Kaleb
Silas’s manor center rests high above the sprawling, gold-washed city. In the distance, through the glare of evening lights, I can see the castle and the shadow of the wall around the Glade behind it.
I had no reason to come here tonight other than Silas insisted, and Chessie and Lexa backed him up. I have no idea where the women are as it stands, but they’re safe here, even in the latest hours of the night. Lexa not being tucked at my side still makes me uneasy, however.
Silas shrugs out of his cloak and drapes it lazily over an armchair bedecked with red and white embroidery. Everything about his manor screams luxury–the born kind. Our mother was a wealthy heiress of one of the king’s advisors. His father was a lord from one of the ancient high fae families with ties to the royal family in some way, shape, or form. I’ve ignored the details for as long as I can. Silas is as good as a prince with coffers to show for it.
“Drink?”
“Yeah,” I murmur, turning from the window to face the sprawl of his private study. The walls are dark wood, freshly waxed, and the smell of cedar is thick in the air while he pours two drams of a rich, amber liquid into crystal glasses.
“You should just let her stay the night. It’s late, and I’m sure they have some catching up to do.”
“The first Trial is tomorrow night,” I counter. “She needs rest.”
Silas sips his drink before handing the second glass to me, which I accept, inspecting the liquid before taking a cautious sip. We don’t have whiskey and scotch in the Glade. Just homebrew, which is wildly illegal and a death sentence if it’s found during the random fae raids that take place throughout the year.
The door to the study opens to reveal a servant and several fae men, who are quickly and silently ushered into the room. I throw a glare at Silas, who ignores me and greets his friends and fellow rebels in a hushed murmur.
This is what Silas does. He spends his unlimited money, lives in luxury, parading himself to the public as the poster boy of what a high-bred high fae lord should look like, and he does it well, but on the inside, in the shadows, he’s helping fund a rebellion that’s picking up steam.
“Alpha King,” a high fae male with dark hair and glossy gray eyes says by way of greeting as he passes me on his way to the bar cart.
“Lord Everett.” I don’t bob my head. I don’t bow or make a show of the fact that while I am the king of my people, this man still outranks me somehow.
More lords make themselves known, and hushed conversations swirl, but I begin to edge toward the door, keeping an eye on Silas as he melts into discussions that have little to do with me… yet.
I’ve been to his manor multiple times over the course of my life. I know all the hallways, alcoves, and hidden rooms like the back of my hand, and it’s not hard to find where he’s been keeping Chessie in luxury… in the suite adjoined to his own.
I’ll discuss that with him later–in length.
I stop outside the gilded door, cracked just ajar, as female voices hum through the gap. Lexa laughs softly while Chessie titters about something that must have happened in their past life, before they were dragged into these games. I shouldn’t be listening in, but I can’t help it, not when I only came here to stand as a buffer between Lexa and the resistance meeting taking place only a story above.
“But, like, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
Chessie’s soft sigh is like music, and somewhere in the depths of the room, the mattress creaks as she moves closer, I assume, to where Lexa’s seated. “Lexa, we watched Austin die.”
Lexa is silent for several long, aching seconds before she finally relents and replies in a breathy whisper, “There was nothing I could have done to save him in that moment.”
“I know, but–”
“There’s nothing to say–”
“Then why are you so pale? I said his name, and it was like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Another long, drawn out pause hangs in the air so heavily it bleeds into the darkened corridor where I’m standing, leaning my shoulder against the doorframe with my arms crossed tightly over my chest.
“I don’t want to talk about Austin.”
“But–”
I push open the door and find Lexa resting on the edge of Chessie’s monstrous four-poster bed, still in the orange gown from the party. She looks at me blankly, her face cast in shadows–memories she’d rather not conjure fading, I assume–as I ease into the room with a single step. Chessie, however, beams at me, popping up from between a trio of tufted pillows I’m sure smell like roses and whatever other flowers Silas worries over in his garden.
“Hi!” Chessie practically shouts, which causes Lexa to close her eyes like she’s searching internally for a quiet, empty space to hide within.
“I came to say we’re leaving shortly. You need to rest before the Trials begin tomorrow.”
Lexa opens her eyes and looks at me but doesn’t say anything. Her face is washed in concern, however, when she glances at Chessie before rising, gathering the long skirt of her gown in her hand.
Her legs shine like polished gold in the muted lamplight. She’s… glorious.
I’m not the only one who has noticed.
“You have some time. I need to tell Silas we’re leaving anyway. I just wanted to warn you.”
“That was nice of you,” Chessie beams, her voice like sugar–soft, and sweet. Lexa, however, doesn’t break from her somewhat cold stare as she sits back down on the edge of the bed and angles her body toward Chessie.
I don’t know who Austin is or his significance in her life, but I can tell just based on her posture that Chessie’s line of questioning wasn’t welcome. Just his name cut deep, leaving a wound.
