19. Birth Of A Vendetta
LUCIAN
Every greater corenth has a specific method of death. A kappa needs a Serpencian metal only found in a select few weapons. A moonaro must be beheaded with the spatha sword. The fatta scorpion is, on paper, the easiest: steal its heart. Good luck getting past its shell, however.
– HISTORY AND CORENTHS BY JJ ARIST (UNPUBLISHED)
When Wendy comes to my suite and says, “We need to talk,” I know that the glamour has been lifted from the book.
She walks out into the hall and I turn in the opposite direction. “We should get Azaire?—”
“No,” she says quickly. “It’s not safe.”
“He’s a big boy now, Wendy.”
“I don’t want him involved,” she pleads.
“Is this a romantic thing or an argument? Though, I suppose they’d both stem from romance?—”
“Neither. But you’re gonna want to see this.” We walk back to what seems to be our new headquarters and sit at our dusty table. She slides a paper to me. “Look.”
The moment my eyes settle on the parchment, I see this is more than I’d anticipated. In the middle of the page is a sketch of a weapon. It’s long and thin with a stand on the bottom.
It’s what’s around the main sketch that piques my curiosity. All kinds of components made of precious stones and metals with arrows pointing to where they should be placed within the long and thin piece.
At the top it reads Design no. 27. At the bottom there’s the seal of Lorucille with two signatures—King Easton and Queen Melody, and a destroy-by date labeled as four years ago.
And yet, what can I do about this? I hardly have autonomy over my own choices in life. What am I to do about a weapon being made by another kingdom?
A dead end, surely, because Freyr gave me answers to the wrong question.
Wendy takes the paper back, and when she makes the motion to tear it, I have no qualms.
Until it doesn’t tear.
“Your guess was accurate.” She sets it back on the table. “Whoever glamoured it did so because they couldn’t destroy it. That date?” her voice cracks. “Two days before my ma was killed by a pernipe.”
My eyes meet her glassy green ones. “Yeah,” she says. “I think it was the Royals.”
“This is why you don’t want Azaire involved?”
“I care about him, Lucian, more than I should. I don’t want to see him…”
“I meant what I said, Azaire can take care of himself. As for caring about him, go for it. He’s not only the strongest person I know, he’s the most moral.” I pull for the paper again. Wendy stays silent while I try to pull some semblance of caring out of me.
This weapon is grand and sure to be cataclysmic.
I’d like to care about the new mystery that’s been handed to me, though I have too many of my own. Such as Isa and her connection to the Arcane. Desdemona and her power, and now her lying to me about the moonaro.
Not only did I see her with it in my vision before I ran, thinking her life depended on it, she told me she saw nothing.
While her left hand scrunched into a fist.
This weapon is only going to distract me from what truly matters.
Getting to the void and finding out how to wipe the Arcanes from existence.
“I was there when my mom died,” Wendy whispers. I look away from the blueprint. “I’m the strongest in my family,” she confides in me. “Magically. So when they found out I was there when Ma was killed and I didn’t save her, they blamed me. No one ever said it, but I felt it. I still do.”
I don’t know what to say, and she senses this, taking up the space for my response by saying, “I’m telling you this because if I get close to Azaire and anything happens to him… I already know how it feels.” Wendy looks at me. “And I fear morality will become a weakness.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But he has us. We’ll protect him.”
She nods, sucking her lips into a line. “You’re a fair friend.”
“He’s more than a friend. He’s my family.”
“Well then you’re fair family to have.”
“He’s more fair than I ever was or will be.” I pause. “He’ll take you as well, Wendy.”
Wendy clears her throat, breaking our eye contact. “There’s something more… that woman who was taken? Isa? I remember her.”
My interest has been piqued, again. “What do you remember?”
“Ma and I used to visit her,” she mumbles. “I was trying to figure out why she’d be involved in something like this.” Her glassy eyes are glued to the blueprint. “But, um…” she clears her throat and looks up, “my mom kept a lot of journals. The words Isa, Freyr, and weapon came up a lot.”
Isa, Freyr, and weapon. They were all involved. The clarity of this finding is surreal. This is why Isa faked her death. She was running from punishment.
“You think they built the weapon?”
“Originally, yes. They thought they were doing something good.” Wendy looks down at her lap. “Just read these.”
Papers slide across the table to me.
They’re back. The two little girls, Marbella and Annabetha, I think, were killed by “mysterious” means. That means Arcane, even if no one is willing to say it. I don’t mean to sound insensitive, but if there was ever a time to prove myself, this is it. If I could kill one—or all—of them, no one could doubt me again. I’m going to Isa tonight. Freyr is the one with the greatest chance against these creatures.
Marbella and Annabetha. Cynthia’s girls.
We discovered something today. Something so… ahh! This is it, my path to acclamation.
