A Burning in the Bones (Waxways #3)

Chapter 32 Ren Monroe

32 REN MONROE

The city’s figurehead waded through the sea of frozen figures.

Ren noted that he was wearing the same charcoal suit he’d worn during their last meeting. Some small detail was different, but she could not place it. So much had happened. That was another lifetime, it seemed. The crisp-looking suit was almost enough to hide the fact that the man wearing it was exhausted. The normally perfect hair was disheveled. His eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders slumped. It wasn’t surprising. This was the man in charge of a city that had just been punched square in the jaw. Ren doubted that he’d slept since the plague’s arrival.

He still had the awareness to glance around the room. She saw how quickly he assessed the resources at their disposal. “This is… rather sparse. Are we sure this is everyone?”

“We’re missing some,” Avid answered. “Like my grandmother. Too old to travel. We didn’t want to risk her getting sick just for appearances—but this is pretty close to the actual number. Our measurements suggested there would be nearly seventy people who were immune.”

“Measurements?” Theo repeated. “How could you measure that?”

For a moment, Avid looked prepared to keep that house secret to herself. But the girl was wise enough to understand that now was very much the time for sharing. Trust would be earned.

“We have instruments that measure magical output. Normally, we use them for early training assessments. There are two quantities we can gauge. The first is raw magical output. How much magic does a wizard actually pull from the air around them when they channel through a vessel? The second is magical efficiency. It’s a measure of how much of the summoned magic actually obeys the commanding wizard. We’ve always used the tests to help us with recruitment and training.”

Ren briefly fell back in love with House Shiverian. The way they approached magic as science—something to be studied, advanced, perfected—had always been so appealing to her. Never mind the fact that they’d just kidnapped her.

“When we found out the plague disrupts magic, we widened the scope of our device,” Avid explained. “The goal was to get magical readouts across the city and figure out who was still capable of using magic. Our initial motivation was selfish. We wanted to know if the loss of magic we were seeing in our house was normal, or if someone had targeted us specifically. Our elders wanted to see if any of the other houses happened to avoid the plague.”

Marc Winters smirked. “You thought one of us spread it?”

“We didn’t rule out the possibility,” Avid replied. “But it became obvious that everyone had been impacted. Our measurements aren’t perfect, but they’re accurate enough to provide a baseline of information. The final estimate was that seventy wizards remained. Forty-three are in attendance tonight. It’s always possible we were seeing duplicates. A wizard who cast one spell, then cast another one in a separate section of the city—but the quarantine should have limited overall movement. More likely, there are wizards out there who didn’t answer the summons.”

Viceroy Gray responded, but Ren was distracted by the barest sliver of movement outside their circle. She thought maybe the spell had faltered for a moment. Her eyes were drawn to Nevelyn Tin’Vori of all people. Her old accomplice was watching their group. She appeared to be frozen in time like the rest of the crowd, but as Ren stared, the girl’s throat bobbed slightly.

The Tin’Voris are full of surprises.

She wasn’t sure how Nevelyn was resisting the magic, but she decided not to draw attention to it. Better to keep the secret for herself and see if it might be useful later.

“… any chance of recovery?”

“We can’t say conclusively,” Avid replied. “But our initial tests are not promising. We took recovered subjects to archive rooms. You know how thorough my mother is. We tested the old and the young. Prominent wizards and people who use a few paltry spells. We even had some of the patients from the original discovery site. Up in Running Hills. None of the patients could use magic. In fact, not one of them could even see magic in the air. The archive room was perfect dark for those who’d been impacted by the plague.”

Her words were followed by a sort of stunned silence. Maybe—like Ren—they had all been hoping that someone had found some way around what the Makers were doing. An antidote or a cure. Something. Anything. This was the darkest conclusion they could have landed on.

“We have to assume,” Avid continued, “that anyone who contracted the illness has permanently lost their ability to use magic. We are the last wizards left in Kathor.”

Viceroy Gray swung the group to a new topic. “What’s to be done about the Makers?”

