Chapter 3
The Manor
As far as memory took Meredith, she had always been running in the direction of two things: the Guardian Corps and skyships.
The former had been her dream, and even with all the dissuasions and other comments, she rushed headlong towards what she believed in and loved, buoyed by the few praises she got from those closest to her. The latter, of course, was her general passion. She loved the smell of oil and working machinery. Of the elegance with which skyships cut across the air and clouds. She could never resist taking a look at a skyship when she was close enough to one.
This, therefore, was the first time that Meredith didn’t even take a step in the direction of one. Rather, she stepped towards it, but not with any intention of going to see it.
Beating their way back down the hill, Meredith’s eyes avoided the garage where the Lacardian skyship had landed. Knowing that it was Lacardia of all places only furthered her disdain in approaching. Despite having just been through the town, she figured she would take another walk through it. Visiting the grave had been a poor idea, in hindsight. It just brought all those negative emotions to the surface, ones that she wanted to cut out of her.
The footsteps on the grass told her that Captain Clive was following close behind, his face one of business. There was little doubt that he intended to meet with the Lacardian entourage. Meredith didn’t see the point in that. She shoved her hands into her pockets, putting more speed behind her steps in an effort to get past the family garage as quickly as she possibly could.
Having done nothing but sitting for a month, she wasn’t able to move fast enough.
“Mera, you’re on your feet again!” She paused at the voice. A friendly one. One that had carried her through the crumbling halls of Corps Castle, but one she didn’t want to hear. Why did everyone keep pointing out she was standing, anyway? She didn’t feel like it.
“Oh, I’m so glad…We almost thought…”
“Summer, don’t be ridiculous. She’s stronger than that. Isn’t that right, Mera?”
The voices of the students indicated to Meredith that the entirety of A-Class was here. She didn’t want to see them, or speak with them, especially not with those that had been there. It hurt too much inside to acknowledge what had taken place. Still, she wasn’t one for disrespect, and Meredith turned to those she considered, or had considered, her friends.
They hadn’t changed at all in their absence. Felix still looked stocky; his brown hair windswept as he continually ran his hand through it. The twins, Summer and Autumn, clasped their hands together in relief, the opposite looks of red and brown hair with blue and green eyes clashing against the gray backdrop of Lumarina’s current state. Most of all, Meredith’s eyes sought Conrad, the darker-skinned boy tapping the glasses on his face. It was one of the few times she’d seen him where he wasn’t excessively flirting with her or anyone else. His eyes, at least, were questioning her well-being. He seemed to realize her legs being healed hadn’t done anything for her.
The students of Lacardia Academy didn’t dare say more, waiting for her to speak. She wasn’t sure there was anything to say. The clopping on the cobblestone told her that Captain Clive was getting closer.
“Everything good in Lacardia?” she asked. It was like her mouth wanted to make small talk, but she didn’t actually care.
“About the same as you’d expect,” Felix answered. He emulated her with his hands in his pockets, pursing his lips while he answered. “The Guardians at the Academy either ran far away or stayed behind to guard the country. Things are a little…on-edge, with the Violent Staff being…”
“Great. Glad you’re well,” she said. The twins dropped their pleased expressions, blinking rapidly as she started to walk away from them. There were no more questions to ask, and she wasn’t in the mood for conversation. Meredith was done with it.
They weren’t done with her.
“I’m starting to think you’re not, but I can’t say I’m surprised.” His voice lashed against her, and once again, Meredith stopped, turning towards the one exiting the hangar. Clive had reached their group now, but was unsure how to begin, particularly in the face of those gathered there. Meredith never retracted her hands, but she definitely stared. “It’s been a while.”
“Hmph.” Meredith’s dismissal of the boy was cut short only by the older man he had arrived with. She would, at least, be respectful towards him, if nothing else. Still, she wasn’t about to waste her time talking in platitudes. “What are you even here for, Emil? Can’t you see there’s nothing here?”
“Well, aren’t you just a bundle of sunshine,” Emil Baroné said. His typical white scarf was loose around his neck, and his dirty-blond hair had grown a bit in length. He looked like he wasn’t taking care of himself, particularly evident by the black and red rings around his eyes. Whether it was sleep deprivation, or something else, Meredith neither knew nor cared. Inside her pockets, her fists tightened. “I’m here because this is where Commander Chavez told us to meet if we found anything.”