“How old are these?” I ask.
“From a year before I was born.”
I read them once more. Then another. “Can I see the blueprint?”
When it’s in my hands, I examine it again with freshened ardor. There is no mention of what it does, or what powers it. Weapons need a power source, typically an orphia’s power, with some sort of generator that amplifies it.
Surely, if Isa, Freyr, and Willow were making a weapon to be used against the Arcane, they would’ve prioritized a power source first.
Only one thing is certain: I have to know what it can do.
* * *
I lay on Azaire’s bed, thinking about the day Lusia discovered Desdemona. If only she didn’t wear the gold, perhaps then I would not have been killed.
Perhaps Desdemona would not have killed.
I’m not ignorant, however. I know she was by the coast because of the body. After coming to me worried and racked with guilt there’s no way I couldn’t know.
I wish I didn’t see her with the moonaro. I’m glad I saw her with the moonaro—now I know for a fact that she is hiding something.
Though I fear I’m going to destroy the trust we’ve cultivated before I have a chance to find out.
“How’s Wendy?” I ask.
“Still avoiding me,” he says, staring down at the tome on his desk.
I put thoughts of the Gerner and the gold that led to my partial demise aside. Today is the day of the kickback Fleur had told me about. I came to Azaire with the single intention of dragging him with me.
I stand with a clap of a hand. “Then let’s party.”
“I don’t know…”
“What fun have we had these past weeks?” Azaire doesn’t answer. In fact, he tugs on his beanie. “Exactly! They’re going to be in the ballroom.”
Azaire turns slowly in the chair. “You haven’t hung out with them in a while,” he observes.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“More important things,” I answer.
“Well,” he gestures to the book on the desk, “universal relations are more important.”
“Depends on priorities.”
“Hm,” he nods, “what happened?”
“A few things. Could use a distraction.” Azaire gives me a look that leads to me telling him of the new discovery of the weapon, then Desdemona.
“It was made for the Arcanes?” Azaire repeats to me when I’ve finished.
“Yes.”
He nods. “Be careful, Luc.”
I smile, mostly for him, while tucking my chin to my chest. “I will.”
“What about Desdemona? How are you?”
“If anything more happens with the corenths, I’ll know who to question.”
Azaire smiles. “No, I mean… I saw you with her at the Gerner. I’m kind of surprised you haven’t told me about her.”
I shrug and cross my arms. “There’s nothing to tell.”
He turns back to his desk, resting his forearms atop his book. “It didn’t look like nothing.”
Lusia must have thought the same.
Desdemona and her gold dress and my eyes that betrayed me—-unable to let go of the sight of her.
I ball up a dirty shirt from his floor and throw it at his face.
“Oh, bro, this is Yuki’s!” Azaire shouts, throwing the garment back at me. “You smell that!”
“Smells like roses,” I say mockingly.
“Nasty.”
“So,” I say, “party?”
I have a desperate desire for a distraction.
I have a question to answer, a girl who’s hiding something from me, and feelings I’m hiding from. A night of fun is due before the rest.
He looks back at his book like he’s going to miss it, then back at me with a nod. “Party.”
* * *
We enter the ballroom and I pull a bottle of vesi from my shirt. It looks rather empty—bigger with only the small lot of us.
“Lucian!” multiple people call at once. Breck, Jermoine, and Yuki get up and walk to me, grabbing my hand and hitting my back.
“Yo, Zaire!” Breck says, doing the same with him as he did me. “Where’ve you been!”
The others start shouting his name, high-fiving him, etc.
Azaire shrugs. “Universal relations.”
“Who got the keys?” I ask.
Yuki says, “Me, obviously. None of these other duds are smart enough to steal from Cynthia.”
“Better not let her catch you,” Breck says.
“She’s not as vicious as you might think,” I add.
“Never doubt their special relationship,” Yuki teases.
“Nasty,” Jermoine says.
“Yeah, let’s not talk about the headmistress and me like that.”
Yuki laughs and tugs the bottle from my hand.
“Hey, Lucian,” Fleur calls while Eleanora glances at her sideways and Calista stares me down.
I sit next to Fleur and look at Breck, who’s pouring a shot. I ask Azaire, “Do you wanna drink?”
He shakes his head, no.
“Two here, kind sir!” I shout, for Fleur and me.
“Make that five,” Eleanora says.
“What am I, a bartender?” Breck says back. He hobbles over, tripping on his foot, telling me the state of his mind. He puts five shot glasses down and a bottle of vesi. “You guys playing speed?”
Yuki says “No” right as Fleur looks at me and says “Yes.”
She smiles slightly. Her lips puckered at one side and lifted on the other.
I look at Breck. “Five more.”
Fleur moves to sit across from me.
“Who wants to play with me when they’re done?” Eleanora says hastily.
