A Burning in the Bones (Waxways #3)

Chapter 31 Ren Monroe

31 REN MONROE

Beacon House was not a house.

It had been once. Generations ago. The first Proctor ancestors to land in Kathor established themselves as the city’s greatest builders. No one else could match their skill. Naturally, the secret to their success was magic. It was discovered that the Proctors had hoarded three crucial spells—all to do with the chemical processes of connecting disparate materials—that had given them a massive advantage on their competitors. The other influential houses could hardly complain. After all, which of them had not done the same?

Guile Proctor built the first version of Beacon House. A gorgeous two-story stone building that was perfectly symmetrical. All ten of the front-facing windows were flanked by quaint wooden shutters. Guile’s oldest daughter was tasked with improving his perfect design, and she succeeded. She stripped away the stones from each of the front corners of the building and replaced them with sprawling glass windows. These ran in a diagonal line from the bottom corner to the midpoints of the roof. The design formed three flawless triangles. One of stone and two of glass. Occupants could sit in those sections of the house and look out over the entire city.

It went on like that through the generations. Each Proctor tasked with adding their own touches to the communal design. A series of glass bridges connected the original building with new additions. Below these walkways, idyllic courtyards were surrounded by still more expansions. The modern effect was a series of buildings that looked partially suspended in the air. The Proctors went on to donate the buildings as a permanent residence for the sitting viceroy. One of the many benefits that ensured the loyalty of Kathor’s public office to the great houses.

Ren and Theo strode through the main entrance. It was flanked by a pair of Brightsword paladins. The emblem on their chests always briefly reminded her of Devlin. Where had he ended up? She had no doubts he’d risen quickly through their ranks, but if these two paladins were any indication, Brightsword’s power had been reduced by the plague. Both were lightless. The veins of bright magic that normally ran through their weapons or their armor had all been snuffed out.

Another set of paladins escorted them through a wide hallway that fed into an even wider sitting room. Ren paused there to get a proper glimpse of the entire gathering. Everyone had a drink in hand. They were scattered around the room, attempting small talk, but everyone kept stealing glances at the newest entrants. Ren accepted the first drink offered to her, but didn’t take a sip. A standard rule she’d learned from House Brood. It guarded against poison and sloppiness. Ren made a line for the first open space she could find around the borders of the room. She set her back to the bookshelf there and began her assessment of the crowd. If these were the only wizards left in the city, she wanted to know exactly where the two of them stood. The first familiar face was none other than Dahvid Tin’Vori.

Of course you survived.

Their former accomplice was as obvious as sunlight. Dahvid stood a head taller than most of the people present. Almost too handsome. The kind of person you made an effort not to stare at directly. His leather armor was discreet, but still notable in a crowd of wizards who likely leaned toward spellwork instead of physical combat. There were open slashes in the darker fabric that she knew were designed for access to his tattoos. She could see the scarlet traveler glaring out boldly from his chest. A series of concentric circles on one shoulder. Each tattoo housed a powerful spell. Even though they’d worked together, she’d yet to witness him duel. A shame. She’d have liked to take his measure. Anyone who could run a Ravinian gauntlet and defeat Thugar Tin’Vori in just a few days was worthy of respect. Perhaps even fear.

If Dahvid was sunlight, Nevelyn Tin’Vori was his shadow. Ren spotted the girl hiding just a few steps behind her brother. Those wide brown eyes assessing the room with the same intentionality as Ren. Her face was partially hidden by a thicket of dark and wildly curled hair. Ren nearly missed the one notable addition. Nevelyn was standing near a boy who appeared to be no older than ten. None of his features were nods to Tin’Vori ancestry. He didn’t have their eyes or their noses or their chins.

Who, pray tell, are you?

Nevelyn’s eyes landed on her at that exact moment. The other woman took a protective step toward her ward that spoke volumes. She recovered in time to offer a respectful nod. Ren took some small pleasure in seeing how unsurprised Nevelyn was to see her. Where else would they be? Both of them were survivors—above all else. Even fate could not keep them out.

Ren offered a nod in return before continuing her appraisal of the other guests. A quick count had the number somewhere north of thirty. Some were complete strangers. Others instantly recognizable. All five of the major houses had representation, but a glance showed this was not the old guard. Not even close. Over a year ago, Ren had dined in an upper room with some of the city’s most influential people. The only surviving member of that group was Gemma Graylantian. According to Theo, she was an incredibly talented manipulator.

