CHAPTER 41
DAVINA
Three days ago
THE SHARP RAPS OF MY FIST ECHOED DOWN THE EMPTY STREET.
The looming wall of the crater at the far end swallowed the moon’s glow, casting deep shadows over the final row of buildings and offering additional cover to my cloaked figure.
The balmy air tugged at the lace keeping my hood in place.
I caught the fabric just before it slipped, fingers curling around the dark cloth to shield my hair.
I doubted there was another redhead on the entire island.
If someone caught sight of my mane, there’d be no mistaking who I was.
Warm, amber light spilled out as the door cracked open.
Just a sliver, held by the tall, young man from the file.
His hair had grown since the portrait was taken, thick, blond curls brushing his ears and tan neck.
A plain shirt and loose pants told me I’d gotten lucky he was still up.
Sharp, brown eyes studied me with quiet calculation, brows darker than his hair drawn low.
“Who are you?” His voice was gruff, the question posed in a way that sounded like he knew every face on this island, and mine didn’t make the cut.
Step one: initiate.
“Good evening,” I saluted softly. “My name is Danielle Sircelen.” I saw the implication of my surname striking him in the slight widening of his eyes. “I was hoping to speak with Leonidas Alkaterre.”
His frown deepened. “Why?”
I shifted nervously. “My grandfather left me a note, asking me to find them if anything happened to him.” I let my mind flicker to my mother, evoking pain sharp enough to color my features with real grief.
Rule one of deception: use truth to shape the lie.
I held up the small leatherbound diary in my hand. “He passed away last month.”
His countenance softened just a notch, even as his eyes continued to rake across my face, searching. I knew what he was doing: looking for traces of Dr. Sircelen in my features. I could only hope my lighter, freckled Widesightian complexion was enough to convince him.
After a beat, he stepped back, holding the door wider. “Come in.”
Relief flooded me. Step one: completed.
It was time for the delicate, far more dangerous, step two.
Leonidas didn’t close the door immediately.
He lingered a moment too long before swinging it shut, then led me toward one of the two worn settees in the well-lit sitting room.
I didn’t miss how he quickly gathered the papers strewn across the low table, stacking them and carrying them to a desk along the far wall.
I hovered by the nearest lounge, pretending to be nervous while I catalogued every detail of the room.
There wasn’t much, aside from the seaters, coffee table, and the desk and chair at the back.
The only other pieces of furniture were a tall, narrow bookshelf and an oil painting of the crater as it would be seen from above.
“Take a seat,” my host said, more command than invitation.
I complied, choosing the settee closest to the door. I wasn’t planning on making a run for it, but I’d learnt long ago to never be too confident. “Thank you for receiving me despite the late hour.”
Mistrust lingered behind his dark eyes. He didn’t ask why I’d shown up at such an hour, though I could feel the question straining behind his silence.
“You’re Silvester’s granddaughter, then.”
It wasn’t a question. “Since the day I was born,” I replied, letting out a nervous laugh.
“Funny how he never mentioned you.” Straight to the point, just how I liked it.
“I imagine he didn’t talk much about Widesight at all,” I offered, praying it was true. “We lost contact after he moved to Kobra. It’d been his obsession since before I was born . . .” I trailed off, letting the sentence hang. “It was a shock to get a letter after his passing.”
“And what, exactly, did this letter say?”
It was time for the largest gamble yet.
I drew a slow breath, tightening my throat just enough to strain my voice.
“It said he hated what the world was becoming—both in the Republic and here. That it pained him to see his work twisted to fuel injustice. And that he’d spent the last decade trying to make things right.
” Now or never. “He said he’d been working with Kaelthorn’s cell,” I whispered, careful to use the Kobrant terminology.
I didn’t have to pretend to be nervous anymore. Just saying the words out loud could land me in a pit of trouble I’d never crawl out of.
At best, hours of interrogation. At worst, execution without trial. It was a gamble, yes. But desperation made fools of the best of us.
Leonidas tensed, but didn’t reach for a weapon or move to restrain me. A good sign. I was still on the right track.
Just one more push.
Staring down at my hands, which twisted restlessly in my lap, I continued.
