Page 18

“You never told me why.”

Cirian lifted his head from the pillow, a piece of his crimson hair falling into his face. The two of us had spent the afternoon sparring with one another in the gardens, and now he was all mine, reclined in my bed, his body of pale marble draped in silken sheets as the golden light of dusk washed us in its radiance.

“Why what?” he replied, propping himself up on an elbow.

“Why you call me Toto,” I clarified, rolling on my side to face him. The smell of sweat clung to us still, both from the activities outside and those that we practiced behind closed doors. It was easy, this time spent with Cirian. He pushed me, out on the fencing strip, till I was a panting mess. And I returned the favor here in the confines of my bed. He was far more agreeable with a cock in his mouth, or better yet, when I was sheathed fully inside him.

Cirian pursed his lips, rolling onto his back to stare up at the canopy that hung above my bed. He remained quiet long enough that I considered abandoning the topic altogether and drawing us a bath, but then he spoke, his voice soft.

“I had a sister before my time as the Acolyte. Emma was her name.”

I waited for him to continue, my focus drawn back to the boy as he gazed past the canopy overhead, lost in thought.

“She was born…frail. The healers didn’t know what to make of her condition, as it didn’t respond to any of the poultices or magics they could think of. My mother knew that we had a limited amount of time with her. She would spend hours a day communing with the Source for answers. But despite her ailment, Emma was a rambunctious thing. She’d chase me around the cathedral, running up and down the aisles till her little lungs were about to give out.

“She didn’t speak much, just jumbled words here and there. Names were especially difficult for her, so she would cling to sounds that were easier to make. Mother was ‘mama,’ and she would call me ‘Cici.’ She had her own names for everyone we were close to.” He went quiet for a moment, his dark eyes searching the space overhead for something that wasn’t there. “After Emma passed, Mother and I kept up the practice, calling those we cared for by those simple little names. It was our way of keeping her with us, even after she’d returned to the Source. I haven’t given anyone in my life a new name since I went to live at the Cradle. But… when I met you, it was like I could hear Emma in my head, and that was the name she picked out for you.”

“So,” I said slowly once he’d fallen silent. “Does that mean you care about me, Cirian?”

He turned to look at me then, and I expected him to laugh off my comment or chastise me for my sincerity, but he reached for me instead, cupping the side of my face with his hand.

“Too much, Toto. It scares me, sometimes.”

His thumb slowly traced my bottom lip.

“Why would that scare you?” I asked, transfixed by the immeasurable depth of his eyes.

“Because everyone leaves,” he whispered, pulling his hand away but holding my gaze. “No matter how hard I try and hold on. They slip through my fingers.”

I reached for him then, wrapping my arms around him as he rested his head against my chest. “I’m here, Cirian. You don’t have to worry about me disappearing. I’m right here.”

And I sealed the promise with a kiss, planted gently on his forehead.

* * *

I’d imagined what my return to Chateau Greene would be like since the start of my second life. Initially, I wondered if Mother would even bat an eyelash if I strolled in, pretending as though nothing had happened at all. Now, as I sat in the backseat of a car with Cirian, dressed in all the finery of the personal attendant to the Acolyte, I wondered how quickly Mother would have me removed if she recognized me at all.

“Are you alright?”

I looked up from the floorboard, finding Cirian watching me from the opposite side of the bench seat. We hadn’t exchanged many words since leaving the Cradle and even fewer since extracting ourselves from the bath. If he wanted to discuss our actions, he certainly was hiding the desire well. Or perhaps he knew there were more pressing situations at hand.

“I’m fine,” I said, my voice muffled by the porcelain mask that I’d been fitted for before leaving the Cradle. This one fit far more comfortably than the previous one and made me feel less claustrophobic. I’d insisted on the mask, afraid that I’d be recognized the moment I set foot in the Chateau, if not by Mother, then by one of the staff. “Or, I will be, at least.”

Cirian didn’t take the opportunity to mock me, which I found to be a surprising change of pace. Or maybe he’s actually heard the uncertainty behind my words. Either way, he didn’t press, only nodded.

