8. Nothing Burns Like The Cold
LUCIAN
In the universe of Elysia there are seven worlds, and only five with their own unique genetic code and life force. Soma, known as the most powerful, is the home of the Lucents; Lorucille, the Folk; Viridis, the Eunoia; Verena, the Armanthine; and Serpencia, the Nepenthe. With no sentient life of its own, Visnatus is the second least populated in the universe, with Iris having an orphic population of zero.
— PLANETOLOGY FOR KIDS BY ARTHFURD HARREIGHS
The castle has always been cold and lonely, far from homely, and I find myself dreading it further with each visit. It strays from the warm tones of Visnatus because the last thing Soma will ever be is warm. The castle is strictly bright white, pale blue, and silver, and every wall that faces the Great Sea is made entirely of glass to let in the most of the moons’ light.
A glass castle. Quite on the nose, giving the illusion of transparency when the Aibeks are nothing of the sort.
Margaret and Olwen—my personal guards when I’m in the kingdom—walk closely behind me as I make my way to the great hall. This means a threat is looming.
They wait outside the doorway and I enter the great hall–a long room whose walls are covered in paintings of the former Aibek families, their dark hair striking in comparison to their pale blue eyes. Instead of a table, the chairs line the walls. At the end of the room, there is a stained-glass window of the first Aibek to take power—a woman named Thypianne, which we only know because it is etched into the bottom edge of the window with the year seventy-two.
This number does not mean a thing to us.
I take my seat on the opposite end of Lusia and Labyrinth, the queen and king of Soma.
Nyoka is here, a current representative of Serpencia, which means whatever we are here to discuss is big news. The Nepenthe have not been welcome to Soma since the war, unless under dire necessity.
Kai sits next to me. It is both our duties to learn the customs of the others’ worlds, as we will each be the king of the other. In Soma, the bloodline is carried by the women. Lilac staying on the Soman throne was a contingency of our unions.
Kai gives me a loathing look. Lilac smiles shyly.
Labyrinth stands, clutching onto his silver staff that holds the Stone of Light at the top. “As most of you know, the corenths have begun attacking the orphia. These attacks have spread to multiple provinces across Elysia within the previous eight days.”
Eight days. It’s been eight days since Desdemona almost stepped into the vision of her mother. A great feat, something I have to deduce how to use for myself.
As I’m about to ask where the first attack occurred, Queen Melody of Lorucille says, “Do not forget two of the casualties were not at the hand of a corenth.”
“Who was at fault?” I speak out.
“Likely a Fire Folk. The two were torched after being killed,” she says to me, not the room.
“It’s not a priority,” King Easton of Lorucille says. “They were septic.”
“It’s important for the count,” Queen Melody says. “What is a priority is the discussion of energy. Lorucille was able to identify one of the Folk within an hour of finding the bodies, thanks to our new captivator.”
“There is no time to discuss energy,” Lusia says casually. Knowing her, she is anything but.
“Why wouldn’t it be? The general orphia should be allowed to give their say.” Queen Melody folds her hands.
“We will discuss it privately,” Lusia replies, sitting up taller.
Before the marriage announcements, this would be the time when Kai and I glanced at one another, a subtle apology for the other. Our parents have been arguing over the energy for the last year, perhaps longer.
Currently, it is Soma that powers the universe, amplifying and projecting the power of our moons. Not long ago, Lorucille found a way to amplify the energy of the Light Folk using what they call a captivator. Queen Melody and King Easton believe it is strong enough to power the universe, if not stronger than our current means.
“The most important problem to be solved are the corenth attacks,” Labyrinth says.
“Two hundred dead?” Nyoka asks no one in particular. “Just send more keepers to the lands. We’ll take care of ‘em.”
“Absolutely not,” Chetan, one of the Eunoia from the counsel of Viridis, says. “Your kind do not respect ours.” He speaks as though he is royalty, poised and collected. “The last year alone we have lost twenty-three of our own to your brutality.”
“It’s our fault you Eunoia are so weak?” Nyoka says with a flare of her fanged teeth.
“No, it’s your fault for not teaching your Nepenthe about peace.”
Nyoka practically hisses when Labyrinth pounds his staff against the ground, sending an echoing vibration through the room. “More keepers on all worlds in the districts with the highest saturation of corenth attacks would be a wise choice.” Chetan very visibly frowns, but he says nothing more. “However, killing the corenths will not be a sustainable solution.”
