Page 18

Chapter Seventeen - Luka

L uka and the Kiterans meet with the walls of Cesscounthe with more force than he anticipated. The Kiterans roar their rage, and Luka, to his shock, finds himself joining the rallying cry. In the high watchtowers above, shaking aiutani watch them, their hands too weak to draw the bows at their sides. The Kiterans around him loose flaming arrows, aiming for wood, not flesh. Their goal here is not to kill, but to intimidate. They think they are facing down a hostile, recaptured city – which means Luka doesn’t have much time. Vittoria’s flinty gaze makes it clear she anticipates opposition, and is ready to face down any who stand in her way.

Through the chaos, Luka is dimly aware of a new flicker in his heart. Feelings that are not his own.

Theo.

Hope soars, tangling with some foreign sensation Luka can’t bring himself to understand. The foreign sensation from –

Cathalan.

Both men are not far.

It doesn’t take long for Cesscounthe leadership to answer the Kiteran war cries. A man next to Luka tips his head back and lets out a blood curdling howl, and for all his human flesh, he sounds like his wolf counterpart. Chills rise on Luka’s arms. Darri keeps close to his side, and this is perhaps the only reason Luka doesn’t let himself be swept up in the feeling of – of – truly, he cannot put a name to it.

Bloodlust?

No, surely not.

A cry comes from above. Luka recognizes former Council Head Dawls as she peers down from the walls surrounding Cesscounthe, her eyes wide as she takes in the Kiteran war party.

“You Siacchians are quick to send your leaders to negotiate. I’ll give you that much,” is all Vittoria says before she signals the group to halt. It clearly takes willpower for the Kiteran soldiers to stop their screaming, and they all frown as one as their leader peels away from the group. Dawls, all but obscured behind a bodily shield of Siacchians, gestures Vittoria to a smaller side entrance, and though many protest, demanding Vittoria to take guards, the Kiteran warrior is unswayed and unafraid.

“We will talk,” Vittoria says, “but my people will remind yours of what you will lose should I die.” She jerks her chin, and the Kiterans, grinning, resume their assault on Cesscounthe’s walls. Council Head Dawl’s watches with a set jaw, but she says nothing in protest, only allowing Vittoria entrance to Cesscounthe.

It is only as Luka watches, a vaguely disappointed feeling stirring in his stomach, that he returns to himself.

The moment Vittoria speaks to the Cesscounthe leaders, she will learn I have lied.

Luka will need to act quickly.

The Kiterans are still firing arrows and shouting, banging their fists against the walls, making the aiutani guards quiver with fear, and the chaos is enough for Luka to draw Darri away.

“What are you planning?” Darri asks as Luka seizes his arm, pulling him through the shouting Kiteran warriors. A pair of young men seize a bottle of grain spirits, dump it over themselves, and then move to set their hair on fire. Only a senior warrior stops them with a half laugh, half grunt of disapproval. “Intimidation factors should not include grievously injuring yourself,” Luka hears her say as he and Darri disappear over the curve of the hillside.

Luka isn’t fully able to answer Darri – not at first – because he isn’t certain where his feet are taking him.

That is, he isn’t sure until he sees the familiar pile of rocks, just atop the hill overlooking a gurgling brook.

Yes. That is why his feet have carried him here with such certainty.

“There is a door,” Luka says, “that leads to tunnels beneath the city. It’s this way.”

In the same direction is his eldest brother’s grave.

He winces as they walk, pausing occasionally to avoid any attention from the Kiteran war party.

“Have you injured yourself?” Darri asks after inhaling deeply.

“No, I –” Luka pauses. He gazes at his palm – there is a deep cut across the surface of his marriage bond with Cathalan.

But the injury is not his own.

Cathalan, I hope you know what you’re doing, Luka thinks. For he truly does not have the time to worry about what troubles the Balivartian king might be getting himself into.

It’s only there, sitting among the waving fronds of winter grasses, squinting into the too-blue afternoon at the walls of Cesscounthe, that a form begins to take shape. Yes, there. He can see it now, only barely, standing at the gravestone where Alessandro was buried all those years before. So close to the hidden entrance to the tunnels beneath Cesscounthe.

Luka’s stomach drops.

He casts a look over his shoulder. They have put distance between themselves and the Kiterans. The hill shelters them from their attention – and the aiutani posted at the gates are too focused on dumping great buckets of water on the soldiers to see him and Darri.

Luka’s eyes dart back to the grave where his brother was buried all those years ago.

He mistook the blur of black-brown at the base of the towering gates to be dead undergrowth. But now, throat dry, Luka realizes with a harsh lurch of his stomach that his mother is standing at Alessandro’s grave, two horses at her back.

How did she know? is his first ridiculous thought, for what other reason would Linne Lockehart be here? She must have known he was coming somehow.

She has been waiting for me.

