Lirian’s appearance made everyone jump—one of the Jeneretes negotiators actually screamed. From the smirk on her face, she’d absolutely intended it that way.
Her time in the Oathkeepers’ custody clearly hadn’t been too hard on her; her dress was a pristine number on par with anything sported by the guests in the next room and not one hair was out of place. There was a brief pause as we all oriented to her dramatic entrance. She pushed off the wall, flicking back a lock of hair as she effortlessly stole everyone’s attention. She favored me with a particularly smug look.
“Did you miss me?”
“I don’t miss,” I said, and pulsed her.
It was a textbook-perfect quickdraw, fingers brushing the safety and trigger contacts in perfect order the moment the weapon cleared the holster. The etheric blast hit her just as the smugness on her face melted to shock, perfectly framing the way her eyes rolled back into her head as she collapsed to the floor.
But that was only the first shock of the evening, because the next thing that happened was the legendarily unflappable Sael Voranetes emitting an unearthly scream and rushing to the fallen whisper.
“Oh my girl, my sweet girl,” she moaned. “What did you do to her?!”
“Hey Falerior,” I said, ignoring her. “You might want to tell your buddies they’re missing a prisoner.”
“Two of them,” Roel said from behind me. I turned to see her raising her arm and shit where did she get a pulser—
My field of view was suddenly obscured as Bofa launched himself in front of me. He didn’t get the angle right—I had to dive to the side as he flew past me and hit the floor hard. He rolled to a stop, unconscious.
Roel and Kuril stared at him, confused.
“Huh,” I said. “Did none of us tell him what these do?”
“I… suppose not,” said Kuril.
“What does it do?!” Sael demanded. “Tell me this instant!”
Roel grimly sighted her pulser at my face. “This.”
She fired. The blast splashed harmlessly off my comm shielding. What, you thought Eifni operatives would bring a weapon into the field if it could be used against us?
“She’s just unconscious,” I told the hysterical matriarch as Roel fired at me twice more. “Okay, seriously, Roel—cut it out. You had your moment.”
She glared at me, then huffed in frustration. “It doesn’t matter,” she said. “The doors are locked. We’ve authorized your arrest. You’re not getting away this time.”
I smartly stepped away from Falerior the instant before he grabbed me. The motion caught him by surprise and he tried to turn the motion into a lunge, which I sidestepped. That brought me within range of Roel, who grabbed my wrist.
“Stop,” she ordered me. I rolled my eyes; she had no idea what she was doing. I flicked my wrist to lever her fingers apart, winding up with a hold on her wrist that I used to throw her into the way of the incoming Oathkeeper. They collided with a grunt from him and a pained shout from her, but that didn’t stop the armored man from coming at me. I jumped into the air and hit him full-on in the chest with a double-footed kick, propelling myself back-first onto the negotiation table with an oof. I did a kip-up, feet snagging the hem of my skirt and tearing it right off me.
I must have looked incredibly strange to my Estheni audience, with thigh-length tac shorts below the waist and high-class party attire above. It didn’t matter now. The game was over; there was only one role left to play.
“So you guys sold me out to the Oathkeepers, huh?” I said, breathing heavily. “How’s that work?”
Falerior grunted as he pushed himself up.
“I suppose now’s as good a time as any,” he said. He made a fist with his right hand, brought it to his lips for a kiss, then touched it to his forehead. The semiotic radiation coming off him began to shine with divinity.
“In the name of Javei,” he pronounced, “I shall now reveal what was hidden. The stranger Ajarel has made many claims, but two are of note. When she appeared, she claimed that she came from Salaphi. But she came to our city around the time the seeds of madness were sown there. Even traveling at the fastest speeds, it’s impossible that she could have been present when the curse began.”
Had it been long enough? I signaled my ears to increase volume and noise filtering, but all I got was Kuril was helping Roel pull herself up. Roel was breathing in sharp, pained gasps. I warily maintained my defensive stance on the table, watching for sudden moves from Falerior.
“The second claim was made in confidence to Councilwoman Kuril, which I will now reveal to you all. The Councilwoman has averred under oath that Ajarel claimed to be graced by descent from Kives and had performed a ritual in Salaphi to avert its destruction. If this were true, it would mean that she performed the ritual at least three thessim before the corruption began to spread.”
“I’m very forward-thinking,” I said, eliciting a scornful guffaw from Roel. I still wasn’t hearing it.
“It would seem so,” said Falerior, gazing at me amiably. “The survivors claim the source of the blight was a Faceless that clawed its way back from the shadowlands, citing an otherworldly cry on the night of the calamity. It is known that such rituals are shared amongst the scions of Alcebios, but our histories record no counter-rituals among the workings of the Kivim.”
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“If you’d really been graced by Kives,” said Roel, now back in her wheelchair, “you’d have claimed you tried to unite two lovers or something to stop it.”
“Just so,” said Falerior.
I tilted my head. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
“And so we reach the crux of things,” said the Oathkeeper. “Here we are guided by the insights of the whisper Lirian, who discovered the truth of you—or at least its silhouette. A secretive woman, embroiled in conflict, with knowledge she should not have, claiming events that couldn’t have happened. This is a matter too serious for complacency, and the evidence strikes too deep. Lady Ajarel Vitares, despite your station, I must arrest you.”
Kuril spoke up from her position behind Roel’s chair. “I will not allow you or anyone to bring this family to ruin.”
“The resolve of House Vitares has been aptly demonstrated,” said Eloi. “We would be honored to support your contract.”
