13. Lucina #2
“What did she do?” I ask.
Kimber takes a deep breath. “She opened the gates and let the Rogues in on the night of the attack…then she killed her mother.”
My teacup all but clatters onto the porcelain saucer. “Sable? The former Dame?”
The Diviner nods. “There was a lot of chaos that night, but those near the palace when Rogues stormed in watched it happen. Sable Van Reenan was pushed out of the highest tower in the palace, and Esme stood where she had fallen from.”
“And she opened the gates?”
Kimber nods solemnly. “She let them in. Then Rogues hung the bodies of our nobility from those gates, so that when people poured from the palace to flee, they saw what was intended to be the end of our most powerful bloodlines. All of them hung there. All except those that made it here: The Dame, the Captain, and their covens—none of which are Van Reenans. Aside from Etis, wherever she may be, Sable and Esme were the last Van Reenans left. Sable’s body hung from the gates… but Esme’s didn’t.”
I read her name again, and the two dates below it. She’d only been nineteen years old when the attack happened. Nineteen years old and…a murderer…a traitor. “Why would she do something like that?”
Kimber closes the book. “People think she was promised a seat next to the Rogue King’s throne. Others say she wanted to take the continent for herself. She was a Van Reenan after all—she would have had more than enough power too.”
I lean back, taking it all in, glancing again at the death date under her name. “But if that was the last time anyone saw her, how do you know she’s dead?”
“I suppose we don’t know for sure,” Kimber shrugs, eyes trailing to the quill that writes at a maddening pace, “but either way, she’s dead to us.
” Pain flickers in her eyes. Esme’s the reason for that grief—that hurt.
Everything with Iris and the Vaughns…the missions Callan takes to find their people… the dark sky over the City of Light…
All of it is because of her. The traitor.
“I’m so sorry.” It’s all I can think of saying. I know my apology won’t make it go away, and I know it probably won’t help, but it’s a true tragedy what happened to these people, and for that, I am sorry. It’s a loss that even I feel, and I wasn’t even alive when it happened.
Kimber manages a smile, her gaze snagging on the quill that still works tirelessly to record the events of that night as they’ve been painfully remembered.
“I hate that we even have to record something so awful.” She crosses her jean-clad leg over the other, the frilly green sleeves of her blouse rippling as she moves.
“Kimber, I need to ask you something, but you have to promise you won’t get mad—"
“You want to know how to use the Eldral,” she says plainly, sipping her tea as if she didn’t just take a note out of Selene’s book and read my godsdamn mind.
“How long did you know I was going to ask you that?”
“The whole time,” she admits.
Figures.
Kimber chews nervously on her bottom lip. “I can’t tell you that, Lucina, Eldrals are too dangerous. If you open a line of communication with the wrong spirit, they could slip through the opening. And you promised not to use it.”
“I’m not going to use it, I’m just…curious.
” Even I don’t buy that lie, so I know Kimber doesn’t.
“Look, my Velkan is still terrorizing me at night, and Pa said it himself; he won’t stop until I figure out what he’s trying to say.
Kimber, I don’t want to use the Eldral, but I need a backup plan for when this dream-weaving bullshit drives me to insanity. ”
She keeps her lips pressed in a tight line.
“Please, Kimber,” I beg.
Her eyes find mine, wary and afraid. “No, Lucina. I can’t.”
My heart sinks, and before I have a chance to push further, Devon swings the door open. He waves his hand, dropping the Wards he’d placed over the threshold as if I’m some criminal that needs to be locked inside everywhere she goes.
“Time to go,” he orders, his voice deep enough to rattle the teacups.
“Okay,” I exhale, moving to stand. “See you later?” I ask Kimber. I’m not mad at her, I get it—why she won’t tell me how to use it. It’s dangerous, and I’d be putting everyone here at risk. I’ll have to figure out some other way to get the nightmares to stop.
Or I’ll have to figure out some other way to learn about the Eldral…
“Tomorrow probably,” Kimber tells me as she makes her way to the quills. “Pa randomly decided to go back through some of my great-grandfather’s things, and he told me I could read them.”
“Tomorrow, then,” I tell her, and she smiles, all her attention now on the stories being written.
The quill that had been crying has laid itself flat on the parchment—complete.
But the other still stabs and cuts across the page, its story a massacre of splotched ink and thick letters; unrelenting, untamed, and—
unfinished.
The sun is close to setting when Devon and I make it to my cabin after dinner, and I curse every god I can think of when I see who’s waiting for me on the porch.