As we neared the property, he gave me the run down on things to remember while acting as his servant. Ways to address him. Motions that he’d use if he needed something in the middle of a conversation. Times when it was and wasn’t appropriate to speak. I did my best to commit them to memory, but the longer the list grew, the more I suspected I was fighting a losing battle. This was pure lunacy, waltzing into the very heart of enemy territory—my childhood home. It felt like a battleground long before this day arrived, but now it served that purpose in earnest. But instead of a battle of wills between children and mother, it was a fight for my future and possibly the future of the Rebellion.

Nausea swelled in my gut.

“I’ll send you away as soon as possible without arousing suspicion,” Cirian said as we pulled through the large, golden gates of the chateau. Members of Mother’s private militia stood stationed at the gate, and we stopped long enough for the driver to show them identification. “It’ll buy you some time to locate where they’re holding the necro— Bastien . Don’t try anything on your own unless you absolutely must. I don’t know how long that stone is going to be able to sustain your magic, so use it as a last resort, do you understand?”

I nodded, gritting my teeth behind the mask and swallowing back bile. The Anima stone felt heavy against my leg, hidden in the pocket of my trousers.

“We’re here,” Cirian announced as the car rolled to a stop across from the stairs to the main entrance. More militia members walked the grounds outside of the chateau in patrols of four. Two more guards were stationed at the front door, armed and vigilant. “Adoranda sure seems paranoid that there will be a retaliation to her attack. That bodes well for us. It means she’s still afraid and that the Rebellion hasn’t lost its teeth quite yet. Come, open the door for me.”

I did as he instructed, climbing out of the car and holding the door for him as he exited. An Unseen servant shimmered into existence at the base of the stairs, bowing to Cirian as he approached, his own mask of authority firmly in place.

A sliver of black material around the Unseen’s neck drew my attention, and I shuffled a few steps closer to try and get a better look at it.

It appeared to be a thin strip of leather with a golden clasp in the front. A collar, perhaps? It felt immediately out of place, but I couldn’t mention it now.

“Good day, Acolyte. You are expected by the madame. This way, please.”

Cirian hurried up the steps after the Unseen, and I followed suit, doing my best not to draw attention. The guards eyed us as we approached but didn’t speak as the Unseen pulled open the door and ushered us inside the foyer.

I stifled the gasp in my throat. Inside, the foyer had been transformed into what I could only describe as a war room. A long wooden table ran through the center, a large map unfurled and covered in annotations. Several higher-ranking militia members gathered around it, speaking in hushed tones, their attention focused on surveying the placement of small figurines atop the map. I tried my best to pick up on the conversation, but we moved too quickly to catch more than a few words. The Unseen led us down the familiar hall off the foyer, stopping in front of Mother’s office. The doors were already open, a militia member posted on either side. The Unseen gestured for us to enter, and we found the Cardinal seated by the desk on the far wall.

“The madame will be with you shortly,” the Unseen announces, closing the doors behind him after he exits.

Cirian moved for the desk, taking the seat beside the Cardinal. I did my best to hover in the background, not too far, but not too close, either. Being back in Mother’s office sparked a new onslaught of memories, but I had to push them back into the slurry.

This was not the time for distractions.

“I’ve never seen such a force here,” Cirian mused as he sunk into the plush chair. “Adoranda must be frightened of something.”

“She is ready to seize a victory,” the Cardinal replied, her hands folded neatly in her lap. “It is imperative, Cirian, that you only listen as we discuss the Reviled. Listen and observe, is that understood?”

Cirian nodded. “Yes, Your Eminence.”

The doors opened then, Mother striding in, flanked by more militia soldiers. A decorated militia member flanked her, and it took me a second to recognize Renata through the fresh scars across her face. I was relieved to see that she was still alive, though it meant her hands were all the bloodier.

“Glad you could make it, Sancha,” Mother greeted the Cardinal, then her eyes shifted over to Cirian. “And young Master Cirian. I wasn’t expecting to see you today, but it is, as always, a pleasant surprise. Wonderful you should join Sancha on this most auspicious of days.”

“The pleasure is mine, madame.”

Mother took her seat at the desk, shuffling a stack of papers out of her way as she dug into a drawer for her pipe. After a moment, a sweet-scented purple smoke drifted from the end, and she returned her attention to the visitors.

