Lapis curled up in Patch’s lap in the outer room to their House suite, staring at the tree branches wavering in the cold night wind through a half-fogged window. Like Scand, she, too, did not want to be alone. Because of that, Patch wanted Rin and Lyet to stay in case he had to leave, and told them to sack out in the bedroom. They agreed, and their shock at the size of the bed they got to enjoy prompted a small, but genuinely amused, giggle from her.
“Another person was there?” he asked, running his fingers through her hair to soften the words.
“I don’t know. I didn’t see anyone, but I didn’t see Scand throw the debris, either. I assumed he did because it came from behind me, but my attention was on the . . . on the Dentherions.” Her breath hitched.
Patch settled his lips against her forehead.
“He was spooked the entire time,” she whispered. “He asked if I believed in ghosts and kept peering into the darkness as if he saw something I couldn’t.”
“The theater has a bad reputation in underground circles,” Patch said. “There were rumors that everyone who moved in after the half-assed attempt to turn it into apartments came down with some nasty diseases. I never met anyone who had, but the gossip was oddly persistent. A ring might be spreading fear to keep shanks away from their secret hideaway. Few people besides chasers after a stake go near the place, so concealing activity isn’t as hard as one might think.”
“I pretended to be on a chase, and the Dentherions told me to bring my stake to them or they’d kill Lykas. If a shank was hiding and heard me, they might have assumed they were in trouble and caused a distraction to escape.”
Patch sighed. “Unlucky.”
“Yeah. I described a docks worker I chased years ago. They got excited about that. Wish I’d described the old granny who stole the frosting dish from a Lells merchant’s stall. I don’t think they would have reacted the same way.”
He squeezed her closer. “Maybe. I’m going to talk to Scand about it, though. If a shank was there, someone besides two rats saw you take out six janks with some fancy tech.”
She blinked. “Six?”
“You injured the last. Scand finished them.”
She gasped. No! She dug her fingers into the cloth covering his chest and clenched it tight. “He—”
“—did what he had to do. I’m not sure he realized he killed them. That’s OK; he doesn’t have to know.”
“I won’t tell him,” she whispered. “He’ll just think the rebels took care of them.”
Or maybe he did know, and that was why he balked at sleeping in a room alone. Guilt hit like bricks; he needed comfort, and she had not realized it.
“And you did what you had to do. I know it’s hard, and you’ll be twisting your thoughts to come up with a way you could have prevented it all, but to save Lykas, you didn’t have a choice. Janks aren’t known for kindness and compassion.”
She buried her head in his chest. “Who was your first?” she asked.
“The guards who strung me up.”
Ah. No regrets, then, taking out the men who tried to hang him.
“You’re not me, Lapis. You’ve chosen a different path. It went into the wilds this time, but you won’t let it stay there.” He tipped her chin up and kissed her, as soft as silk. “Whatever path you use to get back to your normal one, I’ll be there to help. I love you. I won’t let you suffer this alone.”
“You don’t think I’m . . .” She groped for the right words, the right phrase, to explain her sorrow, her guilt, her remorse. She should not care she ended six Dentherion agents bent on taking their aggressions and failures out on Lykas. Who were they, but monsters? Yet she could not quite see it. Not anymore. She knew people like Dagby, who had been monsters but who changed and found something better outside that confining moniker.
The Dentherions no longer had that chance.
“Lapis, you’re the same person I’ve partnered with for eight years. You’re the same person I fell in love with. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be having this trouble.” He kissed the tip of her nose. “I don’t know what you’ll need, but whatever it is, I’ll see it done.”
She set her hand against his cheek and searched for the insincerity she knew did not exist. “I don’t feel loveable. I don’t—”
He settled his hand over hers. “Maybe not, but you are.”
Knock knock.
She jerked, and her face heated as Patch chuckled and rubbed noses with her. She slid off his lap and scrubbed her cheeks with her palms as he opened the door. Ciaran stood in the hall, hands shoved into his pants pockets, his lips pushed to the side in wry acceptance.
“Armarandos and Kalliope are taking our guests to their mansion. Patch, Faelan wants you to double-check his route.”
Lapis’s emotions fell into a muddy pool at her feet. “They haven’t left yet?”
“No. They needed a safe route below ground, and Faelan was waiting for the scout to return and tell him the passages were still open.”
“Alright,” Patch sighed, as enthused as a woman whose cat played with a dead mouse on the kitchen floor.
“I’ll go with you.” She could not stay in the room, even with Rin and Lyet a knock away. His nearness grounded and centered her wobbly emotions, kept her from screaming in anguish because she needed to vent.
