Remnants: Season of Fire (25 page)

His face was utterly still for a moment. “It has been a very long time since I considered the Maker capable of anything.”

“Is he not the creator of all that lives and breathes?” Kapriel asked.

“I don’t know.” Sesille lifted his chin. “There are a few brats around this camp that were probably my doing,” he added, giving Kapriel a gap-toothed grin.

“But it was the Maker who gave you the capability to beget those children,” Kapriel returned, without missing a beat. “It is the Maker who commands the wind.” He raised a hand, and a breeze swept through the trees around us, sending capes swinging and hats off heads. “It is the Maker who brings the rain.” He lifted both hands now. Above us, the scant clouds began to gather and darken. A woman cried out, fully weeping in terror. Everyone else stood stock still, staring upward. The cloud bank billowed, swirled, grew darker, and then with a wave from Kapriel, rain fell gently down upon us.

People gasped and cried out. Some fell to their knees.

Sesille lifted a hand to his cheek, wiped the rain from it, and then rubbed his fingers back and forth, mouth agape in wonder. “Who are you?” he asked, his brows now crooked with a combination of fear and hope.

“We are people of the Way,” Kapriel said. “The prophesied Remnants and our knights, as well as others who know the truth,” he looked around at the Aravanders, at Azarel, Asher, and Niero. “We were hoping that you and yours will be the next to know it.”

Sesille nodded slowly and sank to his knees, his face lighter and softer with the wonder that settled in. “The prophesy. I didn’t believe it,” he said, his nod turning to a
shake of his head. “I thought it a word for the old ones. Not for us.”

“It is for all,” Tressa said. “Old and new. The Maker invites us all. But right now, he wishes for you to be healed. Do you believe?”

It was raining hard now, the water carving rivulets through the sandy soil.

Sesille turned his face up to her. “I believe,” he said solemnly.

She knelt before him, bending to pick up two handfuls of the mud beside them. “Sesille of the Desert,” she said, “long have you wandered. But today, you take your first steps along the Way. The Maker has seen you and chosen you. Today, he gives you eyes to see too.”

The rest of us fell into silent or whispered utterances of prayer as she wiped mud across Sesille’s closed eyes. I’d seen her heal a room full of patients stricken with the Cancer. I’d seen her straighten the goatherd’s crippled foot. I’d seen her seal Killian’s would. But it was as if I’d forgotten it all as I felt the Maker draw closer, the hairs on the back of my neck and arms lifting in anticipation.

Gently, Tressa lifted Sesille’s face to the pounding rain, praying as it washed away the mud bit by bit. We all stood there, spellbound, ignoring the fact that our clothes were becoming drenched. When the last of the mud disappeared from Sesille’s face, Kapriel lifted his palms and the torrent of rain slowed to a drizzle, then completely stopped. Still, Tressa prayed. Kapriel made a gesture and the clouds above us divided.

We all held our breath as Tressa released the Drifter’s leader.

His head bowed and he blinked several times.

Then Sesille laughed, coughed, sputtered . . . his hands turning slowly before his face.

“I can see,” he said slowly. “I can see!” he shouted. He reached for Tressa as he rose, lifting her in his arms. Killian had moved to intercede, but Niero stopped him, gesturing toward the Drifter chieftain as he turned her in a joyous circle, celebrating, not intending her any sort of harm. “Praise the Maker!” Sesille shouted. “I can see! I can see!”

“Praise the Maker!” cried the others around us. “Praise the Maker! The Remnants have come!”

CHAPTER
21

ANDRIANA

W
hen I’d calmed down later and tried the door, I found it unlocked, and the guards that had been there were gone. Keallach was trusting me, at least to stay within the confines he’d dictated in the palace. But if I could get to other rooms, other doors, other stairwells, might I not find a way out of the palace itself? It would be wise to seize the opportunity, in case things with Keallach took a bad turn. Today — well, today had scared me. Somehow, he was drawing me in as much as I sought to draw him away. And he wasn’t consistent. One moment my brother, yearning to connect, the next moment entirely the emperor, irritated that I might not do everything he demanded.

