2. Chapter Two - Wilder
A flash of movement catches my eye, but it’s gone before I can focus.
My racing heart slows as I scan the abandoned di Siena property grounds, snow crunching beneath my boots.
“Marlowe?” I whisper, my breath creating fleeting clouds.
Delicate snow flurries swirl in the ash-gray sky.
I suppress a shiver.
This better not be another dead end.
It’s been three weeks since President Janus Dyer named me Borealis Blade Commander, and the replica of Dad’s old pin feels heavy on my jacket.
The real pin vanished nearly fifteen weeks ago with my predecessor, Marlowe Wilkes.
Now, fleeting sightings of Marlowe have led me to this desolate place where the scent of decaying leaves mingles with the snow.
The empty house looms like a gothic monolith perched on the cliff’s edge.
Waves crash against the jagged rocks below as I scan the house’s vacant windows.
It’s the ancestral home of Elio di Siena, our former president, who was recently exposed for killing vampires and harvesting their tears to create magic-enhancing drugs.
Convicting him would have been my first move as Blade Commander, but I allowed the vampires to get to him first.
Marlowe is who I want, anyway.
She was the one person I thought I could trust before she began manipulating me like a puppet on a string.
Marlowe cheered me on to enter and win the trials for promotion to Domna, the Blades’ second-in-command— Marlowe’s second-in-command.
But she didn’t support me out of belief in my abilities.
No, she and Chiron had their own agenda.
Their encouragement disguised how they were using me as a pawn in Nyx’s vengeful schemes against the Council and all the Epsilon for their treatment of the Nebula.
If I had emerged victorious as Domna, Marlowe would have exploited my position, using me to turn the Blades against the Council in a violent coup.
I wipe my hand down my face, scanning for any sign of movement, though I know I won’t see anything.
My vision is blurry from exhaustion.
I have a thousand other duties in addition to searching for Marlowe.
But I need to find her; I need it to make sense.
I just can’t reconcile the Marlowe I knew—the one who would leave casseroles in our fridge when our parents worked late shifts, who helped me with calculus homework, and listened to my sister Desi’s teenage drama—with the one who chose such violence.
How can they be the same person?
I need to look her in the eyes and understand why.
Why did she abandon everything after preaching about making change through patience and persistence?
Until I confront her—until I know the truth—I’ll never be free of this betrayal eating away at my core.
A car engine rumbles in the distance.
Soter.
My Domna, arriving late as usual.
I melt into the shadows as he pulls up the long driveway, unaware of my presence.
He steps out of the car, and the wind tousles his two-toned hair.
I can’t help but notice what an easy target he’d make.
Adjusting my jacket, I creep toward him.
With his back to me, Soter places a cigarette between his lips.
He casually snaps one of his jewel-encrusted fingers, and a flame materializes.
The rich scent of tobacco wafts through the crisp winter air.
“Bang,” I say, pressing my gun-shaped fingers against Soter’s shoulders.
He stiffens, preparing for the inevitable.
But the shot never comes.
I laugh.
“If I were Marlowe, you would be dead.”
Soter exhales with a shaky, sharp laugh.
“I knew it was you, Wilder.”
I roll my eyes.
Soter’s excuses are as predictable as the sunrise.
“You’re late.”
Soter shrugs, inhaling the nicotine from his cigarette.
“I got held up. Another fight broke out between a Nebula and an Epsilon in Asterhead.”
I clench my jaw.
Damn.
Is he serious?
That’s the third fight this week, and it’s only Wednesday.
With their entitled swagger, the Epsilon can’t handle that their pet Nebula aren’t submitting anymore.
And the Nebula?
Years of being treated like second-class citizens have left them craving payback.
They’re done being nice.
I’m running myself ragged, trying to maintain the peace, but for every fire I extinguish, two more flare up.
There aren’t enough hours in the day to deal with this chaos.
“What happened?”
Soter takes another long drag.
“If you’re so concerned, maybe you should have been there, boss.”
I scowl at him.
He didn’t use my title as an endearment.
But I am determined to get along, so I swallow the insults on my tongue.
As students at the Blade Academy, we pushed each other through countless skirmishes and competitions, always striving to gain the upper hand.
Soter even pursued my girlfriend, Isolde, behind my back.
He flaunted his half-Epsilon status while I had none.
However, competing in the Blade’s Domna Trials this autumn changed everything.
Our masks crumbled, revealing that we are two sides of the same coin.
Both of us were motivated by a hunger for a promotion that would grant us the power to right the wrongs that haunt our pasts.
I see Soter now.
His Epsilon father is a cruel tyrant, and his half-brother Keris, a Council member, has always looked down upon him for the crime of being born a Nebula.
Keris has since come out as pro-Nebula since the revelation of the War Letters.
My rivalry with Soter blinded me to Marlowe’s manipulation.
I ignored his warnings about her connection to Nyx, too proud to admit he might be right.
That mistake allowed her to slip through our fingers.
