Brokk waggled his eyebrows at his tone, making Memphis shoot him a vulgar gesture that made him bark out a laugh. Falling into step with Alby, the three out them set out to make camp.
Embers floated up, twisting and churning through the bleak night, as they sat around the fire. Propping himself up against a decayed log they had found, he eyed the other side of the camp warily. Tadeas’s men were roaring with laughter, having broken out ale amongst the men and women from the Shattered Isles. On their left, the teachers and seniors from the Academy watched their animated chatter with darkened gazes. It would seem they weren’t the only ones who didn’t trust the king from across the Black Sea.
Brokk passed him the dried-out meat and water jug they had acquired from Tadeas. The man had hungrily taken in his best friend like a prized possession, ignoring him and Alby. Exhaling through his nose as he took a deep swig.
Running a hand through his flaming hair, Alby whispered, “How far do you think Cesan will go?”
Brokk snapped his attention to Alby. “Who knows? Cesan has made his decision, and we have to go through with ours.”
The unsaid words hung between them. Staring into the flames, Memphis tried to find his answers in the flickering oranges and pulsing embers. The tides were turning over spite and power. Turning his gaze upwards, he took in the starless night. Deep, never-ending clouds had whisked away any trace of them. It felt like the entire world was holding its breath. Maybe it was. In the end, it wouldn’t matter. He knew he should tell Brokk about that day in Sarthaven. About the whispers.
Rolling his shoulders, he murmured, “I’m going to try to get some sleep.”
Brokk raised an eyebrow at him, sensing his turmoil. Alby nodded, saying goodnight, and he grabbed his pack and weapons, stiffly making his way to the tent. Groaning, he threw the flap back and lowered himself onto the floor, pulling his jacket tighter around him and using his pack as a pillow. Breathing deeply, his eyelids fluttered closed, and his body slowly uncoiled muscle by muscle. The voices of the camp became a distant hum as he fell deeper into his exhaustion. His ability was waiting for him at the other end.
It was like sharp talons shredding his barricade, his dark desires throwing all he had into the action. He flinched, his eyes flying open as a cold sweat broke out over his skin. He felt each wall dissipate, breaking to his will. His world tilted sickly, and he was pulled under. He was like a hunter prowling, swiftly and surely. It took him seconds before his ability curled around Tadeas’s mind. No. no. No! He was scrambling, trying to throw those walls back up, scrambling to bring himself back into the haven of himself. His ability shattered through Tadeas with ease and precision. The king was talking adamantly to his companions and had no idea that Memphis was swept into the depths of his consciousness, searching and reaping. He was obliterated in the current of memories and thoughts, being pushed under. His power snarled and snapped, shifting through the unnecessary details, like a bloodhound on a scent. He now had one intention, and he would not fail. Emotions and images flew by him until a name started echoing through him. Roque. Roque. Roque. He was slammed into the memory, and everything he knew bled away.
Roque slammed his hand on the oak table, breathing hard, looking completely unhinged. Tadeas raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms. “How are we going to trust one another, Roque, when you won’t break away from the mistakes of the past?”
Roque laughed darkly, shaking as he sized him up. “What happened with my father has nothing to do with the situation at hand. You waltz in here expecting not only me, but my family and my school, to bow to your every demand?”
Tadeas became still, as he drawled, “We have bowed to Kiero’s demand for years. I have watched my people that I love to be shackled, enslaved, and destroyed. I’m not asking for your bleeding government, I’m asking for your trust. Allow us to build together, Roque. You and I both know how precarious your situation has now become. Do not allow one man to destroy it.”
Roque frowned, staring at the polished oak as if he would find his answers. “He is my best friend.”
“Who has now put your world at stake.”
Roque raised his gaze. “There are innocents in Sarthaven. They will get caught in the crossfire if I go through with this. Cesan is too cunning and knows me too well. He will expect me to stay true to my word. I just transferred the communication this morning. As king, he will expect a trial.”
Tadeas smiled sadly. “No one said achieving the greater good was going to be easy. People will die, but it won’t be for nothing. We need each other as allies. Cesan will expect a trial, but what he won’t foresee is our allegiance. Let me end him.”
Roque snarled. “And what do you expect in return?”
Tadeas smoothed the front of his jacket, clucking his tongue. “As I said, I want our trading routes reinstated. I am here to compromise, not to threaten you. We can both keep our secrets and uphold our life, Roque.”
“And what is that supposed to mean?”
He smirked. “Sailors gather a lot of information on their travels. Let’s just say you are a hot topic amongst the Shattered Isles.”
Roque paled, chewing his lower lip. “I don’t want to enter another war.”
Tadeas nodded. “Leave it to me. We will bait Cesan, and then it will be done.”
Pausing, Roque sighed. “Okay. Do it.”
Tadeas bowed