Marc Winters scowled. “An interesting name for a group that doesn’t seem to make anything at all. Do they even contribute to the city? All I’ve seen them do is stand on street corners and shout about how unfairly life has treated them.”

Ren bit her tongue to keep from responding to that. Thankfully, the viceroy was quick to counter his comment. “They don’t use magic, but that doesn’t mean they’re a group of vagrants. All of our reports on them suggest an emphasis on trade. They thrive on utility. Being useful, above all else. We’re talking about dock workers, welders, farmers. And when the plague arrived, they were the first ones out in the markets. Passing out food. Caring for the sick. Look, I know we have no reason to like them, but the rest of the city does.”

“Interesting,” Gemma remarked. “They have a surplus of food… at the exact moment the rest of the city runs out of it? Almost as if they planned it that way.”

Ren knew she was right. After all, she’d seen the crates of supplies stacked up in her mother’s apartment. It was surprising how quickly the rest of the great houses had arrived at the correct conclusion. “Of course they planned it that way,” Marc Winters added. “They’re the ones who brought this plague to the city.”

Gray considered that. “Do you have actual evidence to support that claim?”

“No, but isn’t it obvious? Their group doesn’t use magic—and then a plague comes that destroys magic. Not to mention their current bid for power. I’d barely heard of them before now.”

“That’s not evidence,” Gray said. “It’s guesswork, and guesswork won’t sway the populace. If any of you have actual evidence that the Makers were involved in this, that would be crucial to our efforts….”

There was an exchange of hopeful glances. Ren supposed this was a group that had long grown accustomed to keeping secrets from one another. Theo probed her across their bond, and Ren realized he was asking for permission to share their own findings. She nodded in return.

“We can confirm their involvement,” Theo announced. “The Makers were the ones who spread the plague. We also have reason to believe there is a manipulation spell involved. You’ve all seen the red scarves they wear? There’s magic woven into the fabric. A chain spell. One of the most complex and powerful pieces of spellwork that I’ve ever seen. House Brood has been working to trace the magic back to its original source.”

His words drew interesting reactions from the group. Marc Winters pounded one fist on the nearest table. Clearly satisfied at having his guess confirmed. Avid Shiverian looked deep in thought—as if she’d been presented with a puzzle and couldn’t wait to start trying to solve it. Viceroy Gray wore an almost hungry expression. As if this was exactly what he’d been waiting for.

“Evidence?” he asked. “Please tell me you have actual evidence.”

Theo shook his head. “No direct evidence, but we do have a lot of testimony. We were the ones who discovered the bodies in that first water treatment facility. We know they were connected to the Makers. All of the deceased were members of the group….”

“These bodies,” Gray said. “Where are you keeping them?”

Theo shook his head. “We don’t have them.”

The viceroy’s face fell into his hands. “What do you mean you don’t have them? How are they evidence if you don’t have them?”

Theo wore a look of proper Brood annoyance. “That failure is hardly our fault. We would have a lot more to work with, but right after we discovered the bodies, my bond-mate and I were kidnapped in an attempted coup. Naturally, our investigation was somewhat limited after that.”

Gray winced. He glanced around at the others gathered.

“Ah. I see we’ve discussed the matter,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I told them it was a stupid idea. But such is the life of a puppet king. No one actually has to listen to what you say.”

Gemma rolled her eyes. “We’ve been listening to you all week, Martin. I can’t even take a walk in the garden without your voice thundering at me from the damn bushes.”

“Apologies, Gemma. Didn’t realize my emergency announcements were marring your morning strolls. If you’d like to write down a few specific times for me, I can prioritize your personal schedule over the rest of the city’s safety. Would you like that?”

Instead of taking offense, a slow smile crept over the older woman’s face. It was clear that the two of them had dueled like this before. Avid Shiverian interrupted.

“Can we focus? This spell isn’t exactly easy to maintain. We have more to discuss and I’m actually starting to sweat.”

