“Scorio is currently banished from the Academy for being a Red Lister,” said Sol. “Will you see to it that he is readmitted? I must hurry.”
Nova’s pale eyebrows rose. “A Red Lister?” For a second Scorio thought she’d protest, but then she bowed her head. “But if you wish it, Imperator, it shall be so.”
“Thank you.” Sol looked to Scorio. His gaze was profound, as if his eye were a well that led to impossible depths in which stars drowned. “Be well, Scorio. We shall meet again.”
And with that, he lifted from the rooftop, inclined his body toward the ruined Academy, and shot away through the air so swiftly that his departure caused a dull boom to shatter the air.
“You’ve done well, to earn the favor of an Imperator,” said the White Queen, still studying Scorio.
“It came at a price,” said Scorio. “I fear that Imogen no longer thinks very highly of me.”
“That’s of no matter. She’s no longer capable of thinking highly of anyone for long. Will you tell me what happened?”
So Scorio did, instinctively omitting his escape into the Gauntlet and instead explaining how she’d recognized him moments before he was taken by the fog. How she’d known him during their past lives, and how he’d convinced her to let him witness her deeds. How at the last, when her attention was fully focused on Sol, he’d managed to distract her for but a single critical moment.
“Creative,” said Nova. “You did well, Cinder. Bastion owes you a debt of gratitude. For all my power, you proved more effective in this battle.”
Scorio stiffened, unsure if he could hear resentment in her tone, but her cordial smile stilled his fear. “Just trying to help,” he said.
“And that you did. Now let us go. The city is in distress. I cannot linger, for like the Imperator I have concerns that need my immediate attention. I’ll bring you to the Academy and ensure that Praximar heeds Sol’s request.”
“Thank you.” Again Scorio inhaled deeply. His mind reeled, his heart pounded strongly, and a deep and pervasive joy suffused him. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
The White Queen laughed and extended her hand to him. “Thank me by walking a path of righteousness, young Cinder. In time, I hope to see you emerge from Bastion, ready to bring the war deeper into hell. But for you, that day is still in the distant future. For now, let’s work on getting you back into the Academy.”
“Yes, Charnel Duchess,” said Scorio, taking her cool, smooth palm in his own. As her great wings spread out wide and they lifted off the rooftop, he felt his heart thrill, and his gaze turned to the new Academy.
He’d done it. Somehow, against all the odds, he’d found a way to both save Bastion and return to the Academy’s vaunted halls.
Now nothing would hold him back from seizing control of his future and learning the truth about his past self.
Chapter 43
The White Queen located Chancellor Praximar amidst a knot of activity outside the new Academy. He stood atop a block of collapsed stone, a mass of Great Souls and administrators before him, all of them listening attentively as he gave commands. His manner was intense but calm, and though his face was haggard his voice rang with authority.
“… take four Tomb Sparks of your choice and quell the chaos in the Jeweled District. Be firm but fair, we won’t tolerate looting so close to the Academy.”
The crowd looked up as Nova descended toward them, Praximar’s eyes widening at the sight of her only to narrow as he focused on Scorio by her side.
Scorio had to resist the urge to grin triumphantly.
“Charnel Duchess,” said Praximar, hopping off his rock and bowing low before her. “On behalf of House Hydra and the Academy, let me formally thank you for your intervention and assistance. You are a model to all aspiring Great Souls.”
Nova’s smile was mildly amused, but she inclined her head graciously, releasing Scorio’s hand as they alighted on the ground. “Would that we could have stopped Imogen sooner, Praximar. You have your work cut out for you in restoring order.”
Praximar’s gaze slid from Scorio back to the White Queen. “I welcome the challenge. I never assumed my role would be easy when I assumed the mantle of Autocrator and Chancellor. Will you be remaining with us a little longer? Your presence would accomplish in moments what might take us days.”
“Alas, I have critical matters awaiting me at the Fiery Shoals. I will remain a few moments longer, but first I need to discharge a duty given me by the Imperator.”
“Ah, yes.” Praximar wrinkled his nose as if a sudden stench had assailed him, and turned his glittering blue gaze upon Scorio. “I apologize that scum such as this has wasted your time. I had him cast through the Final Door when his nature was revealed, but like the worst of vermin, he found a way to survive. I will deal with him summarily, of that you may be assured.”
Scorio failed to keep the slightest of smirks from his lips and raised an eyebrow at Praximar, who suddenly looked confused.
“I’m afraid you’ve misapprehended the nature of my request,” said Nova. “Sol himself told me that Scorio was instrumental in helping him defeat Imogen.”
Praximar’s face settled and hardened as if muscles deep under the skin had suddenly turned to stone. His expression remained polite, attentive, but a sudden blankness entered his eyes that took him a moment to blink away. “Excuse me?”
Nova’s tone remained mild. “Sol asked me to express his gratitude for your readmitting Scorio to the Academy. The Imperator feels that the service Scorio has rendered to Bastion and consequently to all of Hell deserves a just recompense. This is, he feels, the least we can do.”
For a moment, tendons stood out in Praximar’s neck as a shudder ran through him, but Scorio could only marvel as the man mastered himself so smoothly that his subsequent smile appeared almost natural. “Is that so? Then I must admit to having been mistaken! Of course, I will be glad to honor the Imperator’s request, and to welcome Scorio back to the Academy with all honors.”
Nova inclined her head, her amusement so subtle as to be almost imagined.
Praximar turned now to Scorio, his eyes warm, his smile rueful. “It would seem that I am becoming one of the aged and inflexible fools that I once scorned in my youth. I apologize, Scorio. I did not recognize your worth and allowed myself to be blinded by your being a Red Lister. We would be honored if you returned to the Academy. I cannot remember the last time a young Great Soul was earned the gratitude of one so respected and admired as Sol the Just himself.”
Scorio felt a flicker of uncertainty; Praximar’s words sounded so genuine that he wondered if the man had truly had a change of heart. “Thank you, Chancellor. I accept and will gladly return. The Imperator promised to speak with a friend of mine, Naomi, who left the Academy a year or so ago. If she wishes it, he promised to ask for her readmittance as well.”
“Naomi?” Praximar raised his eyebrows in genuine surprise. “I don’t recall the name. But whatever the case, the Imperator’s will is supreme. If he wishes her to return, then return she shall, and we will all be the richer for it.”
“Thank you, Praximar,” said Nova, her voice rich and impossibly self-assured. “I will gather my companions as I fly over the city, will help where I can, but then must make my departure. If you ever have need of us again, don’t hesitate to relight the beacon. We shall come if we are able.”
Praximar placed his fist over his heart and bowed his head. “The Academy as ever is grateful for your protection, Charnel Duchess. May your every venture be met with success.”
“Pyre Lord.” She extended her wings and turned to regard Scorio. “Be well, Scorio. You have made an auspicious start of this new life of yours. I hope you continue in grand fashion.”