Chapter 33 #2
“Governor,” Task greets him.
“Major,” Draven says, inclining his head. “It’s good to see you.” Although he looks at Task the same way he’s always looked at him, something in his demeanor has shifted. It feels tense between them in a way that Task hates.
He wants to ask Draven how he is, but he also doesn’t want to enrage him.
Lately, it’s been like walking on eggshells around him, if he speaks to him at all.
So much of what he’s heard since being aboard the Polaris has come through Caden or Voss.
When he does speak to Draven, he’s never certain if something he says is going to set him off.
“You’re keeping an eye on Katherine Hart?” Draven asks, shifting in his seat so that he’s leaning forward, elbows on his desk.
Task glances at him. Of course he’s keeping an eye on her. He’s in the quarantine ward more often than he’d care to be, what with a raging pandemic and all, but he sees her nearly every day. Even if he’s not in the ward, he makes sure to seek her out, or he pins one of his men on her.
He says none of this, only nodding and saying, “Of course.”
Without preamble, Draven says, “I need you to bring her to me now.”
Task is momentarily speechless. This is not what they’d agreed to. His uncle had been so concerned about the virus, about it traveling to Nexarium and potentially killing him faster given his weakened state, so this feels like a wild departure. He swallows over the lump in his throat.
“What about the quarantine? The Fever? It’s gotten progressively worse, and I don’t know that it’s smart to break it.”
“I don’t care,” Draven replies. “I’m dying anyway.”
The words feel like a punch in the gut. He logically knows this, and of course he wants Draven to improve, but he also wants Kit to have more time with the cure before he steals her away. He wants more time with her. He hesitates before responding, trying to figure out how to play his cards.
“She’s working on finding a cure,” Task tells him. “She’s one of the best Luminaries on Lumaria. They’ve given her a lab aboard the Polaris, and when she’s not in the quarantine ward with Ambassador Remulus and the other infected people, she’s running experiments and researching every day.”
Draven finally turns to look at him, violet eyes glowing as he raises a brow, questioning. Task is careful to keep his face masked, lest he reveal anything to Draven. “The cure is unimportant. Lumaria can implode, for all I care.”
Task bites his tongue. Normally, he’d agree.
They have no need for the Lows from Lumaria, and bringing 4,000 of them to Nexarium is a recipe for disaster.
But at the same time, Remulus is sick, and Draven relies on his power.
And there’s something about the idea of having to execute on his mission that leaves him torn in a way he didn’t expect to ever be.
“I understand,” Task tries to placate him. “But Remulus is on his deathbed. The next Divinas is only fourteen, and he’s not yet well-trained in wielding. You need Remulus better, Draven. He’s a critical part of the Eight Great.”
Draven pushes himself up from the desk, looming over him even in hologram format. “It doesn’t matter if I’m dead,” he roars. “None of this will matter!”
Once, Task would have shrunk back, taken his uncle’s wrath and done everything he could to make up for his perceived disobedience. But right now, there are too many things swirling in Task’s mind to take it in stride.
“If I break quarantine and bring her back to you, you still may die,” Task says, voice icy, even though his insides roil. “I will not compromise all of Nexarium. And if you were in your right mind, you wouldn’t consider such a move, either.”
Draven is fuming, his face red, the vein on his forehead popping. He’s not used to Task talking back to him, disagreeing with him, because usually, Task has kept quiet. But he’s the Governor’s Hand, for Odite’s sake, this is what he’s supposed to do. Advise him.
“I am your governor,” Draven says, voice shaking as he reaches to readjust the coronet atop his head. He means it as a threat, but Task isn’t afraid of whatever comes his way. Draven needs Kit too much, needs him too much. He might hurt him, but he’d never kill him.
“And I am your Hand,” Task replies, coolly. “This is what you employ me to do. Advise you. Run the Council. Consider all the angles.”
“And is the angle you’re considering the one where you get between her legs?” Draven sneers.
Task’s stomach plummets. What he has with Kit is so much more than that, but still, he knows he’s been playing a dangerous game, what with Caden on board.
“I’m glad I put Caden on that ship with you,” Draven continues. “He’s been telling me things. He’s seen you with her.”
Task tries to remain calm. Draven wants him to respond, to be angry. He won’t take the bait. “Caden is out of his mind,” Task says. “He sees me with her because you’ve told me to watch her.”
Draven shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”
“There is nothing there,” Task lies, swiftly. “You’re angry because I am telling you something you don’t want to hear. I will bring her to you as soon as we dock and it is safe to do so. In the meantime, I will speak with the healers at Xaria to see what else can be done to manage your condition.”
Draven stares at Task, at a loss for words.
“Think about it,” Task presses on. “We need to honor the treaty with Lumaria, at least for now, and executing the mission in this way will upset the balance of the Consortium. It will be better for you to have Ambassador Remulus at your side again, to have at least seven of the Eight Great on the Council.”
“I need to meet with the Council,” Draven says, ignoring him. Task thinks it’s a lie, but he lets him have it. “We’ll revisit this shortly.”
He ends the call, leaving Task sitting in the conference room, stunned. He’s not sure what just happened, what propelled him to do what he did. If what he did was even right. He puts his head in his hands, unsure what it is that’s driving him anymore.