NOVEL NEXT Chapter 100: Time Trials Us
Kess was back in her cell, or so she thought. Her mind was foggy, and she had a hard time remembering what she'd said to Rowan's father—or what he'd even asked. Had it been something about the lockets? Or Mariel's plan for Fulminancy? Regardless, he'd be better off asking his own son—Kess barely knew the first thing about it. And yet, not knowing what she had divulged seemed worse to her than willingly giving it away.
Since waking up, she'd tried several times to reach out to the storm, hoping that its soft touch would take away some of the pain. Perhaps she could fly away on that storm wind, away from this place—perhaps she could be free again. But the storm remained silent, its attention elsewhere.
Hour passed, maybe days. Kess had no way of telling in the dark room. She leaned against the wall, avoiding the cot. What was the point of getting comfortable? Eventually, footsteps approached, and she tensed, mentally preparing herself for another session.
Instead, someone slid down the wall outside, and a familiar voice made her flinch.
"Kess." Oliver's voice, older, more exhausted, though it had only been a year since she'd spoken to him in depth.
"Come to gawk at the almighty Seat of Mariel, Faleas?" Kess snapped, her words slightly muffled from the bruises on her face.
"That's not my name any more than Mariel is yours."
"That's not how the Council sees it."
"The Council can be difficult, but they mean well." There was hesitation in his voice, and he refused to look at her.
"I suppose I missed the memo," Kess finally replied, leaning her head back. Silence passed between them, only broken by a peal of thunder so faint Kess had to assume she was miles below ground. Still, she missed the sound of the storm, and hearing it even from this distance shattered something in her heart. She wondered if Rowan had gotten back in one piece, and found herself fervently hoping he'd stay far away on her execution day.
"Kess, what happened to you?" She knew he didn't refer to her beaten and bloodied appearance.
"Life happened, Oliver. As it happens to all of us—as it happened to you, apparently."
"You might as well skip the hostilities, dear sister. You have at best a week to live, so I'd try to make your last few conversations pleasant ones."
"There's no way to have a pleasant conversation with a traitorous family member who attacked me, murdered the closest thing I had to a father, and lied to me."
Oliver sighed from outside the bars. "Kess, of the two of us, I'd say you've done much more murdering than I have. Something changed. You weren't like this before. Last we spoke, you hated the Fulminant, but you left them alone. You didn't murder them."
"Of course I was like this before," she snapped. "Where do you think my money came from? Watching fights? I broke ribs and made people bleed for a living, Oliver. This is no different."
"You were terrified of Fulminancy," Oliver said. "Clouds, you wouldn't even play Stormclap, and yet now you seek it out at every gala—you're apparently quite good, from what I hear."
"I got over it." It seemed an oversimplification of the last year, but Kess wasn't in the mood to explain to her brother. Her traitorous brother, working for the very people who'd murdered their parents. Her traitorous brother, who'd murdered Draven and her aunt and uncle. She'd fought so hard and so long, and this was all that was left—a man with no sense of right and wrong.
"They've kept an eye on you for a very long time, Kess," Oliver said, his voice quiet. "Long before I came along. Whether it was me or someone else, they would have found you anyway. You were fortunate it was me that night with Draven—anyone else would have killed you on the spot. The Council had lost track of you by that point. They had their suspicions that you might be tied up with Draven and Forgebrand, but they couldn't be sure—not without taking action."
"So they sent you to murder him," Kess said, mouth dry.
"To use him as bait," Oliver corrected.
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"As if that's any better."
"He wasn't supposed to die that night, Kess. But I was given orders. If any Fulminancers attacked, I was to kill him."
"And I suppose you think that having orders absolves you of responsibility," Kess said bitterly. She tried to push Draven from her mind. She'd always known that he'd died because of his connection to her, but hearing it confirmed was almost too much.
