Chapter
34

Lirra

THE RAIN SOAKS ME. I KEEP MY HEAD DOWN, eyes pinched closed, as Aodren’s horse gallops out of the clearing, each hoofbeat a chisel to the fractures in my heart. When he’s gone, all that remains is a mess of splintered, ugly pieces inside my hollow chest.

It’s better this way. Da’s knack for keeping secrets won’t stand against the Channelers Guild and two kingdoms’ determination to uncover the truth. From the little I overheard this morning, I know that when the entirety of Da’s machinations comes to light, the devastation will be immense. All this time, as Aodren and I were searching for someone with Channeler knowledge and power in the trade industry, I never considered Da.

I still don’t understand how he and Soma are working together, or if Astoria is involved. I hope for the sake of my broken heart that she is not.

All I’m certain of is what I heard.

I’m surprised she hasn’t caught on to me, Da said. But now that I have, I wish I’d never looked into Sanguine, never thought to prove myself to Da so he could spend more time at home. Of all the secrets I’ve kept for my father, this is the one that hurts the most. The Akarians and the Channelers Guild are all hunting down the truth alongside Aodren. It’s not a matter of if he’ll find out the truth, but when. He’ll never look at me the same.

The thought is too much to bear, so I made the selfish choice. I picked facing his confusion and pain today rather than the loathing rejection that is sure to come.

“Lirra, you’ll catch a cold,” Eugenia shouts. The squeak of the door is barely audible over the downpour. She holds it open and waves at me. “Hurry in.”

She doesn’t complain when I step into the kitchen and a lake of water drips from my trousers. Eugenia wraps me in a blanket, the one from her bed. “What were you doing?”

A shiver racks my spine. I shake my head, mouth too chalky and bitter to talk.

“We came to the showcase.” She waits, and when I don’t respond, she adds, “The boys were so excited to see your gliders. But you didn’t perform.”

I think of my glider and wonder if it’s still sitting on a Channeler cart at the tournament field. I spent months designing and building the wings. Performing in the showcase has been a secret dream of mine for so long. And now what? Do I wait another five years? The answer falls into the same gray obscurity that has become Da’s future as well as my own.

“I decided not to,” I say, voice wooden.

“Lirra.” She touches my arm. “I was wrong to criticize you for not spending enough time helping your da. His business, that’s his dream. And I know you try to help him because you love him. But his business isn’t your dream. Let it be his, while you find yours.”

“Is that all? I . . . I should go change.”

“You must’ve had a long night,” she says, not wanting to pry, and at the same time, her tone is tinged with curiosity. Again, I don’t respond. Her hands are working the mess of hair off my drenched face. “You look weary. Which won’t do for today’s event. The boys have been looking forward to watching the last tournament event and then the grand finale of the jubilee. Everyone will be in their finest for tonight, so we need to get you dried, rested, and dressed in that pretty green gown you own.”

Her tone is no different than usual, but today I hear a gentleness in her voice, a motherly sound. Has it always been there, and I never noticed?

“If only your father had returned in time,” she sighs.

I tuck away the rise of hurt into the farthest corner of my heart and step out of her loose embrace. The little clip-clap of footsteps announces the twins. Julisa must be down for a nap.

“Why’s Lirra all wet?” Loren kicks the puddle I’ve made.

“Don’t spread the water,” Eugenia scolds. “Go fetch a rag to help sop up the mess.”

Of course he doesn’t listen. Instead, Loren points at my clothing. “You been playing in the rain? Without us?”

I don’t know why the question loosens a broken laugh. “Something like that.”

“I like the rain, but I hope it clears before dusk,” Loren says. “We’re dying to see the jubilee.”

“We’re hoping they’ll let you fly your gliders tonight, Lir,” Kiefer admits. Hardly ever one to talk, his soft-spoken manner is the first spread of balm to the ache inside me. “Since you missed last night.”

Eugenia rubs the blanket over my arms, adding more warmth to the ice under my skin. “After the excitement that’s been building in this house, it would be a wonderful thing if the Guild allowed you to perform. Perhaps you can talk to your aunt Katallia and she can find some way for you to go on.”

Her enthusiasm is echoed by the boys.

“Do you think?” Kiefer asks.

His hopeful face, so sweet and genuine and mirrored by the others, hurts my heart, because I know the answer will disappoint. “No, I’ve missed my chance. But . . . there is always next time.”