Now that I’ve earned this interim commander title—ironically, by finally putting aside that petty competition—I won’t fail again.
My title might be temporary, but while I have it, I’m determined to keep the Nebula and Epsilon from tearing each other apart, starting with Soter and me.
“Do you think we’ve finally found her?” Soter asks, referring to Marlowe.
We’ve been searching for months.
My instincts suggest that my old mentor has fled the country, yet we occasionally receive tips about sightings in the city.
I never ignore a possible sighting.
“No, I don’t,” I reply.
Soter flicks his cigarette to the ground and crushes it beneath his foot.
“You can’t know that for certain.” He exhales smoke from the corner of his mouth.
Soter’s right, but I know Marlowe better than anyone.
She wasn’t just my boss—she was my mom’s best friend, my dad’s Domna, and a constant in my life since before I could walk.
I know she wouldn’t risk returning to Corona unless something big was at stake.
Something worth gambling everything for.
And that’s exactly what worries me.
As we step inside the manor, the large door creaks.
Every piece of furniture lies under untouched white sheets.
I peer around the spacious room, showcasing a wealth I could never dream of having.
But unlike the row house I grew up in, this palace offers no warmth, as if a family never lived here.
Like a ship at the bottom of the sea, this place is a crypt of terrible memories.
We check the downstairs and the cleared-out wine cellar before heading upstairs to the bedrooms.
Elio’s office is empty, but Soter pauses to stare at a pompous painting of the former president.
“Something is missing,” he muses before approaching Elio’s desk to search for a black permanent marker.
He tugs the wooden coffee table against the wall with a screech, stands up, and draws horns, a mustache, and a tail on the artwork.
I struggle not to smile.
“Come on, quit fucking around.”
Soter hops off the table to admire his work.
“I should have been an artist.”
“You are many things, but artistic isn’t one of them. Let’s go.”
The bedrooms are empty, and the beds remain untouched.
If Marlowe were staying here, there’s no way she would sleep on the floor.
She always complained about an old injury that flared up during stakeouts with Dad.
Though I knew she wouldn’t be here, my heart sinks a little.
“When you find Marlowe,” Soter asks as we wander through an empty bedroom, “what do you intend to do?”
I close the drapes covering the double doors that lead to the deck.
“What kind of dumb question is that? I’d arrest her.”
A moment of silence passes before Soter asks, “Would you?”
I groan.
Soter always knows how to push my buttons.
“I’m the commander, and she is a wanted criminal.”
“But she is also your friend.”
My hands tighten into fists at my side.
The Marlowe I trusted implicitly feels like a distant memory now.
Once, she had been more than just a mentor to me; she had been a confidante, a second mother figure who always had my back.
She penned a glowing letter of recommendation when I applied to work as a Blade at Dad’s precinct.
And in my darkest hour, when I thought I had lost everything after Desi died, she welcomed me home with open arms.
A bitter poison flows through my veins, settling in my chest.
“Don’t insert yourself into a situation you know nothing about,” I tell him.
Soter stares at me intently.
“I’m observant. Marlowe favored you above all of us. You are a skilled Blade, but it was more than that. She trusted you to have her back and to stand by Nyx’s side.”
My posture stiffens like steel.
There are no sides left after the revelation of the War Letters.
If Nebula and Epsilon can’t learn to work together, we lose the opportunity the letters provide us to find peace and finally build an equitable society.
Nyx failed to realize this months ago and, as a result, squandered their chance for justice in their thirst for revenge.
I refuse to watch history repeat itself.
“Marlowe chose violence,” I say.
“Of course, I didn’t agree with her. I still don’t.”
Soter nods.
“Revenge and retribution are often confused. You’re chasing ghosts while there are bigger issues at hand. Let me handle finding Marlowe. You’re too close to this.”
I glower.
“Marlowe attempted to kill Leigh, and for that alone, I want her to suffer.”
Soter grins.
Dammit.
He’s right.
I am too close to this case.
“Go, busy yourself with the many other projects piling up on your desk, and trust that I can manage Marlowe. You’re stretched too thin.”
“You can’t handle her alone.”
Soter shrugs.
“Then send Isolde to help me.”
My eyes narrow.
Soter would love to work with the woman he stole from me.
But Isolde would rather submit to water torture.
My phone vibrates.
Jaxson
You’re needed in Bardhyl.
A group of kids just tried to rob a bank.
“I have to go.” Soter nods and then looks away, but not before I catch his triumphant smile.
He knows he’s won.
When push comes to shove, Marlowe needs to answer for her crimes.
Except I can’t be trusted to handle her trial without bias.
“Check the neighboring houses and the Kelpie Racetrack. If Marlowe was here, she didn’t get far.”
I call Jaxson to get up to speed so I can decide how to reprimand a group of misguided kids.
“What exactly happened?” I ask instead of greeting Jax, closing the door behind me.
As I descend the stairs, my mind races with conflicting priorities.
I know that the decisions I make in the coming days will shape not only my future but also the future of us all.