1. ONE #3
“Do you take your tea with honey?” she asked.
Relna’s eyes searched the room as though expecting her to pull a kettle from beneath the woodwork, before realizing it was, in fact, her second question.
“No. I—No. Not in a very long time.”
“I find that to be a most enviable quality.”
He might have smiled. His shoulders dipped away from his ears, at least. “In my briefing I was told your inland operation was to be called the Dreiden Corporation. Dreiden—named for King Seraphindo’s favorite battle tactician?”
She nodded. “You know your history, Doctor Relna.” She’d practically been raised on the three-hundred-year-old works of Katlas Dreiden. Rather than raise an eyebrow at his child’s choice of bedtime story, her adoptive father had purchased her Dreiden’s entire collection.
“If you don’t mind my saying, naming a distortion manufacturer after him is a league shy of subtle.”
She suppressed a laugh. “Toppling a monopoly on distortion trade by destroying Aetech’s inventory only to undercut their prices was never intended to be subtle.
But in times of intense need, history has proven time and again that ‘criminal’ becomes ‘overlooked.’ The oligarchy does not play an ethical game to their adversaries. Neither will I.”
The doctor passed a moment in silent complementation before his eyes snapped back to hers. “Be brave, for change does not shield,” he said, citing one of Dreiden’s famous lines.
She lifted her chin and finished the phrase. “It strikes.”
Relna ran a hand through his hair and blew air from his cheeks. “Two moons ago, I would not have believed I would be standing here.”
“And yet here you are. I am proud to have you among my Ghosts.” He dipped his head, and for the first time, reverence outshone fear. “Go. You will be provided with a mentor for orientation. If you need further assistance pertaining to supplies, your contact will be Drogus.”
“Yes, my queen.” The rationmaster left with the quiet clacking of the once-pantry’s wooden door.
With the doctor gone, Fankalo sat to review the paperwork again, but couldn’t keep her eyes from the lamp.
No success could keep Calver’s shortcomings from her mind.
It never could. The lamp seemed to be staring back.
Bad Luck pressed in around her. She closed her eyes and pulled in a long, shuddering breath, searching for a calm thread in the chaos, wishing her worries away.
Dreiden himself had written to never let worry take root in one’s garden; it would only propagate. Then again, Fankalo knew little of gardens, but plenty of weeds. Her lip trembled.
Calver did it again…
Her body crunched forward upon the stool. Tangled ebony curls fell across her face. She pressed a hand to her mouth, fought the clutching of her chest.
He’d disappeared. Never showed up to the dock in Karval. And Killari had not imparted a message that he’d chosen to change course. But he was not dead. No, her Luck showed him stronger in her mind than he had been in… years.
Kretch. It was because she’d sent him to that weasel, Thacklore, while he was stationed outside of Chira’na. Ever since Calver had asked about Methu’su, she’d known there was going to be trouble.
And if he’d learned the secrets she’d kept from him all this time, in hopes of sparing him any more damage? Chaos knew there would be consequences. She remembered a time when she did not fear her own brother. She tethered herself to the memory for what little comfort it gave.
Mitek burst through the door, and she jumped. With her senses muddled by emotion, the futures hadn’t shown him coming.
“They’ve located him,” he panted.
Fates have mercy. She bolted to her feet and dabbed at the corners of her eyes which, thankfully, had remained dry.
Her Hand didn’t seem to notice her distress. “He’s with the Red Wing. Chaos help us, Brat. If you ask me, your dog’s off his fucking leash.”
Arms crossed, she defended her blood brother, as she always did.
And she hated it: her one point of weakness, made worse before Mitek, the only one who truly understood how deep the wound went.
“He’s just following the fated Aetech plates.
Probably obsessing over his failure to demolish them and trying to make up for it. ”
Mitek shook his head. “He was acquired by force.”
Fankalo stilled. None of it made sense. For all his mental damage, her brother was capable. Why had he willingly put himself in the vicinity of Roskaad Thyatira?
Mitek ran his fingers through his stupid, perfect hair. She frowned. He saw her notice his nervous twitch and attempted to cover it with a fake smile.
“What are you not saying?” she asked.
“Bratty…”
Fankalo raised an eyebrow. “Mitek?”
“It’s bad.”
Kretch. “Mitek—”
“Before his capture—” He winced at the look she shot him for cutting her off. He always bloody cut her off. “He was traveling with a companion.” He bit into his lip, forehead creased, his usual playfulness absent.
A companion? Surely they weren’t speaking about the same Calver. Fankalo’s eyes narrowed.
“Who?”