“Nice one, Eloi,” I said, not taking my eyes off Falerior. “Great job capitalizing on the moment.”
“House Jeneretes likewise recognizes your contributions to the wellbeing of the city,” Phaeres hastily added. “We welcome your innovations in healing the damage done by this despicable Ajarel.”
“Roel spoke the truth,” Falerior said gently. “The doors are locked; you can’t escape. Come with me. It’s over.”
I slowly shifted around the table, letting Falerior follow my positioning.
The movement let me observe the audience to this little scene. Eloi’s expression was more unsettled than I’d ever seen her. Phaeres was clearly in uncharted waters and her cronies were practically hiding behind her. Sael glared at me with a deep and vicious hatred as she cradled Lirian’s unconscious body.
Kuril was pained but resolute. I gave her an apologetic half-smile and her expression hardened.
Roel—Roel looked tired, but triumphant.
“You did good, kid,” I said. “But you need to trust your family more. And cool it on the one-liners, okay? They make you look dumb if you screw up afterward.”
“She’s stalling for time,” Roel said, furrowing her brow. I winked at her.
Falerior took a step forward and I slipped back into my defensive stance.
“It’s over, Falerior!” I smirked. “I have the high ground.”
“I don’t need to fight you,” he said politely. “Unless you have the keys, you’re locked in here.”
“Then I guess it’s a stalemate. Hey, do you all want to keep negotiating? I can, like, shuffle back toward the wall so you can see each other.”
“Do something!” Sael snapped. “Punish her!”
“No!” Roel yelled. “Block the door! She’s had an ally this whole time!”
And then I heard the sound I’d been waiting for—the beautiful, beautiful sound of a key turning in the lock. In my ears it was a thunderous clunk, but with the commotion in the room, the singing and the conversation outside? Did they know?
Before Falerior—eternally unhurried—had decided to move, the door pulled away, revealing Alouren with a tray of pies.
“Roel, I have that food you—” was as far as she got before the tableau registered inside. Her eyes widened as every woman in the room started screaming at her.
I’d been forewarned, thanks to the magic of Eifni cybernetic advancements. I was diving off the table before anyone else even understood what was going on. I hit the ground with a roll and came up sprinting, ducking under Falerior’s arm as he tried to snag me.
Roel hadn’t kept Alouren in the loop—which was how I’d gotten away with this—but she had enough situational awareness to try to shut the door before I barreled into it, knocking her and the pies to the ground. I didn’t have enough time to lock Falerior in there with the rest of them, so I just jumped over Alouren and collided with a group of graced who’d probably been hoping to hear the news before anyone else. They went down like a bunch of garishly dressed bowling bins and I lost a few precious seconds extricating myself from the pile.
Falerior had apparently decided that moving fast was okay after all, coming after me like a truth-seeking armored boulder on Indiana Jones’s heels. I booked it.
“Stop her!” bellowed the Oathkeeper.
“You’ll never catch me alive, copper!” I laughed, running with everything I had. The bystanders didn’t know what to make of the situation until I shoulder-checked a lady into the wine fountain because she didn’t get out of the way fast enough. That seemed to convince the rest that getting out of my way was the smart option.
A proud-looking woman forewent the wisdom of the crowd, standing her ground with an outstretched hand.
“I invoke the Right of Challen—”
I punched her in the face and kept going.
The exit was in front of me, but there were armed guards in the way and apparently they’d decided to do their jobs. Fine. I stepped wide, throwing all my weight into it to redirect my momentum toward a refreshment table. Dashing past a group of teenagers who barely got out of the way in time, I grabbed a bowl, praying I’d gotten the right one, and went back for the entrance.
Falerior had done the smart thing and headed straight for the entrance, so my detour was going to cost me. I didn’t have time to think and stuck to the plan. I sprinted for the main gate, spilled sauce searing my hand, and charged the guards.
The commander always said to control the flow of a fight. They reflexively took a defensive stance at the onslaught, which held them in place, which made them easy targets. I swung the bowl and—yes, I’d grabbed the right one—hot dvoli splashed in his eyes. He went down screaming, dropping his sword. I threw the bowl at the second guard’s face, trusting his reflexes to pin him down for the moments I needed to reach for the first guard’s sword.
Falerior flew at me out of nowhere, forcing me to abandon the sword and throw myself into a dive. We both ended up on the ground but Falerior snagged my ankle. The guard who wasn’t writhing on the ground in pain recovered, coming over but pausing in shock as he recognized me.
“Help me, uh—” Fuck, why hadn’t I bothered to learn everyone’s names again? “Help me!”
“She’s dangerous!” Falerior shouted. From my prone position, I managed the worst ax kick of my life, slamming my heel into his arm.
His armored arm. Fuck, that hurt. But the impact released his grip and allowed me to roll away. I pulled myself up, bringing me face to face with the poor bondsman who was trying to figure out whether to listen to the Oathkeeper or his master.
“Tell them,” I started, then looked at Falerior, who was struggling to his feet.
House Vitares had been my family. They still were; I’d carry that forever. Even though I had to leave, I wanted so badly to let them know, in some secret way, that I’d always love them.
But Falerior was right there. I couldn’t tell the truth or he’d know. I’d managed, against all odds, to find a way to save them from the Voranetti trap, and it wouldn’t work unless I played the part of the evil whisper, out to ruin everything.
If I said anything, I’d give everything away.
Falerior was on his feet now. I was out of time.
“I promised Alouren a magic trick,” I told the guy whose name I’d never learn. “Now you see me—”