Iree was prepared to go in alone to explain the prior day’s humiliating loss to the council. That said, mixed relief and anger stacked atop her already turbulent feelings when she saw Rhys standing outside the Creed mansion that morning.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
He met her eyes. “It’s not right for you to take responsibility for my failures. I’ll explain everything to them.”
Before Iree could figure out how to respond—she wanted to roundhouse kick him in his stupid face—he continued.
“I’m sorry, Iree. For everything.”
Apologies wouldn’t help them right now. “I’ve got a plan to save face for you. Hopefully for both of us, so I want you to stay out here.”
He frowned, skeptical. “How? We both know it has to be someone’s fault.”
“So we pin it on someone they can’t replace.”
Rhys realized instantly. “Dorothea.”
Iree nodded. “She can handle some blame, and it’s not undeserved. My command and our ability can both be proven again. We just have to convince them to let this one go.”
Rhys shook his head. “I don’t like this. I’ve already been demoted, so I’ve got nothing to lose. Better me than her.”
“If you want to stay on my squad, you’ll shut up and let me do this. You’d be lucky to end up in the mess hall after all this.”
"Huh.” He didn’t look like he hated the idea.
“Did you really mean what you said last night? About Mom not liking us as we are now?” Iree blurted, surprising both of them.
His face fell. “Iree, look, I—”
“Forget it. It’s a new day, and we’ve got bigger things to worry about. Come on, hurry up.” Once again, she didn’t want to hear his honest answer. He wasn’t the same as he’d used to be, and she just couldn’t accept what that meant for them.
Atlin, Olyen, Creed and Ariana were waiting for them outside the entrance to the council’s meeting room in the bottom right corner of the mansion’s first floor.
“Good morning,” Atlin greeted with a small smile, and Iree’s gut twisted as Rhys smiled back.
She faked a smile of her own. “Morning.”
Olyen grinned. “Good luck in there. I don’t envy you all.”
“Cover your asses,” Ariana said flatly.
“Yes, cover them well, if that is the phrasing we must use,” Creed added.
Iree laughed and shook her head. “Thanks for the concern, guys.”
“They should all be assembled by now,” Rhys said quietly. “It’s best not to keep them waiting.”
“Rhys, Atlin… Let’s get this over with,” Iree sighed as she led them in.
The conference room was windowless with smooth, dark walls. The seven council members waited in a wide, gated array of receding row seats, the most influential persons in the foremost columns of the stack. Cinder Creed, the current head, had the front row to himself.
Iree counted the black flecks of the marble dais in the center of the room as she, Atlin and Rhys approached it. After she stood upon the dais with her feet shoulder-width apart and arms folded behind her, she looked up with a steadfast gaze to meet Cinder’s impenetrable eyes. As he shifted and cleared his throat, silence spread like a flash of lightning shattering the sky, hushed whispers of the rest of the council sliced mid-word.
“Commander Nobelis, Mister Tamlin, Miss Atlin. Greetings.” Cinder nodded to them.
Atlin curtseyed, all grace and elegance. “Well met, Sacerian council. I thank you for your hospitality, generosity and consideration in regards to recent matters of import.” Her posture had suddenly become immaculate, her movements demure and her expression soft yet commanding in its quiet sense of authority.
Iree looked at her sidelong. So this was what the leader of Sirpo was like when she was trying to act like it. Not bad.
Cinder smiled. “Now then. Please explain the loss of Izozkia and its surrounding territory.”
At least Cinder was one to get down to the point. That, Iree appreciated. She took a breath and—
“It’s my fault,” Rhys and Atlin stated at the same time. Rhys cast Atlin a shocked look, but she paid him no heed.
“It came down to my lack of experience, sir,” she explained, lowering her eyes with respect and shame. “I was so frightened I couldn’t think. Then Captain Tamlin was so preoccupied with protecting me that the enemy got the upper hand. Commander Nobelis directed me the best she could, but I simply wasn’t listening. I’m sorry.”
So that was how it was. Iree had never needed to throw Atlin to the wolves; the girl had come here to do it to herself. Interesting, and…unexpected.
Rhys was stuck now. He couldn’t tell his side without directly contradicting Atlin, and that wouldn’t look good for any of them. Still, because he was a stupid man and would inevitably say something anyways, Iree talked first.
“I’ve reconfigured the setup of my squad to be better conducive to our success moving forward,” she stated. “Cerid Creed will enter the captain’s position while Rhys Tamlin will fall back to a more supportive role.” Herein came the reason for Iree picking Cerid to become the new captain. It was only his promotion that would put the council at ease.
Cinder was nodding. “Very good. Now, please describe it. The Bittersweet Nightshade-user.”
