Aki

The door crashed open. The upper hinge came off before it swung back at an angle. An older man, tall and wide and utterly intimidating, stepped in, lowering his head to duck under the door frame. “Adeenas!”

Addy, lounging on the bed, remained calm in the face of the man’s daunting entrance. “Good,” she said. “You’ve made it here unscathed.”

The man fumed. Bulging muscles on a build I’d thought reserved for stories of mythical giants vibrated with tension. “Ya will answer me without jest, without diversion, without lies, or I swear by the divinity of The Queen, it’ll be your death or mine this day!”

“Calm yourself, Farian,” Addy said, standing from the bed. “I will answer what—”

“Why?” Farian asked.

“A simple question with a—”

Farian ripped the door off its last hinge and hurled it at her. An astounding feat in my eyes. She ducked under, but he’d rushed forward and was waiting for her when she straightened.

I heard the crunch of bones. Helena had not moved. The injury was his and his alone. Still, Farian paid it no mind and swung his other arm, much with the same result. Even then he didn’t stop, his blows coming in a steady cadence. Finally, when his lungs and arms grew too heavy to continue, he tried to wrap his hands around her neck. He strained with the effort, but his hands—now mounds of bloody, broken, unresponsive flesh and bone—just lay harmlessly on her shoulders, twitching.

“Why?” he asked, the anger on his face tempered with deep exhaustion and deeper sadness.

“My dear Farian,” Addy began. Blood trickled from Farian’s hands. She took one into her own, brought it to her face, and kissed it, her lips marked red by his blood. “The why of it all is too much for me to answer. I do not jest, deflect, or lie when I tell you this. My master will be here soon—if he isn’t already—and then there will be more urgent matters I must face. So, while we have the time, try to be specific, and I’ll answer what I can.”

I’d crawled under the table the moment Farian had come through the door. Something about his anger, his ready violence, and his lack of control reminded me of Kalin. Now, uncomfortable and unaccustomed to the sincerity of their conversation, I stayed perfectly still, watching them. It’s not often I’d see the better sides of humanity—especially through the prism of conflict.

After a long pause, Farian asked, “Why’d you marry me?”

“For solace. For the love you had for me.”

Farian pulled his hand back from Leahne’s tender hold, wincing as it came away.

“And then because I grew fond of you,” Addy hastily added.

“Solace from what?”

“From heartache.”

Farian’s frown deepened. “And Merkus?”

“He is the man who owns my life,” Addy answered. “Beyond that, I cannot say.”

“Prince Knite,” Farian said.

Addy remained quiet, giving Farian’s utterance a moment to weigh on the silence. “So, Master’s mask has broken.”

“My son was a mask?” Farian’s anger resurfaced. “A mask!"

“No,” a deep voice interjected. “Not a mask as you know it.”

I don’t know what I’d expected a god to look like. Whatever it was, Knite wasn’t it. Dark. No other word could describe him better. It was more than his dark eyes, the stark black of his thick eyebrows and shoulder-length hair, the bleak greys of his clothes. Darkness just seemed to radiate from him in some intangible way I couldn’t quite fathom.

His gaze shifted across the room, taking in the broken hinges that hung from the door frame, the blood on Farian and Addy, the loose door leaning on the bed, and finally coming to rest on something above me, above the desk I hid under. He held out a hand and a blur of black shot into it.

The naftajar!

I clambered from beneath the desk, glancing at the window as I stood.

“And where did this wretched critter come from?” Knite asked, his hand squeezing the writhing mass of black.

“Not a mask?” Farian asked, unfazed by the abnormal creature.

Knite ignored the man, looking past him to Addy. “We’ll be in the library. Join us when you are done here.”

“I thought I’d raised an honest son!” Farian roared. “Now I know all I’ve done was harbor a coward who hides behind lies and runs whenever he’s stripped of them. A li—”

He moved too quickly for me to see. Farian’s lumbering frame crashed to the floor. Knite looming over him, a hand to his throat, a knee to his chest. Farian struggled against the hold, trying to push him off. Failing, he tried to unfurl Knite’s grip, raking his scarred fingers against the hand that denied him air. Nothing worked. Fear and panic settled in. He tried to speak, but no sound came, and he pleaded noiselessly.

Despite the rush of aggression, Knite’s voice was calm when he spoke. “Never. Call. Me. A. Liar.” He stared at the larger man, looking for some answer no words could provide.

Helena took a step towards them. “Master?”

Knite released him. Farian gasped, scrambling for air.

“Thank you,” Helena said.

Knite waved a hand at me. “Come, Aki. It is nearly a new day and we have a guest waiting.”

Farian spluttered for air as I hurried after Knite.

