CHAPTER 6
DAVINA
One month ago
I SPENT MY FIRST AFTERNOON IN KANTRIA UNPACKING AND EXPLORING EVERY NOOK AND CORNER OF THE ROOM THAT WAS TO BE MY BASE OF OPERATIONS FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE.
Of course, I tested the walls first. A spike of irritation rose when I realized they’d been laced with Evergreen Mahogany sawdust, meaning I wouldn’t be able to phase through them at my leisure, damn it.
Annoying but hardly surprising, really.
Most governmental buildings I knew, as well as some residential ones, had been lined with the one thing that could keep people like me out. Sawdust from the very same tree that produced the source of our abilities.
What the Evergreen Mahogany gives, it can also take away.
The bed seemed comfortable enough, and the bathroom was well-appointed, comparable to the ones at The Paragon. A quick twist of the tub’s handle confirmed my guess—water was being heated and pumped from somewhere else in the compound, just like back in Widesight’s capital.
It had been another huge perk of the sap’s discovery—automatization of processes.
Why would anyone bother lugging around steaming water when hydrokinetic-based companies could install a system that did it for you?
Why waste time and manpower forging steel frames with smoke-belching machines when a single skilled metallokinetic could sculpt an ultra-light chassis in mere hours?
A structure that, with the help of a psychokinetic, could move through thousands of miles without needing to be fed mountains of charcoal.
For those who can afford it, that is.
I’d been born into this world, and still I found myself both marveling and horrified by what humanity had managed to achieve.
If I stopped and really thought about it .
. . a hundred years ago, most people never traveled more than twenty miles from the place they were born, and towns and cities were mostly fed by wells and rivers that at times ran dry .
. . I felt immensely fortunate. Despite all that had been taken from me—my family, my home, my childhood—I knew I was lucky.
I’d never gone without a roof or food. Never felt the sting of cold in winter or the crackling burn of thirst in a dry season.
And yet . . . there was always that small part of me that wondered how my existence would have been had the sap never been found. Would my mother still be alive? Would I have ever left The Hook?
The would-haves are the hill where future goes to die.
I shook my head, dragging my attention back to the task at hand.
Once I was satisfied with my inspection of the room, I flipped through the pages of the file that had been handed to us.
It was all about Dr. Sircelen, and it took less than a glance to realize it was far more comprehensive than the sorry excuse of a report Armand and I had received.
This one had pins marking every known place the doctor had visited over the years, each accompanied by a brief description of his activities, names of individuals he’d interacted with, dates, even speculation on motives in some entries.
In short, it was a proper file. Not the pitiful, half-assed three-page summary the Republic gave us.
I reached for the notebook I’d packed, ready to start taking note of things that were at odds with our file—as good a place to start as any—when a knock interrupted me. From the main door, not the one shared with Armand.
My hand shifted from the leather-bound journal to the familiar weight of the holster at my hip where one of my handguns lived.
Empty.
Because all weapons had been confiscated the moment we cleared the compound’s entrance.
Damn.
Instinct kicked in, and I reached for the secret pocket in my bag where a small blade was sewn into the fabric.
It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing.
Inked abilities were great until one’s access to them was cut off.
A lesson I’d learnt the hard way. Back in the Republic, all cadets—regardless of whether they were training to become centurions or some other charge—were forced to endure years of training with a wooden band that muted our abilities.
With most of our conflict being with a group that fought the existence of sap, no one could afford to be caught unprepared.
Sliding the dagger into the concealed pocket along the inside of my vest, the cool hilt pressing lightly against my ribs, I moved to the door and pulled it open.
Outside stood Zephyr Kentar, Captain of the King’s Army and glorified babysitter.
He was tall and broad. His hair was short on the sides and longer at the top of his head, waving across his forehead and curling slightly over his ears. He kept a beard—uncommon among the men I dealt with in the Republic—that framed his square jaw and sharpened the angles of his face.
If danger had to take physical form, I had no doubt it’d pick Captain Kentar’s.
“Good evening, Miss Lachlan.” Of course his voice was like sand shifting through the night, emphasized by the light cadence of an accent.
“Evening.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out he hadn’t come here to exchange pleasantries, so I cocked my head, dying to know why I’d been bestowed the pleasure of an unscheduled visit from the Kobrant captain three hours after my arrival.
Forest green eyes travelled over my shoulder. “I hope the room is up to your standards?”
The edge in his voice had my muscles tensing. It was like he was expecting me to complain. A man who knew nothing of me. “It is,” I bit out.
Captain Kentar was clad in a sleeveless shirt that clung to him like a second skin, outlining every hard, efficient line of muscle across his torso.
His loose-fitting pants were lined with pouches and pockets along either leg.
Both garments matched the color of the sand of one of the volcanic beaches in Southern Widesight, not quite black but close enough.
The bulging muscles of his arms were left bare for anyone to admire, or to take as a deterrent to misbehave.
Won’t work on me, Captain.
I was not afraid of larger men. Not because I was a fool.
While I was confident in my fighting skills, I understood that the fifty pounds the Captain had on me could, under different circumstances, easily be my downfall.
But that was the beauty of the sap inked on my skin and the abilities it granted.
