CHAPTER

8

Bree awoke to a rapid knocking on her door. She grimaced against the noise, every part of her desperately begging for another thirty minutes of sleep.

“One moment,” she mumbled, sitting up in her bed and rubbing her eyes. Light shone through the window. Morning then, but how late? Bree dropped to her feet and walked to Kael’s bedside.

“Wake up,” she said, shoving Kael’s shoulder until he began to grumble and curl up in retreat below his blanket.

The knocking continued in small, rapid beats. It sounded like an angry hummingbird was attempting to rouse them from their beds.

“What?” Bree asked, flinging open the door and staring bleary-eyed at Rebecca Waller. The icy look on the woman’s face immediately jolted Bree awake.

“We need to talk,” she said.

“Sure,” Bree said, stepping out of the way. “Come in.”

Rebecca entered as Kael was smoothing his bed-mangled hair in vain.

“Something wrong?” Kael asked.

“Something is very wrong,” Rebecca said. She crossed her arms, her fingers clutching her elbows in iron grips. “Pray tell me what madness possessed you last night to break into the Clay Cathedral?”

The siblings exchanged a look.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bree said.

“Don’t,” Rebecca snapped. “Don’t even try. I know it was you two. Who else would be reckless enough to disobey a direct order by Candren’s Archon during what was supposed to be a calm, diplomatic affair?”

Bree’s cheeks were burning, and Kael was doing no better at hiding his embarrassment.

“Would you mind telling us how you know this?” Kael asked.

Rebecca glared.

“The theotechs have been raising a ruckus about this all morning. Someone broke into the Clay Cathedral, slew one of their own as well as two guards on duty. They’re demanding a trial, and you can imagine who they believe to be the primary suspects.”

“They can demand one all they want,” Bree said. “Have they any proof?”

“What proof do they need when you openly proclaimed your desire to enter the Clay Cathedral in front of hundreds?” Rebecca asked. “Now answer my question, you foolish Skyborns. What possessed you to do this?”

Kael glanced to Bree, and she gestured for him to speak freely.

“We needed answers,” Kael said. “The royal family wasn’t going to give them to us, and the theotechs sure as hell weren’t going to, either.”

Rebecca looked ready to tear down the walls.

“You asked for permission and were denied,” she said. “By going there you disobeyed the Archon as well as murdering three innocent men.”

“Innocent?” Bree said, unable to keep anger out of her voice. “They were servants of Center! Has everyone forgotten that they’re our enemy?”

“Except Evereth has given them clemency to perform their duties,” Rebecca shouted right back. Well, for her it was shouting. Her words came out quieter than Bree’s, but the tone was one of barely controlled rage. “The theotechs are furious, and they’re threatening to cut off all clean water for two days if you are not punished.”

“What stops Evereth from executing all of them if they do?” Kael asked.

“Nothing,” Rebecca said. “But the only other person who knows how to operate the deep machinery is Johan, and I don’t believe the Archon is too keen on granting that power to him, either.”

The woman sighed and leaned back against the closed door. She rubbed her eyelids with her thumb and forefinger, refusing to look at either Kael or Bree with her amber eyes.

“Archon Dayan has ordered your arrest,” she said. “And I have agreed to hand you over without incident. Your trial will be held later today, after we’ve signed the peace treaty. We’ll have this resolved one way or another so we may return home.”

Bree could hardly believe what she was hearing. Her and Kael on trial for killing servants of their enemy on their way to discovering the truth?

“You won’t let them imprison us, will you?” she asked.

Rebecca finally looked back up. Her face was hard, but her words were harder.

“Their lack of hard proof or witness will make things difficult,” she said. “But that doesn’t mean the Archon won’t rule against us. I’m sorry, Bree. If forced to choose between all of Candren’s support and two Seraphs … the times are dire. As much as it pains me, I have to consider it as a possibility.”

So that was it, then. One moment she was being praised as Weshern’s grand symbol of hope, and the next she was an expendable asset in a political gambit. Goddamnit, why couldn’t she just have remained a soldier? At least in the air she knew what she was doing.

“When do we turn ourselves in?” Kael asked softly.

“There are soldiers waiting outside,” Rebecca answered.

Bree felt fear trickling down her chest to settle as a rock in her stomach.

“May we at least dress first?” she asked.

Rebecca nodded.

“Don’t take long.”

When she left, the two looked to one another, unspoken fears passing between them.