Besides Gemma, Marc Winters was the next closest thing to royalty. The current heir of their house—and Clyde’s older brother. That thought sent a shiver down her spine. The two had a clear resemblance. Marc had the same blue eyes and dark hair, but a broader frame. He was currently in what looked like a strained conversation with a much younger girl. Ren might not know her name, but she could recognize a Shiverian anywhere. The pointed nose and the scattered freckles. She didn’t look a day older than fifteen. Ren was still studying the young girl when a willow of a boy presented himself before them. He offered the world’s most absurd bow before righting himself, a shock of bright white hair flopping with each motion.

“Sir. Erm. Master Theo. It’s… I’ve been told to report to you. I’m your second cousin. Well, not like you’re second overall cousin or whatever. More like I’m… a second cousin. The… son… of your father’s cousin.”

Theo was all raised eyebrows. “Gods. Please stop bowing.”

Naturally, the boy bowed again. Ren couldn’t help butting in.

“What did you say your name was?”

“Theodore.” His cheeks went bright red. “I’m actually named after you, sir.”

Theo glanced at Ren with a look that said, Don’t you dare , but she’d already died and come back to life laughing. The boy cracked a smile, though it was clear he wasn’t sure what was so funny.

“Named after him? How old are you?”

Theodore shrugged. “I’m thirteen, my lady.”

“Don’t call her that,” Theo warned. “She’ll want a crown.”

“Thirteen,” Ren repeated. “So you were born when Theo was around… seven. You know, that sounds right to me. By then, he’d tamed his first wyvern, discovered a dragon’s burial chamber, and invented almost a dozen spells. Pretty reasonable for another person to be named after him.”

Theodore’s eyes widened as she spoke, and Ren realized that the boy actually believed Theo had done all of that before reaching puberty. Meanwhile, Theo’s eyes had rolled to the ceiling. He steered the conversation away before Ren could leave the boy even more disillusioned.

“So, you’ve retained your magic, Cousin?”

The boy looked entirely delighted to be referred to by a familial term.

“Oh, yes, sir. I’ve still got all my spells.”

“Any specialties?”

“Actually, yes. I’m an animator.”

That caught Ren’s attention. Relatively rare, though not a surprise that he’d be a part of House Brood. They were known for recruiting talented craftsmen, and animators had the rare ability to bring objects to life with magic. Although, as with any magic, there were varying degrees of skill.

“What did we have you working on?” Theo asked. “Livestone?”

Another nod. “Yes, sir. Actually, my father was the one who created yours. The hawk?”

Theo raised an eyebrow. “You’re Benjamin Crane’s son?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Gods. How is he?”

It was Theo’s first misstep. Ren had already heard it in the boy’s voice—and now she saw it in the way his chin fell and the way his shoulders hunched inward. As if he were preparing for life to deal him another blow, right then and there. “My father passed, sir. A few years ago.”

The compassion that Ren felt stir to life in Theo’s chest, across their bond, was its own kind of magic. He set a firm hand on his cousin’s shoulder. “My apologies. Ben was a wonderful person—and his son carrying on his legacy? Gods, I can’t imagine he could be any prouder. It looks like you were one of the few to avoid the plague. That’s no accident, Cousin.”

The effect of Theo’s words was instantaneous. His cousin straightened, clapped a hand back on Theo’s shoulder, and then adjusted his body so that the three of them were looking out onto the room together. Theo had won the boy to his side. Just like that.

“What would you like me to do tonight, sir?”

Theo scanned their surroundings. “Honestly? I’d like you to make friends. Get to know everyone you can. I suspect we’ll all be seeing a lot of each other in the coming weeks. It wouldn’t hurt to have someone well connected. Especially with anyone here tonight who isn’t linked to one of the major houses.”

“On it.”

It was as if he’d been shot out of a cannon. They watched him walk straight up to the nearest group and offer his hand for an introduction. Theo caught Ren’s eye. “Don’t.”

“What?” she asked innocently. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“I can almost hear the jokes rattling around in your head.”

“Jokes? Me? No, I’m not one for humor. But I do love research… and the second we get home I do plan to do a little digging and figure out just how many babies were named Theo after your official birth announcement. Do you think the trend began with your transcendent arrival into the world, or would it be after you cast your first spell?”

He shook his head. “Very funny.”

From there, it was a quick sequence of introductions and conversations. They spoke with an older, bonded couple. There was an enhancer from House Graylantian, a structural engineer from House Proctor. At first Ren thought their direct line didn’t have any survivors, but then she spotted Ellison Proctor sipping a drink on the opposite side of the room. The handsome host who’d worked with her down in the Collective for a brief time and one of their least capable wizards. Their shortest conversation was with a doctor from Safe Harbor. The woman was pale-skinned with fire-bright hair pulled into a tight bun. She wore leather gloves that Ren immediately sensed were a vessel. The girl asked several rapid-fire questions about their magic, then moved on as if she’d grown bored.