“It is about balance,” Queen Melody jumps in.
“Yes,” Labyrinth sighs. “It is about balance and a long-term solution.”
I believe that Desdemona and my treason could be the reason for the corenth attacks. Still, I cannot simply admit it in front of this room. Nor am I ready to admit it to Lusia and Labyrinth.
Two back-to-back visions flash through my mind. The first is a very unpleasant discussion with Lusia, and the other is of Kai disrupting me. I quickly release the thought and organize my own.
“What do you think, Lucian?” Kai says on cue.
“I think there are many plausible causes. For one, the peaceful relations between corenths and orphia haven’t been our normality for most of the documented history that we have. Perhaps this is just another resetting of sorts, a way for Zola to seek her balance.” I don’t give Kai the pointed look I would like to. In front of the worlds’ representatives, we must put up a united front. Appear as comrades.
“That is very wise counsel, Lucian, thank you,” Labyrinth says to me. I offer him a small bow of my head.
They go on to talk about the number of keepers they will send, and to where. Nyoka and Chetan argue in the background while I think about the Desdemona of it all. If I were to have been honest in my suspicions, I would have said I believe she roused some intrinsic part of our universe when she almost managed to step entirely through my projection. Portals are the only way to step from one place to another. I should have gone to Cynthia immediately.
Yet, I still believe the situation has to be handled with care.
A blade made of shadows comes right for my heart once the Royals and representatives have been excused from the great hall. Predictable, even without the power to see someone’s future moves. Still, with the speed and velocity of Labyrinth’s power, I only manage to stop the shadow a mere inch from my chest. With one small movement of my hand, I send it back to him, and it evaporates midway through the air.
“Good work, son,” he says. “It’s good to see you’re maintaining your wit.”
“Always, Father,” I say with a curt bow of my head. The words taste acidic on my tongue.
Lusia turns to me. “How are you, darling?”
“Very well, I appreciate you asking.” I give her the same bow of my head I gave to Labyrinth.
“Hm.” She looks at Labyrinth, and he only shakes his head. “Has a new student been enrolled in Visnatus?”
This is not the way I thought the conversation would go. I thought we would talk of Lilac and how Lusia could tranquilize her obvious despondency toward our marriages. That’s the thing with seeing the future—key details are often left out. I may see that a punch will be thrown from the front and miss the blade in my back.
I’m no liar when it comes to Lusia and Labyrinth, yet every part of me whispers to lie.
If I am right about this girl’s mother being taken by the Arcanes, then she has become an intrinsic player. And if she can step through to the void, then she can single-handedly take me further than I’ve ever gotten before.
Besides, if Lusia wants her, it is for no moral reason.
She wants her power.
Understandably so if I were as hungry for it as Lusia is, as Desdemona quite clearly has an overabundance of it.
I can’t let Lusia have her. Not yet. Not when she could be this important. A catalyst for my cause.
I’ve learned that Desdemona is also a relentless liar. Perhaps it is in her spirit that I find myself saying, “Not that I know of. Do you believe an individual could be related to the corenths?”
This could very well be my undoing.
Lying is a slippery slope. Once you slide, you can never stop.
My hands inch into my pocket, where I spin around my little silver wolf. It has a bite of cold thanks to Soma’s freezing temperatures.
“Oh, no, this has nothing to do with the attacks.” Her ice-blue eyes meet mine. First, my breathing slows, then my chest constricts and my body hangs low due to the sudden languor. “When you do find this new student, you will watch them for me, yes?”
“Yes,” I choke out before my upper body falls over the table and I am heaving in the air I’m having difficulty breathing.
“Yes?” she repeats, stroking the hair that has fallen in my face that I have no energy to move. “That’s my boy.”
Black specks take over my vision, and I lose feeling entirely in my chest. I can barely hear Labyrinth when he says, “Lusia, that’s enough,” and she releases her hold on my life force.
My body is entirely too tired to sit up, but it is not growing tired still, and the black specks in my vision slowly fade.
Lusia says something I cannot hear, and I am left practically paralyzed on the table. The only thing I can do now is pray that she has not taken the last of my life force and that I will get to wake up from the unwanted slumber.
* * *
It’s night by the time my eyes open again. To my pleasant surprise, I’m not dead. I stagger to my feet, then to the castle halls, and when I open a portal, I go directly to the entrance of the headmistress’s office.