“He wouldn’t be an issue for my squad on his own, but the rats have good team synergy in combat.” Iree paused as rage and jealousy tried to trap her words down. “And he does have skill,” she admitted anyway. His very existence was a huge blow to her plans. After the epidemic, the entire Bittersweet Nightshade line was supposed to have died off. That was the assumption she and Cinder had worked under, at least.
The rest of the council erupted in protests, but Cinder sounded as calm as always. “Can you make the kill next time, Commander?”
“Yes.” Not finding a way wasn’t an option.
One council member asked, not masking their fear, “Is there a possibility the line has been multiplying?” A collective intake of breath seized the council before murmurs wove among them. Iree noticed Atlin flinching too.
“Even if he does have children, they’d be too young to pose a threat,” she replied.
“Why wasn’t he killed? With so much at stake and the reversal of time at your disposal, how could you have possibly lost?” The entire council except for Cinder was looking down at them with the same intense coldness and anger those words radiated.
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How could Iree understand that when she hadn’t yet come to terms herself? Everything was supposed to be fine with Atlin there. Instead, life had thrown another curve at her right when she’d started to see the end of their suffering in her bloodstained vision.
It was Rhys who spoke up, and the words of her former captain made chills run up Iree’s spine. “The power of time is wielded by a human,” he stated simply, “so it’s bound by the mind of the person who wields it. You only see this magic as boundless and without potential for fault because you overlook the humanity of its host.”
Cinder spoke before the clear outrage some council members felt at Rhys’ disrespect could make things worse. “Your perspective is noted.”
Iree wanted to pick up and help smooth things over too, but she was too stunned. He was right, wasn’t he? Iree had only seen the magic. She hadn’t considered Atlin as a person with flaws beyond those she could manipulate. Of course her emotions would impact her battlefield performance.
Dorothea had stared at Rhys as he’d spoken, but now she’d recollected herself. “We won’t lose again. I finally understand the way this life works. I’m prepared to face it now.” She bent slightly as if to bow but straightened quickly. “I once again apologize for my failures.”
Iree managed to speak. “I won’t tolerate weakness on my squad anymore, sir. We understand the stakes. With your permission”—she met Cinder’s eyes pointedly—“I’ll have a plan of counterattack submitted by the end of the day.”
He nodded. “Of course.”
They chatted about a few more things, with Dorothea explaining her version of events again. It seemed the failure would be forgiven for now, but Iree still felt the thinness of the ice beneath her feet.
Cinder spoke in conclusion. “Dismissed, the three of you. The council will remain behind for further discussion.” He’d calm them down and make sure they didn’t get in the way, more like.
Once the doors were shut behind them, Iree let out an exasperated groan. “That sucked ass…”
Olyen stood, having been sitting against the opposite wall next to Creed as they waited. “That good?” they laughed.
“Good as it can be,” Ariana sighed. “You can tell from her face that we’re fine. This time.”
“Pretty much.” Iree paused, then grabbed Atlin’s arm before she could make her way over to Olyen. “Atlin, come with me.”
“Oh? Um, okay.” She wore the same vapid smile as usual and let Iree lead her. “Where to?”
“There’s someone I want you to meet, I guess.”
At the nornernmost point of the fort, the fallen soldiers of Udara were honored in a graveyard that had tripled in size after the epidemic and only grown further since then, albeit not too much under Cinder and Iree’s direction. It was a bright, colorful place despite its purpose. Flowers adorned every headstone, constantly kept fresh and new. A rainbow array of symbolic love and remembrance gave a sense of warmth and comfort, at least as much as a place like this could have.
Iree was taking Atlin to meet Sharee. Once they were in front of the headstone, she sat on the ground with a heavy sigh. “It’s been too long since I’ve visited.”
Atlin sat gingerly, folding her hands and closing her eyes for a few moments. Once finished with her prayer, she put her hand on Iree’s arm. Iree expected her to say something to comfort her, but she didn’t. She just sat in silence, connecting them with her gentle touch.
“Yours are dead too, right?” Iree asked eventually. The song of the wind in the trees was soft, but it felt so cold.
“Well my mother is, as we’ve discussed. I never met my father.”
“Fancy that. Mine’s a deadbeat too,” Iree said with a caustic laugh.
“So you and your mother must have been close.”
“Yeah. I love her more than anything.” Iree followed Atlin’s gaze to the pin on her sleeve. Her fireproof outfit was fully black with white stripes along the buttons of her shirt and her cuffs, so any extra adornment stood out. “So Rhys told you. I thought so.” She’d been able to tell by the way they looked at each other that Atlin and Rhys had gotten a lot closer, so it followed they’d had to share something personal to make that connection. Sharee was the only thing Iree could think of that Rhys had to his name to treasure like that.
Atlin looked contrite. “I’m sorry. I know that means I was able to look into a part of you that you probably wouldn’t have told me about yourself.”
“No big deal.” It was Rhys’ life too. The two of them were tied together in a deep, irrevocable way. Not that Atlin would understand that bond.