Leahne held a thick tome of aged leather as we came into the library. She sat on a reading chair, engrossed.

“He thought he could beat me,” Knite said as we came in.

Leahne raised her head, forcing her unwilling eyes to follow.

“That’s why he accepted my challenge.” Knite sat beside her. “Why he lost the war.” He pointed to the book Leahne held. “They write lies and call it history.”

I chose to stand, leaning against the door. “What war? Against whom?”

“The Golden King, when he came to storm the Eastern Gate with his army,” Knite said.

Leahne snapped shut the heavy book, driving a plume of dust into the air. “He was a god,” she said, “so he had a chance.”

Knite smiled. “There are no gods I know of.”

“You know yourself,” Leahne said.

“Exactly,” I said. “He’s saying none of them are gods.”

Knite waved away the topic, lips ever so slightly tightening. “We have more important matters to discuss. Leahne, tell me, what are my sister’s plans for our friend here.”

“She’s no friend of mine,” I hissed, staring daggers at Leahne.

Leahne carried the tome to one of the shelves, pushing it back in place, fingers tracing down its spine before her hand came away. “When you read souls like you would a book, what are you if not gods? What are you when you’ve lived longer than history itself? How can you deny—”

“We are long-lived and powerful, yes, but we are not gods,” Knite answered. He pulled his swords out from over his shoulders and laid them on his lap, his hands sitting lightly atop the hilts. “A true god is not one of power, or destruction, or even creation, but of existence. Now, I will not ask again, tell me of my sister’s plans.”

Leahne’s face drained of color as she watched the naked blades, laughing. “Of course, of course. Apologies, my Lord. But really, there’s not much I can tell you.”

I smiled, enjoying her veiled fear. A flash of my father smiling at my pain crossed my mind. Then a murmur of Diloni’s warning crossed my lips, flattening the curves of my sneer.

“Lorail?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.

“Yes,” Leahne said. “She wanted me to isolate you from everyone at the academy. You didn’t make that easy for me.” She flicked a look at Knite. “Neither of you did.”

“Is that why you tried to tunnel my thoughts?” I asked.

Knite chuckled in a tone more suited to the crushing of rock than to laughter. “The zephyr matrix.”

“You?” Leahne asked, directing a finger at me. “You!”

“You deserved worse,” I said. “It’s a crime to tunnel anyone before their assessment.”

The residue of her failed attempt lingered, nagging faint discouragements at me every time I thought to speak to others.

“I was ordered by a god,” she said, wholly remorseless. “What are laws against demands from those who dictate them.”

Knite ran a hand down his face. “Enough. As amusing as your spats may be, let us get back to more important matters. Rowan’s death will force Lorail to act. From what I gather, she was expecting Aki to be brought to her hours ago. Her agents are likely already on their way to investigate. ” Knite eyed Leahne. “Who do you think they’ll look for first?”

“I see,” she said.

“Then you cannot be missing for too long. If you are, no excuse would save you from a scrying. I imagine that would be a less than pleasant experience—especially when she discovers your betrayal. That cannot happen. Except for the collectors, who would’ve rendered your soul inert in the endeavor, none but I can erase Lorail’s mark. The discovery of your betrayal would be tantamount to the discovery of my return.”

Leahne nodded. “Yes, Lord.”

“So, tell me, how exactly was she planning to recruit Merkus?”

Leahne sat, her back straight. “As you know, Lorail is the most reviled of the gods—though almost no one is daring enough to tell it to anyone but themselves. Recruitment outside Halor is largely done with indirect force, whether by subtle manipulation or explicit threat. I believe, and I must stress that this is nothing but conjecture, that she’s long been manipulating Aki and was soon to be threatening you with some charge or other.”

“No one manipulates me,” I hissed.

“Your insular life indicates she’s been influencing you for quite some time,” Leahne explained. The look of pity she gave me fueled me towards new heights of anger. “It’s her way to drown people with one hand and offer rescue with the other. I doubt your solitude is by happenstance.”

“I have Merkus, and Edon, and Diloni, and—” I snapped my mouth shut, horrified I almost uttered his name.

“Merkus was an exception,” Leahne said. “With your resistance and his immunity to my tunneling, I failed my task.”

“And Edon?”

“He’s of House Bainan. We didn’t expect a royal from The Branches to associate with either of you. I’d not dared tunnel him for fear of discovery.”

“And Diloni?” I persisted.

“Likely someone else’s failure.”

“I thought as much,” Knite said, rubbing at his chin.

“No!” I barked, taking a step towards Leahne as if to add weight to my denial. “I am my own.”

“You are, Aki,” Knite said, laughing.

“This is funny to you?”

“No,” he said, his mirth gone, the harshness of restrain playing on his voice. “I agree you are your own. It’s just that I’ve never seen you disagree so passionately.”