He swallows harshly, clearing his eyes with a few blinks as if he could vanish her form, clearly angry even at this distance, into a stress mirage.

But no. It’s impossible for him to mistake those pale blue robes, stark as a splash of paint against Cesscounthe’s dark walls.

“Luka?” Darri says, but his voice sounds so far away. Luka’s legs are already carrying him forward.

“Luka!” Darri hisses. “Where are you going?”

“Linne Lockehart knows we’re here,” Luka manages to say.

“It’s not like we’ve been discreet.” Darri closes the distance between them and seizes Luka’s arm. He still hasn’t seen Luka’s mother. His attention is too focused on Luka.

Linne has yet to spot them. She has one hand on the horse.

Luka lowers his voice as he replies, though the distance between him and his mother should make it impossible for her to hear: “You weren’t there when we convinced the Kiterans to send their soldiers back to Cesscounthe, but –”

“Yes, I know,” Darri says, shaking his head. “The impyassi rebels have overthrown the few Kiteran soldiers left behind, and now the Kiterans have sent these brutes to crush the insurgents –”

“No,” Luka hisses. “That’s a lie. There are rebels, but they’re too weak to do any uprising. That’s why we’re here.”

Darri’s eyes bulge.

“Why did you think Cathalan went ahead of us?”

“Luka,” Darri says, words calm despite the visibly pulsing vein in his forehead. “I’m not Cathalan’s right hand because I’m able to outthink him. I’m here to keep him safe. I’m here to keep you safe. Why haven’t you told me this?”

Luka shrugs carelessly and looks away to hide his warming cheeks. I didn’t think you were so dense, is the answer that builds on his lips, but he manages to stifle it. “I know you’re good enough to keep pace with me as I go.”

He glances toward the blue-brown blur at the wall. Has it moved?

Is she just my imagination?

Luka shakes his head. None of that matters. Even if she is there, it makes his plan easier.

“Luka!” Darri growls. “What are you thinking? Keeping me in the dark will not help me keep you safe.”

Luka glances back. Despite the chill in the air, Luka’s hair already sticks to his forehead from sweat. Dead grass gathers on his palms. Darri looks as fresh as a spring pup, apart from the still-pulsing vein at his temple.

Luka sighs. “First, I find my mother, Linne Lockehart.”

Ahead, the blue form shifts, as if she has heard her name. Darri follows Luka’s gaze. The only sign of his surprise is a slow blink.

Luka continues, “And then I kill her.”

Linne Lockehart stands before the grave of her first son. Two horses shuffle behind her. The fuille from the Lockehart house is slung across the bay’s back. Luka’s mouth dries as they draw closer and he looks upon his mother’s face for the first time in months.

Linne Lockehart’s dark curls have grown long enough for her to draw them from her face in a stubby braid. Her face is pale beneath the clouded sun. The scar Luka has left her with catches the light, even as she shades her eyes with her long-fingered hand. A delicate, clingy silk tunic reveals her complete lack of a belly. She has given birth. The thought makes Luka’s stomach drop.

And there, holding onto her arm, is –

Luka’s eyes fill with tears. He races forward, heart pounding from the sprint, before Darri can stop him.

“Cassian!” Luka cries.

“Luka!” Darri says, but Luka pays him no mind.

Cassian has grown impossibly older. Though only a handful of months stand between when Luka saw him last, Cassian seems to have aged a year. He’s taller now, and his curls bristle from his skull. He rubs at his face with the backs of his hands, pressing his knuckles into the bags beneath his eyes.

When Luka shouts again, “Cassian!” Cassian’s brilliant brown eyes fly open.

“Luka!” Cassian cries in delight. As he moves to run into Luka’s arms, he’s immediately jerked to a halt by Linne’s firm grasp.

“Hello, Luka,” she says. There is no surprise in her eyes – is there? She must have known , Luka thinks, but how? The only explanation he has is his mother’s ridiculous intellect. She has predicted his every move thus far, why not this?

“I’m sure you’ve already noted the ground upon which we stand, Luka,” Linne says as Cassian first struggles, and then, wilting beneath her cold glance, goes still against her.

The world jerks around Luka. He struggles to summon the many lessons from his tutors to keep calm while he holds Linne’s gaze, trying not to let himself drown in memories. This is where, so many years before, Linne had dragged the dead body of Luka’s eldest brother and buried him because he failed her.

Don’t be like your brother, Luka, she had hissed then, her breath warm against his neck as he shook. He understood far too well what she meant by the words –

And why has she taken Cassian here now?

The Kiterans were not quiet in their approach. Linne and all in Cesscounthe should have heard them, but here she is, outside these walls.

Her original goal wasn’t to wait for Luka.

She likely brought Cassian here to threaten him, just as she had to Luka, all those years ago.

