2. Before There Was Honesty, There Was a Lie
LUCIAN
Every orphia has a mental power, but with all things, some are stronger than others. Take the Lucents, for example. For what could be more tremendous than subconscious manipulation?
— INTRO TO MENTALISM BY PRESCOTT STERVESELL
As I button up the white undershirt of my academy uniform, I contemplate, not for the first time and surely the last.
I’ve already made up my mind.
I walk across the suite to Azaire and Yuki’s room—my best friend and personal advisor turned comrade.
“I’m thinking we throw that party in the mastick.”
Azaire shakes his head. “You’re gonna piss him off.”
“But it will be fun,” Yuki says.
“Precisely,” I say with a smile. “How else are we to celebrate the engagement?”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?” Azaire’s words are more akin to a sigh.
Pissing Kai off is precisely the point. A week ago, he and I were told that we had been engaged since before we were seven years old, and to one another’s sisters nonetheless. It was another arrow in the long worn-out target that is the decisions of my life.
I’ve accepted that I will never have full autonomy. But I wanted Lilac to have more than I’ve gotten. I wanted her to have a stab at love like she’s always wanted.
With that chance gone, I’ve decided the best way to avenge her is to have a little fun.
Apart from parties, I find angering my jailers to be quite entertaining. Pissing off Kai is one piece of my puzzle. When he explodes, which he inevitably will, he will explode to Melody and Easton, and that will come full circle to Lusia and Labyrinth.
Petty payback, but something nonetheless, for Lilac.
“This guy is going to be your brother, Luc,” Azaire says with more sympathy in his voice than I deserve.
“You’re my brother.”
It is ironic. Our parents forcing our hands in a marriage to preserve the relations between Soma—my world—and Lorucille—Kai’s—yet only making enemies of the future kings.
“Not to upset the bromance or anything, but on the contrary, I think a party is exactly what we need,” Yuki adds while he spins in his chair, black hair whirling with every turn. Azaire shakes his head and Yuki says, “What? The middle of the year is the worst.”
Azaire looks at him instead of me when he says, “And if he wages war in seven years?”
In seven years, we will take the thrones. I haven’t had the heart to tell him that a war is already brewing. It was his world—Serpencia—that was decimated because of one. Not that Azaire ever had to see it; he’d already been in Visnatus, spending most of the holidays in the kingdom of Soma with me during the war years. That doesn’t mean his home wasn’t taken.
Yuki looks stumped, and I take matters into my own hands. “Then let us hope I do something more worthy of war than hosting a party.”
I am much too diplomatic to let a war be waged over something as silly as a party. However, these things are never in my control.
Azaire leaves the room, walking straight to mine. It’s his way of beckoning me, and he is one of two people I’d ever follow willingly.
Yuki puts two fingers to his eyebrows and flicks them out, sending me off.
Azaire knows me too well to not know what I’m doing, and this is proven to me when he says, “You don’t have to do this.”
“The party, or the wedding?” I ask.
“Both,” he says, and I can hear the optimism in his voice.
“We both know that’s not the truth.”
His steely gray eyes lock on mine. “Don’t let them take more of you. If you have to do it, find a way to do it for yourself.”
Azaire, always the wise. I envy his heart, even when I see it as a weakness. Alas, I cannot believe there will ever be a way to do anything for myself.
“No surrender,” he says with more conviction than usual.
“No surrender.” I nod. One day I will show the worlds what he is. For if a king can praise a Nepenthe, then the worlds can too.
After a moment, he adds, “I still don’t think the party is a good idea.”
“Neither do I,” I confess. “It wasn’t planned to be a good idea.”
The last thing he says is, “I see.”
We go back to his room, and Yuki raises his sword with a smile and a question in his purple eyes. Ready? I nod and he bolts up, practically skipping out of the room.
We head to the spare combat room and warm up with wooden staffs before moving on to our bladed swords. A favor for me; the Armanthine don’t have to worry about something so inconsequential as a wound to their impenetrable skin.
Yuki is one of the most skilled fighters at the academy. He had to be if he wanted to keep his place in the Soman kingdom. Armanthine are kept around for their talents of reading minds, and despite the bond he and I have formed, he is still replaceable in all other eyes.