I exited my room and quietly shut the door. No guards hovered in doorways nearby and no one appeared. I peered down the hall and gaped upward. Three crystal chandeliers had
glowing bulbs on their many stems, and distantly I recalled the word — electricity. The light reflected on the shiny, dark marble floor and papered walls, and I marveled at it. What would it be like to have light anytime you wished to have it? In the bedrooms — at least mine — there were only gas lamps and candles, but in the public spaces, the palace appeared to be fully wired.

To my left, at the end of the hall, was a doorway that I supposed would lead to a servants’ staircase. To my right, in the distance, I could hear voices rising and falling. An argument? I was torn between my desire to find out who was there and what they were talking about and my need to figure out an escape route. I chose the stairwell. There’d be time enough for intrigue; there might not be ample time to figure a way out.

Sucking in my breath, I entered the stairwell and curved down it, rushing past the second floor and down to the first, assuming that’d be the best place to find an exit. My heart leaped with hope until I rounded the final curve and saw two guards in gray uniforms, who each quickly rose when they saw me.

“Good evening, miss,” said one, bending his head in a slight bow. “Is there something you need help with?”

“No, no, I, uh . . . I seem to have become lost.” I noted the barricaded door behind them.
My way out . . .

The two shared a knowing look and then glanced to me. “The captain said you’re not to go past the second floor. Anywhere on the second or third is all right, but not down here. So if you want, you can go up one floor. That’s where you’ll find a library and sitting room. Or go back up to the third, and you’ll be on your floor again.”

“Oh, right, right,” I said, feigning relief, knowing they
knew I lied. I turned and scurried up the stairs with the irrational fear that they might decide to chase me back up to my quarters.

I made myself pause at the second floor door. If I couldn’t flee, might I discover something else that would prove useful in time? Carefully, I opened the door. It was with some relief that I saw that this hall too was empty, but I also could hear ghostly voices, ringing in echoes and then fading. Whoever they were, they were closer on this floor. With a glance downstairs to make sure the guards did not follow me up to see where I went, I slipped through the door and padded down the hall, the marble beneath my feet cold and smooth, the voices growing steadily louder. Two guards stood at the far end of the hall, near the main staircase, but their backs were to me. They nudged each other and laughed, chatting, clearly absorbed in their own conversation.

As I stole closer to the room with the arguing men, I knew that Sethos had to be one of them.

So he was back. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to take another step forward, hovering near the shut door, and not flee.

“You hurt her, Sethos,” Keallach was saying, his voice carrying easily across the marble floor and beneath the crack at the bottom of the door. I crouched, in order to hear better. “Left her for days in that room, her wounds unattended! Had not Max discovered her —”

“She would have been fine. I merely meant to show her that she could not behave like a rebel in your court. If you insist on her presence, I must insist on respectful behavior.”

“And what could she have possibly done that would warrant such a response?”

Sethos paused. “She
bit
me, your highness. And the girl has
been as thoroughly trained as you yourself were. She’s hardly a Pacifican flower, incapable of self-defense.”

“And you are more than capable of taking her into custody if she proves to be . . . unwieldy. I do not want you to harm her again. Do you understand me?”

Sethos said nothing for a long moment, then begrudgingly, “Agreed, Highness, unless she gives me no other choice. That is all I can promise.”

Keallach paused, and I could feel the tension between them from where I stood.
Good
, I thought.
Perhaps I can divide them.
It had to be done if I was to have any true chance to turn Keallach back toward the Way.

Their voices dropped to an undertone and I leaned against the door, in order to hear better. “Does your agitation not stem from a deeper draw toward Andriana, perhaps?” Sethos asked.

I froze, my back to the wall, my pulse thundering in my ears.

“You have become far too familiar, Sethos,” Keallach said icily.

The other man was silent a moment. “I do not understand why you cannot find another way to resolve your past . . . issues. The Ailith bond has been broken. You cannot reestablish it.”

“I don’t believe that. I feel it still. So does Andriana. I know she does! The Six concur with me — if there is a way for me to reunite with my kin, it will be all the easier to build the empire. Together, we would embody the foretold. Who would come against us?”

