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He stroked his chin as he stared into the distance, deep in thought. “You must take control of the ship and bring her to me yourself.”
Shit. This was exactly what he expected Jevara to say and he wasn’t sure it was possible. “One, maybe two of the crewmembers will follow my lead if the price is right, but the others are unpredictable.” Backing the Torretian rebels was one thing. Doing anything for Jevara was a much harder idea to sell. Most Altorians wouldn’t go there regardless of the monetary rewards.
“How many does it take to fly the ship?”
Telias tensed. There was only one reason for the question and answering it would lock him into a trajectory he wasn’t ready to face.
“Can you finish the mission with only two crewmembers?” Jevara persisted, brows raised dramatically.
“Yes, sire.” Dread inundated his being as soon as the words passed his lips.
“Then kill the rest and bring me my fucking conduit!” Without giving Telias time to respond, Jevara ended the comm.
* * *
“Wow, this place is amazing.” Laidon turned in a slow circle, his gaze drawn ever upward.
Cylex had reacted in much the same way the first time he’d seen the Grand Vestibule of the Temple of Air. He had just turned sixteen, so the only thing that usually impressed him was the female form, but this place was astonishingly beautiful. The entry hall was constructed of massive prisms that split and refracted light. The result was shimmering colors and shapes formed entirely of light.
“I’ve heard about the temple my entire life, but this is the first time I’ve seen it in person.” Laidon’s voice became hushed and reverent, as most voices did. The vestibule set the tone for the rest of the temple. Everything was tranquil and orderly. When Cylex didn’t reply, Laidon looked at him. “You’ve clearly seen it before.” His forehead furrowed and he narrowed his gaze. “How well did you know Kern? He mentioned that you went to the same school, but didn’t indicate that you were friends.”
“We haven’t spoken in years. Many years,” Cylex said dismissively. He walked up to the reception desk. “Mistress Air is expecting us.”
The receptionist was a pretty young female, but all Cylex could think about was Raina. If Kern had harmed her, Cylex would rip out his heart and shove it down his throat.
“Have you met the high priestess before?” Laidon persisted. “I’ve heard she can be formidable.”
“I have spoken with Mistress Air a couple of times, and yes, she is impressive.” Actually, he’d met her six or seven times and dined with her four or five. She was his former best friend’s only living relative. It was natural that they had socialized.
A robed acolyte walked up to them. Her hip-length hair was tightly bound but swung hypnotically as she walked. “I am looking for Laidon and Cylex.”
“You found us,” Laidon said with a practiced smile.
How the fuck could he be so jovial while Raina was fighting for her life?
The girl blushed and motioned toward the archway on their left. “This way, please.”
Continuing with his inappropriate liveliness, Laidon asked the acolyte questions and flirted with her as they made their way from the section of the temple that was open to the public and into the restricted area. They crossed a garden with fragrant flowers, bushes loaded with berries, and mature fruit trees. The acolyte led them to a door tucked away in the far corner of the garden. She knocked on the door, then pushed it open and motioned for them to enter.
Laidon went first, but years of security made Cylex more cautious. He was no longer Kern’s friend, and Udora led a mystical force nearly as strong as the Citadel’s. Beyond the doorway was an office, but it was not the workspace Udora had used when Cylex had been here years ago. This one was much smaller and utilitarian, the furniture simplistic. There were two doorways, the one through which they had just entered and another on the wall he faced. There were three chairs arranged against the wall on his left, and a small desk with matching chairs on his right. No images adorned the walls, and there were no windows even though the office bordered the beautiful garden. It was not a welcoming space, not comfortable. It felt almost punitive, which should have warned Laidon that they were not honored guests.
“Mistress Air will be with you momentarily,” the acolyte said and then closed the door.
“Why use all the religious terminology?” When Udora didn’t join them immediately, Laidon moved to the chairs on their left and sat down. “They teach people how to manifest elemental magic just like the Citadel, don’t they?”
Cylex positioned himself so that he could see both doorways and remained standing. “Pyron takes a more spiritual approach than the Altorians, but the concepts are similar. The primary difference is the Pyronese abhorrence for war.”
Laidon’s brows drew together. “What’s the point of harnessing all of that power if they refuse to use it?”
“They defend themselves when threatened, but they refuse to use violence to resolve conflicts.”
Laidon scoffed. “Name one ambitious dictator who was stopped through negotiation.”
Cylex only had a rudimentary understanding of Pyronese philosophy, so he said nothing more.
“Have any of the Pyronese been trained as controllers or sources?” Laidon wanted to know.
Udora Flowed into the room in time to answer the question. “Those are Altorian terms,” she told him casually, as if she hadn’t just appeared out of thin air. “We take a more holistic approach to magic. Our focus is on balance, and the natural flow of energy. Everyone has unique aptitudes, so we see no reason to apply labels.”