“Wasn’t aware you needed a whole entourage of students for that. You could have just made a phone call. Didn’t need to be here in person. Not like you could make a difference, anyway…”
“Mera!” The words of warning came from all the classmates together, but Emil took the brunt of it head-on. His expression didn’t slip, giving no indication about whether that hurt him. Their eyes met, and she saw the same keening pain, but she didn’t want to know it. What did his pain matter right then? She just wanted to be alone with hers.
“Mr. Matthew,” she said in acknowledgement to the bearded man just behind Emil, and then she walked away. He was watching her go, she was sure of it, but he didn’t address her in the slightest. His words were, instead, directed to Clive.
“We completed a good portion of research, the six of us. Mr. Baroné has been quite the hard worker. His parents have been astounded. At this point, we felt it prudent to report our findings to the people it would make the most difference to,” Matthew said. Clive cleared his throat, his demeanor now one of a soldier.
“Then I’ll invite you into our headquarters. It’s not much, and certainly no Academy, but we have food and comfort all the same, for the time being,” the captain said. His hands could be seen to Meredith, indicating their path to the building that housed the remnants of the Corps. “At the moment, Commander Chavez and her allies are on a personal mission. Details are scant known to avoid leakage to…to our old chief commander.”
“I see. Well, we’ve nothing to do but wait. Nothing is more pressing than the information Emil’s found, I think.”
“It took a lot of documents…”
“And long hours…”
“You two signed up for it just as much as the rest of us,” Felix could be heard admonishing the twins.
“Every one of us signed up to help,” Conrad snapped. His classmates grew silent at his insistence, something that surprised even Meredith, walking away. Gone was the flighty, flirtatious Conrad, replaced with a man who’d had his harrowing experience and was acting beyond that. “This isn’t just about the Corps. We were tricked, too. Our own headmistress was taken from us, as was our heirloom. And…he was our friend. What kind of people would we be to ignore all that?”
“Look at you, Conrad. Maybe we should take you up on an offer for a date,” Autumn giggled out. Whatever Conrad’s response was, Meredith was grateful to make it out of earshot, her feet dragging herself down the stones. Like before, she came to a stop outside the restaurant. With the Montgomerys officially gone, it looked depressing, but no more than she felt inside. Her body hesitated in moving any closer. Then she heard the huffs.
“Mera…wait…up…” She turned to where Emil was, hands on his knees as he panted from running after her. Behind, she could see the classmates arguing over something, moving towards the Corps building. “How…how are you?”
“Why do you care?” she said. He flinched at her tone. “You and Viv just up and left.”
“I wanted to look into things. Look into a way…” Emil was shaking. He pulled himself together. “I wanted to see if there was a way that maybe…maybe things could be changed. Maybe there was an answer we never saw that could-”
“Change what, Emil?!” she shouted. He stepped back while she advanced upon him. “What are we supposed to change, Emil? Are we supposed to bring the Corps back? Terrill? The dead? Tell me!”
Her hands grabbed his scarf, her face right up against his. He didn’t back down and didn’t recoil this time. He just stared with his hazel eyes, deep into her green ones, and he reached up to pry her hands off. “Mera. Didn’t you ever think there’s a chance that Eddie-”
“Don’t. You. Dare,” she hissed. She let go of his scarf on her own volition, only to push at him. “Don’t you dare say his name. He’s dead, Emil. He’s gone!”
“But what if we could bring him back? You’re the one who knows everything about souls!”
“Shut up!” Meredith shouted. She pushed him again, sending him to the ground, where she towered over him, heaving. “Eddie is dead, Emil! He was taken! There’s no body! There’s nothing! I have nothing! So, ask yourself if I really want to see you here, moving on like nothing happened, leaving me behind when it’s all your damn fault!”
She couldn’t stop herself before she was on his level, striking his chest with a fist. Emotion that she didn’t realize she was even holding on to came pouring out at the sight of him. Tears came before she could dam them up, and she found more fists striking against Emil’s chest with vigorous agony. “I know, Mera…I know it’s my fault. That’s why…I wanted to try and fix it…”
“Fix it?!” she wailed, pounding him again. The pent-up anger overflowed, everything she hadn’t verbalized in the last month raining on Emil and his prone body. “This isn’t a machine! You can’t just fix it! Eddie is dead. And you were there when it happened! You were there! You let it happen! You! You! Your fault! Your fault! Your fault…”
Meredith’s hands grew weaker with every hit until the point she was barely beating on him, her palm sliding off at the tears staining Emil’s shirt. She didn’t care if anyone was watching. Didn’t care who heard. It hurt too much to keep inside. To not admit the one thing she knew was the actual truth. “…My fault…”
“Mera, you weren’t there…that day…” Emil whispered. He reached up, hoping to clasp her face, like he would tell her it was all okay. Like he could actually change and fix anything. But she pulled away.