I allow him to stay that way. Being irreplaceable to me is a sentence for torture. So while the boa staff warmup is a favor for me, the training is a favor to him. As a future king and Aibek, I don’t need to be able to use a sword. The role of king is an intellectual one to Soma. Besides, I have plenty of power without a blade.
“Come on, you can do better than that, man,” Yuki says as my sword falls to the floor.
“You’re right.” I pick up my weapon and prepare to fight again. “I can.”
Yuki does not hold his sword for a fight. “You wanna talk?”
“About forced marriages?” I scoff. “I couldn’t think of anything more delightful.”
“Nah, man, about anything.” We’re both silent for a moment before he says, “When you’re in your head, you get a little…” he holds out both his hands and shakes them.
“Fighting is more relaxing than venting.” I hold my sword up again, and I don’t get any argument from him.
I win some of our duels, and Yuki wins the others until it is time for us to head to War Strategy. This is my smallest class by far, reserved only for those who will be taking the highest placements in government. Which means Kai, Calista, and my sister Lilac are here. Recently, I’ve been receiving hostile stares from the former two for the entirety of class.
Our tables are stacked in escalating rows like an amphitheater, and I have the honor of sitting in the very front. Lilac sits next to me and Aralia sits behind her, always avoiding both of us. Needless to say, this is a highly unpleasant class.
We’ve been covering the Serpencia War for the last half a year, dissecting both sides and how the Folk ultimately defeated the Nepenthe into complete submission. Mr. Ickehart talks like it was a grand plan and a wonderful maneuver. What truly happened was this; the Folk killed the majority of the Nepenthes’ already dwindling population and offered the survivors two choices: swear their loyalties to Lorucille or die.
“Lorucille didn’t want to kill all of their Nepenthe, and yet with ascending numbers choosing death over loyalty, there were a dwindling number of options to convince these creatures to choose peace over further bloodshed.” Mr. Ickehart walks closer to the map of Serpencia sprawled across the wall. “How can you convince a creature who relishes in blood to not spill more?”
“You threaten their loved ones,” Jermoine, a Folk, says.
Mr. Ickehart points to the voice at the back of the class with a faux smile. He begins to say, “Yes,” only to quickly switch to, “No! Bloodshed, people, bloodshed! If they enjoy it, you can’t threaten more of it.” Mr. Ickehart looks at me with the palms of his hands pressed together and his fingers under his smiling chin.
I spin the little silver wolf in my pocket.
“You threaten the loss of it,” I try to sound at least minimally excited, for him, though my tone does not get the message.
Mr. Ickehart nods. “If they did bind their loyalty, they got to remain as soldiers.” He scoffs out a laugh. “You can’t think as yourself if you want to win. You have to think as the enemy.”
The truth here is that, if they didn’t remain as soldiers, their world—which was already in shambles—would’ve faltered even further. It’s not as if Lorucille didn’t threaten their loved ones, because that unspoken combination was clear to anyone with wit.
Behind me, Eleanora, Breck, and Yuki whisper about the party. I smile to myself, and as I take in Kai, I know he’s hearing what I’ve planted.
Mr. Ickehart clears his throat. “Is there something you three would like to add to the discussion?”
“Oh, no, sir,” Eleanora says.
“Just roleplaying as the enemy,” Yuki adds.
Mr. Ickehart scoffs, and when class is over he says “Lucian” while beckoning me to him with his finger. I join him and he says, “You’re excelling here.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You know what your father says,” he begins. “Wit?—”
I join him, “Wit wins wars. Yes, I know.”
He smiles and clasps my shoulder. “I’m going to make sure he knows how well you’re doing. It’s a shame they have to put the Contarini boy on your throne.”
* * *
While I wouldn’t call Lucent Studies—my next class—enjoyable, I would call it more enjoyable than War Strategy. Not today though, as a group of Nepenthe—falsely called volunteers—are brought in for us to practice our cerebellum manipulation.
I scan the group for Azaire, my fear hanging over me like a knife. It’s a breath of fresh air every time I don’t see him.
A short girl with long silver hair to match her big gray eyes is assigned to me. I softly tell her I am sorry when no one else can hear me. The corners of her mouth tilt up for a second and she nods at me. Then I reach into her brain.
