Chapter Four Sylas #2
“Yes, and I need your help.” I’m about to ask her to break the rules for me, and she knows it. Her clear blue eyes narrow, her nostrils flare, and she steps back, shaking her head. “Not after what happened…”
Not after what happened with my father. Not after she helped Gryff and me get out of Gorhail without approval, and Dad was killed saving us that very night. I don’t blame her reluctance, but I need her help.
I lower my voice. “They found Silver’s poison in Victor’s blood.”
She says nothing. Instead, she grabs my hand, and her eyes darken like an angry ocean waiting to swallow whoever dares cross her. Below her collarbone, her relic, a small silver key pendant, faintly glows.
Sierra is a reader Arkani. Their magic lets them read people’s memories, coercing even the darkest secrets.
After Gorhail, they’re stationed outside of government buildings, so they can screen anyone who meets with the Grand Masters.
They are so crucial to security that even nonmagi officials fight to recruit them.
“How is this possible?” She releases my hand abruptly, wiping her palm, as if this would somehow alter the memory.
“I don’t know, Sier.” I plead. “Beau doesn’t deserve this. It will crush Lyria.” It will crush me.
The moment she hears Lyria’s name, her eyes soften. After Dad died, Sierra took Lyria to our family home in Iserine and spent weeks helping her through her grief. I owe her more than I will ever be able to repay, yet here I am, asking even more of her.
“What do you need?”
“Read Victor’s memories.”
“Sylas.” Her face twists in horror. Reading a dead person’s memory requires lifeblood.
“I know what I’m asking of you.” I hold her stare. “The Grand House will call for Beau’s execution without trial.”
She pauses at my words, but her frown worries me. I’m asking too much. She looks around and lowers her voice. “I know another way, but it will cost you.”
“Anything,” I say.
“A trade for a trade.” Her eyes darken, and her pendant glows again.
She’s asking for a secret in exchange for one of her own—readers use secrets as currency; they cannot share a secret without receiving one.
Lucky for me, Victor’s little follower gave me everything I needed earlier.
Sierra would want to know that her best friend is a liar.
“A trade for a trade,” I agree.
“Your Mortemagi friend has no magic,” I say.
She considers my answer.
“Olivia?” Sierra struggles to quell a laugh.
When I don’t react, she reaches for my hand.
Her amusement dies, her eyes prying into mine, searching for a sliver of a lie.
Of course, she finds nothing. I would never trade a lie to a reader.
I almost feel guilty making her doubt her own magic, wondering if she glazed over her best friend’s secrets.
And I hate that I feel nothing selling out a nonmagi.
“Well then, I am surrounded by liars.” She clears her throat. “Fable Rowan is seeing Lorne, behind Olivia’s back.”
I frown. Sierra and Olivia’s friend, Fable, is seeing Olivia’s boyfriend. How does that serve me? The secret is as empty as Fable’s brain.
“Stop looking at me like I tricked you. Fable can erase Silver’s venom from Victor’s blood,” Sierra clarifies.
“Before the execution order is set, they’ll retest Victor’s blood…
” She pauses at the confusion on my face, then explains further, “It’s procedure: they always retest twice to reduce the likelihood of a false outcome. ”
“Will this work?” I ask, my jaw tense.
“I’m not known to fail.” She gives me a hopeful smile. “Meet me in the infirmary courtyard at midnight. And be nice when you ask Fable for blood-cleansing dust.”
Now I understand why she told me it would cost me. I hate Fable Rowan.
My heart beats to the tick of my watch—Dad’s watch.
The reflection of the half-moon stings me with memories of the night Dad died.
It took me three weeks to bring myself to clean off the blood that splattered on the face of his watch.
As I stand in the infirmary courtyard, I pray to Haal that I will not have to bury another member of my family.
Lyria and Beau insisted on following me to the meeting because they do not trust Fable. Rightfully so, since she’s been holding a vendetta against our family ever since her mother was killed on a mission Dad assigned.
A bob of yellow hair scurries out of the southern hallway, tugging her tan coat to her neck. The three of us look up to see Fable speeding toward us. She moves like a fugitive, even though curfew doesn’t apply to school grounds. Behind her, Sierra walks with purpose, a notebook in her hand.
“Fable.” I give her a curt nod in greeting, but she ignores me.
“I thought you needed to go to the infirmary,” she snaps at Sierra, her sharp nose lifting in disdain. “Why did you lure me to this pit of vipers?”
Pit of vipers. I stifle a laugh, even though I’m sure Fable meant it as an insult.
It’s no surprise coming from a dustmaker Arkani.
They walk around thinking that all magic would cease without them and their little ground-up plants.
To be fair, there is merit to their arrogance.
Our world would cease to function without Arkani; they are the backbone of our technology.
Their inventions allow us to further research, find cures for illnesses.
It’s a pity Fable is the worst of them, selfish to the core—she only looks out for herself.
I don’t say any of that, because right now, her magic is Beau’s lifeline.
“I need blood-cleansing dust,” I say. “Name your price.”
Blood-cleansing dust is a family recipe belonging to the Rowans, as are the majority of the complex dust recipes. Rumor has it Fable’s family has spilled a lot of blood over the years to grow their collection. Judging by her predatory smile, I believe the rumors.
