Ares took a deep breath, and I wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch me or kiss me. I knew the feeling well. He was a dick and I was an insufferable bitch. We’d be perfect for one another if we weren’t both emotionally constipated, immortal fools. So much the worse for both of us then.
When he failed to find a good answer, I stalked back inside. There was no reason to keep on with this nonsense. I was an ancient immortal. Perhaps it was time I grew the fuck up.
CHAPTER 21
ARES
Things weretense between Ember and I for the next week, but we fell easily into our antagonistic relationship. I hated it, but at the very least, it was familiar. We made no headway on learning more about Briony, and the girl needed rest.
Those who’d been possessed often needed months of recovery. The stronger the Rider, the more time the possessed needed. And, of course, she’d been injured. Now that we knew what she would become, it was easy to see the way her body already prepared for ascension and immortality. She healed faster than humans did, though not so much that it would be noticeable to people in her everyday life. I wondered if her stepmother had noticed—if she’d been the one to report her own child to Fairchild.
We came up with very little there as well. Whatever Fairchild’s covert operations were, he’d gone deep underground. He would resurface, I had no doubt. As a result, despite the way things were developing with me and Ember, my commitment to helping the Maere deepened. We’d uncovered something dangerous about the Authority, and we would need the protection. Stealing the Maere’s swords back would be complicated, but it was more important than ever.
We’d done several recon missions to the National Gallery, with Avaline on point. She was the least recognizable of the six of us, and with the power of her spirits on her side, she was able to move in near invisibility. It was little more than misdirection, but the vast wealth of talent it took to manage so many souls at once was remarkable.
The five of us waited for her return in the kitchen, Lara making breakfast, and the rest of us sitting quietly, practically ignoring one another. Briony was still sound asleep, and would not wake even if we shouted at one another. And yet, the kitchen was perfectly silent, but for the sound of bacon sizzling in the pan.
Eryx, Brontë, and I sat on rustic stools at the marble kitchen island, while Ember sat at the small bistro table placed under the only window in the kitchen, sipping her coffee. Every few minutes, I stole a glance at her. She was beautiful as ever, in a long silk robe. It was emerald green, with aubergine lining and hand-painted peonies. Her hair was messy, and there were mascara smudges under her eyes, as though she hadn’t removed her makeup the night before.
To be fair, she had been up half the night watching footage of the human guards in the National Gallery. We had the basics on their movements, but Ember insisted we also do real-time surveillance to see what the outliers might be. Right now, the plan was to steal the swords before the night of the auction.
Especially as a group, we were too recognizable to attend the actual auction and expect to make it out without consequences. So we had to learn as much about the security teams the Gallery employed as we could. Ember and Brontë began trading off night watches after they’d managed, with Avaline’s help, to hack into the CCTV feed. Since they needed less sleep than the rest of us, it was logical. Lara spent her evenings on watch, with Eryx and myself to cover her. We weren’t becoming friends, certainly, but the six of us worked well together.
Brontë glanced at me, raising an eyebrow as she followedmy gaze. She shook her head slightly as she sipped her latte. It was obvious she would not approve of any relationship between Ember and myself, which was fine. The mistake we’d made the night we arrived was just that, a mistake. There wouldn’t be another. At least, that was what I told myself about a thousand times a day.
Eryx, who watched the news on his phone in tandem with his usual newspaper, drew a sharp breath in. Brontë glanced over his shoulder to look at the screen. I watched as my brother tensed with anticipation. It was so obvious to me that he admired Rhiannon Brontë on some level I couldn’t quite understand, but she didn’t appear affected in the slightest.
Not that I expected her to. She was one of the coldest creatures I’d ever met in my life, rarely showing even a hint of emotion. And yet, her actions were deeply thoughtful, sublimely considerate of others, and almost altruistic. She was a bit of an enigma.
“Play it aloud,” she murmured to Eryx. Her face was very close to his ear, and he flushed as she breathed on him. I did my best to stifle a laugh. My little brother was so far gone for this woman, it would be funny in any other circumstance.
“You all need to hear this,” Brontë said.
Eryx dragged his finger across the screen to back the news report up, then took out his headphones, switching to the phone’s speakers. A familiar news-anchor’s voice played. The man had been dead for nearly thirty years, but he’d been a favorite, so the Corps had simply replicated him with AI tech. It was, to say the least, disturbing. I tried to ignore the unsettled feeling in my gut that appeared any time the dead were replicated and focus on the message.
…waves cresting at a usual forty to fifty meters may reach the height of one hundred meters before the end of the week. If conditions continue, the seawall will be breached by the increasing wave height by the end of the month.
The Senate-approved evacuations of the Center for Oceanic Vigilancehave begun, and will continue remote observance of both Ceti and Krakenic movement as wave height increases. The Authority has set a restriction of movement order along the coast until such time as the waves decrease…
Brontë shook her head as Eryx shut his phone’s screen off. “This hasn’t happened since…”
Lara murmured, “Since I ascended.”
Ember made a soft humming noise before speaking. “There was one after you, of course.”
Lara shrugged. “The last of the Aradios Maere.”
“Calypso Montague,” Brontë murmured absently, sipping her coffee again.
Eryx frowned. Clearly, he was trying to puzzle out the significance of all this, as I was. “Are you suggesting that more Maere are ascending?”
Ember sighed. “They’re notsuggestinganything.”
I turned quickly in my seat. Her tone was serious, not mocking. “Do you mean to tell me that there aremoreMaere somewhere?”
Rhiannon Brontë looked as though she might explode with frustration. “Have you never wondered why there are so few of us, and so many of…” she gestured elegantly at Eryx and myself. “You.”
My heart beat faster. This wasn’t something I’d ever considered. There were only three known territories on Kraitos, the three cities—Orphium, Aradios, and Palladiere. It was a little odd that out of millions of people, only fifteen were ever Maere, or ever had been Maere.