Both Yuki and Jermoine say, “Me.”
“Go easy on me,” Fleur whispers.
“Sure thing, darling.”
“Darling?” She smiles and whispers, “I like that.”
I don’t.
The look Azaire gives me tells me he doesn’t either. I don’t know how much he’s picked up on between Desdemona and I. Him knowing anything only proves that I don’t.
There are five shots in front of both Fleur and me. Whoever finishes their five first, wins. Breck counts down from three and I start with my first one, taking it slow.
By my third, I can’t help but wish that the girl with the long white hair across from me had short orange hair instead.
By my fifth, I take it extra slow so Fleur will win, and I think about how I’d never get away with that with Desdemona. She would never let anyone go easy on her.
Least of all me, I’d assume.
There are some claps, none of which are enthusiastic, and Fleur sits next to me again, leaning on me and tugging my arm. I lift it and put it around her, an action I prefer with Desdemona and shouldn’t. Because the way I feel cannot be felt.
Or, at the very least, cannot be acted upon.
There’s a certain precision, perhaps professionalism, that is required to handle such fragile situations. I need her for the end. I can’t fill the middle with anything more than lies.
And she happily agrees, considering the number of times she already has done just that.
Yet, I can’t stop thinking about the sensation of our unfinished touches.
Tormenting touches.
Tantalizing touches.
My ridiculous, unrefined ramblings.
I won’t fall any further for her.
It would be too easy of a descent.
I take another sip of alcohol that I don’t need.
“Lucian!” Kai says as Jermoine pours ten shot glasses—two rows of five—of Rena. His world’s alcohol. “Are you up for a round of speed?”
Suddenly, the ballroom feels too small for the two of us.
“Luc.” Azaire nudges my arm. “You don’t have to.”
“Anytime,” I say. Smiling and walking in his direction, I sit across the table from him.
“Jermoine, call it,” Kai says.
“Three, two, one.”
I pick up the first shot glass and I’m onto the third in moments. I set the fifth one down before him.
Kai does the same moments after. He wipes his chin and scowls. “Fet nuit.” Faerie for good game. A dead language to all but us.
“Fet nuit,” I answer.
“Now that that’s over,” Fleur says as she walks toward me. “How about you play with me? Instead of glasses, we can…”
Interesting. I used to enjoy our flirtations. Now they pale in comparison to Desdemona’s antics.
Her white hair falls over my shoulder and I’m turning away when Kai says, “Again?”
Azaire meets my eyes from across the room and shakes his head. I raise my eyebrows in response.
“I welcome any invitation of friendly competition.”
Fleur stays at my side, putting her arms around my shoulders. It feels nothing like the surge of adrenaline I feel when Desdemona touches me.
Jermoine pours the shots. I have my fifth down by the time Kai has his fourth in hand.
“You’re only getting slower,” I say.
Kai laughs mockingly. “Yeah, let’s do it again then,” he slurs, making me realize I had as well.
“Oh, come on,” Fleur says.
“Yeah, guys, I think this is enough,” Azaire says.
“I think Zaire’s right,” Jermoine adds.
“Just pour the shots,” Kai’s voice is tight.
“Okay, okay, but what about the rest of us?” Yuki shouts. I glance at him and he nods once. “You’re gonna drink it all over whatever big dick competition this is.”
Breck whistles and the others look away while Kai snorts.
“What?” Yuki asks. “Did I misread something?” he says sarcastically.
Kai turns back to me. “I’m ready for another. But if you’re not…” he shrugs.
I look at Jermoine and lean back, resting my arm on the chair next to me. “Pour the shots.”
He sighs and does. This time, Kai finishes a moment before I do and whoops, rather loudly.
“Two to one.” Yuki shakes his head. “But I mean, three to zero would’ve been embarrassing.” He didn’t say it with any animosity, I don’t think. Simply a dim-witted comment and a chuckle.
But Kai scoffs, standing up and tipping over a bit. “What’d you say to me?”
I stand up. Either the room is spinning or my head is twisting, or perhaps it is both. The faces around me are all staring, but they look… different.
Less like the people I know.
Kai shoves Yuki and I put a hand on Kai’s shoulders. I’m about to say “calm down” or “not now” or some string of words to convince him not to hit Yuki again when he turns around and knocks me square in the jaw.
I’m unsure if it is the force or the dizziness that sends me to the ground, where I would’ve fallen on my face if I hadn’t put my hands in front of it.
Someone tugs me up and over and I’m met by Kai’s face. He punches near my jaw again, but he hits the floor next to me two times before he finally connects with my cheek.
He picks up my shirt by the collar and I… feel nothing. He punches me again and I hear the others shouting, but the ringing in my ears keeps me from understanding. Then Kai is disappearing, being pulled back by some invisible force that I finally make out to be Azaire when I sit up and see my brother holding back my old friend.
