Chapter 2
CHAPTER TWO
FINLAY
Finlay Fjolla leans back in his chair, fighting the urge to scrub at his face in both frustration and exhaustion.
This meeting with Bathara’s council has been going on for nearly the entirety of the day, and still, they have yet to make even a fraction of progress.
“And what if Captain Dalmar does find her?” Cahlmon asks the assortment of faces seated at the lavish round table coated in gold, flailing his hands. “Then what? We just allow him to bring her back and let her train as if nothing happened?”
Tisara—a woman Finlay has always found to be quite beautiful and sharp—props her elbows on the table, her golden jewelry jingling from the gesture.
She leans forward. “We all saw what happened, Cahlmon. The girl clearly possessed no knowledge of her powers, and those we interrogated unanimously corroborated that assumption. Not to mention, they all testified that she possesses no ill-will toward Solaya.”
“She murdered over half our numbers! Bathara—hell the Jurafen in general—are in an unprecedented shortage of talent because of the girl’s actions. She must pay for what she’s done, and the only way to ensure she does is if we search for her ourselves.”
Tisara tsks at him. “A waste of manpower and resources. Especially while Captain Dalmar searches for the girl. I mean, for the gods’ sakes, who better could you ask for?”
“That boy is a wildcard and cannot be trusted,” Cahlmon spits back. “He clearly has ulterior motives for finding her, and they are not in alignment with Bathara’s in the slightest.”
“Be that as it may,” Tisara presses, “he is still useful. Not to mention, there is always the Tani to contend with. What if they choose to search for the girl and hold a trial? Will you attempt to move past them as well?”
Cahlmon’s lips press into a flat line. “Discussing a matter that has not yet come to pass is outside the realm of my current interests.”
Finlay balls his hands into fists beneath the table. “So what would you propose instead, Master Cahlmon?” He keeps his voice carefully indifferent.
“I’d like to appoint someone to discreetly search for the girl on our behalf.”
Eyes of every color dart around the table as a chorus of whispers echo off the brazier-lit walls.
Cahlmon redirects his attention to Josiah—who, as the Keeper of Bathara, ultimately holds the most sway.
“I know you must understand my reasoning, Josiah. That girl is dangerous, and she is now with a former prince who was supposed to have been dead for the past four hundred years—both of whom possess a magic that, until recently, we thought an impossibility.”
Josiah remains silent, his thoughts concealed behind an impenetrable mask.
As Finlay studies him, he can’t help but notice Josiah looks as though he has aged a decade in only a couple months.
The Abdite attack paired with learning of Casimir Vivaldri’s existence has not been easy on any member of Bathara’s council, but it has been especially rough on him, and Finlay has noticed considerable changes in his usual demeanor as a result.
Josiah releases a slow, measured sigh. “Very well.” He lifts his hand. “I will support Cahlmon’s motion.”
The whispers return to the air like buzzing insects, and heads turn while men and women alike place hands over their mouths and murmur to their neighbors. Yet it is Nuha—the only other captain on the council besides Finlay— who speaks first.
“I second the motion,” she says calmly while raising an idle hand into the air.
Finlay blows out his own quiet sigh. “I agree the girl needs to be found and interrogated—held accountable for what she’s done. But I fear you underestimate Captain Dalmar’s abilities. How do you intend to keep your search for the girl outside of his awareness?”
Cahlmon props his elbows onto the table and presses his fingertips together. “As it so happens, I was hoping you could help with that, Captain Fjolla.”
“Me?”
Cahlmon nods. “Yes, you. You two were raised together, were you not?”
“We were.”
“So it is safe to say you perhaps know him better than anyone else?”
“Outside of Captain Sulien, yes.”
“Ah, Captain Sulien,” Cahlmon mutters. “What a waste of talent, that one. He is even more unpredictable than Captain Dalmar.” Cahlmon leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together over his chest. “You are our best chance at operating unseen. That is why I wish to charge you with the task of finding her. Discreetly, if you need that clarification.”
Finlay’s stomach drops, and flashes of red-stained memories float through Finlay’s mind.