“Exactly. I wasn’t there.” Meredith stood, leaving Emil behind as she ran towards the one bastion she could think of in the restaurant. The door was locked, but it didn’t take much to force it open while she looked over at the pitiful boy on the ground. “Go home, Emil. It’s over. The dream is dead. We can’t change anything.”
Then she entered, slamming the door behind and shutting the boy out.
Silence reigned.
In the dusty foyer of the Montgomerys’ restaurant, Meredith leaned, her back hitting the wood-paneled door and sliding down. Her legs were finally devoid of the energy needed to keep them up. In the silence, Meredith remained sitting. There was a knock on the other side of the door, and she knew Emil had joined her outside, but she didn’t want to let him in. Her head lifted up at the vibration through the door, though, glancing to the interior she hadn’t been to in many months.
It was the same as she remembered it. The bar where it sat, and the television screen, currently powered-down, hanging above. The chairs were on the tables, indicating that it was closed, and all the glasses and bottles were put away. In her mind’s eye, Meredith could see Eddie on the other side of the counter, grinning as he served up a meal.
You always did like helping other people…
She didn’t want to sit there anymore.
Her legs pushed her up again, walking her to the counter and behind it, where a number of nicks and scratches could be found on the wood there. She bent low, running her calloused fingers over them. The bumps and grooves brought out her own memories, of the day they’d sat behind there, fighting with kitchen knives before his mother had yelled at them to stop fooling around and help bus the tables.
It was always so simple with him.
There was never anything messy or complicated when it came to being with Eddie.
He was her best friend. Through the times they argued about silly things like the bully down the street, or those moments they’d roll around on the hill. Different, but content.
“And he’s gone…” Meredith’s knees collapsed, her knuckles turning white while her fingers gripped the varnish of the counter. She wanted to bang her head there. She wanted to scream. All of it was left behind in the ashes of Corps Castle. “Eddie…how am I supposed to just move on when everything’s taken from me…? How can I keep fighting knowing it doesn’t make a difference? What am I supposed to do with all that doubt and pain?”
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He didn’t answer. She had never expected anything, but it hurt all the same. How much she wished she could just cast away that hurt.
The door suddenly creaked open, and Meredith shot up, banging her head on the edge of the counter. Her vision swam through the watering of her eyes, but when she wiped it on her sleeve, she saw who had followed her inside. They didn’t say anything for a second, the teenager working her way around the counter.
“You know, Meredith, you shouldn’t be so harsh to Emil,” Matthew said, a bereaved chuckle on his lips. “He’s been working harder than anyone to find things. Reminds me of myself in my youth.”
“Does he?” Meredith said. Her voice wanted to be mean to him, the man that had been her mentor, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Her hand ran itself over the counter, hoping for it to give solace that never came.
“In a manner of speaking. I think he was desperate to find a way to save Eddie. To fix something. I can’t say if he found any answers in that regard, but he did discover-” Meredith didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to have hope or have it taken from her. She didn’t want to believe in a future that wasn’t possible. Her nails started chipping away at the wood. Matthew sighed. “I hear you haven’t been talking much. Bottling anger and grief for so long isn’t good, Meredith.”
“What else can I do?” she snapped, kicking at the counter base. “I couldn’t work in the garage. I couldn’t try to play Guardian and pretend the Corps is alive like the others. All I could do was sit there while they all had their own adventures. It was like nothing ever even happened! The whole world stopped turning and they acted like it kept going!”
“If you think that, then you’re letting your grief get the better of you.”
“What would you know?! Did you lose everything? Did you lose your best friend?!” Meredith stormed over before she stopped herself. She wanted to hit something, anything, and Matthew was the closest person. She lifted her arms up, ready to beat on him like she did Emil. That raging grief consumed her, even when she knew she shouldn’t let it happen. Even when she heard the voice in her head of the others that had said the same thing, using it to justify their actions. She didn’t care. It hurt too much. “He was everything! Everything! But his death meant nothing! So, don’t tell me how to feel!”