Fleur is at my side at once, grabbing my hand and holding my face and asking if I’m alright.
Then I hear Azaire groan.
I push myself up, stumbling out to see Kai land another punch on Azaire while Yuki and Jermoine try to hold him back.
Breck is on the floor with a bloody nose.
I make my way to them, prepared to bloody Kai further, but not before Azaire grabs Kai by the collar of his shirt and shoves him into the marble wall.
I’ve never seen Azaire fight like this.
“I always knew you were his bitch,” Kai spits. “But isn’t this?—”
Azaire knocks him in the jaw and Kai spits blood. This time, Jermoine grabs Azaire and Kai runs to me.
Then I’m punched in the face again.
I roll up my sleeves but miss the first punch to Kai’s face; my torso twists too much and I stumble. Kai knees me in the ribs.
I elbow him in the gut, three times. He elbows me in the forehead so hard I see stars. Then the ceiling. I lay on the floor. Azaire comes to my side and so does Fleur.
“Luc—”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding,” Fleur whispers, holding my face.
“I must say,” I comment as I wipe blood from my lips, “I rather prefer words.” And even my own sound like a merry-go-round.
“Yeah, that’s cause you can’t fight,” Kai says, and I see Yuki and Jermoine still hold him back.
I bob my head around and end up laughing from the swirling room before I make it to my point… which was… I’m unsure.
“Bro, bro,” I hear Yuki saying. “Just cool it, bro. It’s not a big deal.”
“Come on, Kai, it’s just a stupid game.”
“Are you alright?” I ask Azaire.
He has a black and blue mark on his jaw. “Yeah,” he breathes.
Fleur wipes my face with a cloth that moves away red. I feel her magic, dulling the already dull sensation. It’s when my eye isn’t swelling that I realize it was ever swollen.
“Dude,” Jermoine says, looking at Kai who sits on the other end of the spinning room. “You got blood on the floor.”
Kai spits more blood on the floor and says, “Surely not the first time in a place like this.”
* * *
The next day, I awaken with a pounding headache and a kick. There’s a weapon, built to be used against the Arcanes.
There’s a girl, who might just be able to get us to them.
My feelings, my hesitancy about the matter have no meaning. I don’t allow them to. This is what has to be done—not kissing a girl and counting her freckles and any other actions of madness.
Yet, despite my sudden eagerness, it is a bit difficult to walk to Cynthia’s office in a straight manner.
“There’s something I kept from you.” I prepare to proclaim the whole truth to Cynthia, sitting on the davenport.
“Again?” she asks as if this is amusing.
“Again.” I don’t share the same amusement. No matter how hard I try to ignore it there is a panging, a pleading in my chest to not go forward.
I disregard it.
“The true reason I’ve been getting closer to Desdemona is because when I tracked Isa to the void, Desdemona almost stepped through my projection.”
I exclude my own feelings from the confession.
Cynthia’s eyes flare and she leans over her desk a little more. “Intriguing. Do you think she could make contact?”
“Unknown,” I answer. “Perhaps.” I spin my little silver wolf. Then I stand, setting the red knife on Cynthia’s desk. She looks down at it and up at me as I stand beside it.
“And this is?” Her fingers intertwine beneath her chin.
“Unknown. That’s the problem.” I sigh. “It burnt Desdemona’s skin to a crisp, even after Wendy detected no poison.”
Cynthia picks up the knife, holding each end against an index finger to the light. “Can I hold onto it?”
“You wouldn’t want to. It was used to kill a Soman soldier.”
“Hm,” she mumbles, setting the knife back down. “Use it against another Fire Folk and see if they have the same reaction, then bring it back to me.”
I take the knife, then I take my seat. “It’s not as though we have an overabundance of them running around here.”
“You’ll find one.” She winks, slowly. “You have my undying faith.”
“You sent me after Freyr,” I say. “Is it true to assume you knew of the weapon?”
She smiles lopsidedly. “Yes.”
“And of Isa and Willow’s involvement?”
Cynthia shrugs belatedly. “I keep my tabs.”
“Have you seen the weapon?”
“I have not.”
A dangerous, glorious idea peaks into my mind, not for the first time. “It’s harrowing,” I say flatly. “Originally built to be used against the Arcanes. I think we could use it.”
“Go on,” Cynthia says as she rolls out her wrist.
“This weapon is something of mass destruction. If Desdemona can make it to the void through my vision, or at the very least get information on the weapon, you and I are one step closer to getting there ourselves. Perhaps it could solve all of our problems in one fell swoop.”
Cynthia is smiling fully now. “You’re going to betray your untrustworthy beloved?”
My eyes meet hers. Unwavering. “I’m going to make good on my promise of revenge.”