Faelan was in the communications room, staring at the screen in front of him. Jetta, leaning on her elbows and not particularly pleased, peered back.
“The news isn’t good,” she said. “Cowl believes half the Second Council’s either missing or dead. The media isn’t reporting on it, but regular people are wondering where their representatives are because they haven’t heard from their offices or seen them speak about current events. Whatever’s happened to them, personal staff nor family are talking. The Lords’ Council hasn’t been touched, though, even the ones who are most outspoken about Celem becoming High Councilor.”
“So our guests might not be the only escapees,” Faelan said.
“Probably not. Kathandra’s still in touch with her extended family, and while they’re uneasy, they don’t think they’re in immediate danger because Celem has other problems. They think the air fleet command rebelled after the skyshrouds crashed, and half the army and special forces went with them. Again, the media hasn’t covered it, probably because Celem’s still trying to pretend everything is normal, but rumors are running rampant through Council families.”
“Azzo’s attacking the border between Abastion and Dentheria. It’s a good bet the new High Councilor wants to hide that he’s lost control, and the vassal states are rebelling.”
“There’s one more thing, Faelan. Someone raided the Councils’ aquatheerdaal storage complex outside Shealdon. The news reports say they left nothing behind.”
Patch laughed. “If Celem’s antsy, stealing all the aquatheerdaal that might power tech used against him would set his mind at ease. Any Councilor wanting to pry him from his throne would have to find another source.”
“He’s not as politically powerful as Moorlight or Delthan or their allies,” Faelan said. “Cutting them off from their tech and hoping they don’t have access to another source is the only way he’s going to retain his position.”
“How much support would Makethryn’s heir have in the Lords’ Council?” Patch asked as he accepted the map from Faelan.
“Jo Ban and Midir think it’s extensive,” Jetta said. “I’ve gotten the impression many of the Lords thought his mother stabilized the empire after his grandfather’s . . . quirkiness, and that he would continue in her steps.”
Patch snagged a pencil from the console’s counter. “Quirkiness? I can think of a lot better descriptions. Sadistic asshole comes to mind.”
Jetta sighed. “I know. Celem’s more like him. He isn’t one to share power, and the Lords don’t like that. There will be a revolt, it’s just a matter of time.”
“Letting Dentheria beat themselves into non-existence sounds good.” Her partner made a quick notation on the map, scribbled something else, and handed both to Faelan. “That intersection’s a joint toll between the Minq and the Jorga,” he said, tapping the page with the tip of the pencil. “They charge a higher rate because of it, but tell Armarandos to say I’m paying for safe passage and they’ll let them through.”
“Using up a favor?” Jetta asked.
“Yeah, but it’s been hanging a while. Might as well.” He narrowed his eyes and lifted his upper lip. “He’d better be worth this.”
“I know,” Faelan sighed. “Maurojay’s vouched for him, but I can’t say that’s reassuring.”
“He’s a man born and bred to take over an empire. Vouching for him won’t change that.”
“Amarie introduced him to Jo Ban,” Jetta said softly. “He told us that Raidyth, like so many of the young, educated children of Council members, wants to end the empire because he doesn’t see it as beneficial to Dentheria or the vassal states. He recently convinced his mother to change some of the most destructive policies devastating vassal states, and that might be why Celem took advantage and assassinated her. Business leaders and investors lost a lot of ill-gotten money when she restricted their abuses, and he thought he’d get their support by promising to reshape policy.”
Restricted their abuses? Not enough to make a difference to Grey and Stone Street residents when it came to prices and Dentherion monopolies.
“Fun times,” Faelan said, rising. “Thanks, Jetta.”
She smiled at him. “Any reason to speak with you, my love.” Her gaze drifted to Lapis. “If you need anything, just say the word. Varr wants you to know, if you want to talk, contact the workstation. He and Midir will be here for the time being. And everyone here sends their love and support.”
Lapis nodded, not trusting her voice. How many had Faelan told? Did she deserve the understanding, the smiles of sympathy?
Jetta leaned forward. “We all go through a time of self-doubt and loathing. We’re not soldiers, and we haven’t trained to deal with how it feels to take a life. I know difficult times are coming, and more death is straining to rise above the horizon, but don’t normalize it. Don’t become hard. If you do, you lose hope—and the rats, the rebellion, need that the most.”
Tears came again, and Patch hugged her around the shoulders.
“We need to see them off,” Faelan said. Jetta blew them a kiss before her image sucked into a single point and the screen became dark.
