Page 20

Chapter 19

A Brother for Life

My mother’s door loomed before me as I forced my mind away from the shock of touching the wielding and back to the present. I needed to get my mother alone to talk. I was done with letting her avoid me.

“Alula, please talk to me. You still look pale. What happened back there?” Haniel had been trying to get answers since I’d slipped back through the gate, but I’d maintained a resolute silence beyond my insistence that I was fine.

“I slipped on a rock near the edge and scared myself. That’s all. I’m fine now.”

The quick, guilty hug I gave him was awkward as I struggled to raise my still numb arm. I knew he was trying to look out for me, but I’d been doing that for myself for a while now. The thought that maybe I’d used him to suit my own purposes this afternoon didn’t sit well with me, though. I wanted him back in my life, but I couldn’t reconcile the friend I remembered with the man in front of me.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“Uh, sorry. Thank you for chaperoning me, Haniel.”

“That’s not…I didn’t mean…You know what? Keep your secrets, Alula. You’ll see where you end up without your friends watching your back.”

He stormed off, leaving me bewildered by what he meant with his angry parting jab.

Shaking it off for the moment, I opened the door and stepped through. The sight that greeted me wasn’t what I expected. It was Kiran sitting on the couch with my mother, not her consort.

They stopped talking as soon as I entered, and my brother’s eyes slid away, making me suspicious. Had my mother lied about my brother not being involved in her schemes? I wouldn’t have thought so a moment ago. Now, I wasn’t so sure. About anything.

My confusion had me paused in the doorway until Kiran jumped up off the couch and strode toward me. He swallowed me in an enormous hug that I leaned my whole body into, resting my forehead on his chest and melting into his familiar warmth. He smelled of leather and sweat right now, but I couldn’t find it in me to care. His hugs would always be home, and I needed that. It felt incredibly wrong to doubt him. No matter what, I knew Kiran would always be on my side.

“Hey, Lulu,” he said, his breath stirring my hair. The kiss he dropped on the top of my head felt like a balm for the turmoil swirling through me.

He pushed back to look me over, and his eyes stopped on the arm I had curled to my chest. Nothing got past Kiran. “What’s wrong with your arm?” he asked.

“Nothing. It’s fine.”

“Don’t try to lie to me, Lulu. You’re terrible at it.” He mussed my hair affectionately. “We’ll circle back to that later, though. What’s more important now is I don’t want you to worry about Alastor. He should have never gotten near you. I’ve taken care of him.”

As I pulled back to search my brother’s face, he wouldn’t meet my eyes again. My mother shook her head subtly when I glanced her way. Whatever she’d planned, this wasn’t it.

Relief flooded me as I realized he wasn’t feeling guilty; he felt conflicted. Kiran had a strong moral code, and it sounded like he’d crossed it. “What did you do?”

“It’s not for you to worry about.” The stiff smile he gave me left crisp lines of stress lingering alongside it.

“You shouldn’t have interfered at all,” my mother snapped. “I had it handled. And what do you think is going to happen when they find him?”

Dread filled me, and I gasped. “Is Alastor dead?”

“No.” Kiran glared at my mother. “He’ll wake up. Eventually.”

“And if he talks?” my mother added. She wasn’t letting this go.

“He never saw me. I made sure nobody did.” Kiran let me go and stomped back to the couch.

She snorted dismissively as he sat heavily, and we both ignored her, for the moment.

I’d followed him over but didn’t sit. I wanted to be able to see his face when I asked my next question. “Kiran, do you know how vessels share their light, and what consorts do?”

He paled, and my mother went very still beside him.

“I do,” he said, “but I didn’t think you did…yet.”

“Mara told me her suspicions, and Alastor made it pretty clear.”

He leaned toward me, elbows on his knees and determination written in every line of his body. “I will not let that happen to you, Alula. Even if you become a vessel, that won’t be your fate. It’s why I worked so hard to become a wing commander before your potentiate presentation. So I could try to change things from within and back you up if you needed it, or find a way to get you out and somewhere safe.”

“And you just lectured me about keeping secrets,” our mother muttered.

“Thank you,” I told him quietly. I’d put all thought of Alastor and consorts aside as a problem for another day, but I had run out of those.

“Don’t thank me. I should have seen Alastor coming. He’s a sneaky bastard that’s been trying to get one over on me for a long time. His intention to offer wasn’t about you, or at least, not only about you.” I raised an eyebrow at Kiran, and he shrugged. He reached over to the low table between us and grabbed a glass of water that had been sitting in front of him, taking a long drink before answering my silent question. “Becoming the youngest wing commander in history didn’t come without making some enemies.”

