To Ask, Not Answer
Dain sat with them in the carriage as they returned to the North Marches, preventing Sorrow from telling Luvian and Irris about Vine’s actions – or lack thereof – during the attack. She didn’t want the Decorum Ward commander reporting back to her boss; she wanted Vine to think she’d let him win, that she’d learned her lesson.
But inside she smouldered, her anger red coals that burned the whole way back. She kept replaying, it, over and over, fury and shame taking turns to assault her: how he’d turned away. How he’d smirked at her through the flames, while the Sons of Rhannon advanced. How, in that moment, he’d taken all of her power and made her beg for his help, and still done nothing. She’d been a fool to think he’d be so easily got rid of. And now he had someone watching her. Without meaning to, she shot Dain a filthy look, which the Decorum Ward missed as she stared out of the window into the night.
Irris noticed, though, and glanced at her questioningly.
“This is Commander Dain, my new bodyguard,” Sorrow told her. “Captain Vine assigned her to me.”
“I see,” Irris said, offering Sorrow a sympathetic smile.
Sorrow supposed she was lucky to have got this far without having a personal guard assigned to her, but then the hooded man had been right too – she’d barely left the palace before, and when she had, there had been a battalion of Decorum Ward between her and the people.
And the people had never tried to attack a Ventaxis before.
Nevertheless, the presence of the guard annoyed her, and, still shaken from the events at the hall, Sorrow pretended to doze on the journey home. There would be repercussions from this, she thought, as she leant against the carriage side with her eyes closed. More than being assigned a bodyguard. Twice she’d been targeted now. Would there be more? Or would Mael be next? She found she didn’t like the idea of that, either.
Mael… Another thought was demanding room in her head, one she didn’t want to give any credit to. But it wouldn’t leave her: the way he kept defending her, even against Vespus. The way he was always so nice. The way he’d grieved when Harun had died…
The way he acted persistently like a big brother.
Even though he couldn’t be.
By the time they arrived back at their headquarters, Sorrow’s pretend sleepiness had become real, her body and mind utterly exhausted; she didn’t think she could talk if she’d tried.
Luvian gestured for her to follow him into the library, but she shook her head, barely able to put one foot in front of the other.
“Tomorrow,” she said finally, her voice soft and slurred, and he’d paused, about to speak, and then nodded.
The last of her energy was spent shooting a dark look at Dain as she took up a station outside her room. She made sure to turn the lock loudly, and then, quietly, she placed a chair under the doorknob. The idea of Dain out there didn’t make Sorrow feel secure.
Sorrow climbed into bed fully clothed, not even bothering to kick off her boots as she pulled the sheets up to her chin, for once wanting the weight and warmth of them. When she closed her eyes she saw the three men again, staring up at her. The fire blazing across the stage as they’d flung their missiles at her. She sat up, heart pounding, reaching into her drawer for the remainder of the sleeping draught she’d taken the night before. Three large sips saw her sinking into a mercifully dreamless sleep.
She woke earlier than she’d expected, the sun barely warming the room. The manse felt quiet and still as she sat up. Her feet hurt from being confined inside her boots all night, and she pulled them off, dropping them to the floor with a thud. She followed them out of the bed, crossing to where her trunks were packed and waiting to be loaded on to the carriage for the journey to Rhylla later that morning.
Would they still go? she wondered. After what had happened, was it too dangerous?
If only Mael hadn’t appeared that day on the bridge, she would have returned to Rhannon after the memorial and signed the papers deposing Harun. She’d already be chancellor, or as near as. Last night would never have happened. Though the Sons of Rhannon had made it clear they were against all Ventaxises, so perhaps it might have done… Vine had said there was a crush. No one had died, but that didn’t mean people hadn’t been hurt. More pain at the hands of a Ventaxis.
Again she thought about how much she’d underestimated the work ahead of her. Luvian had been right to call her list naive. It was nowhere near enough to simply open curtains and bring back colour. She had to make them trust her – despite her name.
