Chapter 9 Kaelen
Kaelen
Ipush through the tall doors that lead to the Council chamber without knocking. The low discussion ceases as I yank the witch in after me, Eres hovering beside it, and use my erevas to slam the doors closed. “One Lightbringer.”
She stumbles, but I ignore it as I throw myself down into my seat. I can feel Eres’s disapproval like a scratch against my skin as he murmurs something to the girl before heading to his own chair, and it rankles. But my anger is still there, burning hot embers in my throat.
Those fucking witch-fire eyes gleam as she takes us in, studying our positions around the table, lingering on my mother. It might look meek, but I’ve never met a Lightbringer who wasn’t focused on killing any Darkwielder within reach.
And it was in his fucking bed. With Darian.
Dangerous.
Darian spreads his hands, his tone placating. “There. You can see that her hands are bandaged. I was not lying.”
Nythen scoffs. “And as I have said—more than once—she does not need her hands to be interrogated.”
My mother raises her hand. “Eres. Darian tells us the Lightbringer was injured. Explain to me how you found her.”
Her eyes sweep over the girl, and I wonder what she sees. If it’s different from what I see.
I listen as Eres explains her injuries. The witch stands silently, head cocked as it listens and bandaged hands hidden beneath the folds of my damned cloak. My mother looks to Nythen and Valcor for confirmation. “Do you agree with this summary?”
Both men nod. Nythen straightens. “I wish to interrogate her as soon as possible. Whatever information she has may be relevant to the current patrols, particularly considering what we discovered in the Veilspire.”
“Careful,” my mother says mildly, nodding in the witch’s direction. I'm surprised she's spoken at all. Nythen dips his head in acknowledgement. “Eres, your thoughts. From the lengthy discussions held before your arrival, I gather you have a different view.”
“It shouldn’t be here,” I interrupt, before Eres can speak. I point at her. “It’s here, listening to everything we say.”
My mother raises her eyebrows at me. “It?”
It’s an expression very similar to the look she would give me when I misbehaved as a child, and my lips slam shut.
“The witch is here for questioning,” Nythen says tightly. “And she won’t be taking anything back to Solvandyr.”
“Her name is Lyra,” Eres says sharply. “I know this, because I asked her. We have no confirmation of exactly who she is beyond that, since we haven’t asked her.
And if we do as Nythen is so avidly suggesting and torture her for information she may or may not hold, it makes us no better than the people we profess to despise.
We cannot judge their actions and then act in the same way.
And as we have also discussed before, intelligence received under torture is not admissible in my opinion. ”
He catches my eye across the table. “People will say anything when they’re in pain.”
“I’ve heard enough.” My mother straightens in her chair. “Hello, Lyra.”
The Lightbringer raises her head, revealing those fucking eyes again before inclining her head. “Your Majesty.”
“You know who I am?”
The girl glances around the table. “It’s not difficult to guess.”
Her voice sounds hoarse. Scratched. I wait for my mother to offer water, but she doesn’t. “Where do you place in the Lightbringer hierarchy?”
A small frown. “I have no place in the hierarchy.”
“That’s a lie,” I snap. “Every single one of you has a place.”
They’re fucking obsessed with it.
She almost glares. I see the way her eyes tighten at the corners, the way her lips purse before the expression slips away.
“I was left at the High Solar’s temple in Solvandyr as an infant.
My parents could not be traced. I lived at the temple for several years and was sent for military training at the age of six, as is the law. ”
A neat story. Valcor speaks next, to my surprise. “You’re highborn. Why were you not adopted?”
She surveys him. “Since my bloodline could not be confirmed with any certainty, none stepped forward to claim me.”
“And what happened then?” Her gaze swings back to me, and I lean back in my chair. “Between military training and Eres finding you in the Veilspire?”
“I…,” she shifts. Her lips twist as if she’s in pain, before she straightens. “I finished training and moved into the lower ranks to complete mandatory service.”
When she says nothing else, I wait. My hand gestures at her. “And then? Or do you need more time to come up with a story?”
Her gaze drops, but not before I see the glare. “I was given to a lieutenant in the Solvandyr army. I was… with him, in the Veilspire. I attempted to intercede when the unit burned a village, and killed a Solvandyr soldier. What you came across was my punishment.”
Silence falls across the table. She offers no further details. Just those few lines, delivered in a quiet but clear voice.
I study her intently.
Even I can admit that she makes a believable victim on the surface, even if I don’t believe a word of it. But if it’s true—
“Then she may well have information,” Nythen surmises. He ignores the witch completely, addressing my mother. “From this lieutenant. She may not even understand it. Assuming her story is true.”
Eres’s hand slams down on the table. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Enough,” my mother snaps. “Lyra. If given the choice, would you return to Solvandyr?”
It feels as though the air in the room grows warmer as the Lightbringer shakes her head. “I ask for sanctuary, Your Majesty. I don’t want to go back.”
Sanctuary?
“That’s not something we offer,” Nythen blusters.
But Darian interrupts him sharply. “We’ve never been asked.”
A Lightbringer, seeking sanctuary with the enemy?
As one, all of us look to my mother. She taps her fingers against the stone, deep in thought. “You will understand that I cannot simply allow you free reign in Umbraxis. At this point, we have only your word and Eres’s testimony to confirm that you may be who you say you are.”
When I tilt my head toward the girl, assessing her response, she’s staring hard at the floor.
Her fingers, dark and swollen, appear from within the folds of my cloak, and she winces as she uses them to pull the cloak more tightly around her.
“I understand. This… interrogation. If it will help. I would submit to it.”
If it was even possible, my shoulders tighten further. Her words only serve as proof that she has no idea what she’s doing. Nobody would volunteer for interrogation by Nythen. Nobody sane, at least. And even though when I first heard of her arrival I sided with him, now I find myself… uncertain.
Perhaps it’s the sight of her hands, or the way she leans to one side, accommodating the injury in her stomach. The thought of her undergoing more of that—
“No.”
Heads turn in my direction. My mother recovers first. “Kaelen?”
Clearing my throat, I glance at Eres. His eyes are bright. “Veyr should do it. It’s more reliable.”
“It relies on his word being true,” Nythen barks. “I strongly advise against it.”
“He’s still a member of this Council.” This fractured, broken Council. Fuck, I don’t even recognize the words coming out of my mouth. I don’t look at Darian. “If he’s not to be trusted, he shouldn’t be here.”
Trusting him has never been the issue, no matter what poison I spew at him.
“Quite right,” Eres murmurs. “This is an acceptable compromise.”
“Very well,” my mother inclines her head. “Darian. If you would be so kind.”