Chapter Twenty-Two #3
And Adeline was brought back to a cold hallway, another loss, another embrace, her arms around her sister.
Both of them sobbing, the crack of Mareda’s crutch hitting the floor, a tangle of arms so tight she couldn’t remember which of them was holding up the other.
The memory of that pain echoed in her ribs and made her chest sting; for Ceriwyn, for Kai, for herself. For her mother, and for Eda.
And, she realised, with another sting that bled pain through her veins with each weary beat of her heart; for Mareda, too.
Despite it all, she missed her sister. And if Avette had usurped the crown they’d been bickering over, if she’d turned Eisalaan to an ice prison akin to the Laune, what did that mean for Mareda? For Gerard, and Imogen? Where was her father, and all those missing people?
Even when Kai finally guided Ceriwyn to a chair, and the rest of the Court followed suit, the thoughts raced around her head, looping themselves until they became a singular question that flooded her lungs with panic.
What about my family?
Kai settled his sister into Eleni’s vacant seat and crossed to Adeline’s other side. Ceriwyn was still hiccuping quietly, but when Adeline took her hand, she squeezed back at once. The last of Kai’s family, safe and whole, and suffering all the same. And the last of Adeline’s—
“We’re going back to Eisalaan,” she said aloud.
“Adeline—”
“Kai, and myself,” she went on, speaking over him without letting herself look his way—not letting him talk her out of this, not now that they had an audience who cared and worried for him as much as she did.
“Why?” said Alun, when nobody else seemed able to speak.
And without preamble, without waiting for Kai to cut in and guide them carefully to the conclusion that he should sprint into Avette’s undisguised trap, she told them.
“Avette is back.”
It was strange how their reaction was audible only for the ring of silence around it.
Shock was too weak a word, too simple. There were layers to that sound: disbelief, and rage, and fear, and probably a thousand other emotions she wasn’t privy to.
Oswalt swivelled his gaze to Kai, another long, silent conversation passing between them.
“When do you leave?” said Os finally.
He met her eye then, and it was a little unnerving; she didn’t think they’d ever made much eye contact before.
It hadn’t occurred to her before they’d arrived in Dhalias, but then she supposed, it would make sense if he’d had less will to look her in the eye after she’d driven his king, and by extension, his people, across the ocean.
Adeline swallowed, made herself hold his gaze.
“Not yet,” she said. “I know Kai would like to act fast, but I also think we need some semblance of a plan. My aunt’s messenger gave us a brief account of Eisalaan under Avette’s rule. It’s bleak. Stark conditions, missing people ...”
She did not add that her father was among them, but maybe her face betrayed how personal it was for her; Oswalt’s expression didn’t soften exactly, but his nod was a gentle incline of his head.
“A plan, then,” he said. He released Adeline and glanced instead around the table. “I’m assuming our objective is Avette’s death, ultimately.”
Nobody rushed to answer him. A ripple of discomfort rounded the table.
It was Kai, of course, who finally did answer, slow and reluctant.
He turned his palm up as he spoke, staring once more at those silver-white scars as he so often did when he spoke of Avette.
A reminder, she supposed, of what had been done to him; of what he’d lived through and the betrayal that had followed.
“Ultimately, yes. Nobody is safe—nobody is truly free, until she’s gone.
We could try to take the pendant, but she’s reclaimed it once already.
” A frown flickered over his brow, like his cousin had presented an equation he struggled to solve.
“We could imprison her; let her live out a life sentence in captivity, but—”
“But she’s powerful, and we risk her escape,” said Oswalt.
Kai nodded distantly, still eyeing his scars. Then, laying his palm flat, he looked up at them all; his eyes were bright and charged, two lightening bolts beneath the storm cloud of his brow.
“Avette’s ultimate objective is power, plain and simple. She’s had six hundred years to consider the implications of what she’s done, and she has made it abundantly clear she’ll atone for none of it. So yes. Her death is our goal.”
“But that’s not a plan.”
This soft croak from Ceri drew every eye, or perhaps it was the minute pulse of green in their periphery. She had picked up Kai’s pendant where it sat on the table, and turned it between her fingers, her swollen eyes fixed on its intermittent glint.
“Killing her isn’t a plan. To get that close, you still need to get into Eisalaan undetected.”
“We can’t,” Kai said simply. “The messenger said the ports are half frozen; there are fewer ways in now. I will have to return with the Eisalaan Gard—”
“We,” Adeline cut in, the single syllable splintering between her teeth.