“We could try to escape,” Kael said. Bree shook her head.

“No,” she said. “We’ll have to trust that Rebecca knows what she’s doing. Fleeing only proves our guilt.”

“All right then,” Kael said, sliding open the door of his closet. “Prison and trial it is.”

They emerged from their room fully dressed in their Seraphim attire. A dozen Candren soldiers waited in the hallway, six on either side of the door. Bree held her arms out to them, and wordlessly they slapped manacles on her wrists. They did the same to Kael, and then linked their two sets with a long thin chain.

“Say nothing,” Rebecca told them as they were led away. “Save your words for the trial.”

The soldiers led them down the hallway and toward the front of the castle to a locked and guarded door. Past it were stairs leading down into the deep, sunless parts of Candren. Dully burning torches lit their way into a foul-smelling dungeon. Many of the cells were full of prisoners, and Bree noticed several wore the distinct robes of Johan’s disciples. It seemed Evereth was as distrustful of Johan’s movement as he was of Center. No wonder he let the theotechs continue their duties so long as they promised neutrality.

At the far end of the dungeon, where only the light of the carried torches shone, the soldiers dumped them into the barred cell and slammed the door.

“Will you remove our manacles?” Kael asked as they heard a key turn.

“Manacles stay on,” one muttered, and then the twelve headed back to the entrance. Bree took a quick assessment of their surroundings as the light of the torches faded. No windows, no furnishings, just a stone floor and a bucket in the corner for them to do their business.

The guards vanished up the distant stairs, bathing the two in complete darkness.

“I hope you’re not afraid of the dark,” Bree said, and she heard Kael laugh.

“It could be worse,” he said. “At least we’re not hanging by our feet or something.”

Bree smiled despite her exhaustion and worry. Yes, it could indeed be worse. The two could be separate instead of together, unable to ease each other’s worries and aid in the passing of time. She sat on the floor and leaned against the side bars of the cell, her manacled hands resting atop her knees. From the dull thud, she guessed Kael did the same opposite her.

Time crawled, without marker to acknowledge its slow passage. Bree tried to sleep, found herself too nervous to relax. She slowly tapped her manacles against the iron bars, the soft clink somehow calming in the pitch black. Dressing in her Seraphim outfit had proven a blessing, for at least the thick jacket provided some protection from the cold that seemed to seep from every surface.

“So,” Kael said. Though he whispered, the sound of his voice was a startling thunder in the quiet. “What’d you think of the lightborn?”

Bree chuckled. They’d not had much time to discuss the encounter on their hurried trip back to the mansion.

“I think he was amazing,” she said. “There’s something … awe inspiring about being in their presence. And honest. They hide nothing. Their every emotion, it’s just … there. You’re bathed in it, invited to share without shame or embarrassment.”

“Yeah,” Kael said after a moment. “It’s sad people aren’t like that. It would probably solve a lot of fights before they ever started.”

“It’s also sad no one else will ever get to experience that feeling,” Bree said. More and more she saw the terrible sins of Center in keeping the lightborns’ existence a secret.

Kael kept to himself, the silence descending back over them for several long minutes.

“They won’t really convict us, will they?” he suddenly asked.

Bree wished she had a better answer.

“I have no idea,” she said. “But what will we tell them? That we were determined to visit an angel? You heard Evereth’s mockery of the very idea. How do we convince him otherwise?”

“We bring him to the Clay Cathedral,” Kael said. “That’s all we need, right? It’s so simple. Once he sees A’resh for himself he’ll understand why we did what we did.”

Bree was glad for the darkness, for at least Kael wouldn’t see her bitter smile.

“Yes, so simple,” she said. “But what if he refuses to go?”

Kael sounded baffled by the idea.

“Why wouldn’t he?” he asked.

“Because the Archon doesn’t just believe he’s right,” she said. “He knows he is right. To visit the cathedral is to entertain the idea he’s wrong. Some people are willing to learn and accept their knowledge is not absolute. I think Evereth’s quite the opposite. The theotechs will insist we broke in to tamper with the ancient machinery, endangering all of Candren. Our only counter is to claim we wished to speak with an angel. Which do you think he’ll believe, especially in open court?”

Bree heard Kael knock his head against the bars twice.

“There’s still a chance he goes, right?”

“There’s always a chance. I just don’t like my life riding on a chance.”