“Don’t say that.” Atlin studied the crisp, neat lettering on Sharee’s headstone, the marigolds and roses slowly dying upon it. “Can I ask you a question?”
“I’m not gonna stop you.”
“Well, thank you,” Atlin laughed. “I want to understand you better, Iree. Why do you fight? What is it you want most?”
Iree wasn’t used to other people trying to dissect her, but letting Atlin feel a little more comfortable with her and lulling her sense of caution wouldn’t be the worst thing. “I’m going to end war.”
“End war.” Atlin paused, and her eyes widened some. “Not end the war or this war. End war in general. How?”
Iree laughed and clapped her on the back. “It’s not something you need to worry about, Atlin.”
Against expectation, Atlin narrowed her eyes. “This involves me, Iree, even if I turned away from it for a long time. I still want justice to be found, and since things have come to this, I want to be a part of it. My mother died because of the event that started this war. I want to understand that, and I want to understand who I’ve become since then.”
Iree hadn’t thought about that either. “You really idolize your mom, huh?”
“No.” Atlin’s eyes got a clouded look. “She gave her life restoring what lives to Sirpo she could after the epidemic. So even if I say I lost her to the epidemic, I suppose you could say I lost her to her own conscience…”
Which was what had led Dorothea to turn away from her own for so long. Iree understood it now. “I’m…sorry,” she said, and was surprised that she didn’t have to fake sincerity behind those words. This person wasn’t entirely unworthy of her respect. Just mostly.
Atlin smiled. “Me too. You know, I… I’m sorry if this is overstepping, but…” Her cheeks reddened with shyness. “Some people, they’re so dear to us that once they’re gone they cling to us, and it’s…” She waved her hands, searching for words. “It’s not a good feeling, but it’s not terrible, either.”
“Yeah, I get you.” Iree’s mother would always be with her, guiding her every step. The weight was unbearable sometimes, having to fill the void and honor the memory of a person who’d left her behind with such a large shadow in her wake. Even so, she’d never want to be rid of it. It was like having Sharee still with her in a way. “What was her name?”
“Ophelia.”
“Pretty.”
Atlin nodded at Sharee’s headstone. “Likewise.” She touched Iree’s arm one more time before she stood. “I’ll give you some time alone with her, if you’d like.”
Iree stood with her, capturing her hand in a firm handshake. “Thanks for letting me drag you here. I guess…” Yeah, she realized why she’d brought her along in the first place. “I wanted to understand you too.” Now that she did, she knew exactly how to move forward. As long as Iree had even a single trick left up her sleeve, she’d keep fighting.
“Thank you, Iree.”
Iree held fast. “I’ve got one last question for you too, Atlin.”
There was never any suspicion to her expressions. When she was puzzled, it was open and blank. “Yes?”
“Why don’t you just say no? There’s no rule saying you have to share your mother’s fate.” She was curious despite herself. If she were in Atlin’s shoes, she’d have told the people of Sirpo to handle their own problems a long time ago.
“It’s more complicated than that.” Atlin laughed, but there was an edge to it. She dropped her hands to wring them. “Sirpo was founded during the War of Blending with the understanding that the Atlins would be its protectors. Peacetime, tenuous as it is, doesn’t mean we’re stopped being asked to use our magic. It’s like… So-and-so broke their arm, this person died too early and some people didn’t get to say their goodbyes so they need closure, this fight from a week ago made a marriage break up so could I please stop it because there’s kids involved, and so on. You know? Gods forbid someone stub their precious little toe!” She let out a long, exhausted breath.
It was to be expected. If there was a way out of their mistakes and heartaches, people would want to grasp it regardless of the consequences. Iree herself was no exception, but at least she was self-aware. “Sorry, Dorothea. But you’ve toughed it out this long. I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”
“Well…” She stared at Iree like a drunken owl. “Oh.”
“What is it? You’re creeping me out.”
“Nothing! You just, um… I think that’s the first time you’ve called me by my name. My first name, that is.”
“Huh? Oh, sure, maybe.” Weird. Normally Iree only reserved that for people she respected or loved. After today, she liked Atlin more than she thought she ever would, but… “Well,” she said, “consider it an honor.” But nothing would change her mission or her conviction.
“I will.” Atlin dipped her head and backed up a step. “I think we all want the same thing in the end. Justice and peace. Getting it is the hard part.” She regarded Iree with a thoughtful, steady gaze, and something like wariness almost pricked in Iree’s mind. “Take care of yourself, Iree.”
“You too.” Yeah, they’d get it for sure. Justice, peace, revenge… Despite the setbacks, they were so close she could taste it.
Atlin departed, and Iree leaned forward to touch her forehead to her mother’s name. “Soon,” she promised. “We’re almost there. It won’t have been for nothing.” With that she stood, smiled, and went to confer with Cinder Creed.