“Well, let us get down to business, then. Renata, could you please share with the Cardinal how you came across our Reviled guest?”

Renata nodded. “Aye, ma’am. The Reviled was found amongst the rebels at their base camp. At first, we thought he might be a prisoner of theirs, but when I saw him tending to the wounded Unseen, I knew that they must have recruited him for his vile magics. Who knows what kind of deplorable experiments they were cooking up?”

I bit down on my tongue to keep from interjecting, anger steaming the flesh behind my mask.

“And what is the latest?” Mother asked, a plume of smoke exhaling from her mouth.

“He’s yet to speak, Your Grace. But he can only resist for so long. We’ll have the information you seek soon enough.”

“What information are you intending to extract from them?” asked the Cardinal, her voice even.

“The leader of the Rebellion has managed to slip through our fingers once more,” Mother answered, flashing a glance at Renata before continuing. “As well as a person of great interest to me. We believe that the Reviled knows to where they’ve fled, so once that information has been extracted, you may do with him what you wish.”

A person of interest? It could only be Lynette. A wave of relief washed over me. Maybe things weren’t looking as bleak. All we had to do now was get Bastien out of here.

“I will return to my efforts, Your Grace,” said Renata, giving a bow before exiting. She didn’t look in my direction as she went, and I wondered if she even mentioned finding me amongst the rebels last night.

“While we wait,” said Mother, leaning back in her chair and focusing her attention on the Cardinal. “I was hoping that we could discuss a matter of business, Sancha.”

“I don’t see why not,” the Cardinal replied, folding her hands across her lap. “Speak your mind, Adoranda.”

“I was hoping that you would reconsider my standing offer once this horrible Rebellion issue has been resolved. Without the constant distractions, just think of what we would be able to accomplish. How quickly we would be able to bring about the second Awakening.”

Cirian cocked his head to the side, glancing over at his mentor. Obviously, he was not privy to the details of whatever said offer entailed.

“I look forward to the day of the second Awakening just as much as you do, Adoranda,” replied the Cardinal. “But the Church cannot take such a strong stance on this issue. At least not in the current climate. I’m sure you understand.”

Mother huffed a laugh, spilling more of the purple smoke from her nostrils. “As cautious as ever, I see. No matter, Sancha. You’ll see things my way sooner rather than later. And when that happens, I do hope that there is still a seat at the table for the Church.”

The women stared each other down, neither breaking away until Cirian jumped in, breaking the tension. “Apologies, Your Grace, but I’m feeling a bit weary from the trip over. Would it be possible to send Reginald here down to fetch some us some tea?”

Mother looked over at me as Cirian referred to me as “Reginald,” seeming to realize for the first time that I was in the room. I panicked for a moment, praying that she wouldn’t see the need to reach out with her aura, but she simply nodded to Cirian.

“Sounds delightful.”

Cirian snapped his fingers, summoning me to his side. I bowed deeply, doing my best to lower my voice as I replied, “Yes, Master Cirian?”

“Tea and perhaps something sweet from the kitchens. And don’t dawdle, Reginald. I know how you like to fraternize.”

“Yes, Master Cirian.” I bowed once more and nearly lost my balance as I found Mother staring intently at me. Her lips parted as if she were about to ask me something, but then Cirian spoke again, allowing me enough time to escape.

“We’ve heard of your marvelous victory on the front of the Rebellion. Please, do tell us in your own words how the effort is going.”

I slipped out of Mother’s office as quickly as I could, waiting till I was clear of the soldiers by the door before I exhaled a shaky breath.

So far, so good.

Moving back into the main foyer, I couldn’t ignore the signs of my mother’s growing paranoia. The windows on the front of the chateau had been reinforced, the sparkling glimmer of magical wards distorting the view through them. Great Grandmother’s statue watched from above as I crossed the space, once again moving past the giant map sprawled along the table. I spotted a mortal maid cleaning off a stack of dishes from the corner and figured I would follow her to the kitchen.

She noticed me as we moved in tandem down the hallway, and I offered a polite wave so as not to startle her. “Just looking for the kitchens. The Cardinal’s Acolyte needs tea.”