It is a light feeling for the uninitiated, comparable to a soft tickle I’ve been told. But I am not under the false impression that this is her first time being subconsciously manipulated by a Lucent, which means she can most likely feel the pull I have on her mind. The different ways I am tugging her cerebellum as though it is nothing more than the strings of a puppet.
“Very good, Lucian,” Cynthia—Headmistress Constance—says to me. This is the only class she teaches. The only reason she does is because she’s the most powerful Lucent in Visnatus. She, in particular, knows my disdain for the treatment of the Nepenthe. She even agrees with me, but orders from the Royals are orders, after all, and there is no disobeying. They have a curriculum for us—particularly for Lilac and me.
When she tells me to make my Nepenthe fight the other, I know she isn’t happy about it, and I feel entirely too selfish when I recall Kai and my past fights since hearing of the engagements.
Two fighting puppets is exactly what we are.
My Nepenthe, whom I wish I knew the name of, steps towards Lilac’s. We fight with hands alone, my small girl landing punch after punch on her boy. I feel sick to my stomach, and I am sure the Nepenthe do too.
Lilac doesn’t look at me; she never does when she feels guilty.
When Cynthia finally says, “Enough,” I release the girl’s mind at once. I hope that making sure she did not take too many hits is enough to help her forgive me. Hope is the key word, because I do not delude myself into thinking that it is.
Lilac comes to me when class is over. By the way she carries herself, I can see she is queasy as well. “I hate them,” she says.
Lusia and Labyrinth.
“As do I.”
“How can they keep making us do this?” she cries. “They’re only making it harder for us to establish peace.”
“They’re holding out their hope that we’ll learn by example,” I mutter.
We walk side by side, the only sound from the students around us. Then she whispers, “Do you think they love us? I mean… you know what I mean.”
There is no easy answer. “Power tends to corrupt,” I say and reach for her hand, squeezing it. “So hold onto your heart.” That’s what Azaire would say.
“I’m trying,” she mumbles, and I know that she knows those are Azaire’s words too.
I easily make it through the rest of my day in a state more akin to numb than alert. Psychology and Combat Training don’t need my cunning. Yuki, Eleanora, and Jermoine follow me when the day is done.
“I’ve taken it into my hands to spread the word,” Yuki says.
“Everyone knows,” Eleanora adds, twirling her curly brown hair. “It’s gonna be like the biggest party of the year so far.”
“There are bets that you and Kai are gonna have a showdown,” Jermoine adds.
“Err on the side of no,” I tell them all. I already know that the showdown will be happening tonight.
“Hey, guys,” Fleur says, holding her books in her hands. She glances me up and down, and Eleanora takes a very audible breath. “Lucian.”
“Fleur.”
“So, a party?” She moves in next to me and we walk side by side. “We should probably pregame… three days early,” she says as if she’s unsure, but the smile she wears is certain.
“Like right now?” Eleanora asks.
“Who’s got the booze?” Yuki shouts.
Breck squeezes between Yuki and me, draping his arm around our shoulders. “I have booze, but you should consider being quiet.”
“Eh,” Yuki scoffs, “I’m advisor to a king.”
“Not yet,” Jermoine says.
“A soon-to-be king,” Yuki corrects himself.
I spot Azaire walking across the hall and say, “Hang on a moment,” before I join him. “Want to join us?” I ask, looking at the group.
“You’re drinking again?” Azaire says.
“Yes, though no one will push you to drink. They all want more for themselves.”
“Are you sure you should be?” He shrugs. “You got droozed last night too.”
“And the night before.” I smile though I see his point.
“Yeah, that’s the point, Luc. You kind of take things a little too far sometimes.”
“I don’t mind if you don’t.”
“I’m always gonna be here,” he looks at the group as they wait for me, “but I don’t wanna be a part of this.”
“We’ve been friends with them for years, Zaire.”
“It’s different now. You know it is, with all this pressure. The throne and these positions you’re all taking used to be elusive. Now the engagements are making it pretty hard to turn away from.”
I smile and clasp his shoulder like Mr. Ickehart did to me. “That’s precisely why we need a drink.”
“I’ll see you after,” he says. “But have good fun. You deserve it. I have a suspicion that Kai won’t be up for festivities when you see him next.” Azaire smiles a little.
“I know he won’t,” I say and walk back to the group.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Kai and Calista?” Jermoine asks when we head into the garden.
“Oh, um,” Fleur stutters while she looks at me.