The Captain leans against the railing like he has no better place to be, but I’m sure he does.
His padded vest is loaded with weapons, clipped over a thin white sweat-ridden shirt that clings to his tanned skin.
His dark hair is damp on the ends, and when he reaches up to move it out of his face, I catch the stark black ink of a tattoo running along his bicep.
He’s far too handsome for someone with the temper of a bull—a deadly combination that only a fool would fall for.
I’d know.
“Boss,” Devon says in way of greeting, dipping his chin in a quick bow and staring back at me when I refuse to do the same.
Over my dead body will I bow to someone who acted like a child this morning.
Callan pushes off the railing, watching me like I’m an animal he’s never seen before. He comes to a stop before me, squares his broad shoulders, then flicks his chin to Devon. “How’d it go with Pa?”
“He’ll have the mine layouts for you by the end of the week.”
“Great,” the Captain replies, grey eyes cutting back to me, sharper than a strike of lightning.
Callan is nothing like Pax or Devon— he demands the type of attention and worship that Delia requires, but where the Dame is a mass of glittery silver robes and preternatural grace, the Captain is a force of nature.
It’s like comparing a shooting star to a black hole.
“I got it from here, thanks, D.” Callan dismisses Devon, then goes back to assessing me, straightening to his full height and blocking out the setting sun. My head tilts to meet his stare, but I don’t shrink away from it; I’ve dealt with taller men, meaner, too.
“Captain.”
“Lucina.” His voice is like a rumble of thunder, and when I don’t reply instantly, a mocking smile forms. He pulls the air right out of my lungs with it. Damn him.
“Where’s Pax?” I choke out.
“He’s on probation.”
“Probation?” I can’t help but laugh. “He didn’t do anything wrong.” The Captain follows as I push past him and up the porch steps, his heavy boots stomping up the worn wooden slabs.
“He got drunk on your watch, then slept in your bed—”
“So, you kicked my door in?” I freeze in front of… a new door.
“I fixed it.”
I whirl around to face him, stumbling back a step when he’s a lot closer than I had anticipated. “I’m not going to thank you,” I assure him, my heels knocking against the door in a desperate attempt to put some space between us.
The Captain’s grey eyes dip to where my white-knuckled hand clutches the doorknob, and then he smiles. “I don’t need you too.” Faster than I’ve seen anyone move, he snatches my wrist and my knee comes up instinctively, straight between his legs—
Callan halts the kick with his other hand, stopping what would have surely done some damage. “That wasn’t very nice, Lucina.”
“I wasn’t going for nice,” I fire back.
He nods as if he finds that amusing but not at all threatening, then he pushes my leg down and pulls my wrist between us, pressing a small silver key into my open palm. “For you,” the Captain says, then flashes a second silver key and slides it into his pocket. “And for me.”
My face pales, then fury flares deep in my gut. “Are you fucking with me?” I grit out, my jaw clenched so tightly it hurts.
“What?” he feigns innocence, patting the key in his pocket. “Now I won’t have to break it down again.”
“You never had to break it down. You could have just fucking knocked.” Everything is bubbling up inside of me, reaching a violent fever pitch. “Do you have a key to everyone’s cabin, or just mine?”
“Just yours.”
Only then do I realize he’s still holding my wrist, and when his thumb brushes across it, I yank it away with a vengeance.
His silver eyes sharpen. “It has to be this way, Lucina. Pax had orders, and he clearly can’t be trusted with them.”
“Oh, and you can?” I laugh, though it’s hardly funny. “I trust Pax significantly more than I trust you.”
The Captain’s jaw clenches so tight a muscle in it flickers, and when he steps slowly into me, I’m smushed between him and my new door. Dammit, I wish there was still a hole there.
He carefully lowers himself so he can look me in the eyes. “I don’t care if you trust me, Lucina, but you will not interfere with me doing my job.”
“Right, your job.” That’s really all I am to him– a job. I muster the courage to flash an innocent smile, and he sees it for what it is: fake. “Well, in that case, Captain, you’ll be happy to know that Pax did his job very well.”
If he wants to treat me like a captive, the least I can do is make it an infuriating task.
Callan chuffs, folding his arms across his chest. “I strongly disagree.”
“Really?” My head tilts to the side, and his nostrils flare. “I mean, you said you wanted him to watch me, and he did. All. Night. Long—”
A gasp breaks from my lips when something sharp scrapes against my skull, phantom claws tearing through my—
Memories. Holy gods, he’s got hold of my memories.