Chapter XXVII. Domenic #2
Domenic’s and Ellery’s chairs creaked as they shifted uncomfortably.
Iseul’s eyes widened. “You really believe one of us could be the traitor?”
Domenic cringed. “Of course not. But…”
“We can’t make assumptions,” Ellery finished. Then, hastily, she added, “Before we move forward, isn’t there something else we should consider? If Living Wands and winterghasts are truly counterparts, what if we could turn winterghasts into wands?”
Domenic startled.
“To what end?” Sharpe asked gravely.
“Every winterghast that becomes a wand would be one less monster terrorizing the country. And one more wand in the hands of a magician who could serve it. Surely if I can wield Winter, other magicians can, too.”
Ellery hadn’t mentioned this idea to Domenic earlier, and even if he thought it was a fair one—a good one—the Council wouldn’t. It was too late after a harrowing day, too soon after a devastating loss.
Yet even as Domenic willed Ellery to look at him, she didn’t.
She was the only one not gilded by the firelight, blocked by the shade of a pillar. Yet she gleamed all the same. The almost silver luster of her hair. The bright blue of her eyes. She would shine to Domenic even in pitch darkness.
“How would you propose we make more wands?” Iseul asked cautiously. “You said you don’t know how you created Iskarius.”
“No, but I could help,” Ellery insisted. “Maybe if I—”
“Your duty is to thwart the cataclysm,” Sharpe snapped.
“O-of course it is. But do you really think this wouldn’t aid in that mission?”
“To invite the very monsters we’ve fought for a millennium into the inner sanctum of the Order? Is it not enough that we must already contend with one traitor? Must we recruit them now, too?”
Ellery bit her lip. “I suppose you’re right.”
Her voice might’ve remained calm, but Domenic could see her mask slipping.
He fiddled with the flowers in his pocket. It was that or reach for her.
Sharpe stamped out his cigarette, then rose, his expression hidden in the blackness.
“For now, I’d like to further our research into the Dire Three.
Glynn, take a full account of every thing Caldwell described about her connection to Kythion.
You can take Peak’s description of Kythion next.
The rest of us, let’s leave them to their work while we discuss Mayes’s task. ”
As everyone but Ellery and Glynn made toward the door, Domenic hovered, confused at all the abruptness.
Again, he willed Ellery to look at him. Words burned in his throat.
He didn’t know if they were good words, but surely they had to be better than what he’d blurted that morning.
That he couldn’t bear the thought that he’d hurt her.
That he was aching too, that this was the last thing he wanted.
That she meant more to him than he’d ever succeed in describing.
When she still didn’t acknowledge him, he swallowed every word of it down and stalked after the others into the hall.
The five of them turned into Sharpe’s office. Sharpe closed the door.
“When you first reached the alban tree at the border compound, you said Caldwell was already there, right?”
Domenic didn’t answer. He was distracted, taking in the office. It turned out that portrait of Sharpe already existed—and was definitely already haunted.
“Well?” Sharpe barked.
Domenic realized Sharpe had stridden toward the waste bin beside the bookshelves, and he clutched a wad of papers—the minutes from the meeting.
“Yeah,” Domenic answered. “Ellery was defending the alban in the eye when I got there.”
“And you know for sure she was defending it?”
He frowned. “What are you suggesting?”
“It seems to me if there’s anyone with the motive and means to play traitor, it’s Winter’s Chosen.”
Domenic balked. “Y-you can’t be serious. You all, you think this too?”
Iseul, Hanna, and Peak stared sheepishly at the carpet.
“Dom,” Peak said gingerly. “If we’re about to ask Hanna to go diving into the heads of every member of the Order, then I think it’s fair to consider the one person whose head we can’t get into. And you heard Caldwell in there. Winter wands? Can we really be sure where her loyalty lies?”
Only for Hanna’s sake did Domenic bear considering that Ellery might be the traitor. It felt wrong, not just to his logic, to his heart, but to every fiber of his being. The only reason he still found the strength to fight another day was because he knew—doubtlessly—that Ellery fought beside him.
But if the Dire Three each had counterparts, if this cataclysm was truly a war, what did that make him and Ellery?
Champions, the nation called them.
Domenic had always thought that title noble. Never before had it sounded so sinister.
He wrenched Valmordion from its sheath and cast a silencing enchantment over the office.
“You want to talk about loyalty?” he growled. “Ellery has sacrificed everything for the sake of duty. And the second there’s suspicion, you’d point to her? The prophecy called for peace! That’s what she and I have been fighting for every day, together. And—”
“It’d be the oldest trick in the book,” Sharpe sneered, “to fool someone with a pretty face.”
Smoke leaked from Domenic’s breath. “Careful. I realize you’ve never thought much of me. But for you to rush to accuse who you feel is the most obvious suspect, despite all evidence otherwise? Are you deflecting, or are you just that much of a fool?”
Both Sharpes glowered at Domenic simultaneously, while the others only gaped.
Iseul squeezed Domenic’s shoulder. “You’re right, Dom. It doesn’t do any good to jump to conclusions.”
“And we do trust your judgment,” Peak said. “If you say Caldwell’s on our side, then we believe you.”
However apologetic they sounded, Domenic didn’t buy it.
And Hanna didn’t even bother to reassure him.
Her eyes narrowed as they flickered between Sharpe and Domenic, as if unsure she trusted either of them.
Clutched against her chest, Syarthis’s muggy heat intensified the tobacco stench that permanently clung to the room.
Then Sharpe lifted Ballathim to the meeting minutes. A flame licked from the wand’s tip, and the papers erupted in an instant. He dropped them into the waste bin to burn.
“All of you, out,” he said firmly. “Except you, Mayes. You will stay, and you’ll start with me.”