer than he first thought,” he said, a tiny smile lifting the corners of his lips.

I refused to react or say more. Doing so only made me more vulnerable.

Sethos still stared at me. “I can allow you out of here. Give you time to walk the emperor’s gardens. See his library. Bathe in his amazing baths. Just tell me where the rest of the Ailith and Aravanders went.”

I ignored his request. “I’m here for Keallach. Not you.”

His gaze hardened. “There is some preparation that needs to be done before you and the emperor are . . . reunited.”

I frowned but clamped my lips shut. I didn’t like the unspoken menace in those words, in particular,
preparation
and
reunited
. What did they plan to do to me? And surely they didn’t think I had any romantic intent . . .

“You must be in far better order before you see the emperor,” he said. He sniffed and wrinkled his nose, as if he found the odors in the room offensive. “Bathe. Dress in proper Pacifican dress. Eat. Allow a healer to attend you. And then we’ll talk about you seeing his highness.”

“I’d rather be thrown into the dungeon,” I ground out.

“That can be arranged,” he said, then turned in a swirl of crimson fabric to leave, his boots making a distinct clipped step as he turned to go.

“Wait,” I said, hating the pathetic edge to my tone as I pushed back the covers and eased off the bed. He was ten paces away and paused, but did not turn. Ignoring the ache in my head, I concentrated on casting emotion toward him. Mercy. Care. Love.

He turned partially back to me, so that I could see the straight line of his nose, the curve of his chin in profile. And then I heard his soft, mocking laugh. “Your gift is of no use in this palace, against me, Remnant.” He lifted his hands. “It is a Sheolite outpost. So try all you might, little girl. But it will be for naught.”

With that, he left the room, closing the heavy door firmly behind him. I rushed toward it, my hand on the knob, when I heard the thick bolt slide shut outside. I tried to ignore the idea, but the door felt like a lid of a coffin, slamming closed.

Then I leaned my forehead against the wood and closed my eyes, feeling every beat of my racing heart in my temples, injured eye, and base of my head. “I’m a fool,” I muttered. Pride and anger had kept me from what Sethos would have likely offered — water and food, at the very least. Even if I hadn’t told him what he wanted to know.

I turned and moved to where I’d glimpsed what I thought might be a window, behind long, thick drapes. My groping hands found the far wall, and moving left, then the fabric. I pulled it aside, my heart thudding heavily with hope.

But my hope was short – lived. Thick glass covered the window — which appeared to not open — and outside, heavy wooden shutters and metal bars eradicated any dream I had of escape. I leaned my cheek against the glass and watched the dancing flame of the single candle in my cavernous room dance in its reflection. I wondered how this — me being here, injured and in the court of the enemy — could at all be a part of the Maker’s plan.

RONAN

Niero and I joined Tressa and Killian and made our way to the rendezvous point in what I came to find out was northeast
Pacifica, halfway between Chaza’el’s village and Wadi Qelt. Five Aravander men and one woman joined us, pledging their lives — and their bows and arrows — to protect us and help us see through our mission. “I don’t know if I feel relieved or more vulnerable with them with us,” I muttered to Niero.

“Dri would be able to tell you,” he said, casting me a mournful look.

I frowned. I didn’t need any additional reminders of Andriana. She was on my mind all day. I even dreamed of her at night.