It was you.
I’m so sorry.
He buries the memories before they can take hold of him further.
“What would you have me do? Lie to Captain Dalmar? Deceive him?”
Cahlmon shakes his head. “You do not have to lie. Just see to it that he remains unaware of our mission. You will do whatever it is you must to ensure we operate inside of his blind spots.”
“He has very few of those,” Finlay mutters.
Cahlmon’s answering smile is stiff. “Lucky for us, we only need one.”
Master Asara Strithmore, a woman with long, silver hair that is always twisted into twin braids, raises her hand. “If Captain Fjolla heads this mission, I will also lend my support.”
“As will I,” says another council member.
Internally, Finlay imagines his shoulders hunching forward as he drops his head and heaves a ragged breath. Externally, however, Finlay rolls his shoulders back and lifts his chin. “Very well,” he says. “I will do it.”
Finlay catches Josiah studying him with a meticulous eye before he turns to scan the different faces of the council. “All those in support of Cahlmon’s request?”
To Finlay’s surprise, virtually every hand hangs idle in the air. All except Tisara and two others, whose eyes fill with disappointment. Though, why that is, Finlay can’t be sure.
Cahlmon’s proposal is logical. For the first time since the academy’s founding, Bathara does not have enough students, and an unprecedented amount of Jurafen were wiped out from both the Abdite attack and the girl’s explosion of power.
Now that they know a threat like Casimir Vivaldri exists—not to mention that he is mobilizing Abdites—the need for swift action has never been so necessary.
Plus, Finlay knows his brother well—even if it does feel like both he and Kiran have been slipping away from him more and more lately.
Finlay could not say with total certainty that, should it come to it, Draven would make the necessary choice.
Not when it comes to her. And should the girl and Casimir join together, it could very well collapse the Three Kingdoms as a result.
At the thought, a tinge of guilt stabs Finlay in the chest. For a brief moment, he shuts his eyes, and the prophecy plays in his mind.
Yet to all who hear these words, I beg—heed my warning. For it was whispered to me by the stars themselves.
Where one begins, the other must end, never meant to live beneath the same sky.
For the two cannot wield the same power without breaking the spine of this world, and should the Chosen fall as the raven fell, the Cycle shall not turn again, but instead collapse beneath the weight of its own creation.
And if such a fate unfolds, the skies shall fracture, the stars shall flicker and drown, and the gods, for the first time, shall know true fear.
Gray Nightenjoy had allowed both Finlay and Kiran to read the journal entries for themselves once the madness had settled down inside Bathara’s walls.
And while the Nightenjoy had given them a brief explanation of everything the day the Abdites attacked, it still wasn’t enough to properly prepare them for all that they read.
His father’s face flashes in his mind, a curl in his lip.
He would berate Finlay if he knew what knowledge Finlay was harboring.
Still, Draven made him swear not to tell anyone—practically begged him, even.
So Finlay remains silent about what he knows, no matter how much it twists his insides, thinking he is straying from his honor in doing so.
“Finlay?”
Josiah’s inquisitive tone has Finlay snapping his eyes toward the man. “I’m sorry?”
“I asked if there was anything you needed from the council to aid in your search for the girl.”
Finlay clears his throat, cursing himself for letting his mind wander like that. “Have you questioned those two friends of hers?”
“We have,” Cahlmon answers. “The Nightenjoy boy was remarkably unforthcoming in his answers, and the other one was practically mute for the duration of her questioning.”
“She is grieving,” Nuha says. Though her admonishing tone remains soft, Finlay does not miss the sharpness in her eyes.
“Plenty of students are grieving,” Cahlmon counters.
“Yet they have not gone mute and resorted to missing their classes.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.
“Though I digress. I do not believe either of them will be of any use to you, Captain Fjolla. They certainly were not to us. All we can offer you is the very information we have just discussed.”
Finlay nods. “I will do preliminary investigations myself, then, and go from there.”
Josiah dips his chin, seeming satisfied with the resolution. “Now, there is still the other urgent matter that must be addressed.”