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Chapter Six - Theo

T hey don’t put Theo in the dark hole dug specifically for political prisoners, but they do lock him in a guarded chamber in central Akull lined with windows so narrow, he can only fit his hand through up to his wrist. His quarters overlook a growing wooden platform, built with the surely numb hands of young human Kiteran soldiers.

The executioner’s platform.

“I don’t advise trying to escape,” Vittoria says as she lays down a tray of steaming broth and a mug of beer. “It won’t help your case.”

Theo raises his lip in a half-snarl. His wounds from her claws have healed, but the dried blood flakes from the back of his head like red-brown dandruff.

“Is Octavian Scholar being treated as kindly?” he asks.

“That’s none of your concern.” The door closes in his face.

Theo counts the next six hours by the rise of the moon. He sleeps in short bursts, waking from dreams he’s almost forgotten by the time his eyes fly open – all that remains besides his gasping breaths is a fear so fierce it hurts. He sips through the broth and beer slowly – suspiciously – after smelling both. Weeks of poisoned food in captivity means he waits for an hour after the first swallow, and when nothing happens except for his already vacant stomach growing angrier, he takes another sip.

It is some hours before dawn when a knock sounds at the door.

Theo, half awake, jolts to his feet as Commander Jennison steps inside, flanked by two human guards. “Are these really necessary?” he says in a rough, low voice to someone outside the door. After being clearly met with an affirmative, he sighs, coughs, and closes the door, the two guards close behind him.

The old man looks even worse than Theo feels after a night of scattered sleep. His face has aged decades in the months since Theo has left, and he wearily crosses the threshold into Theo’s chamber, clasping his hands around a cane – a cane? He never needed a cane before.

“Theodori,” Commander Jennison rasps, and guilt flickers through Theo – though he feels he’s done little wrong. It’s an instinctive response. After spending his early years under Commander Jennison’s wing, he learned that any time the commander uttered Theo’s name in that tired, exasperated tone, Theo must have done something wrong.

“Commander,” Theo replies, and he hates that his voice automatically pitches itself in the same way it always would when he was a child. Petulant and already angry.

“The Elders have made their decision.” Commander Jennison shakes his head. “They want to use that Octavian Scholar and the Siacchian politician he allied himself with – supposedly – to take the rest of the West… and the South as well.”

He pauses for a long time, staring at the floor. His breaths rattle in and out of his lungs. Theo wishes he could shut his ears. Finally, Commander Jennison says, “I’ve invoked my right as your Commander.”

Theo shakes his head, refusing to understand.

Commander Jennison presses his fingers – longer now, thinner, the joints swollen – to pinch his brows. “Even with the story you told, Theodori, you’ve done wrong. You abandoned your post. There is a reason these guards are with me now. The Elders don’t trust you. Not anymore.”

“Commander –” Theo begins, but Jennison silences him with a raised hand.

“You’ve lost muscle,” Jennison continues. “Why – you look nearly as bad as I feel, Theodori! And I’m old. I’m – I’m dying.” He pauses now to press a balled fist to his chest. He inhales and the noise is a wet, rattling thing.

“And yet,” Jennison’s voice hangs on the word, “you seem better.”

Theo blinks, confused.

“You were always so angry, Wolf-Born. You looked at everyone like – well, they weren’t enemies, but they were obstacles to cut through or climb over. Either the people around you were there to help you, or they were there to hinder you.” Jennison shakes his head. “I always thought the practice of leaving a child to be raised by wolves was barbaric, and I was worried that you would never… that you would never acclimate to the way we human-born acted –”

Theo’s lips fly open, though he’s unsure of what he might say. What Commander Jennison is speaking of is so close to heresy, it’s hard for Theo to listen. His eyes dart to the Commander’s human guards, but their gazes are lowered, expressions impossible to read.

Commander Jennison asks, voice soft, “You love this Luka Lockehart, don’t you? Not Xyla Mobiele?”

Theo’s aghast horror fogs into confusion – and then sharp understanding cuts through.

This has Luka’s handiwork all over it. But why? Luka would never put his friends in harm’s path.

Foolish Luka. Theo can handle this on his own.

Theo presses his lips together, which seems to be enough of an answer for Commander Jennison.

“I’m happy,” Commander Jennison says. “That you found someone to help you see this world as a brighter place. I was always so worried – after your parents were killed –”

The memory of houses burned to the ground, great smoldering piles of ash like terrible beasts only slumbering in the snow, one day to rise again, to wake again. The way the smoke coated the back of Theo’s throat, hoarse from screams –

“– I wasn’t sure you would find your way back. But you did. And I just wanted you to know, I’m aware that you failed your mission. But I’m still proud.” Commander Jennison claps Theo on the arm. His hands are cool.

“Just remember, Theodori: I am dying. There is not much time left for me. And it makes sense, after all, with you being the young, inexperienced, reporting officer, doesn’t it? I should be the one to take responsibility for your mistakes. Well, that, and I still owe you one last favor, don’t I?” Commander Jennison bares his human teeth, and before Theo can process the man’s words, he turns and leaves with his guards.

Theo, unable to move, stares at the door for a long time.

From his window, he can see them finish building the platform about an hour before dawn. He watches with growing horror as Commander Jennison is brought out and –

No, he won’t look away.

If he must stomach another of his guardians being murdered, he will at least do them the respect of watching.

None of this would have happened if you were stronger, whispers a quiet voice, but it’s so soft, Theo can hardly hear it over the little sobs shaking his body.

The Kiterans emerge from their houses as bloody dawn starts to grow, the sun too weak to break through moon-hardened frost. Snowshoes crunch across the pathways, littered with fresh snow, as they stand before the newly erected platform. The pine boards creak. A tall hopiar holds the two-handed blade, head lowered respectfully as Commander Jennison is led onto the platform.

A small-boned Scholar charges Commander Jennison with treason and, oddly, a violation of Kitera’s sacred laws. Theo hardly hears her speak, parsing meaning by reading her lips. His gaze falls from the woman’s face to Commander Jennison waiting at the block, and he finds himself lost to memory – the early days under Jennison’s leadership, the fights, the anger, the ridiculous joy when Theo was met with the first praise he has ever received.

And now – now this.

It happens so quickly –

Theo is careful not to blink. Careful not to look away.

All it takes is a single, heaving swing. The Commander’s head rolls across the snow.

Blood melts into the white.

Theo exhales sharply, angry, stinging tears in his eyes. He fixes his hands on either side of the window, wedging himself there, refusing to let himself look away, even as his heart tears itself apart.

I am already dying , Commander Jennison said. They found me guilty .

Luka, what did you do?

“Commander Jennison has been found guilty of aiding a traitor to our people,” the small-boned Scholar declares after Jennison’s death. She holds Jennison's head by the hair, stretching her arm out to keep the blood still leaking from the stump of his neck onto her blue robes. “He enabled a naive, foolish soldier, and sent Theodori Hunter Wolf-Born to the front to lead our people, though he was aware that Theodori was unmated and difficult to control.

“When Theodori found his mate in the enemy – in Xyla Mobiele –”

“ Luka, ” Theodori hisses, though he isn’t sure if he’s correcting the Scholar or cursing his mate’s name. His vision blurs, and he scrubs at his face furiously.

“ – Theodori found himself unable to fight against the Siacchians. He is being kept now, monitored until the Elders are sure the mating bond has been completed…”

The door at the entrance of Theodori’s chambers swings open.

Theo spins, teeth bared.

But it is not Vittoria who enters.