Great. So now I had more to worry about. I’d always assumed everyone was respectfully terrified of my brother. It seemed there was a lot I’d missed while living confined and away from my loved ones.

“Do I need to bust some heads too?” I asked.

He looked startled at my serious question, but the harsh lines of his face softened, and he got up again to stand beside me. He wrapped one arm casually around my shoulder, bringing me back in close. “I’ll let you know if I need backup.”

My mother rolled her eyes, less than impressed with us. “She sorted Haniel too, so we should be fine tonight.”

“And I did it without beating him up.” I couldn’t help but goad my brother a bit, as a little sister should. I felt lighter just being around him again, even if he was a hulking male now. He always made me feel like everything was going to be okay, no matter what.

Kiran raised an eyebrow at me as he stifled a quick grin, but he sobered as he looked between my mother and me. “Okay, spill.”

“Spill what?” I asked. There were more than a few secrets I was keeping right now, and I had a moment of panic trying to figure out which one he was asking about. A glance at my mother proved no help. She pretended not to notice as she fiddled with a bracelet.

“Whatever is going on here that the two of you aren’t telling me. I work with trainee guardians every day. You think I don’t know when people are colluding and keeping something from me?”

The withering glare my mother shot him as she stood up and placed her hands on her hips would have had me ducking for cover. “I don’t report to you, son. My affairs are none of your concern.”

Kiran was made of sterner stuff, though. He stepped toward her, having long outgrown her manipulations. “Yes, but my sister’s affairs are my concern. You made them so when you spent her childhood ignoring her. I’m not leaving here until I get answers.” He crossed his arms over his broad chest and planted his giant feet—an intimidating, immovable force if ever I’d seen one.

My mother crossed her own arms, just as determined and refusing to back down. “I appreciate that you have risen high and fast through the guardian ranks, but you don’t know everything.”

“So tell me,” he demanded. “I can’t protect her if I don’t know what we’re fighting.”

My long years of acolyte training demanded I keep my eyes on the ground and my mouth closed, but I was done with that, at least in front of my family. Forcing myself to move, as unnatural as it felt, I stepped to Kiran’s side. I hadn’t always been meek and mild. I’d been a free-spirited sprite as a child, something I was only now remembering.

“You need to stop avoiding me, or talking about me as if I’m not here, Mother. If I’m going to disappear, I want more answers too. And I’ll just tell him everything later anyway, so you may as well talk to us both.” I wanted my brother in on this, whatever it was. He was the only person in my life I trusted implicitly.

An angry, vibrating sound came from my brother that I hadn’t even known he could make. “Why in the darkness would she disappear, Mother?”

“Hush, both of you,” my mother hissed as she looked toward the open window ledge where a Neven could land at any moment. “This is not a safe place to talk.”

“Nowhere in this light-blasted citadel is safe. I learned that young, from you.” My brother had never cursed in front of me before, and his voice dripped with disdain. There was a deep, underlying anger there, more than I’d ever picked up on.

She flinched at his anger, something she never would have allowed us to see before now. My mother looked worn down in a way I’d never noticed. She’d always seemed so solid, but now it felt like her essence had become thin and strained. Had I always been oblivious, or had she merely dropped her mask around us?

Kiran looked at me, his eyebrow raised again. He’d noticed it too. My mother had always been a dominant influence in my life, even when she was being neglectful. This woman carried weariness like a visible weight.

As unsettled as I was by any sign of weakness in my indomitable mother, I needed answers from her, and she wasn’t going to give them if she thought it wasn’t safe. We couldn’t take Kiran to the vessel’s bathing pool, so it had to be here. I turned and strode toward the window, needing a minute.

My fingers ran over the stone arch framing the window, and I recalled how my mother had unlocked the hidden door to the pool, brushing a pattern so fast I hadn’t been able to discern it.

“Can all vessels lock things the way you did to the door the other morning?”

She sighed from deep within. “This isn’t a subject that we should discuss in front of Kiran. The codex forbids guardians from having this knowledge. But, yes. Glass, metal, stone, wood, and earth can all be infused, but also altered. Anything that light passes through, or is part of its formation, can be manipulated. The denser the material, the harder it is to control, though. Stone is the hardest—near impossible, even for the strongest vessel. Why?”

Choosing not to answer yet, I focused on what she had revealed. The elders and the vessels closely guarded the deeper secrets of light-wielding, yet her reference to manipulating it felt instinctively wrong. My instincts urged me to flow with it, discover its purpose, and let it flourish. Manipulating or controlling the light didn’t feel natural, and light was the very essence of everything that was natural to our world. Light gave us life, nurtured us. Bending it to our will felt like corrupting it.

