“Then we’re going to stay. The phoenix channel is set up, our camp is in place. We could get a lightning strike literally at any hour. Before I left to come see you I gave orders for all lights to be extinguished and noise kept to a minimum. No one is going to notice us up on the Forge.”
“You’re certain that’s wise?”
Thessa finally walked over and sank down on the stool Demir had offered. “I can’t stop thinking about that riot, Demir. Despite your efforts, dozens of people died. Newspapers are reporting riots like that all over the world – not just in the Empire – and they’re going to escalate. I’m not a politician but I know how precarious a government can be. We are inches from sliding into chaos, and the phoenix channel might be all that stops it. I understand if you don’t want to risk your enforcers, but I tell you now … I will risk my own life to gain days.” She ran a hand through her hair. “And I might need every day. This is just a test – an experiment – and it might not work.”
“Then,” Demir said, spreading his hands, “I’ll respect that decision.”
No argument. No scolding. He actually listened, just like that. Kastora used to tell her that people in power never listened. They just wanted you to follow orders. Thessa wondered how she could be so lucky. Demir stood over her, his attention turning back to the papers spread out all over the floor, and she remembered her feeling of isolation upon finishing the phoenix channel the other day. No wine, no celebration. She stood up, bringing her face-to-face with him, just inches apart, and ran a finger along the collar of his uniform.
“You have a battle to plan, I know. But can I have an hour?”
Demir swallowed noticeably, taking in a sharp little breath. Was he nervous? If so, that was adorable. “Thessa…” he said, taking a half step back.
Thessa didn’t let it show on her face, but that half step hurt. Even if he hadn’t meant it to be, it was a rejection. “If you don’t have time, that’s okay.”
“It’s not the time I’m worried about.”
Thessa felt her heart fall. She hadn’t consciously come out here for a dalliance, but now that she was here she realized how much she needed it. By that look of uncertainty in his eyes, he at least partially needed it too. He gave her a pained look.
“Okay, Master Grappo.” What little patience she had was now gone, killed by that pained look. She squared her legs and faced him full on. “Then what is it? What’s going on here?”
Demir stiffened visibly. “What do you mean?”
“You and me. I’ve seen dozens of young siliceer apprentices drive themselves mad with pining and confusion and miscommunication, and I’m not damn well doing that. When you left to face the Grent that first time, you and I were minutes from sleeping together. Now you’re being evasive. If it’s not the right time just say the word. But if it’s something else, I deserve to know.” She poked him in the chest with a finger. “What is happening? Did you fall in love with someone while you were at war for three glassdamned days? Did you decide I wasn’t good enough for a romp? Did a musketball castrate you?”
“Perhaps we should talk about this later,” Demir said, taking another half step back, his eyes darting evasively, as if looking for an exit.
“No,” Thessa snapped. “I am exhausted, cold, surrounded by the very soldiers that invaded my adopted country. I’m out there sitting on a rock above the ocean just waiting for glassdamned lightning to strike. Are you going to keep me warm or give me a good reason why you can’t?”
The color seemed to drain out of Demir’s face. “We’re doing this now, aren’t we?”
“Yes we are.” Thessa gloried in her own emotional momentum. No more dancing around things. Straight to the point.
“Fine,” he said. “Did you know they call me the Lightning Prince?”
The reply took her by surprise. She didn’t know what she expected, but it hadn’t been that. “I suppose I heard a few of the porters at the hotel whisper about it. Sure.”
“Do you know why?”
“I don’t.”
“Because nine years ago, I led one of the most stunning campaigns in Ossan history by putting down a provincial uprising in just seven days. At my command, the Foreign Legion crushed the armies of Holikan. The resulting sack of the city was considered a nightmare and my involvement scrubbed from official records.”
Thessa barely heard anything after the word “Holikan.” Her own blood suddenly pounded powerful in her ears, as if she had thrown herself off the Forge and was falling toward the sea. “You were there?” she asked, unable to keep the tremble out of her tone.
“I wasn’t just there,” Demir said gently, “I commanded the campaign.”
Thessa suddenly felt dizzy, her senses muted. She stumbled and sat back down on the stool, staring up at him. “That’s not possible.” He did not respond, and Thessa tried to grapple with this new knowledge. In her mind she played back every conversation they’d ever had, stopping that night he returned from the Inner Assembly. She distinctly remembered the fear that flashed across his eyes when she mentioned Holikan, and the way he’d disappeared coldly from her room. It all made so much sense. “How long have you known I was from Holikan?” she asked.
“Only since you told me.”
Just as she thought. She clutched at her stomach, feeling it twist and turn like she was on a ship’s deck in bad weather. “You butchered my family,” she whispered.
Demir’s face grew stricken. “Thessa, I was there. I admit it. I knew I needed to tell you. But I did not give the order to sack Holikan. I was betrayed, and I only recently found out by whom. I can’t make it right, but I am looking for justice.”
Thessa was still reeling on the inside. Demir – a man she’d known only a couple of weeks, but who she thought was the kindest, most considerate guild-family member she’d ever met – had conducted the Holikan campaign. Lightning Prince. The words tasted like ash on the tip of her tongue.
“Let me explain,” he began.
Thessa cut him off. “No. I don’t want to hear it from you.” She got to her feet, grabbing on to one of the tent poles for stability. She could hear the coldness in her own voice, and she did not try to temper it. “I can’t trust a word you say.” She left, lurching and dizzy, hurrying out into the cold winter air, feeling a stab of betrayal – at Demir, at Ossa, even at her very happy intentions being dashed against the ground.
She stopped just outside, gathering her wits. Part of her hoped Demir would rush after her, but when she peeked back inside the tent she found him standing stock-still, staring at the wall. She looked at her hands. Did consorting with him put Holikan’s blood on them? Of course not. She didn’t know. But it sure felt like it. What could she do now? She was in too deep with the Grappo. She had a contract. She was surrounded by his enforcers. The only person in her world who was beholden to her instead of him was Pari.
Thessa found the messenger nearby, sitting with a young woman by the fire, listening to someone a few fires over play the fiddle. “Private Fenny?”
“Ma’am?”
“Where is Idrian Sepulki?”
“He’s out on a mission, ma’am. He was due to report back in half an hour ago. I imagine he’ll be along soon. Would you like to wait for him?”
“If it’s not too much trouble.” Thessa remained standing, warming her hands by the fire, trying not to get sucked into the despair of her own thoughts. The night air helped to cool her head, but her chest hurt with a helpless fury for a crime that had happened over a third of her life ago. She tried to picture her parents and her little sister the last time she saw them as she boarded a coach service for Grent. As seemed to happen more frequently these days, she could not remember their faces.