Page 6 of Death’s Kiss (The Order of the Tide Raiders #1)
P receptor Beldham’s quarters are vastly different from Skelm’s, although nearly as big.
With her being our Regent, Beldham has, of course, been afforded the next best quarters.
The office itself is circular in shape, with three arching windows revealing just how close we are to the lethal cliffside serving as our isle's borders.
Those windows are the only speck of wall not covered in bookshelves or swathed in maps.
Standing at attention before the unique ring-shaped desk Beldham sits behind, I scan the stacks of papers and books crammed into every curve and ledge of her worktable.
I always feel a bit overwhelmed when inside her quarters.
My eyes tend to wander, hungry for any scrap of information about the outside world.
Vash stands at attention beside me. I force myself to focus on our Regent and not the large, detailed map of Pontus that hangs on the wall just to my left.
For several moments, Beldham doesn’t so much as glance up from the scroll unbound before her.
Her rich umbra skin stands out against the shock of aging white hair that's been pulled back into a severe bun.
We wait as her cornflower eyes rove back and forth over the report in her hands, one that I itch to see.
After another minute, she sighs and re-rolls the report before setting it on a pile of nearly identical others stacked precariously close to the edge of her desk.
Her startling blue gaze assesses Captain Larceon and then myself.
"Go on now. Let's not waste any more time,” she clips, gesturing with a hand toward the wooden spindle chairs across her desk.
I take my seat carefully, and Vash does the same.
I never know exactly where I stand with our Regent. On principle, she doesn’t actually favor anyone, but she’s also one of the few instructors here who hasn’t given me a reason to hate her. Beldham is tough as fucking nails, but she’s also fair.
“I've called you here on behalf of some rather… unexpected news. News that will directly affect the both of you,” she states calmly, steepling her hands on the table.
I can’t help but admire the many different rings that adorn her long, slender fingers. Each one of them signifying a promotion or achievement during her career. The largest of which being the Polaris signet, marking her as Regent to the Cardinal North Order.
Ignoring Vash’s glance in my direction, I cross my arms in question. “Oh?”
Her lips form a tight line when nodding. “It seems our Raider King has been given scouting reports of the Vault ascending. They claim it's broken the surface.”
So we’re cutting right to the chase today.
“You’re joking,” Vash remarks with unnerving conviction, his arms coming to cross themselves.
“I never joke, Captain Larceon." Beldham’s tone is crisp. "The report has been confirmed, and the other three cardinals have already made their preparations and begun sailing this way.”
“This way?” I ask, my voice higher now with genuine surprise .
The Pillar Trials are normally held on neutral soil or sometimes neutral waters. The different cardinal captains are always kept separate.
Beldham’s eyes appear to flash with irritation, but I get the sense it's not directed at either of us sitting before her.
“Yes, this way,” she affirms with a sigh.
“It has been decided that the Cardinal North will be hosting the Pillars this time around. With uprisings springing up on every other landmass, not to mention the coups on the drifters—well, anyway, the Grand Preceptors thought it best to hold them in one place.”
This was quite an unexpected change of plans, one I had not in my wildest dreams anticipated. From the way Vash sits in equally stunned silence next to me, I know he’s just as surprised.
“I assume you two have put the pieces together by now, but in case Preceptor Oplon’s training today knocked something loose, I will lay it out plainly. You will both be participating in the Pillar Trials,” Beldham states, her expression unreadable.
That’s the other thing about the Vault: it’s not a choice. As a captain of my cardinal, I'll be made to participate in each deadly task until getting a shot at the Vault itself. There’s no debate, no escape, not even if I wanted to. The risks are high, but the reward...
“Thank you, Grand Regent, it is a great honor,” I acknowledge, giving her a respectful tilt of my head.
Vash echoes me in words and movement, his voice much quieter than normal. This new tidbit of information must have thrown him off even more than myself.
"Yes, well,” Beldham begins, standing from her chair with catlike fluidity. We follow suit while she continues. “I do expect you both to prove exactly why you were chosen as captains. I look forward to seeing another northern raider as Vault champion once more.”
Her words are clipped, but there’s a shine of anticipation in her eyes. The sight of it brings the shadow of a grin to my lips. “We’ll flatten them,” I promise.