I’d never thought about any of this before now. It had all seemed so far away from me, despite the light that existed around me. The shadow in my pocket seemed almost sentient as I stroked it absentmindedly and it curled around my fingers. Could light also be responsive in the same way? Could I work within it, rather than force it to work for me? When I’d created the one in the library, I hadn’t forced it. I’d merely dropped into that deep space inside me and asked for what I’d needed—for light.

“What are you doing, Lulu?” My brother had moved directly behind me, but I couldn’t articulate what I was thinking. There were no words for any of it that he would understand. I barely understood what I had done, or could do, and there was no one to teach me.

“Uh, I’m not sure. Just stand back for me, please. I want to try something.”

Kiran shifted away again as I spread my fingers out on the stone frame of the window, but he didn’t go far. His impatient breaths were loud in the space behind me.

Closing my eyes, I remembered the creatures made of light the goddess had conjured for me. Only, as the memory became clearer, I realized she hadn’t. I had. I’d created them based on my memories from pictures I’d seen in my mother’s book, and some I’d used my imagination to create. Nobody had ever taught me any sigils to do it. Light and I had been playing together; existing together.

Dropping back into that space inside me grew easier each time I did it. The realization brought both a lightness to my spirit and a swirling trepidation that had me proceeding cautiously.

As I pressed my fingers against the stone, I connected with the spark of light and thought about what I needed in this moment. I needed a safe space where nobody could hear our conversation. For air to flow in and out of the room but not sound.

Opening my eyes, I marveled at the soft glow spreading out from my hand across the frame, but it didn’t stop there. It flowed across all the walls and windows, as well as the ceiling, until we were encased in a bubble of light. When it had traced over every surface in the room, it dimmed until it was virtually undetectable, except for the slightest shimmer over the windows, where the light streamed through.

“What in the darkness was that?” Kiran sounded shocked as he looked at the floor beneath his feet.

My mother appeared in front of me, grabbing my arm so hard I winced at the pain. Her eyes were wide with fear. I’d never seen my mother afraid before. “You must never do that in front of anyone else. Do you understand, Alula? Never.”

Kiran was pushing between us before I could respond, wrenching me out of her grip. “Keep your hands off her.”

She ignored him as her gaze swung around the room frantically, trailing over every surface. “What did you do? I can’t sense the intention.” At my hesitation, she focused back on me, her eyes boring into me.

“I don’t know, but nobody will hear us now.”

I’d never been able to lie to her.

She shook her head at me as her face fell. Her eyes glistened as though she were near tears. “It comes so easily to you. All this time, and now, there’s no time left.”

Kiran’s voice shook lightly as he said, “Somebody start talking.” He had lost the cool focus that earned him the title of wing commander so young.

“She’s dangerous, Kiran.” My mother’s bitter words had him stiffening, his wings flared, and he reached up and put his hand on the sword strapped to his back. He was deceptively fast with it, despite his size. I knew, because Mara and I had snuck out to watch him train when we were novices. We’d been in awe that he could unsheathe and swing it in one fluid motion. I could only imagine how much faster he’s gotten since then.

“Not to us,” he stated hotly, challenging her to deny it as he made a subtle hand signal urging me to step back.

“Of course not, but she is to the elders.” It was the same thing Mara had said, but my mother didn’t stop there. “They won’t let her live if they know what she can do.”

“Why?” I asked before my brother could, as I ignored his signal and stepped around him again. He watched us warily as he towered over us, one hand still on his sword. “You were the one who unbound my light. Why would you do that if you thought it would get me killed?”

“I didn’t expect for you to adapt to it so soon. I thought it would take months, maybe years, of training.” Deflated, my mother stumbled back and slumped on the couch.

“How can you wield without using sigils, Alula?” my brother asked, not one to be left out.

“Over generations, we have forgotten far too much,” my mother answered before I could. “Sigils aren’t a necessity to wield; they just make it easier to focus the wielding. Long ago, the elders convinced young light wielders that sigils were the only way to wield safely. They wanted to stop them from fully understanding their own power, and it worked. Nobody has been able to wield enough light to do anything on this scale in a hundred years, yet Alula just did it with a thought.”

“Does Elder Welkin know?” I asked. “Is that why he’s always been so suspicious of me?” The last decade would make more sense to me if he did.

“No. He sensed your light early but grew confused when it didn’t manifest. The elders don’t tolerate anything they don’t understand or that could potentially be a threat to them.”