And, should Cassian defend himself… well, perhaps he had simply gotten caught in the Kiteran crossfire.

“No,” Luka growls, and again his emotions threaten to overwhelm. Everything is so much harder to keep grasp of here, now, staring his mother down. His arms bristle with fur, and Luka suddenly doesn’t know why he even bothers to stifle his beast.

“You won’t harm Cassian. I won’t let you harm anyone else,” Luka says, his words warped by the bulge of his fangs.

Cassian’s eyes grow huge as he gapes at Luka, shrinking back into his mother.

“You’ve lost, Mother,” Luka continues. He advances on Linne slowly. Distantly, he’s aware of Darri at his back, tense and waiting, eyes likely on the fuille . Luka flares his hands, revealing how his nails have lengthened into claws. His dagger hangs from his belt, but there is no point in him using it –Luka himself is a weapon.

“I’ve lost?” Linne repeats. The utter lack of fear in her voice makes Luka pause. Linne raises her chin. Her eyes dart to Darri. “Is that why you’ve bought this new beastly friend to make yourself feel safer? Because you know you are too weak?”

Luka is painfully reminded of how he felt as a child, watching his mother, wishing he could better emulate her. Back then, he thought himself a monster, and Linne Lockehart, nothing but smooth skin and quiet feelings, seemed like a fairy tale.

Linne’s hands tighten around Cassian’s wrists, and Cassian’s face contorts in pain. “I know you’ve managed to trick your way into bringing Kiteran armies to our doorstep.” She shakes Cassian. “Your own brother! I told you he was a traitor –do you not believe me now?”

Cassian blinks, tears welling in his eyes. “Of course I believe you, Mother,” he says. He is a terrible liar.

Linne rolls her eyes. “You’re as bad as my eldest was. I should have picked a better sire for the both of you.” Her free hand ghosts over her stomach. “My new child… will be the best of you, I’m sure.” She bares her teeth. “I know the beastly bloodlines can be eradicated. A stronger mind and refined self control will help restrain the monster I could never beat out of the two of you.”

Her smile turns sweet as she looks at Luka. “I’m sure you wouldn’t hurt me, boy,” she says. “I’ve only just given birth. No one would even think I’d be on my feet, out here of all places. It’s the truth. Use those beastly senses of yours. Surely you can smell the blood. Think of your sister. Your baby sister. Would you leave her without a mother?”

She must know Luka has no training. He has no idea how to do such a thing.

Luka swallows harshly, his eyes swinging from his mother to Cassian.

Cassian shakes his head, curls askew. Tears shine down his cheeks. So much older –so strong. When did he get to be so brave?

“War is about sacrifice,” Luka growls. Even to his own ears, his voice sounds barely human. He takes another step.

Linne laughs sharply. “You really think you can kill me? ”

Another step. Luka is so close now. All he needs is another thing to say to her, another moment of distraction. Then he can yank Cassian from her grasp – and then he will – he will lay a hand on her. It shouldn’t be hard. She is only a human.

And he is a monster – no. An impyassus .

Linne looks past Luka’s shoulders. “You are right about one thing, Luka,” she says. “I never thought you’d have the Kiteran armies on your side – how did they learn that I’ve turned the guards they left behind? Was it that Octavian? I knew I should have never let him slither away.” She shakes her head.

Turned? Of course Linne would be pulling Kiterans to her side. To her cause, which would never align with the Northerners.

Luka lifts his foot, eyes on Cassian. Hold on. Cassian’s wrist purples beneath Linne’s firm grasp, and Luka’s beast surges –

“But there’s something I need to tell you, Luka,” Linne continues. “Since you think you’re ready to take my life.”

She smiles at Luka. There is a strange light in her eyes –almost as if the flicker of a flame has been captured in her irises.

Cassian cries out, scrabbling against Linne’s grip on his arm.

“Let him go,” Luka growls.

Linne cocks her head to the side. Her smile widens, revealing teeth –no.

Not teeth.

Fangs.

“Let me go!” Cassian screams, clawing at Linne’s arm. Linne’s nails have stretched into claws that dig deep, drawing Cassian’s blood.

Linne hisses and releases him.

“You’re –” Luka gapes at his mother.

Cassian cries out, spinning toward Luka, but his feet tangle and he falls, facing their mother.

Linne Lockehart stands tall and proud, the scar over her shoulder rippling as she bares her teeth. “Yes,” she says. “The Lockehart line is full of nothing but poison –poison I tried to beat out of all of us.”

She seizes the fuille from the horse’s side. The horse snorts, sweeping away. She lifts the weapon – aims –

“No!” Luka screams –

“Don’t worry, Luka,” Linne says. She smiles a beastly grin. “I’ll make sure this next child is pure. And she’ll grow up without ever having to learn about her brothers. Failures. The lot of you.”

And before Luka can move, she pulls the trigger.