There was, indeed, a single bead of sweat working its way down the girl’s right temple. The viceroy dropped his playful battle with Gemma and transitioned back to the topic at hand.

“As I was saying: you’ll need more to sway the population. I have the results of today’s vote. Nearly ninety percent of the city participated. An unprecedented turnout. I hate to say it, but the Makers were successful. Seventy-seven percent voted for the no confidence measure to pass. All of your houses would be removed from active leadership if I ratified this measure. The results will be public knowledge in less than an hour.”

Marc Winters looked annoyed. “Can’t we just doctor the results?”

Ren had bitten her tongue earlier, but she could not resist giving the correct answer now. “You can’t alter the results of a citywide vote. There are measures in place that keep the houses from colluding with each other. It’s been that way since the Anatomy Riots.”

Gray nodded. “She’s right. Landwin Brood and I discussed the matter once. He was looking for a way to override the current mechanisms, but we couldn’t find one. These results will be public-facing. Everyone is going to know the vote passed. The question is: What do you want me to do?”

Gemma snorted. “What do you think we want you to do, Martin? Sign a document removing all of us from power? Of course we want you to reject the motion.”

“And then what?” Gray replied. “Are all of you prepared for what will happen if I block the vote? I’m not trying to be a bastard about this. I’m genuinely asking if you’re ready.” He gestured around the room at the frozen figures. “Do you really think this is enough firepower to hold off a rebellion? Half of the immune appear to be children.”

His question echoed. All the great houses had tricks up their sleeves. The people in this room were not their only strength. There were passive magic spells woven around their estates. Trained soldiers sworn to their houses that—magicless or not—could rival any force the rest of the civilians could muster. None of them would collapse overnight. They’d been built too strong for that. But now they were being forced to consider what would happen if true rebellion swept through the streets. If the entire city turned on them—would they survive the longer war? For the first time in over a century, the answer wasn’t obvious. Ren was the only one brave enough to answer.

“I think you should pass the vote.”

All eyes swung to her. She didn’t care about the rest of them, though. The only person who deserved her attention in this circle was Theo. Their eyes met. She didn’t see any embarrassment in his expression. Felt no anger across their bond. Instead, a low thrum of pride was stirring between them. The truth was that Ren had been searching for a middle ground ever since the conversation with her mother. She didn’t want all-out destruction. She could not bear the thought that her actions might lead to an all-out war. This felt like the right compromise. The actual power of the houses reduced. Civil war avoided. Unsurprisingly, Theo was perfectly in step with her. He nodded once and she listened as the current heir of House Brood took up her cause.

“I agree with Ren. The people have spoken. Even with a manipulation spell… this vote is overwhelming. It’s clear they want change. And why wouldn’t they? A plague just swept through the city and we all retreated to our estates. The only reason their plan worked was because the people who were supposed to help them back on their feet did nothing.”

He shook his head in disgust. Ren suspected it was not just for the people in that circle, but rather what their families represented. What he knew his father had done, and his father before him.

“The Makers want us to knock this measure down. It would be the final proof they need that the great houses don’t care about the people who serve them. If we do this, it leads to rebellion. The city will go to war with us. But if we let the vote pass, what could they say? That we chose to do the right thing? I believe that we should pass the vote. Accept slightly diminished roles. All of us will still have wealth and power, but we’ll also have peace. One day our descendants will talk about the war that almost happened—instead of the war that did.”

His voice did not tremble. Ren felt as if they were truly one person in that moment. Body and soul and mind—in perfect concert with one another. She knew that her mother’s side in this battle was not the right answer. She still planned to find the person responsible and put an end to the magic they’d woven across the city, but now she and Theo saw it wasn’t a binary choice. This situation wasn’t the Makers versus the great houses. No, the truth was that Kathor deserved better than both of those options—and she would fight for that future.