“Mera.” Matthew’s voice was quiet, and her fist was caught by his gentle hand. She struggled, wanting to scream and cry and break down, but Matthew pulled her in, holding her tight. Her lips let forth a strangled cry, and her head buried itself in his shoulder. “I do understand. I know too well exactly what you’re going through. I lost my best friend, as well, and I didn’t even know it. Couldn’t do anything to change it.”
Meredith hiccupped. She hadn’t thought about that. Hadn’t realized that Unda had been ripped away from Matthew and replaced by someone else. How he must have felt…how any of them must have felt, never occurred to her. She gripped him tighter.
“It’s all my fault, though…I wasn’t there. I couldn’t save him. Couldn’t stop Terrill from…and Ray…” Meredith pulled back, sobbing with every breath as she tried to see her mentor through the tears. “I’m…so weak…”
“Mera…” There was a brief pressure leaving her, and then she was placed into a seat, Matthew sitting across from her. His hands were on her, squeezing her shoulders to reassure her. “You are not weak. Not in the ways that count. And none of this is your fault. Life happens. You can’t control everything. But life…it has a way of going on. Why else do you think Emil has worked so hard? He didn’t want to give up. He wanted his family that he’d worked for, and even if there wasn’t a chance, he still hoped. Or did you never consider how they felt? Never saw what was in their souls?”
“I…” Meredith sniffled, bringing her body under control while she leaned forward on her knees. “I haven’t used my magic. Not once.”
Matthew hummed, and she presumed he understood what she meant, but wanted her to say it all the same. His hand removing itself allowed her to work through those messy emotions in her mind and soul.
“I’ve been…afraid. I didn’t want to know what everyone else was feeling. If it was pain or despair. I was too scared when I couldn’t work out…” Meredith’s head sagged, falling into her hands. She could still feel the water on her lashes. “I’m such a mess. I promised Rico I’d take his pain, but then I have my own and I just…I just don’t want to feel.”
“That’s what it means to be human, don’t you think?” She peered through her fingers, watching as Matthew scratched his beard. “We get knocked down. We doubt. We despair. But at the end of it, we still look for what’s beyond that. Something greater than despair. How we reach that is for us to determine, but there’s nothing wrong with feeling it. It’s only important to not let it consume you, Mera.”
She knew he was right. Or she thought she did. The other, darker, part of herself told her there was nothing to move to. There was nothing past the veil of sorrow. She was on a tiny island, shrinking amidst the falls. “What is there to move to when he’s gone? When the Corps is gone?”
“I couldn’t tell you, Meredith, but you don’t have to figure out every answer, or do everything, on your own.”
A team…she scoffed in her mind. Her fingers pulled away as she watched her teacher. He was surveying her, waiting for her to speak with all the patience he’d always shown. Even now, he waited for her to pick herself up, trusting in her. She started to wonder if Emil was doing the same. Meredith swallowed, clearing the phlegm from her throat. “You know, this whole month…I kept thinking…My magic is all about connecting me with countless others. Seeing their thoughts, and feelings and taking it all in me. Making it a part of my soul.
“But…I feel more alone than ever.”
It appeared her confession left Matthew without anything to say. He watched her, uttering not a single word while she stewed in her own thoughts.
After a time, he stood, and with surprising strength, pulled her up out of her chair to take her face as gently as he could. “You are not alone. You only feel that way because you haven’t seen; have chosen to not see.”
“Then why did they leave me, Matthew? Why did they go away?”
“Because sometimes being part of a team means doing what you need to. It means reaching beyond to work for the greater whole,” he said. He held her there, insistently, and said what he’d always intended to deliver the whole time; she knew that to be the case. It made her collapse in his hold, that overwhelming emotion claiming her. “Look into their souls, Meredith. Use your magic. Use your strength; a strength only you know. Take a step. Walk forward. Believe in them, and listen to them, because you’re never alone.”
She only wished for that to be true.
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Lacroix Manor was one of the most opulent estates in the world. From its gorgeously maintained lawns to the courtyards and buildings, there was nothing that spoke to its position of power and wealth more. The town nestled at the bottom of the hill, as if reminding the people of what was above them, was just as well-maintained. It had, however, seen a decline in recent weeks with the influx of refugees from the coming edge of the world.
Most of them looked high to that beautiful mansion and the family within, having served and reigned over the land for many generations, aspiring to reach its vaunted halls, either as a servant or some other capacity. It was like a dream to them.
To Vivian Lacroix, it was hell.