There was a kind of karmic resonance to the Sons of Rhannon, she realized, crossing the room to check the balcony door was locked. Her family had been a little like them, once. They’d been the ones trying to overthrow their supposed evil overlords, gathering allies and spreading the word across Rhannon. And they’d succeeded. The kings and queens who’d once ruled Rhannon had been destroyed, and replaced, by the Ventaxises.
So she had to learn from this. Or else be the bad guy on two fronts: former usurper, and present dictator. She needed to be better than her ancestors – more than them. But how?
She was the first to arrive at breakfast, and she dismissed the servants and told Dain to remain outside the room, closing the door on the large woman. On her way to the table she pulled the list from the wall, pouring herself coffee while she read through it, tearing a roll into small pieces, waiting for the others to join her.
Irris came first.
“I thought you’d still be in bed,” she said as she sat opposite Sorrow. “I went to your rooms. Did you sleep at all?”
Sorrow shrugged. “I used the last of the sleeping draught and got a few hours. But I woke early anyway.”
Irris looked at the pile of shredded bread on Sorrow’s plate. “I take it that’s representative of your thoughts on the Sons of Rhannon?”
Sorrow popped one of the pieces into her mouth theatrically, only to spit it straight back out into a napkin when it turned to mush, offering Irris an apologetic smile.
“How are you feeling?” Irris asked.
“Aside from the attempt on my life, and the knowledge my future people hate me?”
“The people don’t hate you. The Sons of Rhannon do.” Irris pulled the coffee pot towards her.
“The people agreed with them. They hate what I am. A Ventaxis,” Sorrow replied. “And I’m not sure I blame them. Not after what my father and grandfather did.”
“They’ll see you’re not like them.”
“Only if I show them I’m not.”
“And you will, when you win.” Irris poured herself some coffee, and topped off Sorrow’s cup. “I saw your bodyguard outside.”
Sorrow grunted as she sipped her drink.
“I hate to say it, but I’m glad the Decorum Ward were there last night.”
“I’m not – Meeren Vine ignored me during the attack.” Sorrow cut across her.
Irris paused in the act of lifting her cup to her mouth. “What?”
“I didn’t want to use the Ward, because I know the people hate them. I thought it would look better if I tried to handle it myself. But when the Sons of Rhannon threw those things, I raised my hand to call for him. He hesitated. He smirked, Irri. He did it on purpose. To prove a point.”
“What point?”
“That we need them. I need them. Last night proved it, and Vine knows that. But as long as they’re working for me, the people won’t like me. So I’m stuck – vulnerable without them, hated because of them. Having one as my personal guard is only going to look like approval, and that’s why Vine sent her.” Sorrow nodded to the closed door that Commander Dain stood behind.
Irris sipped her coffee. “I’ll write to my father and ask him if he can release one of the palace guards to take over once you return from Rhylla. You do need a guard, though, at least until the Sons of Rhannon are brought under control. You could have been hurt. Killed.”
“I know,” Sorrow said, a shiver breaking along her shoulders. “What was that they threw at me?” she asked.
“Quickfire,” Luvian said from the doorway. “It’s a powder that reacts with air after it’s been agitated in water. Add it to a bottle, seal it, shake it, and throw it. The bottle smashes, flames ensue.”
Sorrow and Irris turned to him, and Sorrow was stunned to see how unlike himself he appeared. His suit was crumpled, as though he’d slept in it, stubble shadowing his chin, the top of his hair an almost vertical shock of black.
“It’s Rhyllian,” he added, making his way to the table. “They use the dried version in their fireworks. You’ll no doubt see it in action at the Naming.”
“You’re not still going?” Irris said. “Is that wise?”
“It’s up to you,” Luvian said to Sorrow. “I’ll go along with whatever you say.”