My mind raced. So he was thinking of joining us? Or using us?

“And yet the Ailith think of me as a mortal enemy,” Sethos said carefully. “How do you see that resolved?”

Keallach paused. “I’ll help them understand in time. We
did what we had to. The most important thing is moving forward from here.”

“And you believe,” Sethos said slowly, “that Kapriel will come to understand that too?”

Keallach’s voice was tight. “I don’t care for your mocking.”

“I don’t intend to mock, Highness, only to be . . . pragmatic. This is not something we can simply hope for. Every step must be strategic. Planned.”

“Yes, well, not everything in life can be planned, Sethos. Listen, it is enough for tonight. We can resume this conversation in the morning.”

My heart stopped as I realized they were ending their conversation, and I turned to tiptoe away, freezing when I heard Keallach’s boot heels clicking across the marble, coming closer, and the door swinging open with a complaining creak. When he didn’t pause or come after me, I dared to look over my shoulder and took a breath. Keallach was walking away, apparently having missed me there, in the opposite direction, toward the central staircase. How could he not have sensed me? His head was bent, as if in deep thought. Maybe he was too distracted —

But what came next was worse. Sethos stepped forward, looking after his master. Then his nostrils flared and he slowly turned toward me. He glanced back, obviously waiting for Keallach to clear the hallway, the guards following their monarch, then strode toward me. I tried to flee but he wrapped an arm around me and roughly pulled me back against him, covering my mouth with one hand. “Did you hear quite enough?” he whispered in my ear. He practically picked me up and rushed me to the servants’ stairwell at the far end of the hall, the one I’d used. I struggled against him, but he was too
strong, his arms like a vise. Once we were through the door, he released me and allowed me to face him.

“Listen to me well, now, Remnant. If you wish to survive, you will not plant any more seeds of discontent in Keallach’s mind. And if you won’t do it for your own survival, do it for those you love.”

I stilled, immediately thinking of Ronan. Had they . . . captured him? It wasn’t possible. He would’ve died fighting them.

But then my breath caught. He would’ve done anything to try and free me, if he’d seen me taken . . .

Sethos laughed under his breath. “Ahh, yes. I know the ways of your heart, Andriana. Your strengths as well as your weaknesses. And if you don’t think I’ll lean hard on those weaknesses, if necessary, then you know nothing. Act against me, and your loved ones shall suffer, and in turn, you shall know the most exquisite suffering of your life.”

Loved ones.
Who else was he talking about, besides Ronan? Had they captured others?

“You lie,” I said desperately. “You hold no one that I love.”

“Are you certain?” he asked drily, lifting one brow. He grabbed hold of my arm again and dragged me up the stairs down the next hall to my room, opening the door with such force that it slammed against the wall. He tossed me inside and I went to my knees. I lifted my face, furious, longing to lash out at him again.

“Stay here, in your room,” he said, pointing at me and then around the room. “No matter what the emperor has told you, these walls are the full extent of your freedom in the palace. If I find you outside this room again, those you love will suffer the consequences.”

“You lie! I don’t believe you captured anyone but me.”

“Is that a risk you care to take?” he asked. “Cross me, and I’ll take out my wrath on those within the dungeon’s keep.”

I switched tactics. “Keallach will wonder what is wrong with me, if I stay here. And I’ll have to tell him you have limited my freedom.”

That seemed to make Sethos take pause.

“You like to read, yes?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “There is a vast library at the very start of the second floor, directly beside the staircase we just came up. You may spend your days there, reading novels or whatnot. Or here, in your room. Nowhere else unless you are in my company or the emperor’s.” His eyes narrowed. “Have I been clear?”

But he didn’t wait for a response. He took a deep breath, straightened his tunic, and then calmly walked to the door. He gave me a tiny smile, as if nothing had happened at all, and bowed his head slightly. “Good night, Andriana. Sleep well.”

With that, he left me to close the door. I waited until I could not hear his boots across the marble floors of the hallway, then I raced to the door, slammed it, and leaned my back against it, as if I could bodily keep him from ever entering again. Then I lifted my eyes to the high ceiling and muttered, “What now, Maker? What would you have me do?”