The hint of a rare smile crosses our regent's face. “See that you do.”
We trek back down the creaking wooden hallways in silence.
I make to turn left toward the dining chamber when Vash reaches out and grabs me by the neck of my uniform. Before I can tear myself from his surprisingly firm grip, he’s pulled me through one of the many alcove balconies lining the dark fortress’s upper corridors.
“May I help you?” I hiss through my teeth once he releases his grip before beginning to straighten my uniform back out in visible annoyance.
Vash laughs at my irritation.
I have to ball my hands in order to keep from grabbing one of the blades strapped to my thigh and stabbing him as I wish to.
Maiming another captain a week after my crew's incident would not bode well for me. And I’m determined not to mess up the impossible opportunity that's just been laid before us.
Raising both hands in mock surrender Vash says, “Sorry, honest. I just wanted to talk to you about what Preceptor Beldham said. You know, captain-to-captain.” He emphasizes this by turning around and latching the alcove’s windowed doors.
“For future reference,” I all but snarl, “I prefer to be asked to chit-chat, not dragged by the nape like a fucking grimalkin whelp.”
Vash looks on the verge of laughing again, but he sees the intensity of my glare—feels the temperature steadily drop in the air around us—and thinks better of it. “Noted,” he confirms.
I cross my arms with a huff of annoyance. “Well? I’m here. ”
My fellow co-captain runs a telltale hand through his bronze waves while gazing out at the glacial waters crashing violently against obsidian rocks.
After a moment he pivots in order to lean against the stone balcony wall and face me.
“What do you think about the other cardinals coming here?” Vash asks, crossing both arms before a broadened chest.
I glance at the sky, shaking my head in exasperation. “I think that the Order doesn’t give a single shit about how either you or I feel regarding the subject.”
He studies me, those green eyes growing uncharacteristically serious. “But you heard what Beldham said," he pushes. "About the landmasses and the drifters."
“Yes, I heard her.” I suck in a breath. “Why do you care?”
“Why don't you?” Vash counters, his voice low. “Don’t you see? The Order doesn’t just change its traditions on a whim. It’s calculated. Something is—this whole thing—it just feels off.” His brows knit together in concern.
My head tilts as I study him. “Are you saying Beldham lied in there?”
Vash’s gaze cuts to mine sharply, and he presses his lips together for a moment before stating, “I’m saying she withheld something.
Or skirted around a bigger truth—I’m not sure.
But I am sure that putting the four cardinals together is a big fucking gamble.
Skelm is an asshole, but he isn't an idiot.”
My eyes, nearly the same exact shade as those crystal waters below, flit around the alcove and the doors tightly sealed behind us.
Skelm might also be missing an eye, but his ears are literally everywhere.
And I keep my voice low when responding while taking a step closer to where Vash leans against the stone.
“Captain-to-captain here,” I whisper, and he nods before inclining his head closer.
His irises have a strange golden flicker to them when I come near.
“I’d advise you to keep those thoughts to yourself.
I suggest you get your eyes on the fucking prize and let the Order sort out its own shit.
Whatever is or isn’t going on out there is not our concern.
Our concern is gaining entry to the Vault. ”
Vash’s eyes narrow, a scowl pulling on his mouth.
“If not for yourself, then for your crew. ”
Uncertainty briefly crosses his face and I take that as my out. Turning back around, I move to unlatch the alcove doors before throwing icily over a shoulder, “Remember the code, Vash. A captain’s duty is to the crew, no matter the cost. Personal or not.”
“And so, due to the sudden and immediate collapse of the Northern Empire, a period of chaos ensued. Can anyone tell me what that period was called?”
A sharp and unexpected kick to my ankle has me lurching forward in my chair.
“Yes, Captain Boreas?” Preceptor Chie calls, mistaking my reaction as an attempt to get his attention.
I look over to Kleio, who winces before mouthing “sorry.” But there’s amusement dancing around the edges of her warm sepia eyes, and it doesn’t slip my notice.
“The, uh—Era of Discordia, Preceptor,” I call back.
It’s a guess, a shot in the dark. Whatever the old man has been droning on about for the last hour is beyond me. But I’ve found that nearly seven out of ten times he’s rambling over this particular portion of history.