Cynthia waves me in when she sees me and I crash onto the davenport. The cushion is comfortable and worn from my many years in the seat.
“What were the circumstances of Desdemona’s arrival?” I ask her, my voice sounding weak, because I am.
“What did she share?”
“Nothing. But I’ve found crucial information for our cause.”
Cynthia leans closer to me, her intertwined fingers perched under her chin. “Do tell.”
“Her mother is in the void.” I fall deeper into the davenport. “Does Lusia know Desdemona is here?”
“No,” she says. “I did not alert anyone of her presence.”
Not illegal, not legal either, and certainly a telltale sign that Cynthia knows more about the topic.
“Why is that?”
Her eyebrows raise and a slight smirk draws her features up. “I have the same suspicions as you.”
I was twelve when I learned that the fairies wanted a protector, a creature to do their bidding. They created the Folk by crushing the bodies of their fallen into one to create a creature a hundred times bigger than them. The first thing they ordered their new protector to do was exterminate an entire species—the capris.
It didn’t take long for me to understand that the fairies did not want a protector, they wanted vengeance.
That was when I began to want vengeance too.
Cynthia understands this desire far more than anyone. The only thing is that to her it’s futile, and to me it’s inevitable.
“May your suspicions meet my ears?” I ask.
“Grant me a favor and they shall.”
I am the only one who knows the many reasons she may need a favor, and still, I debate.
To most, a verbal promise will only be paid back by one’s virtue. A Royal is not included in the generalization of most. If I offer her a favor now, I am to be indebted to her until she asks something of me. Similarly to how I will be forced to marry Calista after our betrothal. A favor from a Royal is a covenant deal.
Yet, Desdemona’s mother is certainly suspect number one as to why the Arcanes have come back to Elysia this time around. So here I am, saying, “Yes, Cynthia, you have my favor.”
“Desdemona’s mother was closely linked to Freyr before her death, not Dalin.”
Interesting. I say, “Clarify what you mean by her death.”
“Isa Althenia died seventeen years ago,” she says.
The way she speaks is irritating, as is my idea that it would be any different—even with a favor at play. She’s always made me work for my information.
“Show me her picture.”
Cynthia goes to her bookshelf, one that is filled with all sorts of illegal text. At this moment, she only pulls out a yearbook. Surely enough, when she shows me the photo I see a younger version of the woman I saw in my projection eight days ago.
She faked her death. “Is this all I get for a favor?”
“No. You’ll have to find Freyr Alpine.” She’s egging me on, pushing me to ask the right questions. One of her favorite mental exercises.
“Where can I find Freyr?”
“He works in a secret welding facility, at the northern end of Lorucille’s mountain region.”
“Do you have exact coordinates?”
“I do not.” She raises a single eyebrow. “Keep an eye on the girl for me, would you?”
I stand to exit. “I was already planning on it.”
* * *
Back in my suite, it takes Azaire one glance to say, “Again?”
It must be the dangling shoulders, or the darkened eyes, or something else entirely that only someone who knows you can sense.
“Again.”
“Maybe Wendy could make you something to take the edge off?”
“There’s no replenishing life force,” I say, though he knows as I lay on the couch in languor.
“She’s a talented healer, maybe there’s something she could do.” Azaire sits next to my feet and looks down at me, shrugging. “It never hurts to ask.”
Asking, needing, can hurt. It can hurt her to know the truth of my kingdom. But there is another question entirely piquing in my mind. “How do you know she’s a talented healer?” It was only last week that they’d had their first conversation in years.
Azaire tugs on his beanie. “Oh,” he says, “uh…”
I sit up abruptly. My voice shakes as I say, “No.” Azaire’s cheeks redden. “Tell me you’re not in one of the volunteer groups.”
“It just happened,” he says, as if that will make it any better. “I know there’s nothing you can do and…”
“What did they do to you?” My voice sounds like I have not spoken in years.
Azaire looks down, still tugging on his beanie. “A few stab wounds, broken ribs, and a black eye.”
I exhale shakily. “Zaire?—”
“I’m not going to say it’s not a big deal, because it is, but I know you’ll make it right when you can. I can hold on until then.”
“No,” I seethe. “The next time someone tries to raggle you in, tell them I’ll have their heart in my hand by the end of the day.”
