Season of Glory (33 page)

Keallach turned to me. “Andriana can testify to it too. What Sethos and the Council
are like. The lengths they're willing to go to press their way.”

Startled at him calling me out, I stared back into his eyes. They covered me: warm,
concerned, apologetic . . . and oddly intimate. I felt Ronan tense beside me. I frowned
at Keallach in confusion. But the people all looked to me now, waiting for me to
speak.

I rose on trembling legs. “I do know the enemy we face, from firsthand experience.
Sethos will not stop until he sees his vision complete. They were willing to kill
my mother and
father before my eyes in order to make me . . .” I paused, looking
again to Keallach and feeling Ronan's tension rise. “In order to force me to do what
they wanted. They cannot be allowed to continue to rule. We must take back the Pacifican
throne for the people of the Way. It was the Maker's desire to see Keallach and Kapriel
on the throne there, not Sethos. But first,” I said, looking to each of the other
Ailith, “I think there's one more outpost that needs to be claimed for the Trading
Union. They will help support us and lend us people for the fight to come.”

Every one of them returned my gaze, with understanding. If we were stronger because
of Zanzibar's support, what would we be if we took Georgii Post?

Kapriel looked to Keallach in wonder. “She's right. She's absolutely right.”

Kapriel's expression of brotherly love and admiration as he turned back to me made
me smile. But Keallach . . . his expression took me back to Palace Pacifica, when
he was in full pursuit of me. I blushed and glanced at Ronan in confusion.

Thankfully, the room was a mass of chatter and cheering and debate.

Except for my husband. Only he looked dark and frustrated in the midst of the swelling
joy about us.

CHAPTER
31

RONAN

K
eallach met my gaze as he exited, clearly inviting me into the discussion he knew
we
had
to have. “Wait here for me, Dri,” I said. “I'll return for you.”

I didn't wait for her assent, only followed him out the door and down the hall to
a secluded alcove. He turned around, and I studied his face in the dancing light
and deep shadows of the torch behind me. “You are angry that I made Dri speak?” he
asked.

“No! Well, yes! More how you were looking at her in there,” I said in a harsh whisper,
shaking my head. “What was
that
about, Keallach?

He frowned and looked genuinely surprised. “What do you mean?”

“You were looking at her like you did in Wadi Qelt. Like I'm sure you did in Palace
Pacifica,” I said, edging closer to him. “Like you
wanted
her. She felt it too.”

He lifted his brows in shock and then frowned. “There are things that Dri experienced
in Pacifica that only she and I remember, because she and I were the only ones who
experienced them.” He cocked his head. “I'm sorry, brother, if I looked upon her
with anything but sisterly affection. Memories of those days bring up old feelings
for me. And seeing her speak so boldly … Perhaps you were only sensing my old admiration?”

I clenched my fists. His words and tone were innocent and apologetic, but there was
something beneath them. Did he toy with me? “Perhaps,” I said shortly. “But in that
place, in those memories, lies a danger. For both of you.”

He nodded, as if letting my words sink in. I frowned.

“Dangerous, yes,” he said. Was that a tiny quirk of a smile?

“There is no need to bait him, Keallach,” Niero said, surprising us both.

Keallach turned his head sharply, as did I. The man was sitting on the edge of the
wall, casually leaning back against the cliff, as if giving no care to the precipitous
drop on the other side. But given that he was an angel …

“This is between us, Niero,” I said.

“I thought it best if there was a third present,” he said to us. “You two have done
remarkably well together. I want to see it continue.”

“It matters not to me who listens,” Keallach said with a slight shrug. “I have nothing
to hide.” He had regained his innocent expression, but I couldn't help feeling that
there was something just below the surface.

“I think there is something yet that you hide,” I said.

He didn't move as I got closer to him with each word. “I think that as you have gradually
come into power of a sort again, it brings back feelings and thoughts of Andriana
by your side as a mate. But she is
my
wife, Keallach.”

“Your handfasted wife,” he said casually, running his fingertips over the stone.
“As I understand it,” he said carefully, “you have not yet become . . . of one flesh.
Nor shall you until your second decade.”

My eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening to intervene?” I asked, taking fistfuls of
his tunic in my hands.

“Ronan,” Niero said.

With a sigh, I dropped my hands from Keallach.

“I am simply clarifying facts,” Keallach said, crossing his arms. “And while you
seem to imply that I am overstepping my claim in taking any form of power in leading
the Remnants, perhaps you yourself have made undue claims upon Andriana's future.
There is a reason the Community urges us to wait until our second decade to exchange
our vows, right? It gives us all time to really weigh our decisions. Consider other
. . . options.”

Niero was beside us then, sensing my gathering rage, even while Keallach looked as
if he'd barely noticed it, going on and on in his irritatingly reasonable tone.

“In the eyes of the Maker,” Niero said, “Ronan and Andriana are one. Their vows were
spoken from the heart and will be consummated upon their second decade, in keeping
with the Valley custom.”

I narrowed my eyes at Keallach. “Our vows are something that only Dri and I can truly
remember, because in that moment, it was as if we were the only two present. Just
as we will be present again, five seasons hence.”

“Clearly, you share an enviable love,” Keallach said, ignoring my jibe. He let out
a huff of a laugh and stepped away from me, brushing out his tunic and pulling his
robe back over his shoulders. “Come now, brother, let's get past that, shall we?
You won the girl, and I'll admit it chafes at me once in a while, but I'll get over
it. We have bigger things to worry about.”

I crossed my arms. “Yes, we do. But I am Andriana's protector. And if you are thinking
about pursuing her again, manipulating her—”

“
Manipulating
her?” he cried, offended. Then realization struck him. “You mean as
I did in Pacifica, using the low gifts.”

I drew in a breath and pulled up short. “Yes.”

“Ronan,” he said, “I was not in my right mind when that happened. I had allowed
Sethos . . .” He looked to the night-covered valley again, as if recalling a troubling
memory. “I was far from the path,” he went on, looking to me again, and then to Niero.
“But I am no longer. Thanks to the Ailith, I am where I belong, and I will not lead
Andriana—or anyone else—anywhere I don't truly think they should go.”

I took a breath, relieved that he seemed to be coming back to himself, the Keallach
we'd accepted as brother. But still I stared at him, taking his measure, within,
thinking over his words.
Anywhere I don't truly think they should go . . .
But what
if he thought Andriana should go with him, to Pacifica?

But surely he was beyond that. Well beyond that.

“I admit it, brother. I wronged you and Andriana,” he went on. “But I don't intend
to repeat that in the future. I swear it.” He reached out an arm. “Now can we set
this behind us, once and for all?”

“If you agree to not pursue Andriana as anything but a friend, this won't be an issue
again.”

“Agreed,” he said, and I took his arm.

“Good. Thank you.” He glanced at us both. “So we're good? Nothing else to resolve?”

“For now,” Niero said, dark eyes sliding over him.

“All right. Good night.” He turned and left us.

“Good night,” Niero said. I remained silent. A farewell felt … too kind.

I walked to the wall and leaned heavily against it, looking out. Niero remained,
waiting me out. “It is one thing,” he said, setting one foot to swinging casually,
“to allow Keallach into the Ailith fold.” He looked to me. “It is another to allow
a brother to enter one's heart.”

I sighed and turned to lean my back against an archway, folding my arms again. “Is
it the guardian in me that keeps me from doing so? I confess that I seem to be struggling
with letting past sins stay in the past, when the others seem to have accepted him
wholeheartedly. Even Kapriel. And I know that is the Maker's way.”

“It is,” he said gently, then peered upward. “But the Maker still intends for us
to be wise. And the Remnant with the gift of wisdom never made it to our fold.”

I considered his words. “What would you advise, then?”

“Take Keallach at face value now. He was made new the day he turned from Sethos,
took his vows, and accepted the cuff. We must treat him as such. But . . .” His words
faded as he frowned.

“But?”

“But just as Dri's window to the soul was once open to the dark, so was Keallach's,
for a far greater length of time. We shall watch him, together, with eyes and hearts
that refuse ignorance.”

I nodded. “Agreed. Though I don't anticipate it being easy.”