Kai paused, but didn’t correct himself. Her heart fought through the mess of soot and grief and shock to sink and settle in the pit of her stomach, but before she could do more than glare at him, Ceri spoke again.
“There is another way in.”
She held the pendant up before her, pinched between thumb and forefinger. Its glow spread, making green rivers of the teartracks on her cheeks.
“The Sealgair’s tunnels,” said Alun. His voice was low and awed, and even without looking around, it wasn’t hard to hear his smile. “Ceri, that’s brilliant.”
“The Sealgair hate us,” Kai said bluntly.
Ceri’s lips had found a soft curve at Alun’s praise, and now fell flat as her eyes flicked to her brother’s, the movement so sharp it sent an unspilled tear rolling down her face.
“The Sealgair hate you, Koo. But if I asked them—”
“No,” said two voices at once.
Kai glanced around, brow pitched a little as though surprised that someone actually agreed with him. But Alun didn’t acknowledge his king at all; he was still staring at Ceri, hard, no trace of that awe to soften his handsome face.
“Absolutely not. I’m the emissary of this Court. I’ll approach the Sealgair.”
“Nobody is approaching the Sealgair,” said Kai.
Exasperation buoyed his lilt high and loud.
“They hate me because of what they experienced beneath the Laune. You're welcome in Nua Laune; your safety there is entirely dependent on my exile. Now you want to ask them to escort you to the place that broke them? How rational of a reaction are you expecting from ancient, vengeful hunters who kill fishermen like they’re swatting at flies?”
“What I’m expecting,” Ceri said hotly, grip tightening around the pendant, “is that they’ll welcome the opportunity to see Avette defeated. If they hold a grudge over your mistake, imagine the hatred they must feel over her choice.”
“I’ll ask them,” said Alun again, louder.
“Nobody is asking them,” Kai boomed.
The glow flared in Ceri’s grasp, fractured between her taut fingers so it speared out in each direction and blinded them all.
Adeline was thrown, her senses momentarily overwhelmed, so she didn’t register the juddering rattle of glass on the table until a stream of cold water landed in her lap.
She jumped up, gasping, and heard the shriek of four other chairs scraping against the floor, everyone scrambling to escape the splash.
When the scurry had passed, they looked around at the jug overturned, the wide splatter of the water—and Ceri’s guiltily pursed lips as she leaned over and carefully laid the pendant on the table.
“Um,” came a nervous voice from the archway. “Should I come back, or—”
Kai’s response and Adeline’s tumbled over one another.
“Please do.”
“No, come in.”
The Healer froze, undecided or perhaps trying to pick apart their answers. In the end, it seemed that Kai’s wishes as a king held less weight than the command of a Vanjir, and the woman edged into the room, eyeing the wet table wearily as she looked for a spot to set down her satchel.
“Here,” said Al, drawing back his chair and gesturing to the dry seat. He stepped out of the Healer’s way, catching Kai’s eye over her head as he moved. “We should step out. Continue this back at the manor when you’re finished here.”
“Please,” Kai agreed.
Alun bobbed his head, then turned to Ceri and held out his hand. She blinked at him; Kai blinked at them both. But Ceri took Al’s hand and let him guide her into the hallway, neither of them turning to catch the flicker of confusion that ghosted over their King’s features.
Over the rustle and clink of the Healer sorting through her bag, Adeline drew close and lay her hand on Kai’s arm. His brow smoothed as he turned to her, but his eyes were wary; it hurt to see. She swallowed past the sting, the lump it raised in her throat.
“I need you to promise me,” she said, “that this conversation isn’t over.”
His eyes flicked over her face, but he didn’t say anything; didn’t nod or shake his head. The only tell that he’d heard her at all was the slight stutter of his chest, his breath interrupted.
“Kai—”
“Your Highness,” said Oswalt.
Adeline’s hand tightened reflexively around Kai’s arm, but she fought the weary flutter of her own eyes, fought the sigh that pressed on her lungs. She turned an expectant gaze on Kai’s cousin, polite as she could manage.
He bowed his head, wooden as a doll, with features just as blank.
“With your permission, might I have a moment alone with my King?”
She held her ground a moment, but when a familiar warmth settled over her hand, she met the brush of Kai’s gaze.
“I’ll find you,” he said quietly.
She couldn’t say why that promise made her heart sink. Why she felt her face fall in the split second before her limbs propelled her against his chest, reaching up for the nape of his neck to drag him into a brief but bruising kiss.
“You swear,” she said, pulling back.