“Lucian,” he says softly. “I appreciate it, but you look like you’re one step away from Lusia doing you in for good. I’ll take the punishment because I don’t want to see that happen. No surrender, okay?”
No surrender.
I was alone, looking out past the Great Sea that I sometimes wished I could escape from.
Azaire sat next to me. It was silent for a while, not the kind where you’re fishing through your brain to find something to say. But the kind where you forget that there could be something to say at all. Azaire broke that silence when he asked, “Did they do something?”
“No.” I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop the tears from stinging my eyes. “No,” I croaked.
Azaire was barely three-quarters my size. He wrapped his arms around me like he was twice that. I opened my mouth to talk and he said, “You don’t have to say anything.”
It was foreign to me—the idea of not having to explain myself.
“I think,” I croaked. “I think she almost killed me this time.” The tears almost froze on my cheek.
“But she couldn’t. You’re too strong.” I think you’re the strong one. “She can’t have you, Luc. Maybe your power, but not your spirit.”
“I hate them.” I picked up a rock and threw it in the Great Sea. “I hate Labyrinth for not doing anything.”
“I know.”
“I know you know.”
“No,” he said. “I know what it feels like to hate.”
“Who do you hate?”
He mumbled something under his breath I couldn’t hear, and when he looked up again I knew not to pry.
But he surprised me by saying, “Under my beanie, I don’t have hair. I have snakes.” He tugged on his beanie. Back then it was forest green. “That’s why I hate. Because they kill.”
“That’s not your fault,” I told him.
“Neither is what Lusia does to you,” Azaire told me. “No surrender?” he squeaked. “You don’t give in to Lusia.”
“Then you can’t hate your snakes.”
“That’s different.” He broke our eye contact and shook his head.
“Why?”
“Because they have killed,” he said looking out over the water. “They took my life from me.”
I knew—know—what it meant to have your life taken from you. So I told him the whole truth, my entire life’s truth. I think it was the first time I’d ever been so honest. To this day, he’s the only one who knows.
And after my confession, he looked at me with tears in his eyes and said, “It wasn’t a Folk that killed my parents, it was the snakes.”
I, eleven and tiny, looked at him and repeated his words. “No surrender then?”
“No surrender then.”
He went on hating his snakes and I went on believing that Lusia would be the death of me. It ebbed and flowed until I one day realized that Azaire might be right. Perhaps she would take my life and perhaps there was something else, something that mattered more, that she would never get.
We protect one another. He’s the voice of wisdom, I’m the show of strength. You need both to win the battle. And as Labyrinth says, the wit matters more.
No surrender has come to mean something grand to the two of us. It’s the promise of another day. It’s the hope of making it through the hardest of them. It’s the strength to fight on, even when we don’t see the reason.
No surrender is the reason.
Today, I look at Azaire and say, “No surrender.”
* * *
I wait outside Calista’s third-period class, feeling relatively recharged from Lusia’s antics. I am unsure of how many more times I will be able to survive her soul sucking. Though I can say that it’s been many years that I’ve been sure she would be the death of me.
Calista rolls her eyes when she sees me and flips the few strands of hair that aren’t tied into her braided hairdo.
“Waiting for me, are you?” She walks past me. As far as I am concerned, we have much in common—a stark lack of control of our own lives. Yet neither she nor Kai cares to see it.
I walk fast until I am stepping in unison for her. “Oh yes,” I say, “you’ve caught me and my undying concern for you.”
“What do you want?” she asks, picking up her pace as if she could outwalk me.
My eyes remain trained directly in front of me. “I believe I have a way to get us out of the marriage.”
Calista’s head shoots toward mine, her eyes wide, the corners of her lips may even be upturned. “How?” she says with excitement creeping into her voice.
“It will not be easy,” I say in a hushed tone. “We will need privacy to discuss this.”
“Let’s,” Calista says, turning fast and walking to the steps that no one else touches and to a room that is covered in dust. “Tell me your plan.”
“It’s come to my attention that there is a secret operation happening on Lorucille,” I tell her. “I believe if we reveal this, we can break the Littaline Compact.”
“What would that mean for Lorucille?” she asks, but she is standing taller now, more alert for wandering ears and eyes.
“If we can do this right, freedom.”
“Tell me what to do.”
“Go to Lorucille, do your quiet snooping, and look underground for anything that’s out of the ordinary on the northern end of your mountain region,” I say quietly.
“Yes, sir,” she says, and not particularly convincingly, either.