“Oh.” I recognized the uncontrolled display of emotions I so unwittingly exhibited. This wasn’t me. This wasn’t who I told myself to be. But I refused to believe that my mind—the only thing I’d been left to control, the only thing I counted on—was being led by another.

“Sorry,” I said, half to Knite for my insolence, half to myself for betraying my emotions.

“My recruitment was…” Leahne paused, sadness in her eyes, an odd smile on her lips, “Let's just say I understand.”

“Alright,” Knite said, cutting through the morose ambiance. “Where are you staying, Leahne?”

“Not far from here.”

“Then go and tell them you know nothing. Go about your days as you normally would. I assume you are safe from your fellow agents?”

“They’re my—were my subordinates. I can handle them.” Leahne hesitated. “Er…my Lord—”

Knite waved a dismissive hand. “Her conceit will not allow her to consider the prospect of your betrayal. As long as you avoid any actions that might lead to a scrying, you should be safe.” Leahne lingered, unwilling to leave. “And yes, I will cure the contractor’s mark, but not now. Its absence would raise too many questions, so, for now, you must endure.”

“Yes, Lord.” Leahne stood, bowed, and left. I closed the door behind her, putting my ear on the smooth wood for the sounds of her steps to fade into silence.

“Do you trust her?” I asked.

“I’ve read her soul, Aki. I’ve no need for trust.”

“For a man who says he’s not a god, you sound an awful lot like one.”

He smiled. “And what would you know of gods?”

“True,” I conceded, taking the seat Leahne had vacated. “Except that, I might be one.”

“You are,” he confirmed, “in as much any of us are.”

“You knew?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“One of those secrets I can't yet tell you.”

“And my father?”

Knite shrugged, his smirk showing me a glimpse of Merkus. “He is who he is.”

I watched him. Merkus would’ve filled the silence with some incisive observation or other. Knite remained as he was, matching my quiet stare.

“You’ve changed,” I said, breaking the desolate silence.

Knite’s head tilted, a curious movement I couldn’t read. “Of course. I’m not Merkus.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “And perhaps I’m not Aki.”

He shook his hea. “Like myself, you both are and aren't by way of being more.” He closed his eyes and leaned back. “Maybe even more than I know.”

“Why did you betray you mother?”

Knite sighed in disappointment. “I hoped you’d know without asking.”

I returned the sigh. “Will all your answers remain cryptic? Will all our conversations be a dance of hidden meanings from now and on?”

Knite laughed. “I’m afraid so.” He leaned forward, his deep, dark eyes drilling me with a seriousness Merkus lacked. “There’s too much at risk for me not to be loose with my answers and tight with the truth, Aki. I wish it were not so, but it is.”

“What can you tell me,” I asked, failing at hiding my frustration.

“I need you to pass into the Royal Academy,” he said. I blinked in surprise. “You’ll also need to win a commission into the Royal Institute of War.”

I surged to my feet. “Those are more like demands than answers!”

“Our goals align, Aki. How can I demand something you already want? But yes, I know, telling you the how without the why is not much of an answer. Alas, for now, it is all you’ll get from me.”

“And by what credence do you attribute me capable?”

“Being a royal is not enough?”

“Don’t be crass, Merkus! I haven't the patience for your dry wit. You know that my soulstream is only a trickle.”

“Is it?”

“Merkus!”

Merkus’ jovial grin switched to a severe expression. Despite myself, I stepped back.

“I can be forgiving, Aki,” he said. “Understanding at times. Tolerant when I need to be. But I have my limits and you’d do well not to think yourself beyond them.”

Panic bit into my heart, licking at me with tongues of dread. Then anger pushed fear aside and, for a moment, I hated him pure—for threatening our friendship, for playing on my greatest weakness, for breaking the trust I had in never having to fear him.

Knite sighed. “You always were quick to anger.”

“No, I am not,” I said defiantly, but I knew I was. I just used to be better at hiding it.

As if privy to my silent confession, he said, “You’ll have to re-educate yourself on how to control and conceal your emotions.” He reached into the folds of his dark cloak, fishing out the naftajar. “I’m afraid purging this has…unblocked the valleys of your soul. As preferable as that was, it isn’t without its cost.”

“Unblocked? Who put that creature in me? How did I take it out? How did I know how to take it out?”

Knite squeezed the creature until its bulbous figure bulged, its bulk wedged between his fingers. Then, in a small explosion of immaterial splutter, it was no more. “All questions I cannot answer—yet. What you know is already dangerous.”

“Then tell me why?”

“As Leahne and I have tried to explain, Lorail has wormed deeper into your life than you suspect, my friend.”