“Nothing worthwhile ever is, Knight,” he said. He hopped off of the wall and paused
beside me to put a hand on my shoulder. “Rest easy about Dri, though. She is yours,
through and through. She loves you. She always has. Don't let jealousy cloud that.”

CHAPTER
32

ANDRIANA

S
o, we head to Georgii Post,” Tressa said the next morning, looking around at the
rest
of
us. We had all been fairly quiet around the table, even as the rest of the dining
hall remained boisterous and loud with laughter and bickering and cheers and jeers
alike. Dimly, I realized I'd become accustomed to the din. It comforted me, especially
when facing such dark ideas as wading into an unfriendly city again.

“We were sent to Zanzibar,” Killian said, taking a swig from his ceramic cup. “It
couldn't be any worse than that.”

We all nodded, knowing he spoke the truth. If the Maker sent us, we would go. And
he'd planted this new goal in each of our minds at the same time, even if I'd been
the one to voice it. But we'd lost Chaza'el since we went to Zanzibar, and nearly
lost Vidar too. We knew we were divinely appointed, but not immortal. And the last
time we'd been at Georgii Post, there
had been Sheolites and Pacifican guards in
every direction. It didn't exactly bring up fond memories.

“The Maker gives you not a spirit of fear,” Ivar said from his seat across the table
from me. “Only hope. Only confidence.”

Again, we all nodded.

There was a commotion at the dining hall doorway as some newcomers arrived. Sesille,
the once-blind Drifter chief, was at the front of them. They approached us, he and
four others, with excitement on each of their faces.

“Sesille, my friend,” Kapriel said, turning to take his arm in greeting. “What word
do you bring us?”

“We've been to Castle Vega and back, my prince,” said the barrel-chested man. “And
the gates to the city were closed. Word about the castle is that there is chaos within
because of what is happening in Pacifica herself.”

“And that is . . .” Keallach led, stepping beside his brother.

“There is infighting as bad as in any Drifter tribe,” he said, with some satisfaction.
“Noble against noble. Citizen against citizen. Some have called for Keallach to be
reinstated, and they were immediately killed. Those who try and leave Pacifica, to
come to the Trading Union, cannot go without special papers now. The Pacificans are
fully occupied with maintaining peace at home.”

“Which is why they haven't returned to come after us,” Keallach said, chin in hand.

“They are crumbling from within,” Azarel said, eyes round with amazement.

“Indeed,” Keallach said, taking a couple of steps and then turning, excitement practically
sparking from him. “So we know we are to begin in Georgii Post, but why stop there
when the enemy is weak? Why not go from there to Castle Vega?”

We all turned to look at him.

“If we are successful at Georgii Post, we could build on our momentum,” he said.
“People would follow us, help us.”

Vidar was the first to speak. “If Pacifican soldiers were measured in grains of sand,
the number in Georgii Post would represent enough to chafe in the shoe, but Castle
Vega would represent an entire dune. It's practically Pacifica itself.”

“Which would be a good place to declare ourselves,” Kapriel said quietly, rising.
“Pacifica, and yet not.” His eyes sparkled. He'd gained some weight and more color
in his cheeks over these last weeks, looking more and more like his twin.

“Or the worst place possible,” Niero said. “Do not go unless the Maker calls you
to it, because as much as it would be a symbolic triumph for people of the Way,
it could become a death trap for you. Only the Maker can lead you to such a decision.”

“But if he
did
,” Keallach said, eyes glinting, “then it would be an excellent stepping
stone into Pacifica. What Sesille describes is civil unrest. The people are afraid,
confused. What I want to spark is spiritual unrest.”

Niero frowned. “Meaning?”

“Unrest for all the right reasons,” Keallach said, lifting his hands. “I know people
in Castle Vega. Many people. If we were able to persuade some in the castle to abandon
the trappings of their lives and join us, if they never returned, more behind the
Wall in Pacifica would hear of it and begin to wonder what we offer that Sethos cannot.
Don't you see? They would contemplate their own lives, their present, their future,
possibly for the very first time, allowing the Maker to begin to work.”