“He asked me to come claim my legacy. To finish what he started here in Kobra. To fight for something better. He told me not to believe the chancellor, the king, or the papers. Not to trust anyone. Except you.” I looked up, letting the very much real desperation show. “He said you’d help me.”
Leonidas’ mouth thinned. “He shouldn’t have.”
Rejection number one: incoming. I didn’t let it deter me, though. It was to be expected.
“This isn’t a game you’re talking about. It’s not a sport you can try and then abandon when you’re no longer enjoying it. No pretty dress that’ll sit in your armoire whenever you decide it does not suit you.”
“I know—”
“No, you don’t,” he snapped, and my surprise wasn’t feigned at all.
“You have no idea what it’s like to peel back the filth of the kingdom or your precious Republic and see what festers beneath.
I can only speak for Kobra, but your grandfather always said it was no different on the other side of the Prishter Ocean.
When you dig deep enough, you find innocent people buried under unfair laws and policies.
And every time you think you’ve seen the worst of it, they prove you wrong. ”
A knot twisted in my chest. My thoughts darted to Kamar, to the stories that had unsettled me, the ones I’d been forced to brush aside in the name of protocol.
The emotions I’d kept buried bucked, fighting for release.
With a hard swallow, I pushed them back down, and studied him—Leonidas Alkaterre.
The hard set of his jaw. The weariness at the corners of his dark eyes.
He was young, yes, not much older than me, but the lines around his eyes spoke of long, sleepless years.
Responsibility was a heavy burden to carry, and it was clear Leonidas carried a lot of that for the Kobrant Sapless.
And right then, I knew. I knew which secret, precisely, must be to blame for that unbearable burden. A secret with the power to change the whole damn world.
He knows where the stash is.
Oblivious to my realization, Leonidas took my silence as surrender. “Go home, girl,” he said, with a sigh that was deep and heavy. “This isn’t your fight.”
For the first time in my life, I felt real, unadulterated shame.
It prickled at my skin, and settled like grit in my throat.
Five minutes with Kairis’ foreman, a presumed member of Kaelthorn’s cell, and I felt more exposed than I ever had in almost eight years as a centurion of the Republic. Unworthy.
Not only was I completely oblivious to the corruption that was apparently so acute that both Silvester Sircelen and the man in front of me risked their lives to fight it.
But also, even in my careful performance, I came across as uncaring or undetermined enough for Leonidas to consider I was better left out of it.
Had I really missed so much, wrapped in the comforts of The Paragon and shackled under Ludwig’s command? Can I be that blind?
I thought of the many, many missions I’d both taken part in and led, desperate to find cracks of the unfairness that should have been so plain to the eye .
. . and came up empty. Yes, there was a blatant disparity between the higher charges’ residences and those in the outskirts of the cities or working towns.
And yes, I had thoughts on how the Republic could make the situation better for those who struggled.
But those were hardly good enough reasons to evoke such a reaction.
To evoke rebellion.
I had never known of anyone in Widesight not having a roof over their head when they needed it, but I’d read Sircelen’s recounting, too, listing things far worse like slavery and trafficking.
It was right then that I found myself lacking for the first time in my life. Only instead of ashamed, it made me angry.
And it was that fury that stirred something inside me. Something ancient and long buried that felt dangerously close to recognition.
Long forgotten.
I tried to seize it, whatever it was, but it slipped through my grasp like smoke.
Faint alarm bells rang somewhere deep in my conscience, putting me off balance.
All of a sudden, a searing headache pierced my temples, pulsing in sync with my hammering heart.
I clenched my jaw, fighting to stay composed as it tore through my head, a blinding pain the likes of I’d never known before.
It vanished as suddenly as it had come.
What in the world?
I blinked a couple times, vision turning blurry with tears brought forth by the pain.
Leonidas watched me carefully, a sad frown setting over dark eyes.
He was mistaking my silence for emotional overwhelm—and maybe he wasn’t entirely wrong.
I really needed to get some rest. These endless, sleepless nights were doing me no favors, and it would be all for nothing if either my mind or my body failed me when I needed them most.
At the end of the day, the reason why I had to do this was of little consequence. I simply could not risk being left out.
Letting the headache-wrought tears work in my favor, I spoke again, voice trembling just enough. “But my grandfather . . . and the sap he . . .”
What? Stored?
Saying the wrong thing might have him seeing through my lies.