More silence. Bree felt bad for her pessimism, but she didn’t want to inflate Kael with false hopes. Her impression of Evereth Dayan had been one of a tightly closed mind. The jailing of Johan’s disciples, despite Johan being provably right about Center’s aggression, showed how unwilling the man was to have his wisdom questioned. Perhaps the Archon would visit the Clay Cathedral and demand entrance, but he would do it quietly, and long after the trial was over.

Bree resumed tapping her manacles against the bars, using it as an indicator of time. A tap every few seconds. Every twenty taps about a minute. Every thousand an hour. It seemed silly to consider counting that high, but she was up to six hundred and seventeen when Kael spoke again.

“Bree … I have an idea.”

“Let’s hear it,” Bree said. “Not like we have much else to do.”

Bree heard shifting, some scraping of clothing. It sounded like nervous fidgeting, but what would Kael be so nervous about?

“I’ve been thinking about your blood,” he said. “Our blood, really.”

“What about it?”

“Well, we know yours restores a fire prism, and mine a light, but there’s clearly more to it than that, right? I mean, look at your swords. No one else knows how you do it, but you do. You have control over the element in ways that don’t require a Seraph harness.”

“My blood,” she said, remembering her battle against Nickolas Flynn on the steps of the Crystal Cathedral. “I ignited my blood with just a thought.”

“Exactly,” Kael said. “We know plenty of what your blood does, but what of mine? If I have lightborn blood in me, what else can I do that we’ve not even thought to test?”

It was an interesting idea, and Bree told him so.

“What is it you’re currently thinking?” she asked.

“I’m thinking I need a way to cut my hand.”

Bree stared around the room despite being unable to see anything. The only tool they had at their disposal was the manacles locking their wrists together. Slowly she pressed her cheek against the sides of the manacles, searching for a sharp edge. She found one near the keyhole, a small jut of worn metal.

“I can do it,” she told Kael. “Scoot closer and give me your hands.”

He did, and his manacles rattled as he extended his arms in the dark. Bree searched until she found them, then pulled both his hands down to his lap.

“I can’t see what I’m doing,” she said. “So, uh, please keep still.”

“Whatever you say. Just try not to cut too deep, all right? I’ll haunt you until eternity if I suffer an ignoble death bleeding out on the floor of a Candren prison.”

“At least we’ll still be together.”

Bree twisted her elbows so the sharp metal bit faced downward. Using her knee to hold his hand in place, she pushed the manacles against his palm as hard as she could. It didn’t draw blood at first, but then she dragged her arms along his skin. Kael cried out instinctively and pulled his hands from her lap.

“Sorry,” she said. “Did it go too deep?”

“We’re about to find out.”

The dark cell went quiet, not even of the sound of their breathing. Bree waited, wondering what exactly her brother intended.

Her answer came in the form of a sudden twinkling of light in the center of their cell, like a newly born star. The light was blinding, but Bree forced herself to stare at it. The glow dwindled down until it shone like pale white embers hovering atop Kael’s cut hand. In the pitch darkness, that somber glow was more than enough for them to see one another.

Bree winced at the sight of her brother’s hand. She’d only meant to scratch him lightly, but the jagged slice looked in danger of leaving a scar. Blood pooled across his hand, which he held palm upward, soft light shimmering and glowing across its surface.

“Well, so far I’m one for one,” he said, grinning. “Now for idea two. Bree, this will sound crazy, but I want you to put your hand in mine so you’re touching my blood.”

Bree frowned.

“Uh … gross?”

“Oh, so now you’re suddenly squeamish about a bit of blood?” Kael asked, and Bree felt her cheeks flush.

“Sorry,” she said. “Fine. I’ll do it. But what are you hoping to accomplish?”

“Just close your eyes and keep still. I’d rather not say in case I fail miserably.”

Bree put her hand in Kael’s, and she felt the warmth of his blood spread across her palm. Kael closed his eyes, his face scrunched in deep concentration. Bree watched, curious as to his plan. Was he hoping to make her float above the ground like the lightborn? His hand tightened around hers, and Bree heard a strange ringing sensation in the back of her mind. Was that part of what Kael …?

A memory returned to Bree, of the two of them playing in the backyard. Kael was “it,” and Bree fled from him through a fallow field, dodging and weaving whenever he lunged. The smell of dirt filled her nostrils, the sway of the grass a phantom kiss on her hands. The careless joy of those years flooded her chest, and she smiled despite the tears rolling down her face.