They evened and tilted scales that would have been unthinkable a century ago.
And even if bad came to worst and he somehow managed to mute my abilities, I had the dagger lining my ribs.
The lack of fabric on his arms was good for one thing, though.
It exposed the telltale swirls and lines inked across one of his forearms. The pattern was different from what I’d seen in Widesight, but the area in which it was tattooed I knew was associated with the widely spread psychokinetic ability.
Which meant, I now knew one of the captain’s abilities.
Davina, one.
When my attention returned to his face, I could have sworn there was a hint of a smirk ticking the corner of his lip. There and gone in a blink.
“Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked, my patience already worn thin by the lack of rest and long trip here.
“There is. We need to talk.”
My brow furrowed. “Isn’t there a meeting to do so scheduled for tomorrow morning?”
I hadn’t more than skimmed the handwritten schedule Armand and I had received upon arrival, but there had only been a few lines, hardly enough room for a misread.
“It was,” he confirmed. “But now there’s a pod to get into in the morning, so if you want to have a discussion, it needs to be now.”
“You’re leaving?” Unfortunately, I didn’t think our three-hour reluctant relationship as foreigner centurion and local captain granted me the right to ask.
“We all are.”
That gave me pause. “Excuse me?”
The captain crossed his arms, corded muscles rippling along his forearms with the motion. His expression shifted into one just shy of exasperated; the face of a teacher steeling himself to explain to a child why the sun rose and set.
“I’m sure you've been informed by your superiors,” he began, “but this matter is of utmost urgency.”
“I know.”
If he was put off by the bite in my voice, he didn’t show it. “The longer it takes to locate Sircelen’s legacy, the more likely it is that someone else will find it first.”
“I’m well aware.”
“Good.” He straightened, and I hated the way I had to tilt my head up to meet his gaze. “Then we’re on the same page, and you’ll agree it was for the best that I moved up the trip. No sense wasting a whole day when any conversation can happen now in five minutes.”
Oh, boy. “Irrespective of which page I’m on, Captain, the issue here is that you moved it up,” I said, fingers twitching at my sides, “without consulting us.”
Sircelen’s missing reservoir might’ve been located on Kobrant soil, but his blood had run Widesightian. No matter how strong or seasoned or high up the King’s Army Captain Kentar was, it was not his place to make unilateral decisions about this mission, and I refused to let this set a precedent.
“I assumed our goals would be aligned in terms of tracking and finding Sircelen’s reservoir being the absolute priority.” The taunt was barely hidden in his tone.
He assumed?
I could feel my blood growing hot with every word that came out of his mouth. “That’s what the debrief and planning meeting tomorrow was for. To discuss next steps, not for you to assume them.”
His eyes flashed, and I could almost see the serpent in him readying to strike. It was fine. I’d be ready to strike right back.
Silence stretched. The captain pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek. “Fine. I shouldn’t have assumed on your behalf, Centurion Lachlan.” His chin dipped just a notch, but the meaning in the gesture was clear enough.
The heat in my blood slowly fizzled at his mediocre attempt at an apology. “The case still stands,” he continued. “What’s done is done and we’re leaving in the morning. So, if you want to discuss the first steps, it has to be now.”
I tilted my neck, fixing him with a look. “What’s the point of discussing the next steps if you’ve already set them for everyone, Captain?”
Annoyance flashed in his eyes. “Do you want to talk, or not?” There was a slight rumble to his voice that betrayed how low his patience ran. He leaned in, not enough to be intimidating, but enough to say ‘this is where we stand, whether you like it or not’.
If I pushed past the anger of him overriding me, I could see that it was a fair call—to start tomorrow.
Every day counted and it made sense to shave a day off now that we could.
I just couldn’t afford my counterpart taking the reins from Armand and me within three hours of us stepping foot on Kobrant soil, because what would that mean for every day and decision that’d come after?
One battle at a time.
“Fine,” I conceded. “But in the future, please refrain from assuming or making unilateral decisions related to the mission without consulting Centurion Bleuombre or me first.”
I made sure to lace the demand with enough edge to communicate clearly: You won’t like what happens if you don’t.
His jaw shifted. “Noted.”
Without another word, I turned, crouching beside my bag and retrieving my journal and a charcoal stub, then made my way back toward the stern captain.
As I stepped outside into the warm, torchlit hallway, my shoulder brushed lightly against his arm, and I wasn’t all that surprised to find it was hard as stone.
The door fell closed behind me, sealing my room away.
His eyes were lightly squinted as they travelled between the now closed door and my face.
“Where are we having this meeting?” I asked.
His gaze once again flicked briefly to my now-closed door. I raised an eyebrow. Surely, he hadn’t expected to have a mission-related discussion in my room?
His jaw tightened before he turned around and started down the corridor. “Follow me.”
“Wait. What about Centurion Bleuombre?”
That stopped him in his tracks. A pause.
Glancing over his shoulder, eyes still slightly narrowed, he asked, “Was I wrong to assume you’re the one calling the shots?”
In other words, Captain Zephyr Kentar wasn’t going to be fooled easily.
“You were not,” I conceded, resigned.
And then I followed him.