“Are you saying we should leave the Blood Ox alone?”
“No. We obviously need to defend ourselves. What I’m saying is…” He trailed off, and remembered her on that night back in Bastion, her lips tasting of Copper brandy, her raw melancholy, her bittersweet need. “Look, I’m telling you this because I… I just want you to keep your wits about you. Don’t just substitute Octavia for Moira. I’ve got cause to be suspicious. Whenever they tell you something, just reserve a small corner of your mind to remain suspicious.”
Ravenna went to protest, bit back her words, then considered. “You seem sincere. And as infuriating as it may be to be told this mere hours before the big meeting, fine.” She took a deep breath, held it, then exhaled. “I appreciate the advice. Though that Octavia line stung. I’ll… I’ll try to… I don’t even know what you’re asking of me. But I’ll remember what you said. Good?”
“Sure,” said Scorio, trying not to feel bitter.
“In turn, just as you’re asking me to be suspicious, I’m asking you to try and be open. Aezryna is pivotal to winning this war and saving the Fury Spires, Fiery Shoals, and Bastion from the Blood Ox.”
“Why isn’t Charoth part of all this?”
“Charoth?” Ravenna’s smile was predatory. “He’s got this well-known power that allows him to intimidate the hell out of anyone that crosses him. People genuinely fear him. He’s hanging back as their final weapon in case events here go to the Pit.”
“So his being here is an implicit threat?”
“Absolutely. If Bravurn and Plassus refuse to play with Aezryna, they’ll have to deal with Charoth instead. And nobody wants that to happen. But come on.” She resumed walking, and her tone became light, artificially disinterested. “How are things between you and Jova?”
“About as good as I remember them being between you two.”
“Oh, that’s long in the past. I can barely remember being humiliated before the entire Academy in that duel and losing my will to train, which in turn led to my signing a terrible Heart Oath with Octavia and nearly ruining this life.”
“That so?” asked Scorio, cracking a grin.
“Well.” Ravenna thrust her chin forward. “Something along those lines. But I know you two have bad blood. Will you be able to work with her?”
“Will I have to?”
“In some capacity. She’s instrumental to Aezryna’s plan.”
“Of course she is.” Scorio resisted the urge to kick something.
Ravenna watched him. “Was there something between you both?”
“As in…? No.” Scorio let out a bark of laughter. “We had a… I don’t even know if you’d call it an intense friendship. An amicable rivalry? Right up till she went all in with Manticore, forgave them for killing Leonis and Lianshi, then tried to kill me in turn when I returned from the dead.”
“Great. Well, there’s no need for you to be friends. She’s embedded with Aezryna and will be part of the strike team that moves against LastRock. You’ll be working with Plassus and convincing him to fight alongside the Seamstress’ forces. There’ll probably be no need for you both to interact much.”
Scorio made no comment.
Just before they reached Aezryna’s cluster, Scorio glanced at Ravenna. “I’ve been meaning to ask: what do you make of this Alain guy?”
“Alain?” Ravenna stopped. “Has he been trying to become your best friend?”
“Yes,” said Scorio, and laughed. “Actually.”
“He tried it with me, but kept insinuating we could be friends in more ways than one, but only if I wanted to.” She considered. “That, and how hard it was to focus on him, made it a no from me. But in general? Moira thinks he’s a good person, or could be, if given the chance. He just can’t seem to control himself. Says things he knows he shouldn’t, then acts horrified. It’s almost a compulsion.”
“So he can’t be trusted with confidential information?”
“Has he told you anyone else’s secrets?”
“He’s been pretty forthcoming with what he thinks is going on in the Fury Spires.”
“And he definitely knows a lot, given his powers. But I’d only tell him what you’d be comfortable having him share with the next person he chooses to court. Have you told him anything you shouldn’t?”
“Ha, nicely done. Is this where I tell you my secrets?”
Her eyes gleamed. “Only if you trust me.”
Scorio hesitated.
“It’s Moira,” said Ravenna, stepping back. “I understand.”
“I want to trust you.”
“Honestly, you don’t have to. I wouldn’t if I were you.” But the way she said that was a little too careless.
He could feel Naomi by his side, glowering. Urging him to cut this friendship, to step away and remain isolated. He thought of Scorio in his Black Tower, alone with his all-consuming hatred and bitterness.
It was a choice, always.
He made his decision.
“Alain helped me see Queen Xandera alone.”
“Alone?” Ravenna’s dark brow quirked up. “Dangerous. And – hmm. Why?”
“I needed to get below, to the tunnels under the Fury Spires. Remember Nox, the fiendish toad that helped me destroy Praximar?”
“Of course. It’s not every day that a Flame Vault marches into House Hydra’s palace and starts a fight with a fiend by his side.”
“Nox is below. We’re friends. I wanted to see him, but the Titans down there stopped me. The queen agreed to have them let me pass.”
“Fascinating.” Ravenna tapped her chin. “And bizarre. I’ve never heard of a Great Soul being friends with a fiend. But don’t tell anyone else. If Bravurn finds out…”
“Which is why I asked you about Alain.”
“I think you’re fine. Alain really dislikes the Iron Tyrant. Currently. He might tell me, or Moira, or anyone in our immediate group, but he’ll keep his confidences to those he thinks he’s drawing close to. But… yes. I’d be careful of telling him anything else.”
“I agree,” said Scorio with a wry smile. “It doesn’t pay to trust people.”
“Ha.” Ravenna reached out and touched his arm. “Thank you. For telling me. And no, I won’t tell Moira.” She hesitated. “Unless the war with the Blood Ox depends on it.”
“Fair enough.” Scorio forced a smile, and for a moment they stood thus, something tremulous and new and bright between them as she smiled back. “Speaking of which?”
“This way.” She squeezed his arm then led on.
Scorio followed a few steps behind, and couldn’t help but look Ravenna up and down. Despite himself, memories from the night of the House Kraken celebration returned to him. Their speaking by the railing, Gold elixirs in hand, the way her gaze had smoldered as she’d listened, her apparent interest.
All of which had proven false, a gambit on Octavia’s part… right up till the end of the night, when she’d kissed him and asked him to stay, despite everything.
Scorio rubbed the base of his palm into one eye and grimaced. What was he thinking? She’d made no mention of that night since, expressed no interest in him thereafter.
He thought of Naomi, her eyes slitted as if she could read his thoughts, and restrained the urge to groan.
What a mess.
They reached Aezryna’s quarters. Ravenna called out a greeting as she stepped into the entrance tunnel, then gestured for Scorio to follow.
Aezryna’s cluster was larger than the norm, with a half-dozen private chambers feeding off a large common area that commanded two sunken rotundas and beautiful patterning along the walls of interweaving bands of lead, slate blue, and black.
Five great souls were in attendance, none of them Jova, but Scorio’s attention was immediately drawn to their leader, who rose from where she’d been penning a letter to approach.
Aezryna moved with a presence that commanded attention without demanding it. Her gaze was forthright, her shoulders squared, her honey-colored hair bound back in an impromptu bun. There was an austerity in her beauty that made it seem immaterial to her sense of self, and Scorio could imagine her as confident and self-possessed in the midst of a calamity as she was here in her own quarters. She wore a suit of cerulean blue plate armor, its every edge limned in gold, its construction complex, contoured to her frame, and exquisitely crafted.