The woman’s posture relaxed, and she gave a soft smile. “Of course. I can show you the way, love. Follow me.”

There was far too much ground to cover in searching for Bastien, so I’d throw my lot in with the servants, as they were bound to know where Mother was keeping him, at least. Even prisoners had to be fed.

I hurried to match the woman’s stride, ducking the random maid or soldier who marched down the hall. Memories assaulted my mind, shooting up from the depths of my subconscious like geysers. These halls held so much of my history I only wished there was more time to sort through it.

“There certainly is a lot going on around here,” I said as we dodged a line of militia soldiers just outside of the kitchen.

“Tell me about it,” the woman replied, using her hip to push open the door. The kitchen was sweltering as we headed in, a row of Unseen working along the center wooden-block-topped island, preparing dozens of plates. The stove top was overflowing with stockpots of simmering liquids, and across the way, the large double-oven belched steam each time the doors were opened to remove pans of bread and pastries. “You can speak with Eustace if you need a teapot,” the woman tells me, pointing to one of the Unseen manning the stovetop.

“Thank you,” I replied as she hurried off in the opposite direction. Feeling immediately in the way, just as I did when I was a child, I moved gingerly through the kitchen. It was more difficult than I remember now that I was too big to weave between the cook’s legs as I went.

I noticed more of those strange collars, each of the Unseen sporting one. They were uniform in their appearance, just simple black leather with a golden clasp, but a certain unease settled in my stomach the longer I looked at them.

Finally, I reached the Unseen called Eustace, a younger man than I was expecting, with a shock of soft orange hair protruding up in a line between the pointed ears tufted in the same-colored fur. He eyed me as I approached, already looking annoyed.

“And who are you s’posed to be?”

“Apologies,” I started, raising my voice over the din of the swirling action moving around us. “The Acolyte and Cardinal have requested tea?—”

“I can’t bloody understand you with that thing on, chap,” the Unseen interrupted, lifting a heavy cast iron lid from a pot and stirring the contents with a long wooden spoon.

Glancing over my shoulder, I decided the chances of anyone recognizing me here were low, so I pulled the mask away, turning back to face the man. “They want tea,” I said again, my voice carrying much further. “Just tell me where I can get a pot going.”

Eustace groaned, muttering under his breath as he replaced the lid. “How do they expect me to feed an army if I keep having to heat up their stinkin’ piss water—” he paused, his eyes going wide as he looked over at me again. “You. I know you.”

I fumbled with the mask, shaking my head furiously. “You’re mistaken.”

“They said you were dead,” Eustace continued, waving a wooden spoon in my face. “What the bloody hell is going on around here?”

“Keep your voice down,” I begged, looking over my shoulder again, half-expecting a row of soldiers to be waiting for me. My hand clasped around the stone in my pocket, squeezing it as the comforting heat of magic spread up my arm. Last resort. It had to be a last resort. “Please, I’m here with the Rebellion.”

His eyes only grew wider. “They’re coming, aren’t they? For the Reviled down in the cellar? Gods, this is going to get so messy. The madame’s going to string us all up before the day’s through.”

Okay, the cellar. That confirmed the location. It was a good start.

“We’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen,” I replied. “But if you blow my cover, then things are only going to get messier for everyone, so please, keep it quiet.”

“You’re different,” Eustace said, seeming to calm a bit. “I can see it. You’re different than before.”

“I am,” I confirmed because it seemed like the only appropriate response.

Eustace nodded after a moment, kneeling down to a shelf by the stovetop and producing a tea kettle. “Go fill it, and I’ll get to work on the tea.”

“Thank you,” I said, packing as much sincerity as I can into the words. Hurrying over to the sink, it didn’t take long for me to fill the iron kettle, returning to find a spot cleared on the stovetop. Eustace took it from me, setting it in place as the flames lapped up the side of the kettle.

“China’s in the cabinet,” he said, motioning to the large wooden structure around the corner. “Go ahead and gather what you need. We had shortbreads just come out the oven, so I’ll have some plated up as well. That’ll keep the madame happy.”

