The lush smell of baking bread drifting from the direction of the Lells sent Lapis’s stomach into a breathless roar. It definitely wanted the tantalizing food, and she told it to stop. She had business other than filling her gullet. She had not chased in several days, and she needed to pad her savings before she purchased such luscious fare.
Her brain, which wanted the food as much as her stomach, reminded her that Patch sternly told her to use his funds, since she had gone so long without a stake. Her stubbornness would not feed her. True enough, though she had a hard time accepting the generosity.
He had cared for her in Coriy, provided food, shelter, training, and she added little other than company to their relationship. She had refused to depend on him for much of anything once they reached Jiy, and to swallow her pride and take a few bits depressed her.
Her brain reminded her they were partners, in more ways than one.
Her shoulders sagged. Perhaps.
Varr breathed deeply, satisfied. “Crackle bread,” he commented. “Never tasted much better.”
“I looooove crackle bread,” Gabby told him. She loved the loaves so much, she even promised Rin favors if he would steal some for her. A tit for a tat, he told Lapis. She still wondered what the girl did for him in return, but suspected she had accompanied Maci and Drow on their outcity rock expeditions and collected fresh berries for him. “I’ve been talking to Sir Armarandos about being a knight, and he said he’d feed me if I listened. He bought me crackle bread once!”
Lapis blinked at the rat. She spoke with Sir Armarandos? The thought triggered her memory; the knight told her to slog through the volumes of Arturo’s dreck, and he would discuss them with her. The reading circle even joined her in the painful study.
Her memory was returning! Little bits and pieces, but relief streaked through her, and the prospect of confronting Baldur became slightly less repugnant. She would suffer worse, to recall the events of the last several days.
“Why a knight?” Varr asked.
“Because knights help people,” she said officiously. “And that’s what I’m going to do!”
“I’ve rarely seen your determination in a kid,” he said, his voice rolling through the air like soft honey. “Lanth here, she changed what she wanted to do twice a week!”
She sighed at the teasing and pursed her lips at the laughing rats. At least they spoke with Varr without fear; several people scurried out of their way when they noticed him, irritating her no end. He was not the monster they assumed based on his height and bulk. No, those types wore black uniforms and put poison on their blades.
She eyed the bored Dentherion guard positioned with the agitated city ones at the entrance to the Lells; after Ruddy’s, soldiers accompanied the locals on patrols whether the locals wanted them to or not. No one was happy with the arrangement, and Patch said that Sir Armarandos had made a pest of himself getting the skyshroud and palace to reverse course. The knight pointed out, rightly, that Jiy did not trust the Dentherions to protect them, and a populace expecting slaughter did not go out and about like they used to. Business suffered, and merchants griped. Hopefully those selling Dentherion wares complained loud enough the Lords’ Council heard them, and something changed.
The entire city, from the opulent noble sitting in his garden, to the poorest beggar hobbling about and asking for coin, realized that something bad happened out Blossom way and off Crandleberry, and the hush-hush from the skyshroud and palace, combined with the soldiers’ presence on the streets, made them suspicious. The tales from that night startled Lapis; not many reflected reality, but terror inspired odd things. What had the farmers said, to instigate the wild fantasies of ghosts and monsters rather than a syndicate attack?
Rin loved telling the story of their escape to anyone who would listen, and she wondered how much embellishment he provided when not in her company. He set them up on a chase, which, she supposed, bent the truth a little but did not break it, and then whirled into descriptions of cyan and green lights and the horse jumping the Swift . . .
Nightmares plagued her about the escape, though the rat appeared unaffected. She dreamed of him morphing into Endre and ending up dead, and her crying over him as the aircraft burst into flames that tore across the grass and swallowed her. She would get over it, but the rawness had not begun to heal.
And Lykas was jealous of his adventures. Stupid rat.
Nerik trotted up, annoyed. He did a double-take when he noticed Varr, but that was the extent of his adverse reaction. He skiddled up to her and leaned close.
