“I know.” Brokk said.
Memphis felt heat flush his cheeks. The memory of Emory’s lips against his ignited him, hope bubbling in his chest. When they made it back, he daydreamed of what he would say to her. He didn’t care if she was a princess; titles were nothing compared to belonging to another human. Emory had enraptured him in every sense of the word.
“Memphis! Brokk!”
Turning, Memphis saw flaming red hair cut through the crowd. Alby, a bit out of breath, ran up to them grinning. “Am I ever glad to see you both here. Come on, let’s catch up.”
The three of them turned, Alby chattering away, as Memphis shot Brokk a glare, his ability wrapping around him as he stated in his mind, “We will talk more later.”
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 of 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, Memphis eyed the other side of the camp warily. Tadeas’s men were roaring with laughter, having broken out some ale. 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. An hour before, Tadeas had hungrily taken in his best friend like a prized possession, ignoring him and Alby. Memphis exhaled 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, Alb? Cesan has made his decision, and we have to go through with ours.”
The unsaid words hung in between them all.
Staring into the flames, Memphis tried to find his answers in the flickering oranges and pulsing embers. The tides of Kiero were churning. Now, a battle loomed, caused by two friends over spite and power.
How many would die before the Faes were sated?
Turning his gaze upward, 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.
Memphis knew he should tell Brokk about that day in Sarthaven. About the whispers of Roque and Camden. Rolling his shoulders, he said, “I’m going to try to get some sleep.”
Brokk raised an eyebrow, sensing his turmoil. Alby nodded, saying goodnight, and Memphis 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, 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 Memphis fell deeper into his exhaustion, but 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. Memphis flinched, his eyes flying open, and 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 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. His ability shattered through Tadeas’s mind 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, pushed under them. His power shifted 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.
Memphis 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?”
He 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 very still. “We have bowed to Kiero’s demands for years. I have watched my people, people that I love, 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 uphold my word in giving justice with a fair 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