“Look at them. Worrying over nothing.” Seated at a window in her room, Vivian looked out to the busy town, and her skin recoiled when she felt her father’s hand on her shoulder. How she hated it. “That pile of trash, infesting our town for a simple thing like the borders of the world closing in. It’s weakness.”
“Yeah, you’d know all about that,” Vivian said. Her long blonde hair smacked her father in the face while she stood, tossing his hand off of her. He scowled at the motion while she walked to her bed. It was just as elegant and well-furnished as the rest of the house, but the bedside table was empty. No notes of personalization or emotion. Austere.
“I’d have thought you’d be a little more grateful, Viv,” Victor Lacroix said, his voice trembling. Vivian felt her body shutting down, buckling under the weight of what her father held over her. She closed her eyes, attempting to block it out. She’d resisted so far in the month since she’d returned home. “I let you take our precious family heirloom, even after that disappointment you called a performance in the Games. Needing your maximum power…needing other people to carry you on their back. It’s shameful.”
“Shut up, father.” Her palm slammed the table, causing it to rattle. The one object upon the table, her card, showing the number of trials completed, bounced to the floor. Its multi-colored stamps stared up at her, bringing her memories of each of them back. Of the people with which she’d accomplished them…in some way or another. It made her feel so alone, and for that reason, she tried to stay strong. “You don’t get to dictate my life’s course.”
“How ungrateful and petulant.”
“Yeah, wonder where I learned that from.” Vivian bent to pick up the card, shoving it in the folds of her clothing before making to leave the room. Her father had already barred her path, standing as an imposing blockade against her departure.
“Viv, you are here but by my good graces. You came crawling back, and I let you in, despite your disappointing worth,” he said. When she tried to walk past him, his arm pushed against her, holding her in place. She lifted her head in his direction with a snarl of venom. In her father’s black eyes, she saw an attempt to break her will, to shatter the strength she had built behind her own blue orbs. “If you are to stay in this home, you will abide by my rules, and that includes obedience and respect. You’ve spent far too much time with that trash to-”
Vivian wasn’t sure if she had been aware of her own hand moving. All she knew was that she had slapped her father across the face, causing him to stumble aside from the rebellious shock. Her breath came across as winded while she stared daggers into her father. “How dare you speak ill of the dead. How dare you insult them.”
“Insult them? You’re better than that gutter trash. You’re a Lacroix.”
“I’m a Guardian!” she shouted, kicking her own door open. “The Lacroix name means nothing. Not anymore. And if I had any other choice, I’d have stayed far, far away from here. I don’t want to hear you utter another word about them.”
Before she could regain her senses about what she’d done to her father, she stormed from the room. Her footsteps echoed off the adorned hallways as they banged down the marble floors of the manor. Sounds came from behind her, those of her father following after her.
“How dare you, Viv?!” Victor roared, his steps as those of a great beast, stampeding the halls. She increased her speed towards the stairs to the first floor.
She knew she was in for it now.
A month. That was all it took for her to snap and break under the pressure of being back home. She hadn’t wanted to, but there was no other option left to her. Not with the Bow of Torrents in her possession. It needed to be returned to where it belonged. Had it not been asked of her by the woman she respected the most, Vivian would have refused. She preferred to stay with them, because even if it was buried beneath the surface, the grief was all too real and fresh.
Eddie…Vivian bit her lip as she skipped the steps faster and more nimbly than her father could. The thoughts of the boy who had been there, been by her side to pull her out of her despair, came as a flood in her mind. Every day was a new thought about it, and the people she’d left behind to go home. For just a second, her steps faltered on the way down, seeing his face, and the others, in her mind. Tripping to the landing, Vivian landed on her knees. Her father was still approaching from behind. Mera…how are you…?
The past her would have cursed thinking this way. Would have chided her own weakness.
Yet here, all alone in the alabaster halls full of the greatest finery one could ask for, Vivian knew she just wanted to go home. Home with her friends. The ones who promised to be there for her…even if that home was broken. It was still better than the clinical, unfeeling manse that her father had created, that for so long she had driven herself to. She longed to bicker with Meredith, and see how her legs were coming along. To laugh with (or at, she wasn’t picky) Emil. She just wanted to be there, away from this poisonous influence that threatened to drag her back to her broken life and broken dreams.
Vivian pushed at the floor, her father coming closer, and she set back off again.