Paladins continued to circle the room, functioning as glorified waiters. Their presence started to make Viceroy Gray’s absence more obvious. Her final observation was that there were quite a few children present. The boy tucked in beside Nevelyn was hardly the only one. Two attempts to count them landed Ren with a number somewhere between fifteen and twenty. Some were with their parents—who Ren noted were often without magic. She saw them framing the edges of the room with the telltale sign of bruises along collarbones or forearms. Interesting that a child would be immune when the parents were not. Ren was attempting another count when she saw the girl.

She wore a simple black dress. Her hair was a familiar, almost ghostly white color. Her parents had put it in a thick braid that the girl couldn’t seem to stop fussing with. It was like getting a glimpse of Timmons Devine as a child. The same willowy frame. The pointed chin. Ren’s eyes darted up expectantly, but the father standing behind the girl wasn’t Mr. Devine. It was someone else. The girl wasn’t a relative. She just looked like Timmons. Ren finally realized that she was staring at them and tore her gaze away.

“Everything okay?” Theo whispered.

“Fine,” she answered. “Just missing Timmons.”

He nodded, clearly confused, but wisely didn’t dig deeper. It didn’t take long after that for the conversations to grow stale. Everyone had half their attention on the person in front of them, and the other half darting around to check the entryways. Even the more social members of the group were starting to run out of steam. Ren was about to suggest to Theo that they ask one of the paladins how much longer they’d be waiting when magic whispered through the air. Quiet as a breeze.

Everything around them froze.

Glasses were still held aloft. Smiles were plastered on certain faces. It was like the tableaus that sometimes started plays. Everyone in first positions, waiting for the curtain to part. Finally, Ren saw movement. The Shiverian girl strode purposefully across the room. Marc Winters trailed her with a dramatic sigh. Gemma Graylantian pushed up from her comfortable chair. Lastly, Ellison Proctor slid through a thicket of immobile figures. One from each of the five houses.

Well, two from House Brood. She and Theo exchanged a glance. Experimentally, she lifted one hand. It moved. She was not frozen like the rest of the room. Both of them had been left out of the enchantment. On purpose. They watched as the rest of the group formed a smaller circle inside the wider gathering. The Shiverian heir was the first to speak.

“Please keep your voices quiet. Limit your overall movements. The less I have to actively hide us—the longer we can discuss matters. My name is Avid Shiverian. I am the daughter of Ethel Shiverian. I have come here tonight to apologize on behalf of our entire house. We made a grievous error trying to sever you. When the dust settles, reparations are in order. It is promised. It is promised twice. From our house to your house, the debt will be paid.”

The words represented a rare double vow. Ren had never actually heard one performed in real life by an actual person. She’d only ever seen them in historical treaties. In part because they represented an uncommon admission of guilt. The Shiverians clearly wanted to bury any bad feelings—and fast. They weren’t the only ones. Marc Winters spoke next.

“Key financial holdings will be reassigned to the Broods. House Winters will make this right. It is promised. It is promised twice.”

Ellison Proctor echoed their words. Attention swung over to Gemma Graylantian. Her eyes were glinting as she met their stares. “All we did was supply a couple of masks. Would we really call that participation? We were more of a vendor. …”

The glare from Avid Shiverian crackled with magical power. Gemma rolled her eyes, but the quickness with which she acquiesced spoke volumes about her respect for the girl. “Oh, fine. Our apologies. Restitution will be made. Promises and all of that. Now, can we get on with the meeting?”

Avid looked to Theo. “Is it settled? Can we move on?”

Ren snorted. “Really? Just like that? You tried to sever us. If your plan had worked, it’s very likely that I would have been executed in secret. Now we’re just supposed to forget that it happened?”

“Given the state of the city? Yes.” Avid possessed an unnatural calm for her age. As if she’d negotiated on behalf of their house a thousand times already. “We’ve offered reparations. All the other houses have promised restitution. You’re acting like you were the first person in the history of our houses to be kidnapped. This wasn’t personal. It was business.”

“Right,” Ren answered. “Well, as much as I’d like to know how much my life was worth to all of you—I find it far more curious that you’ve decided to keep this conversation private. Why not apologize publicly? If restitution means so much to you?”

“Because we have matters of state to discuss.”

Avid signaled. Everyone in the room remained motionless. The spell was so complex and powerful that Ren could not even begin to extrapolate how Avid had cast it in the first place. Not to mention she was sustaining the magic while holding an intelligent conversation. She’d have to do some research to figure out the underlying magic. For now, she stood there and watched as the person who’d invited them all finally joined the fray.

Viceroy Gray entered the room.