Though she wanted to go, she didn’t relish the idea of being out in a carriage, easily attacked. She didn’t want the Sons of Rhannon to try to finish what they’d started the previous night, when she was miles from safety, with only Dain, Luvian and the coach drivers to protect her. But if she didn’t go, if she stayed in Rhannon…
“We’re going,” she said. “We’ll just have to take extra care. The worst thing I could do is hide away. Too reminiscent of my father. And I don’t want to lose the chance to see what we can find out about Mael.”
She wondered then if he’d got back to his lodgings all right, and if he’d still go to Rhylla. Yes, she decided. He would. So she had to.
Luvian sat down and poured a generous cupful of coffee, ignoring it when it sloshed over the rim and stained the tablecloth in a pattern that reminded Sorrow of the mark on the music hall ceiling.
“Wait a second,” Sorrow said, remembering something. “Did you just say quickfire is Rhyllian? So is this Vespus’s doing somehow? The Sons of Rhannon are in league with him?”
Luvian looked at her with tired, red eyes. “No,” he said firmly. Then, “It wouldn’t make sense. Mael was on that stage too. Very risky to have your own puppet in the literal firing line. The Sons of Rhannon are a problem, but a separate one from Vespus and Mael. You do seem to attract trouble.”
“I hardly do it on purpose,” Sorrow said, and took a deep breath. She was ready to speak her thoughts from the night before. “But, while we’re talking about Mael…”
“I thought we were talking about the Sons of Rhannon?” Luvian said.
Irris tutted at him, and turned to Sorrow.
“We know it’s unlikely he’s the real Mael,” Sorrow began. “But is it possible he doesn’t? That the way he behaves is because in his mind he is my brother?”
“No,” Irris said instantly. “What? No. No, it’s him and Vespus in this together, we know that.”
“Do we?” Luvian said, dragging a hand through his hair, answering before Sorrow could. “I have to confess, it’s crossed my mind before now, too. What if he believes he is the lost child? What if he believes what Vespus has told him, because he truly lived that life he told you about?”
“Think about it,” Sorrow said to Irris, who was shaking her head. “All the times he’s defended me, the times he’s saved me. Last night he told me to run while he held them off. And he’s always so obnoxiously nice…”
“It would make sense,” Luvian said, leaning across the table. “More sense to raise a child into a story than to get an actor to learn a script later. If he’d only joined Vespus in the last two years, there would be Rhannish people who would know him. Parents, friends, neighbours even. It would be too risky.”
“So what?” Irris’s expression was thoughtful as she worked through their case. “He was stolen as a child, and given to this Beliss woman to raise, waiting for the right moment to bring him back? You said yourself, Vespus wanted the war to continue for his land, and then he tried to petition your father. Oh – what if he took advantage of Mael’s fall and created a backup plan? A boy he could hide in Rhylla in case he needed him?”
Luvian nodded. “He’d be too young to remember where he really came from, and enough time has passed to make him unrecognizable to his real parents here. His appearance could have been altered to give him the birthmark – he could have been tattooed, or perhaps someone with a cosmetic ability added it?”
“Abilities can only manipulate things that already exist,” Sorrow reminded him. “Ras could only get rid of pain that existed at that moment. Vespus can only work with plants if he has plant material to hand.”
“Maybe Vespus found a kid with a mole on his neck?” Luvian suggested. “That would be something that existed. He could have had someone manipulate that.”
Irris looked at Sorrow, who shrugged. It was the most likely explanation for it, barring the tiny possibility the birthmark was real…
“So what do we do?” Irris said. “Because whether he knows it or not, he’s still almost definitely an imposter.”
“I’m already working on it,” Luvian said. “I sent for the reports of every child that went missing, or is thought to have died, but no body recovered, during the three years before, and three years after, your brother was lost. That’s what was in the package that arrived last week. I’ve been going through them. We’ll also need to take advantage of our time in Rhylla to see what we can find there. Ideally, we find Beliss, though I expect Vespus will have hidden her away. But there are other avenues to explore. I have a plan.” Luvian reached for the coffee pot again. “So eat up. It’s going to be a long day.”