It had been such a torturous month, waiting here for something to happen. A month where her father was relentless in “re-educating” her. How the rest of the world was trash. How they were above everything. How her strength wasn’t hers. How weak she was. It formed a sick ball in her stomach, sliding down the banister and turning into the manor’s drawing room.
“O-oh, Lady Vivian, I didn’t expect to-”
“He’s on his way, Max.” Vivian minced no words with her former attendant, walking through the drawing room to the door on the other side with all haste. Max nearly dropped the tray he was holding, fidgeting as usual, but stood his ground. She never voiced it aloud, but she appreciated his efforts in defending her and looking after her all the same. Or she had recently. It had taken quite a bit to admit her gratitude.
“I shall block the doors, then!”
“Won’t be necessary. Just…wanted to let you know. So you could get out of his way. He’s not in a good mood.”
Max muttered something under his breath about how he never was these days. Vivian rolled her eyes in agreement with the assessment, knowing it was mostly her fault with her thinly-veiled disgust at being back here. She tried to walk on, but Max called her back for a moment, delaying her further departure from the room. “Lady Vivian, may I say, though, I’m glad you’ve been at home. Your father may take issue but…it’s been pleasant, seeing you at a greater ease.”
“What?” she said, fully stopping at Max’s strange confession.
“Oh, my apologies, I just…you’ve seemed…more like you used to, is all. Before your father…” She was taken aback by this, never having given it much thought. She supposed, in some way, she hadn’t been as cold as she used to be. “Er, I don’t mean to presume as much. I’ll try to talk your father down.”
Vivian knew he wouldn’t be able to, and she was almost certain Max knew he wouldn’t, either, but when she tried to take a step forward, his glance told her to move along. She did, perhaps against her better judgment. Her legs carried her to the door beyond, and into the room that was akin to a shrine.
No one was there, and in the silence and shadows, Vivian could hear herself breathe and think. She supposed Max was right, and it made her feel horrible. To think she had possibly hurt him, too, the one who had watched over her from birth. I guess I know a thing or two about hurting now, huh? You do, too, right?
She stopped at the centerpiece of the room, hung on a wall. Gleaming in the dim candlelight was the glorious Bow of Torrents, currently in the form its name suggested. The shadows watched over it, silently, and the light amplified its magnificence. Inside it was a soul, stirring. Vivian couldn’t see or know it; that was the purview of Meredith. Yet there was a kinship she shared with it, she felt. On that night, when the entire world came crashing around them, she could feel the anguish in her bow when that man, Terrill Jacobs, had seemingly sacrificed himself. It reminded her of loss…of others’ loss, and why she needed to do what she did.
If only it was easier to keep herself standing everyday under the weight of it all.
“What could you have done, Vivian…?” she asked herself. Her fingers reached up, touching to the surface of the bow. Part of her hoped that, just like Meredith, she could talk to the soul inside it and, maybe, find some solace. “If I’d been stronger…wiser…maybe it wouldn’t have happened.”
That, she realized, was her greatest regret, and it was something that holding to her precious family heirloom would never change.
At the end of it all, she was still weak.
“VIV!” Her father’s roar broke her laments, and she turned to the door as it busted itself open. He was there, framed in the light of the drawing room, but she ignored him. He and his viewpoints, cutting her off from feeling and anything other than prestige, were irrelevant. Vivian knew she may have been weak, but her father was the weakest of them all. “Don’t walk away when I’m instructing you!”
“Take your instructions and shove it,” she snapped. “I’m not your damn puppet.”
She admonished herself for being so brash and rude. For standing up where she shouldn’t. However, Vivian held her ground, even as her father made to raise a hand in anger against her rebellion.
Then there was a noise like the crack of a whip, or the beating of very large wings, and he stopped. He didn’t know why or from where it had come, but Vivian did. The silence in the air told her without her needing to see. She pushed past her father, back to the drawing room, where Max was drenched in the wine he’d been carrying, dabbing at his clothes. He was frozen in mid-action, and even Vivian felt as if her legs had turned to lead. It was enough to get her to the window, at least, enabling her to look out at the lawn before her.
It wasn’t clear at first, under the haze of the setting sun, but the closer the three figures moved, it was obvious who they were. One in armor, one in a black jumpsuit, and another in the familiar robes that belonged to her friend’s brother, all three having dismounted from a dissolving creature.
Marcus had arrived at Lacroix Manor, with Raymond Childs and Maria in tow.
Vivian finally found it in herself to smirk. No more waiting.