“Why should I help you?” she scoffs. “Your father killed my mother.”
“Dying on assignment is a risk of the job.” I measure my tone, not wanting to jeopardize my only chance to save my brother. “Your mother knew this just as we all do.”
“I’m leaving.” Fable whirls, walking toward the infirmary.
“I’m sure Olivia would love to know that you’re excellent company to her boyfriend,” I call out.
Fable freezes.
I don’t even know Olivia. Before this afternoon, I didn’t even know her name. But she is the ticket to Beau’s freedom.
At my side, Lyria shifts her weight with discomfort. She disapproves, I’m sure, but our brother’s life hinges on how well I play my cards. I can see Fable’s brain whirring through my threat, weighing the consequences, and finally, she sighs. “Olivia can never know.”
I’ve won.
“I’ll make your stupid dust if all of you take a vow of silence.” She crosses her arms. “It would ruin what I have with Lorne.”
Pathetic. She doesn’t care about her friend at all. “We’ll take the vow when you hand us the dust,” I reply.
Fable straightens her narrow shoulders, bobbing her head like a porcelain doll. “You’ll have to get me the substitute ingredients. Two, you’ll find in Gorhail Woods, and the third, you’ll find where River Grand meets Albion Creek. Bring them before dawn. My classes begin at eight.”
“What are the ingredients?” Beau asks before I can.
A sinister smile pulls at the corner of Fable’s lips. “Chasmore, Afa’s Bloom, and Purple Bittercress.”
Absolute silence follows her words. I don’t know how long it lasts, but my sister’s sharp inhale snaps us back to reality. Beau shifts uncomfortably, and Sierra gapes at Fable in horror.
Fable has no intention of helping us at all.
Chasmore is in the Eastern Forest, nearly impossible to find at night because the flowers blend with its surroundings.
Afa’s Bloom is locked in the Northern Greenhouse, deep in the Northern Forest—only the overseer of the House of Arcane has a key.
And Purple Bittercress only grows at the junction of two rivers, under Junction Bridge.
This is a death sentence.
“Poachers,” I manage to say, repressing memories of the last time I was by that junction. Dad was killed on that bridge, and she knows that. “Substitute the bittercress,” I snap.
“I assure you I’m not being malicious.” Fable’s smile says otherwise. “Devil’s Wort is the only substitute, and it only grows in the Farbon Desert. I suppose you could wait a week, and I’ll have someone send it from Imglen.”
We don’t have a week. We don’t even have half a day.
“If you leave now, perhaps you’ll make it back in time,” Fable sneers, as if I needed another reminder of why people hate the Rowans. They’re cruel.
“You haven’t changed at all, Fable. Your selfishness will catch up to you one day.” Sierra shakes her head.
“Yet you need me to save your little friend.” Her high-pitched voice rings against the quiet of the night. “Bring me the ingredients no later than five. I’ll need at least two hours to make the dust.” Then she leaves.
“That bitch,” Lyria curses. “Chasmore? At this hour? That plant is virtually invisible in the dark.” Not only invisible but also protected. Even to pluck it for classes, we need special permission from DOTS.
“The three things we need are in opposite directions. There is no way you’ll make it back on time,” Beau points out.
He’s right. It will take me hours to get to all three locations, not counting the time it’ll take to search for the Chasmore and dive for the Purple Bittercress. But I have Raiku and Railesza—maybe they’ll help me go faster.
“You know nothing about plants, so I’ll find the Chasmore,” Lyria volunteers.
The words hurt my ears like nails on a chalkboard.
Lyria isn’t field certified; no matter how I try to spin this into my going on an impromptu Secondline patrol, I will be severely reprimanded if Paltro finds out I took my sister with me.
Besides, how will she fare if she comes face-to-face with poachers when a Secondline-trained mage like Victor succumbed to them?
“I’ll get the Afa’s Bloom. Silver can freeze the lock on the greenhouse,” Beau adds. Are both my siblings out to antagonize me tonight? Beau, too, is not field certified, but to his credit, he’s not a stranger to sneaking out into the woods past curfew.
“Fantastic,” I grunt. One wrong turn, and their fate is sealed to the God of Death.
“It’s either this, or I die tomorrow anyway.” Beau shrugs with a nonchalance that grinds my teeth. “We have a better chance of succeeding if we split up.”
“True, but…” My protest dies immediately. He’s right.
“I can do this. Trust me?” He looks at me with clear blue eyes that take me back to the first day Dad brought him home.
He was so small, only two then, but his eyes have always been so profound.
Perhaps he is right, perhaps I should trust him.
Would things have been different if Dad had trusted me that night?
Would the poachers have found us if he hadn’t come looking for me?
“That leaves you with the Purple Bittercress.” Lyria winces in apology.
“I’ll be fine,” I lie, running a hand over Railesza. Sooner or later, I’ll have to face my fears. “Set your watches. If you’re not finished in an hour, come back and we’ll find another way.”
What I don’t tell them is that there is no other way. If we fail, I’ll take responsibility for killing Victor Carver.