The memory vanished as rapidly as it came, returning her to the somber white light of their prison cell. Bree pulled her hand free and attempted to wipe away the blood on the stone floor. To her surprise, her hand was dry, the blood already flaking off her skin.

“Did you see anything?” Kael asked. She could hear his nervous optimism, and she laughed as she wiped away her tears.

“I saw us playing in the grass when we were seven,” she said.

Kael pumped his fist and grinned like a maniac, a celebratory whoop barely held in check.

“I knew it,” he said. “I just knew it.”

“How’d you do it?” Bree asked.

Kael glanced at his palm, and the slow trickle of blood from his cut.

“It’s … it’s a little like activating the ice prism in my gauntlet,” he said. “I can feel the connection, but instead of trying to shape ice into a sphere or cone, I’m focusing on a memory. After a moment, it just … flows. Does this make any sense?”

Bree nodded. It was similar to how it felt when she bathed her swords in flame.

“So this is your plan to convince Evereth?” she asked.

“Yeah, that’s it.”

“What if you can only show people what they’ve already experienced? We were both there in the memory we shared. What of something only you have seen?”

Kael flexed his hand a few times, setting the blood to flow anew and brightening the cell further.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Let’s try again. This time close your eyes, all right?”

Bree took his hand and obeyed. She kept her breathing steady and did her best to empty her mind. She didn’t know how difficult this was for Kael but she’d try to help in any way she could. A minute crawled by without vision or memory, setting Bree to worry.

“Kael?” she asked.

“There,” Kael whispered back. “There it is. Bree, open your eyes.”

A vibrant blue sky spread before Bree when her eyelids parted. A sense of motion overcame her, wind blasting through her hair and swirling beneath her Seraphim wings. Sounds followed, the mighty roar of battle. Bree tried to look about, but her eyes were fixed ahead. She was part of a formation, her shoulders and back twisting to keep pace with her leader. Lightning crackled through the air, ice and stone a destructive rain plummeting to the ocean below.

Where am I? Bree wondered as her formation curled back around the edge of the battle to dive straight in. They fought against people of Galen, she realized. Her gaze shifted upward, and before her blazed a twin trail of fire. Bree’s heart caught in her throat. She saw from Kael’s eyes in Phoenix Squad, and before her was the Phoenix.

Bree watched this phantom version of herself dodge and weave through the chaos of battle, fire dripping off her blades. Time seemed to slow as she watched herself dip below stone and then soar above a plume of flame meant to char her flesh to the bone. Horror flooded Bree. She didn’t want to watch. Every attack showed how close to death she skirted. Every instinctual movement was now revealed to her, and it only frightened her further.

Then her eyes pulled away, and she was diving, turning, all her skill pushed to the limit to keep up with the madwoman that was the Phoenix. Dawning dread seeped through Bree’s mind. She knew when this was. She knew where it led. Scattered from the formation, the dead raining down, she caught sight of Galen’s weak, flickering Beam.

No, her mind shrieked. Not again. Never again. She tore her hand back, the vision rupturing as she broke contact. The comfortable darkness returned, lit by only the last flickering embers of Kael’s shimmering blood. Kael slumped before her, a guilty expression on his face. He knew the demons the vision had stirred in her memory, yet he’d done it anyway.

“Why?” Bree asked.

“I’m sorry,” Kael said. “But I had to know. I had to see if I could give a vision and have it inspire the same fear and confusion that I felt.”

Bree shivered, trying to stomp down the memories of collapsing nets full of villagers and crowds of people plummeting off the side of the doomed island.

“It did,” she said.

Kael reached out for her, and she instinctively pulled away. Catching herself, she paused, let him wrap his arm around her.

“Sorry,” he whispered.

Bree leaned against him, accepting his comfort.

“I know. Now let me rest for a bit.”

She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing. The vision had left her body drained and her mind lit. Kael clenched his cut fist tight, ending the light.

“Think it’ll work?” Kael asked after a moment. His voice was a calm reassurance in the darkness.

“I’m not sure. The Archon might not be willing to touch your blood and wait. It’s a bit … strange.”

Kael actually laughed.

“We’re desperate, Bree, so we’re not exactly overflowing with options. I more meant if he does see a vision, will it convince him of the truth of our claims?”

Bree settled deeper into her brother’s lap, her tense muscles and tired bones relaxing.

“The Archon? Trust me, Kael. He won’t know what hit him.”