“Lady, Whitley’s at Phialla and Ness’s stall,” he told her. “We thought that’d be an easy place to find. That Baldur’s on the other side, botherin’ some of the older rats.”
“He bothered Rin a bit too much.”
“Yeah,” he admitted with a lopsided grin. “He’s realized his coin’s gone, but no one wants to help him, and he doesn’t want to talk to the guard.”
Of course not. “Thank you, Nerik. How are you doing?”
He shrugged. “Like always,” he said. “Not much has happened, what with everyone hidin’. They don’t like the Dentherions much.”
“Yeah. If you can’t buy food, tell Rin. We’ll get something to you.”
He grinned. “You’re always takin’ care of us, Lady,” he said. “Even those of us who don’t deserve it.”
Lars, perhaps? “I don’t do much.”
“You do what you can,” he immediately replied. “And that’s more than those with money fallin’ out of their pockets manage.”
“Good hearts are rare,” Varr murmured, his voice a deep rumble swimming around them. “And that’s the reason they don’t have much. They care enough, they aren’t willing to crush others to get ahead.”
“That’s part of being a true knight,” Gabby piped up. “Sir Armarandos told me that. People won’t understand why you’re helping, and they’ll be angry at you for it. They’ll make excuses because they know they’re failing in their duties to other people, and the easiest way to salve their guilt is to tear down someone who isn’t so selfish.”
Varr chuckled. “Mandi always did have a way with words,” he said. “He’s experienced enough of it. Being noble, but turning the city guard into an entity that helps people? Even his dad thinks it’s a waste of time.”
Gabby nodded solemnly. “Lord Adrastos even told me that,” she said. “But Sir Armarandos reminded him how much he donates to charities. Not in Jiy, but in rural communities that have even less.”
They reached Phialla and Ness’s pottery rug. Ness waved, boredom turned to excitement. Whitley sat next to Phialla, listening to something she said. He looked rough, his clothing wrinkled, his hair unbrushed. He was sixteen, sure, but he kept better care of himself than that. What happened to him? He rose, unsteady, and stretched to hide the fact.
“You want to talk here?” she asked quietly. He shook his head and managed a smile for the rats.
“Phialla and Ness are good company, though.”
“It is kinda boring, sitting and selling pottery,” Phialla admitted. “Especially when no one’s buying.”
Ness looked sad at that. “I painted special ones, too,” he said, touching the top of a bowl with bright colors swirled together that looked far more artistic than his previous attempts.
“The crowds’ll be back,” Lapis promised. “Give them a few more days.”
“I hope Sir Armarandos can get them to leave,” he grumbled. He obviously meant the Dentherions, even if he refused to name them. “They’re causin’ nothin’ but trouble.”
True enough. She jerked her chin at Gabby and Scand. “Go find Baldur and keep an eye on him,” she told them. Whitley looked faintly surprised as the two grinned and scampered off. Varr hunkered down and studied the pottery, nodding to himself.
“You’ve spoken to Mairin?” he asked.
“Yes!” Phialla said brightly. “She helped us make stuff that’s targeted to the Dentherion tourists!”
He chuckled. “Could tell,” he said, tapping the top of one of the cups. “That’s good. Learn what those with spending money want and ply them. You have the makings of a fine little shop, here.”
“Thank you!”
He circled his finger about the tops of the cups. “Wrap those up for me, give them to Lanth if I’m not at the Eaves later.” He tossed a few bits—and far more than they were worth—into their ceramic money jar. “I know someone who’ll love these for their tea.” She raised an eyebrow, and he grinned. “You need to meet Midir’s scamp of a daughter,” he reminded her.
Presents. That did not surprise her; he had a soft spot for those he loved. Much like Faelan. She touched her bracelet, embracing the fuzzy warmth that coursed through her at the memory of him giving it to her. Not so long ago, she assumed she would hate him for eternity, but her desperation to regain the brother she adored drove her in the opposite direction. She wanted familial love to return to her life.