Curiosity blooms, but I beat it down, shutting Chessie’s door before moving back through the darkness. The maids and servants in Silas’s fine house don’t pay me any mind–they never have, even as a child, when Silas would find ways to bring me out of the Glade for a day or two to see fae healers and eat real meals–and to be educated.
That was one thing he did for me that set me apart from the other halflings in Pantharas. To him, I wasn’t just another soldier, just another genetic mutant bred to be pliable and aggressive. I was a little boy. I was his brother.
Which is why I entertain his asinine plots of rebellion.
“Well, well, well, how did I know you were going to have a stroke and check on the girls the second my friends came to call? Do you really think I associate myself with men who’d try to take advantage of the women in my own home?”
“I have a responsibility to Lexa and that’s to keep her safe and secure outside of the games, and you know that.” Men have already started leaving the room after a single quick drink. “What was the meaning of this anyway?”
Silas shrugs, turning toward the last man now grabbing his cloak off a hook near the door. He gives the man a quick nod in farewell before stepping closer to me, replying, “Just some comradery before the games. Nothing too serious.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Don’t act like you want in now, Kaleb. You’re either in with both feet or not at all. I explained that.”
“What you’re trying to accomplish is entirely impossible.”
“Well, so were your games, and yet here you are, the champion, now Alpha King of the shifters my king keeps enslaved. You’re alive, Kaleb. That was the first nail in our king’s coffin, and over the past ten years, he’s done nothing to try to dig himself out of his current situation.” He takes a sip of his drink. “You know, they are from Eastonia. I confirmed it. Lord Ashcroft of the Court of Elsmire, along the coast, told me everything he knew about the plot to snatch and grab shifters from what was supposed to be Emberfyll. I’m sure you know all about Emberfyll, although even our mother wasn’t born yet when those halflings managed to escape to that island and set up a colony. Emberfyll is now outside of the veil. The veil is gone. Eastonia is within reach, and the king has had players from their kingdoms for years now, but they have a new Firestone Queen. The Firestone’s somehow survived after that great, bloody war.”
I ease into an armchair, hanging my head. “You can’t know this for sure.”
“What I know for sure is that everything we’ve been fed about your people, and our history, has been a lie. A carefully crafted, manufactured fib force fed to us since birth. Your people were taken generations ago against their will, and Chessie’s people… they carry those memories, those songs and fables, just like the people in the Glade do. The king attacked Eastonia, Kaleb. Their Firestone Queen will come to call–and soon.”
I close my eyes. “I can’t be a part of this.”
“Consider yourself a resistance member already, Kaleb, because you chose the very victor the king wants dead the most and who now is backed by everyone who’d like to see the king himself dragged through that arena. Pantharas cannot afford another holy war, and the fae lords know it. All of them are uneasy, even those still attached to the king’s hip.”
“There is nothing you can do to stop the king.”
“Maybe not me, but I have a new connection who’s… intimate with Hannibal, that fucking beast. Hannibal is the eyes and ears of the king now that he’s returned, and my new friend is going to make it possible to reach the inner circles of his court. Fear not, brother. I have it all planned out.”
“Of course you do.” I rise, running a hand down my face to try to sweep the exhaustion from my eyes. “You’ll be king, won’t you? Is that part of your plan?”
“No, it will not be me,” he chuckles, rolling his eyes. “I am too handsome, too young, and too charming to be chained to a throne for the rest of my long, long, immortal existence. I’d like to travel, I think, maybe spend some time in Silverhide, where the girls are from… where Chessie’s from.” Another eye roll and a charming smile lights up his face. “But, I’ll help decide who gets the throne; that’s for damn sure.”
“You are thinking too far ahead.”
“I’m thinking just far enough ahead,” he concludes with a confident smile.
“We need to make it through the games. Has your victor been adequately prepared for what she’ll face tomorrow?”
“She has. Just because she’s tiny, like the pixie folk, and enjoys the color pink doesn’t mean she can’t hold her own in the arena. Trust me, she’s skilled, and she’ll be fighting alongside Lexa in the third round. I’ve already confirmed it.”
“And Meg? Any word from her sponsor?”
His eyes darken. “Her sponsor is close to the king, so no. We don’t run in the same circles.”
“Your Lordship? Your guest has just arrived.” The maid, who dipped silently into the room, disappears before I even get a look at her face.
“Ah, good. I was hoping you’d have a chance to meet him before you left–”
“I’m leaving now.” I turn from the room, stepping into the darkened corridor. “We’ll watch the first rounds of the Trials together. Being in the third round will give them both an idea of–” A strangling, unsteady sensation wraps itself around my mind for a split second before ceding. I blink away the sudden haze ensnarling my senses, reminding myself not to accept a drink from Silas again anytime soon. Footsteps echo toward me before a man in a black cloak appears–tall, and agile, moving through the darkness like that’s all he’s known.
But it’s his eyes that give me pause as he acknowledges me with a short bob of his head before turning into Silas’s study. Eyes the color of polished amethyst, but so bright they could easily be considered… violet.
His gaze holds mine for several seconds before Silas shuts the door, leaving me in the shadows.