“So they’d kill her to avoid her becoming a threat? That seems shortsighted. We haven’t seen the Fallen in centuries, but that doesn’t mean we won’t. They’re out there somewhere. The increasing number of wraiths on the ground proves that. We can sometimes even see them on clear days, a dark mass far below us. Now, over the last few days, my flight has been noticing strange shadows around the citadel that we can’t explain. Surely it would be in everyone’s best interests, including Elder Welkin’s, for her to bolster the halo, if she can.”

I looked at my brother and felt guilt swamp me. He had removed his hand from his sword, but he was hovering near me protectively, and I was betraying him, even as I stood here.

“They would use her and then kill her,” my mother answered without hesitation. “A stronger vessel comes along every few generations, though none so far as strong as Alula. They never survive long.”

“He doesn’t know the Fallen didn’t create the wraiths, and the goddess didn’t raise the citadel?” I directed at Mother. “Or that the halo doesn’t keep wraiths out; it keeps us in?”

My brother whirled on me, his temper getting shorter with every revelation. “Light blast it! What are you talking about, Alula?”

“No,” my mother answered, ignoring him. “Only the nexus vessels know any of that, and, of course, the elders, though we’ve kept our knowledge a secret from them.”

“How do you know all this?” Kiran asked, but neither my mother nor I were paying him any attention. My mother’s eyes were narrowed on me, and she cocked her head.

“You’ve been busy.”

It wasn’t a question, but I answered out of habit.

“Yes. I found the hidden library in town.” I wouldn’t give up Nier. It didn’t matter anyway, not if he’d already left.

“There’s more, Alula. Things you won’t read in any books, even those. Things you aren’t ready to hear.”

“Or are they things you’re not ready to tell, Mother?”

Her gaze slid away briefly, as if my words had hurt somehow, before she looked back to me again, her steely gaze firmly back in place.

“Wait here,” she ordered, before getting up and disappearing into her room.

As soon as she was out of sight, Kiran whisper-hissed at me, “Have you been putting yourself in danger? If you need something, tell me and I’ll get it for you.”

“I’m not an acolyte anymore, Kiran. I’m not going to stay in my room and do what I’m told while others decide my future.” My love for my brother was unquestionable, but it didn’t mean I was going to let him shut me up to keep me safe. Going back to that life after having a taste of freedom would break me.

He pulled my hair lightly, like he used to when I was little. “I didn’t mean it like that, Lulu. The citadel is more dangerous than you know, and I want you to let me help you.”

“I know.” I sighed and leaned my head on his shoulder. “I’ll always need my big brother; I just need to figure some stuff out for myself too.”

He stroked my hair lightly instead of pulling it this time. “I’ve missed you,” he said, instead of arguing with me more.

“I missed you too.” I hadn’t even realized how much, but I closed my eyes and let his quiet strength hold me up for a moment.

My mother was back all too soon, carrying a tiny carved wooden box. After opening it gently, she pulled out a simple gold signet ring with the Welkin symbol on the front.

“Here,” she said, grabbing my right hand and slipping it onto my ring finger. “I’ve wielded layered intentions into this ring over many years, but I can’t tell you their meaning. I can only tell you that when the time comes, it will recognize my light and will help you. You’ll know when. Until then, never take it off. You’re allowed jewelry now—are expected to wear it—but still, the Welkin symbol should stop anyone asking questions or trying to confiscate it.”

As I held the ring up to catch the light, it flashed brightly with a deep inner glow. I could feel the wielding, but she was right, I couldn’t sense the intention behind it—only that the light within it had come from her. “That’s confusingly vague, as usual.”

The ring felt strangely heavy on my finger. I’d never worn one before. As I was wiggling my fingers to get used to the sensation, my mother grabbed my hand.

“I understand you would like me to be clearer, but knowledge can be dangerous, especially with how watched you have always been. The elders can be very persuasive, and I don’t mean with their words. They have no problem threatening and hurting the people closest to you to learn what they want to know if they think you are hiding things from them. The less you know, the better, at least for now.”

She flicked her gaze to Kiran before looking pointedly back at me again.

“Is that why you kept your distance from us and made your antipathy for us known?” I asked hesitantly.

“Partly,” she answered. “And why I hid the only male I’ve ever loved in the town. The male who fathered you both.”

“Our father isn’t an elder, or one of the nobles?” Kiran sounded shell-shocked, yet he had obviously come to the same conclusion long ago that we hadn’t been fathered by her consort.