“I am my own,” I growled.

“You are, but no man is free from the influence of those around him.” He paused, taking a moment to let his point sink. “Who’s Diloni?”

The question, abrupt as it was, caught me off guard. It pulled on memories whose bite yet hurt. “Why?” I asked. “What has she to do with this?”

“I suspect she, crippled by time or injury, was relegated to The Muds alone and without option.”

“No, not at all. She’s a library custodian with a son who’s just ascended.” I smiled, enjoying my correction. Petty and childish as it was, on a night that’d brought me nothing but questions, it felt good to be the one with an answer.

Knite nodded. “Yes, that fits.”

“Fits? Fits into what?”

“I suspect there isn’t another agent who’d failed as Leahne theorized, but that Diloni herself is the agent.”

“No!” I denied. “Not possible. She—”

“Had to prepare you, Aki. Lorail couldn’t have you brought to her uncouth and uneducated. You speak as well as any man from The Branches. Better than most. Better than some in The Leaves. Who taught you?”

“I learned from books, from the Masters of the acad—”

“Every Root can read,” Knite interrupted. “Most don’t speak as well as you do. Why do you think Leahne was told to discourage you from talking to others?”

I remember the late nights I’d spent with Diloni, debating the books she’d given me to read. How she corrected my pronunciation and grammar at every turn.

“Who instilled in you that respect—not devotion, but respect—for royalty?” Knite continued.

I remembered the tall tales she told of the mighty King and his children, of how they defended us from wayward gods. How they gave us the freedom to excel. How it was our duty to do so.

“When coincidence aids an enemy, regardless of whether or not it aided you too, it would take a fool not to doubt if it was too convenient to be one at all. You have never been a fool, Aki. Not for as long as I’ve known you.”

I slumped in my chair. What else had I not considered? What else had instructed me without my knowing? She’d gone to The Roots the same day Rowan came for me, the same day that slow son of hers was given the position of a guard. Gods, I thought, how could I have been so blind?

Knite continued to speak to me but his voice was distant, bogged down by my racing thoughts. “She did it for her son,” I said, barely aware I interrupted him. “She did it so he could ascend. So they both could.”

“Yes. A fairer trade than Lorail is used to granting. Now, about your father?”

“What of him?” I asked, both dreading and eager to be done with whatever else he would reveal.

“From what you’ve told me, I’ve always thought him too cruel for reason. A vindictive drunk, yes, but why?”

“Cruelty begets cruelty,” I said. “It’s the way of The Muds—especially for those of weak will and weaker spirits.”

“But he is your father, and your mother is your mother,” Knite said. “There must be a reason.”

Gods, my father. He knew. He knew all if not most. Why did Lorail father his child? Why had he hated me for being born? I should ask. I will ask. I must.

“Why?” I whispered.

“Men are…not treated well under Lorail’s rule. If not for the House’s talent for slavery, I doubt they would have any left under their banner.”

“I know.”

“But your father, Aki? What about your father?”

“Forced,” I said in disbelief. “A slave.” I could not fathom why I’d not considered it.

“Not necessarily. I doubt any man would need encouragement to bed Lorail when she cares to want him to. And he might hate you for reminding him of himself. Or her. Maybe it’s that and more. Maybe it’s something else entirely. What is certain is that it began with your mother, and she made sure you’d not suspect it.”

“I’ll kill her,” I growled. The words came from a depth I’d not known I had. From a prideful, vengeful part of me that refused to tolerate argument.

“Perhaps your father is merely a hapless puppet,” Knite offered.

“He can read and write, you know,” I said. “There were books and notes in his room. He was literate and yet he lived as a laborer with no ambition for more. Truly a shell of a man.”

“Ah,” Knite began. I was starting to hate the man. “A shell, you say. An interesting turn of phrase. “

“Be done with this slow torture of yours!” I held up a hand. “And before you care to threaten me with that look you’ve suddenly grown so fond of—"

Knite broke into laughter. It was good to see him as mercurial as ever; he felt less like a stranger for it, and despite my anger, I smiled.

“For the hilarity of your intractable emotions, I’ll forgive you your transgression,” he said, chuckling. “Anyhow, a shell is a perfect partner when you want a child that is more you than they. It explains why you have the pale hair and skin the godlings are known for while inheriting little to nothing from your father. Few among Fioras and Seculors can claim as much likeness to The Seven.”

“I’ll kill her,” I repeated. “My whole life, a sick conception of her control.”

“Good. You may not know my reasons, but now at least you have your own.”

I slammed a fist on the armrest of the chair. “I’ll wipe her from existence!”

“Enough,” Knite said. “We have more to discuss and time is running out.”

“More?” I asked. “What more could there be?”

“Well…”