Fall

Piper

The meal of beans and seared meat was as cold as their conversation. They were in the cabin once more, with candles and drafts acting as their live audience.

Cedric pushed his food from side to side. Remi stared at his lunch numbly. Grace was the only one who dared meet Piper’s eyes.

“Yes, we haven’t left for a reason,” she said.

“You think you’re needed here.” Piper tapped her fork on the table. “But you realize you’re trying to make gold from stone. Vitrum can only truly grow in the North.”

“That’s not true,” Cedric said.

“One small sample,” Piper argued. “And how many years has that been? How long have you been trying to recreate that?”

The answer hovered above them all, forming in the air but not on their lips.

Reine helped her work around the elephant in the room. “I can’t stay here, you must know that. We’re Amur—heroes of Elbe. If Queen Celia knows I’m here, my best case is a life of imprisonment.”

She had been speaking in the Northern tongue, so they could all understand. Remi coughed. “And we will not leave. Not now.”

Not ever, was the rest of his statement.

Cedric had forgotten his meal. Grace had an uncertain expression on her face.

“What are you implying?” Cedric said softly.

Piper leaned back in her chair. Should I just say it?

Make it quick. Make it sure. Make it a clean wound, Reine advised.

She closed her eyes for a beat, then absorbed her family in the moment. Cautious, anxious, knowing. Shadows flickered across their faces like dark fire. The fera around the table seemed less than real, imaginary beasts. If she stretched out her hand now, it would pass through them like mist.

“I have to leave you,” Piper whispered.

Kane

Kane had been through trials few managed at his age. Assassination attempts, a battle, a crowning, and the stresses of being in the throne room of an irritated king. There were puzzles of war he still was clueless about, vague histories that eluded him, and internal struggles that had not yet seen the light at the tunnel’s end.

But he had not anticipated what it would feel like when the acceptance letter from Queen Celia came back. When he watched the glass platform come up between the four armies. When his feet and Flint’s clicked up the vitrum stairs, ready to wait in the plush chairs.

Kane looked out over the thousands around him. Despite the guards that were packed around them, he felt vulnerable.

We may actually die, he thought.

Flint pulled out the icicle of fear in his heart. Stop that. But he didn’t disagree.

It seemed odd to be sitting complacently in the midst of a possible battle. Kane crossed his feet and tried to look regal. What would King Asher do? He would probably wear a proper crown, instead of the travel-size silver laurel Kane wore.

He wouldn’t be worrying about what he looked like to the enemy, Flint said. He glanced at the sky. I think it might snow.

Kane saw his fera changing subjects, and went along with it. I suppose.

I wonder how much snow this part of the West gets. A few feet?

Not this close to the East and South, Kane snorted. He composed himself when his guards picked up on this. I’d say a light dusting.

I like the winter, Flint mused. Even though it’s cold.

And freezing, Kane said.

And frigid, Flint shot back.

Kane smiled. Still planning on taking up painting after this?

Only if Asher lowers your guards, Flint said.

Kane’s mind drifted to his mother, Thea. She was going to lose her second child if he died today. He thought of his father. He was going to lose not just a son, but a prince and his friend’s apprentice. He thought of Kit. If she was still alive, would she know if he perished today?

A stiffening rippled through the crowd from the Eastern side. Soldiers parted for something small and dark running along the battlefield.

“What is that?” Kane said to Homer.

The guard shifted and squinted against the bright sheet of clouds. “A fera, I think.”

Kane’s protection drew around him like a curtain. If it was a fera assassin like the bat, they would not be attacked so freely.

They watched the black streak zigzag across the field, nearly managing being stamped to an ink blot by the hundreds of feet it unsettled. When it came to the dais, it slowed and made its way purposely up the stairs. Something about it reminded Kane of Reine. Arrogant, calculating its first impression.

Except it was not his first impression of the animal. Kane peered past his guards. No, he knew this fera.

The black cat sat and drew a paw over its ears. When it was finished, it jumped up on the opposite chair and regarded them with an indifferent glare.

“Where is Queen Celia?” Kane said, trying to keep his voice neutral.

The cat seemed amused at this. It closed its eyes, and purred.

It’s laughing at us, Flint thought.

Kane rose from his chair. “Tell us, fera.”

The cat leapt to the table between them. Kane’s guards recoiled, but stayed as a wall against the fera.

It stared at him for a minute, waiting. You know who I share my soul with, the cat seemed to say.

Then a great trumpet blew from the jungle, its call deep and bellowing.

Kane’s guards suddenly dragged him off the dais as soldiers came to life around them, war cries bubbling from every throat.

The cat stayed on the glass table, watching them as they retreated. Smug in its victory.

“You haven’t won anything!” Kane shouted to the cat. “Let your human know!”

But if Queen Celia was bonded to the cat, their reason for fear could be deeper than he believed.

Atlas

“Who was the cat?” Atlas shouted over the guards. They shepherded Kane deep past their line, to the heart of the strategic team. Donovan was already there to meet them.

“What was up with the cat?” the man barked. “Was it Queen Celia’s?”

“I don’t know,” Kane said. His guards broke from him to make a perimeter around the vitrum maps. “It was a fera alright.”

“Was it a messenger, you think?” Homer asked. His pony tossed its head next to him, showing the man’s agitation.

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Donovan spat. “That meeting was enough for them to start the battle. Maybe it’s what they were waiting for.”

Atlas saw Kane pale. Instead of occupying the East-West, he had lit the fuse. Cooper would never get here in time.

“What’s the plan now?” Atlas said in their silence.

Donovan moved the glass armies before them from one side of the field to another. He scribbled something on a scrap of paper, and clipped it to Briar before she flew away. “We’re going to fight until we can’t.”