Page 102 of Swords of Soul and Shadow (Gate Chronicles #3)

THOSE CURLS

HARLAN’S HEADACHE BLAZED brIGHTER THAN the sun shining on the beautiful summer day outside his chamber window.

The day was anything but warm.

Days like these made it nearly impossible to tell if his body was finally giving in to the Fogs or simply preparing him for the worst. Nothing seemed to help—not sleep, not food, not even the vintage wine in his glass.

The wine, of course, had other uses. It helped dull the events of the morning to a mere memory, though he knew it would only be a short reprieve.

He would still wake up tomorrow as the man who’d executed his own brother-in-law and nephews.

It was what Ezekiel wanted, and with his crimes, it was what he deserved.

Outside his window in the manor courtyard, Harlan and Les’ children were playing a game of tag. His adoptive mother, Aurelia, sat on a chair watching them, soaking in the joy that was her grandchildren. Carleton was cleaning up from the day’s events, a kindness Harlan appreciated.

He focused on his children.

Ana, the youngest, was only four—and only four thanks to Ezekiel.

Harlan paused to take a steadying breath.

Ana’s blonde hair, so like Michael’s, blazed in the summer sunlight, unbound and swirling about her as she ran.

Her tenacity often outpaced her ability to keep up; her giggly pursuit of her brothers ended with a scraped knee and heartbroken sobs after her feet got ahead of her.

Kase skidded to a stop and awkwardly picked her up with his boyish strength, her feet dragging the ground.

He took her to Aurelia, who pulled the girl into her ample lap.

Once his sister was taken care of, Kase was off after Zeke, who’d ducked behind one of the trees.

What Kase didn’t see was Jove hiding in the branches above him.

Jove pelted his youngest brother with a pinecone or something else of the sort.

Kase barely dodged it and shouted something up to the other boy.

Despite being nearly six, Kase held his own against his two older brothers.

He was quick, like Harlan had been at his age, and more than determined.

His smile could light up any room, and if he continued to grow into those curls and that wicked sense of humor, he would be a perfect reflection of the man who’d hung from the gallows three hours before.

He hadn’t seen Les since the execution. Once they’d returned in a silent carriage, she’d locked herself in her library.

Of course, she’d been distant ever since her brother turned himself in, retreating further into herself with each passing day.

He understood. He wouldn’t want to be near himself, either.

How had they gotten here? How had they fallen so low? Harlan was Kominder General of Kyvena, the third-highest rank within the city, but the accolades on his military jacket felt more like a sham. His rank hadn’t changed anything at all.

He’d still been forced to sit steely-eyed and firm-jawed as he watched the man he loved as his own brother hang for his crimes.

Ezekiel Fairchild betrayed the nation of his birth. Soul Technology had cost him everything good he had left after Rose died. That had been the turning point, that grief. Harlan knew it well.

Ezekiel—and eventually, Les—had brought him out of his own grief for one shining moment.

The births of his four children proved how far he’d come from the man who’d sworn off the idea of having a family of his own.

But now he faced a life where the consequences of Ezekiel’s actions would haunt him and his family for eternity.

There was no going back to the sunny days of the past.

He looked over at the letter he’d penned to Les before they’d left for McKenzie Square, where the executions would take place.

Being the wife of the Kominder General dictated she must attend the horrid event.

She hadn’t let go of a single tear, but Harlan saw her brokenness.

Broken because she knew the truth; broken because she’d truly lost her brother years ago, and she would never have him back.

He'd hoped writing her a letter like their courting days would help ease the pain.

Dearest Les,

We’ll be back in your countryside soon.

H

It wasn’t much, but it was all he could manage. He hastily folded it and gave it to a servant waiting just outside the study. The man was off as soon as Harlan gave his curt directions.

He looked outside once again. Zeke pulled Jove up one of the rocks, and they shouted something at Kase, who threw a pinecone up at them.

Not bad aim for a boy his age. He stomped off and sat beside Aurelia and Ana, who was now happily snuggled in her grandmother’s lap, listening to the book Aurelia read out loud.

What would he do if any one of his children discovered the truth? Would they hate him? Would they despise their uncle? Jove was old enough to remember him, and Zeke. But the only Ezekiel they’d ever known was the ghost of the man who dared to smile, who dared to dream of a better world.

Where had Harlan gone wrong? Had they always been hurtling toward this end? This broken family legacy?

Harlan picked up his discarded wine glass and flung it at the fireplace.

It shattered into a thousand pieces.

His headache spiked, and Harlan fell into his armchair, hand across his eyes.

He’d never escape this life of horror.