Eugenia scoots the littleuns out of the kitchen. For once, I allow myself to lean on her, using her support to help me to my attic room, where I strip out of my wet clothes and find solace in the cocoon of my warm bed.

The lumps of the straw mattress dig into my hip. My blanket, well-worn and comfortable, itches my neck. I toss side to side, seeking rest.

It doesn’t come until long after Aodren and the Guild have begun their meeting.

We reach the field, the twins winding around me. They’re so excited, it takes time to navigate through the crowd. After we find a place with a decent view, I tell Eugenia that I’m going to check on my glider, to ensure that it’s still here and no one has harmed it.

“The fight is soon to begin,” she says, reminding me. The crowd is busy calling out for their champions. Each time I hear Leif’s and Aodren’s names, it spreads a seed of ache through me. I can’t decide if seeing Aodren will hurt too much or if I need this final glimpse of him.

I rush to north side of the field where the Channelers were supposed to meet yesterday for the showcase. Hopefully all is well with my glider, and I can return to sit with Eugenia and the littleuns.

“You did well, Beetle.”

I spin around to face Da. My heart is lodged so high in my throat, the ache makes it impossible to swallow. He stands at the edge of the tent, thinner than he was two months ago. Even the edges of his face are not quite so soft and round. The rosy glow that used to light his cheeks is gone. Any joy I feel at seeing him again is pierced by confusion and anger.

“You deceived me, Da,” I say, direct as we’ve always been with each other, as he should have been with me from the start of his dealings with Aodren. “You sent me that letter and made me take one to Aodren. You acted as if you were helping him, as if you cared to find out the truth about Sanguine. But you already knew the truth, didn’t you?”

He twists side to side, seeing who might be listening, and then moves closer. A frown turns his muddy brows into one furry slash. “Careful, Beetle. There are ears all around. Now what’s this? You think I’ve done what?”

I prop fists on my hips and breathe out a puff of air from my nostrils. “Why don’t you tell me?”

“We can talk about this later.” He reaches out to guide me back toward the field, and I shrug away. Talking about this later isn’t acceptable.

“I heard what you said to Astoria. I heard you.”

And I tell him everything. From the fight at the fountain and my night in the cells to my search for the truth about Sanguine with Aodren to Judge Soma and the oubliette. The only thing I do not tell him is that saying goodbye to Aodren is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. And when I’m finished, he looks rattled to his core.

“Oh, Lirra. You were never meant to get involved. I didn’t want this for you.” His mouth gapes, and his neck wobbles. “But you don’t understand, not everything. I need you to let this go. Drop this matter. Please.”

“Drop this?” My anger sparks. “Do you deny that you’re working with Judge Soma on this?”

“I am not conspiring with Soma.”

I arch a single brow, expecting an explanation, which he doesn’t provide.

“Tell me the truth.” The demand snaps out of me like a whip. Near the tent, people turn and look at us. Da sees them, and his lips pinch together. I no longer care if people hear us. I’m overfull of secrets.

“I cannot,” he whispers. “This is why I asked King Aodren not to tell you anything.”

I want to stomp away or hit something or shake him, but all I can do is stand here in frustration so thick it’s nearly suffocating. “Why?”

“You’re too clever and persistent for your own good, Beetle. Let this go.”

“After everything I’ve told you, that’s all you have to say? That you cannot tell me for my own good?” I spit out the questions, venom dripping from each word. “I have dedicated everything to you. I’ve set aside everything I’ve ever wanted so I could serve you, help you, be the partner you needed to make up for Mother’s death and for all you lost because of me. I—I thought if I did enough, I would be worthy of your sacrifice. At least of your time. But—but . . .” The meanness subsides into all my hidden truths, spilling out so rapidly, it’s as if one of my wings has broken and I’m falling to the earth at full speed.

“Oh, my girl,” he says, unbearable sadness lacing his voice.

A hot tear streams down my cheek. I shove it away with the back of my hand. “I don’t understand this. I don’t understand why you’ve done this. Why you won’t explain. Have I not done enough to deserve the truth?”

“You have.” It comes out broken and sorrowful. “You’ve done more than I ever should’ve asked.”

I feel like a deflated windbag. The carts carrying the Channeler items are close by. I trudge to the cart holding my glider. It’s a relief to find my wings safely tucked under a tarp, hidden away. The cheers of the crowd increase and then fade, and the announcer calls out the name of the first competitor.

“I would’ve liked to see you fly,” Da says behind me.

Me too.