Several empty wooden tables and benches sat outside Jory’s Pastries, and Varr sternly told her and Whitley to find a seat while he retrieved something to eat. He clearly thought the lad needed it, and Lapis could not argue. She settled them far away from other customers, and he sank into the chair, weary and unable to hide it.
“How did you know to ask the rats for me?”
“The kids you rescued, they all talked about you being Lady Lanth, and they described what your reading circle looked like.”
“What happened, that you needed to find me?” she asked softly.
“Have you kept up with anything at the House?” he asked.
“No. I was avoiding it, then I got poisoned.” His eyes bulged at that. “Yeah, Dentherion blades are coated.”
He nodded and sucked in a breath. “I know.” Stressed tears filled his voice. “They got my dad.”
Oh no. “Whitley!” she said, reaching over to place a comforting hand on his arm, concern, shocked.
“He was guarding Vivina,” he told her, and swallowed hard. “Baldur was paying good money because someone told the Dentherions she was with a bunch of kids on the day you escaped, and they’ve been searching for her. He’s been trying to keep her safe, and he hired rebels to accompany her when she left the House.” His breath quivered and tears raced down his cheeks. “They caught her two days ago. Killed her guards and took her.”
Lapis closed her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Whitley. He didn’t deserve that.”
“No,” he agreed. “The House didn’t want to keep me on. I was too old, just another lazy mouth to feed. So I . . . left.” Anger ripped through his eyes before sorrow smashed it.
She firmed her grip on his bicep. Lazy? Whitley did far more for the House than most of the rebels, even if he did not go on missions. So many at the Jiy House completed one or two a month, and spent the rest of their time lounging about, spouting anti-palace rhetoric but doing little more to help the rebellion fulfill its pledge. Whitley ran errands and always helped when things needed fixing. He acted as server for Baldur and completed a myriad of small tasks that added up. They would miss him, likely without even realizing it.
“It’s up to you, but do you want to stay with the rebels?” she asked in a low tone.
He nodded. “Yeah. My dad wanted to make things better in Jilvayna. So do I. My dad thought sticking with Baldur was how to do it, but I don’t. I think Faelan did the right thing.” He sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “So many are pissed at him,” he said. “Some want a new Leader, someone they say who takes them seriously.”
“He did take them seriously,” she reminded him. “And they did such a stellar job at proving their worth, they left their children to a raid.”
“Yeah. They all know why he broke it. They don’t want to admit it. Too many relied on the rebellion for their work, and now they have to find something else, and no one’s really happy about it. Despite the danger, it wasn’t back-breaking money, so it had advantages. And some of them, they defined themselves as saviors of the country. Now they don’t even know who they are. They never expected their bad choices to hit them so hard, and choosing to support Baldur was a bad choice.” He rammed his palms into his cheeks, to smear away the tears. “That’s why they don’t want me around. I was Faelan’s errand runner. I wasn’t like them, anymore.”
Those fucks. “Anyone else upset and leaving?”
“Selda,” he admitted. “She’s righteous in her fury. But she disappeared, and everyone thinks either Brander or Sherridan took her to the new House. I don’t know.”
“Neither do I.” She paused, feeling a weight grind down on her. “No one looked for her?”
His sarcastic expression made her sigh. No, of course not.
“And Relaine?”
“She’s split the remaining people in two,” he said, his voice barely audible. “Some want her as dead as the Jiy House. Some think she’s their salvation. They still think Teivel is an important person in the rebellion. They shouldn’t, but they do. Everyone knows he survived the raid, and that he’s as out of touch with Faelan as Rambart and Meinrad.”
If anyone other than she had told them about his transgressions, they would have believed his sin. But her words never mattered. Most put up with her for Patch’s sake and having the option of tearing her down for their offenses gave them a convenient excuse to ignore their misdeeds.