“Right,” I agreed, moving for the cabinet and assembling the necessary equipment for the tea service by gathering them onto a silver tray. By the time I’d found the matching sugar caddy and filled the boat with cream, Eustace was there, pouring the hot water into my teapot and setting the prepared tea bags onto the tray.

“Be sure to serve the madame first,” he said softly, giving me a quick wink before turning and heading back over to the stovetop.

I could only hope Eustace would keep his word.

Brandishing the excuse for my reconnaissance, I headed out of the kitchen and back into the hallway, retracing my steps towards Mother’s office. My mind raced through the details I was able to glean. They were keeping Bastien in the cellar, which meant there would be no easy way to gain access to him. We’d have to devise some sort of ruse to see him, which I hoped Cirian might already be plotting. Not only was his location a cause for concern, but the sheer number of militia members milling about proved an almost insurmountable obstacle. If it came down to a fight, there would be no chance of us prevailing. The odds were stacking against us at an alarming rate.

I rounded the last corner before reaching the foyer, stepping to the side to allow another line of soldiers to pass, their boisterous chatter reverberating in the cramped space. Once the coast was clear, I began to move again, but something latched onto my elbow, yanking me hard enough that I stumbled. The tray clattered in my hands, but then someone was steadying me, closing the door I’d been forced through and casting us into darkness.

My pulse hammered, and I contemplated dropping the tray if only to ready a defense against whoever had grabbed me, but then the light overhead illuminated with the pull of a string, and I was able to get a good look at the one responsible for my being in a broom closet.

“After all these years, you’re still terrible at this game.”

The voice—much deeper than I remembered—sparked memories like fireworks in my mind. The Unseen man grasped me by the shoulders, holding me at arm’s length—a rather difficult task for two grown adults in a broom closet—and beamed a snaggle-toothed smile.

“Azzy?” I whispered, forgetting for a moment the cargo in my hands as I stepped toward him. He caught the tray, pulling it gently from my grip and setting it on a shelf beside us. I pulled off the mask, shoving it aside as well. “W-What are you doing here? Are you with the Rebellion?”

Azzy grinned wider. “I could ask you the same thing, Tobi. I take it by your fancy getup that the Hallowed Acolyte had something to do with it.”

I nodded. “He saved me during the raid. We planned on staying at the Cradle till we heard from the others, but then he got word of Bastien’s capture, and we had to improvise.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t our finest hour last night. I tried to make it to Bastien during the chaos, but the sneaky bastard had already wandered off looking for you, and I was knee-deep in Adored soldiers wanting to skin me alive. I wanted to come for you, too, of course. But I figured Lenny would have already saved your arse.”

My heart skipped a beat. “Is she here too?”

He shook his head, bits of his violet hair escaping the soldier’s cap he wore. He was decked out in an entire Adored militia member’s uniform, only his piercing eyes giving any indication of his actual identity. He’d even managed to tuck his tail away somehow in the trousers. “She hadn’t made it to the rendezvous point by the time I left,” he said, pausing for a moment to close his eyes. Twitching movement under his hat told me that he must be listening out for something in the hallway.

“I’m sure she’s rightly fine wherever she ended up,” he continued, his eyes finding me once again. “We’re here for Bastien as well as Crassus—one of our leaders who was taken. Stick to the Acolyte for now, and you’ll know when we make our move.”

I nodded, still in a state of disbelief. Azzy and I, playing hide-and-seek once again around Chateau Greene.

“Now, as much as I would love to stick around and reminisce about old times, I’ve got to get back to the other chaps before they start looking for me.”

“Let me come with you,” I said, squaring my shoulders. “I can help.”

Azzy grabbed the tray from the shelf, offering it to me with a bit of reluctance. “Nah, Tobi. Even in that getup, you stick out like a sore thumb. You never did figure out how to blend in. It’s probably my favorite thing about you.”

I took the tray, stunned into silence as his hand drifted up to my face, stroking my cheek before he offered a quick wink. Then his body shimmered like a mirage before disappearing entirely, the door to the broom closet opening without a sound.

Taking a moment to compose myself and reattach my mask, I pulled the cord above my head to extinguish the light and made my way back to Mother’s office.