“No. I would never have given any of them that honor. We don’t have time to go into that now, though.”

I tried to drag my mind away from the revelation that I had a father out there somewhere, and back to what I needed to know. Everything she had revealed was important, but we were running out of time, and I had questions of my own. I had no idea what my wielding would do if someone flew through it, and I didn’t want to risk finding out.

“Is he one of the allies you mentioned in the city? The ones you’re planning on sending me to?”

A rare smile warmed her normally stern face as we all moved back to the couch. With nobody here but family, I took the opportunity to kick off my slippers and pull my feet up like a child, rather than sitting straight-backed like I’d been taught as an acolyte.

“Yes,” she answered, still smiling. “He has spent years building a network of allies and readying them for the day you would need them. He’s watched you both from afar your whole lives.”

My throat thickened as I looked over at Kiran sitting beside me, leaning back on his hands. A father out there in the world somewhere, someone who cared for us, sounded like a myth. Kiran had his head tilted, and his eyes were far away until they snapped back to me again. He’d always had an otherness about his mannerisms that appeared even more pronounced now. I wondered that nobody else could see it. Or maybe he was less guarded around me.

“When are you planning on disappearing her into this network of allies of yours?” Kiran’s question was aimed at my mother, but he didn’t take his eyes off me, as if he was expecting me to disappear at any moment.

“The moment the Ostara Festival is over, at the public feast at the end of the week. Alula won’t return here for the night. She’ll go directly from the promenade into the town. I don’t want to give Elder Welkin any chance to try anything. When she doesn’t receive any offers tonight, she will take a back seat in the rest of the celebrations, as the potentiates who do are honored. Nobody else will care, but Elder Welkin may have trouble letting her go, so she’ll be kept out of sight until the danger has passed, for as long as that needs to be.”

“I want to meet our father before then, and I want to know where Alula is at all times.” Kiran’s tone was as inflexible as the stone walls surrounding us.

“Impossible. You stand out far too much. You will jeopardize everything.”

“I don’t care. Make it happen.”

My head felt overfull, and I couldn’t focus on their words, or figure out how to feel about anything, with the layered emotions jumbling up inside me. Did I want to disappear into town? What other option did I have at this point? Kiran had talked about changing things from the inside, but what we’d revealed this afternoon appeared to have shocked him into a different course.

At this point, there was no changing my path tonight. I was to be presented in a matter of hours. After that, I’d figure out what I wanted to do, and let them know when I was ready. In the meantime, they continued to argue about my future—with no input from me—and I let them until a subtle thrum of light ran through the room and tingled up through my feet in warning.

“Yes, I’m very much looking forward to the formal dinner tonight,” I said in an overly loud voice. My mother and brother halted mid-speech as she reached her hand down to the floor. She spread her palm out and winced as the wielding seemed to flow out of the room and into her. Her face flushed, and she appeared more energized. Her back snapped straight, and she sat up primly.

She had absorbed my wielding—I hadn’t even known that was possible.

A moment later, a rush of wings stirred the air as Mara landed on the window ledge. She smoothed her hair before folding her hands demurely in front of her and tucking her wings neatly behind her. We all stared at her, and she shifted uncomfortably.

“Am I too early? I’m so sorry. My mother worried I’d be late and insisted I come now.” She looked behind her and frowned. “My brother has already left, but I can fly around for a bit outside if you need me to?”

Kiran recovered his manners first, although his voice sounded tense. “Mara, what a lovely surprise. Are you getting ready here?”

I had forgotten we’d invited Mara, as had my mother, it seemed. I jumped up to distract Mara, and my brother shot my mother a suspicious look.

“No, it’s fine, Mara,” I said. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“I’ll leave you all to it, then,” Kiran said. “We can continue this fascinating discussion tomorrow. I’m sure you’ll both look beautiful tonight.”

He strode over to Mara and leaned down to kiss her cheek as he gave her a hand down from the ledge, making her blush. Then he headed out the window, giving my mother one final, pointed glare and signaling me to be careful.

I cursed inwardly as I realized I’d gotten distracted and hadn’t even asked my brother how he knew the hand signals of the thralls—my brief encounter with one showed the ones he’d taught me were the same—or if there was anything else he was hiding. He hadn’t sounded all that surprised to hear about my mother’s secret network in town, and I wondered how much he already knew about it. Growing up, he’d always needed to know every detail of what was going on around us, and always had plans upon plans.

I needed more time to process everything today had revealed, but that wasn’t going to happen.

Because there was one thing I knew my mother was absolutely right about.

I’d had my eyes closed for too long, and now, we were out of time.