Marc Winters shook his head. “Is that really you talking, Theo? Or is that what your little pet thinks? I mean, do you even hear what the hell you’re say—”

Theo swiped the air with his wand. It was a casual stroke, but the magic that punched into Marc Winters sent him sliding back several paces. His defensive wards caught the blow a split second before it could hit him. Ren saw a massive crack run down the outer layer of magic before it flickered out of existence again. Theo’s voice was as quiet as an approaching storm.

“Speak ill of her again, Marc, and I will bury you.”

She wasn’t normally fond of bravado, but this was definitely one of Theo’s more attractive moments. The two of them continued glaring until Avid Shiverian hissed for them to stop.

“I am maintaining a temporal void . All of you are currently standing outside the actual fabric of time and space. It would be just lovely if you avoided dueling in this space.”

Theo lowered his wand. Marc did the same.

“No offense to your bond-mate,” Gemma interrupted. “But the answer is no. My house will not be set aside. Graylantian children are still born with calluses, you know. Hardened skin along the upper palms.” She held up her right hand for all of them to see. The image might have been more effective if she wasn’t wearing an obscene number of golden rings. “We were farmers for so many generations that even after all this time—we come into the world physiologically prepared to hold a shovel. I will not have history remember me as the Graylantian who sent our family back to working in the fields. We earned this crown. If you want it, you’ll have to take it from us.”

Ellison Proctor looked too embarrassed to make eye contact with Ren.

“Our house politely declines as well,” he said.

Marc Winters’s opinion was already crystal clear. Avid Shiverian was the last to speak.

“I appreciate your point of view, Theo. But do you really think we’ll get to sit back and enjoy our wealth? Do you think they’d allow us to keep our estates? If this vote passes, the new government will waste no time in wielding their power against us. We will be systematically torn down. Piece by precious piece. Allowing our houses to be publicly disavowed? There’s no future in that. Not for our houses. Not for this city. House Shiverian votes no.”

As the others spoke, Viceroy Gray’s eyes had remained on Theo and Ren. There was something unreadable in his expression. “Rebellion it is,” the viceroy said softly. “Very well. I can delay the announcement until tomorrow. That should give all of you time to prepare for what’s coming. For now, I believe it’s time that I make my official appearance at this party. Please do look suitably surprised by my arrival.”

He reached up then. As if he were going to adjust something at his collar, but then his hand fell awkwardly back to his side. Ren frowned as he glided back through the surrounding tableau. All the pride that had been roaring between her and Theo just a moment ago was darkening into a shared sense of hopelessness. The great houses had chosen war. A bloody civil war that would claim thousands of innocent lives. It might set their society back by a century, but they did not care, so long as they remained kings and queens. And the hardest truth of all was that Ren and Theo had unintentionally started all of this. Her quest for revenge. Their brief lapse in the city’s defenses. It was as if they’d knocked down the first block by accident, and everyone else was hell-bent on seeing the rest of the tower fall just for the pure chaos of it.

Avid released her magic.

There was a sound like a thousand fingers snapping all at once. The room unwound before filling up with sound and movement and echoing clatter. The other attendees were completely unaware that the city’s fate had just been decided without them. A bright tink-tink-tink sounded.

Everyone looked up. Viceroy Gray was arriving. For the second time.

Ren watched him cross the threshold and it took that repetition—like an echo in her own memory—to recall the detail that had eluded her before. His reach, at the end of their private meeting, had been the only real clue to what was missing. Ren seized Theo’s arm. Her grip was so tight that the nails almost dug into his skin.

“Scarf,” Ren hissed. “ Theo, he was wearing a scarf.”

At the time, she’d thought of it as a crimson color. The red of a faded garnet or dried blood. That was before she’d seen the Makers walking around the city wearing them. Always tied in knots around their necks or forearms. Sometimes tucked into belt loops. She knew beyond any shadow of a doubt that his was a match for theirs. He must have removed it to avoid suspicion. Ren’s fingers curled around the grip of her horseshoe wand. The viceroy was preparing to make his speech.

The room fell quiet.

“He’s one of them,” she whispered.