“They’ll find us if they want to,” Yuki says, running out from his space in the group and toward the mastick. “And if they don’t, then more for us, baby!” He screams and hollers a little louder than he should.
I look at Fleur and say, “I’ll race you.” Then I run, untucking my uniform’s dark blue overcoat and unbuttoning it.
“Wait, Lucian!” she calls. “That’s so not fair!”
We don’t go far into the mastick—we never do. Truthfully, we have more power than any of the staff here, except perhaps the headmistress, but she’d never do anything where I’m involved.
The six of us are future leaders. Fleur is to be Lorucille’s head debater, a fancy name for a Eunoia who forces the truth out of someone for the crown. Eleanora and Jermoine are to be memory stealers for Soma.
Breck has the highest position of the lot—Kai’s advisor, though they aren’t friends the way Yuki and I are. Kai’s always been more partial to Jermoine.
“Wait, wait, wait,” Fleur slurs over her bottle at me. “Are you guys learning the whole,” she holds up her fingers and wiggles them, “mind-puppeteer-thing?” She smiles as if it’s a delight.
“I’m well past the learning phase,” I answer.
Her smile turns sinister, and she leans into me further. “Do me.”
“I think I’ll pass?—”
Can we get the bottle over here?” Eleanora, who is sitting next to Jermoine, asks while waving her hand.
“One second!” Fleur turns back to me and hands me the bottle. “Wanna pour it in my mouth?”
I take a sip without letting my eyes leave hers, an unspoken answer, and she tilts her head back. I pour the shot in her mouth and she tips her head back up, licking her lips while she stares into my eyes.
I lean into her, wiping the vesi from her bottom lip with my thumb.
Eleanora clears her throat. “Bottle? Please!”
* * *
I’m a bit droozed and ready for the inevitable when I make it to my suite. Upon my first step beyond the threshold of the door, Kai asks, “What’s this about a party?”
Always so predictable. Everyone is.
“On Friday in the mastick,” I answer, and Azaire sighs. “Bring your best engagement gift.”
It’s precisely like that that I have set the Flame off in a forest. Purple bolts of lightning crack between Kai’s fingers, working their way up his forearms like a shield of energy.
It’s not as though I take any particular joy in this. It’s only the thought of inconveniencing Lusia and Labyrinth that makes me ask, “Is it a fight you’re looking for?” in the most amused tone I can manage.
I don’t look at Azaire. I know what he’s thinking, and I don’t want to see it.
I anticipate Kai’s strike before he makes it and am well out of the way when the lightning crashes where my chest had once been. For him this is serious, to me it’s training. Now, if only I could get him to use his hands instead of his powers.
Light Folk are tricky, second to a Fire Folk in brute power, and Kai could incapacitate even me. If he could land a blow that is, which he won’t. Not when I can see them coming before he even lifts a finger. With that, I force the prophetic part of my mind to come to full fruition.
He holds his hand out, sending five different electrical currents in all directions around my body. I am out of the way of each and wrapping cold, black shadows around his legs before his blows land.
I’m behind him when I say, “Would you like another shot?” He tries to turn and cannot. “I might even let you go if we take the magic out of this encounter.” I’m toying with him, which is clear to everyone but him. So hot-headed and so quickly violent that I think he’d be better suited with the Flame than the Light.
I have no real problem with Kai, we’ve gotten along fairly for most of our lives. Yet when we found out about the unions, both he and Calista instantly wanted to blame Lilac and me. However, when I have someone as easily angered as Kai, I am certainly going to use it to my advantage. To make trouble for the people I would truly enjoy battling: those who are to blame for our share of unfortunate fate.
Kai does not answer my jabs. He squirms, trying to move his legs and his feet, but the shadows will not release until I want them to. I take the moment to say, “It’s a party, Kai. Get over it. I don’t want to marry your sister, and you don’t want to marry mine.”
I turn from Kai and walk up the steps to the exit, releasing him only when I’ve reached the door.
Then the wind is knocked from me and I cannot move a single muscle in my body, not even my lungs. Seizing momentarily, I can’t help but focus on the pain coursing through my body and the feeling of my heart throbbing with heat. It takes me shorter than most and longer than usual to regain my composure.
“It’s always smart to take an open shot.” I don’t bother turning before I leave the room.