Varr settled a tray of bread, pastries, and tea before them. He barely motioned at the food before she and Whitley tore into it; Lapis belatedly realized the bodyguard had only partaken of a few slices when they were mopping up the crumbs. He seemed pleased enough, so she decided not to worry on it. Unlike an unlucky rat, Varr could feed himself when he needed to.
She leaned over, intent and serious. “The Dentherions killed his dad,” she whispered. “The House kicked him out. Faelan’ll take him in.”
Varr regarded him, his grey eyes sad. “Sorry, lad,” he told him. “That’s a burden you shouldn’t have to bear. Lapis trusts you, though, or she wouldn’t speak for you. While it’s your decision, heartache runs with us.”
Whitley rubbed his fingertips across his pant leg and shook his head. “I grew up with it,” he said. “I know. And Baldur wasn’t so interested in running the House, as he was in making money. People died over it. My dad complained about it a lot.” He took a huge breath. “We should have left with Sherridan. I told him that, but he wasn’t sure the change was a good one. Now he’s dead.”
“His father was guarding Baldur’s daughter,” she said. “They killed the guards and took her. I’m betting that’s why he’s looking for me.”
Varr smashed his lips together and wobbled his head about, grimly annoyed. “Figures,” he grumbled. “Well, before that happens, let’s get you settled, eh, lad?”
“Do you have any things with you?” Lapis asked.
“Yeah. Rin has them. I was pretty concerned about leaving them with him, but the other kids here told me I can trust him, especially if I knew you.”
“That’s true,” she agreed. “Rin’s one of my reading rats. He’s been with me since I arrived in Jiy. He’s annoying and brash, but there’s a good person inside.” She looked askance at the rat, who snuck up on their little conversation. “I think. Might have to dig a bit deeper to uncover it, though.”
“Now, Lady,” he said, placing his hand over his heart. “You knows, I’s the Lady’s man.”
Varr huffed in laughter. “Good for you! She needs to be reminded she isn’t immortal, every so often.”
Rin plopped down in the seat next to the teen and grinned wide. “Don’t I knows it! But seein’ where she’s got it from, it probably won’t do any good.”
Lapis slammed her hands over her mouth and Whitley laughed at Varr’s exasperation. “Do tell,” he muttered.
“Rin, I need you to show Whitley to the House.”
“Thought as much. We stashed his stuff. It’ll be easy to get, ‘n I can take ‘m.”
She looked at the lad. “Tell Faelan about your dad and Vivina, as soon as you arrive,” she said. “He’ll need to act on this.”
“Before I left this morning, people were talking about Baldur wanting to talk to Patch. They’re afraid that Vivina’s going to break. No one wants to suffer through another raid when there’s nowhere else to go.”
Of course he wanted her partner. “Patch may be the only person Baldur can turn to who has a chance of getting Vivina back,” she agreed. “Rin can show you the Eaves, too. If you need anything, that’s where Patch and I are at. Come and get us.”
He hunched his shoulders. “Lapis, thank you,” he began. She raised a hand.
“Whitley, you don’t deserve any of this,” she reminded him. “You’re a good person, a friend, and I’m happy to help you.” His startlement nearly made her laugh. “I know what it’s like, to lose your family. It hurts. You wonder why, and how you could have changed what happened. You should be with people who want to help you heal. The Jiy House certainly doesn’t.” She smacked her hands on her hips and rose. “And now, I need to go talk to a certain unlovable roly-poly.”
“Be careful, Lapis,” he warned.
“She’s with me,” Varr assured him, slapping her on the back as he gained his feet. “I kept her out of trouble as a kid. It’s not so different, now.”
“Uh-huh,” she said sourly.
“I did!” he said, puffing out his chest. “I even outraced you, and that took skill.”
Rin looked far too excited to hear about those aspects of her childhood; she effectively dropped the subject by leaving. Both his and Varr’s expressions made her want to smack them; it was as if they shared intimate details about her through osmosis. She mentally grumbled at their anticipated delight in her foolish adventures.