"Not necessarily," Oliver replied. "But some Fulminancy remains tucked away without a catalyzing event—it's why we run the rings in the first place. The easiest way to find a rogue Mariel was to attack someone she cared about."
Kess listened, her heart and stomach sick. Her brother spoke in an analytical way, as if he wasn't talking about the murder about a dear friend—a man who'd occasionally sent food home for the both of them. Was he always like that? Kess wondered. Was I too blind to see it? Here was a man with all of Rowan's curiosity about the world, but none of his compassion.
"I agreed to help them keep an eye on you all those years ago because I thought you could be something different," Oliver said. "The Council was worried about your destructive tendencies, and they wanted to keep you locked away for your own safety—as well as everyone else's. I argued that it could be controlled—that your fear of it was the biggest problem. That bought you a few years of peace, at least."
"Peace," Kess repeated dully. What peace was there? Bloody fights for survival. Shadows stalking her. Her own brother, spying on her. What peace had there been? "I did what I had to do," she finally said. "Innocent people were being hauled off, buildings burned. You, dead or worse up here. Fulminancers disappearing left and right—including one with odd ties to you, of all people. What would you have done? Watch it all happen? At least I did something."
"They never touched me," Oliver said, and Kess laughed, though she immediately regretted it as pain lanced through her ribs.
"I wish I'd had the same welcome," she said grimly. When he said nothing, she tried another tactic. "Oliver, this is bigger than the Council—bigger than Uphill politics. That storm isn't going away unless we do something about it—unless I do something about it. It's only growing stronger. Let me out, and we can deal with it—together."
Oliver laughed, his voice humorless. "You think the Council can't deal with one little storm? They've been doing it for years. That's always been your problem, Kess—you think you're smarter than years of scholarship and wisdom. Who are you? Just an unstable woman blowing half the city to pieces with her powers. When were you last able to control them? Use them for anything other than death?" He shifted slightly. "No, Kess, you're better off here."
Kess spun to grab the bars, though her ribcage screamed in protest. "Oliver, listen to me. This storm is different. Something big is coming—something not even the Council can stop. I need you to—"
"I'm not letting you out," Oliver interrupted, holding her eyes. In the darkness, his own appeared to have lost all light. "You're no better than a common criminal, and you'll face trial like one. Everything you've done—all this running, all this hiding at other people's expenses—has it been worth it? Any normal person would have turned themselves in by now to spare the people around them. So why didn't you? Why didn't you ascend to the Seat in the first place? Why did you lie to our aunt and uncle, and later to me? Why did you stay in this city so long, knowing that every action you took would lead the Council straight back to everyone you cared about?"
His voice rose on the last few words, echoing in the darkness. Kess let go of the bars and stared at the wall ahead, though she could barely make out the stones. The darkness swirled there, and from a distance, she felt the storm moving, straining for something. When she spoke, her voice was hoarse and tired, the words spilling from her like the waters of a flood.
"Because I was afraid," she said. "Afraid of what those powers could do, afraid of who I would become." And now, sitting in that dark room, Kess realized that she'd been both right and wrong—right to fear the extent of those powers, but wrong to think that she would become a monster. Kess remained, unfortunately, decidedly human—flawed and imperfect, but hopeful nonetheless.
"I tried to save them from the Council, Oliver. I didn't know how to control them. Tell me, if you had murdered your own parents with your budding powers, would you be so willing to use those powers again—to ascend to a Seat whose very responsibility is wielding those powers?" Oliver said nothing.
"I was no more than a girl. And maybe I've made some abhorrent decisions, but I won't be ashamed, Oliver," she said, looking at her brother's slumped form outside the cell, tears building in her eyes. "I won't be ashamed for getting up and trying again. I'll fail again, I'm sure. But life is about second chances. Life is about fighting through the messes you've created and being better next time. I didn't use this gift the right way, Oliver. But I won't make that mistake again."
Oliver sat outside the steel door, silent. He'd known of her secret for years—watched her, studied her, reported to the Council—and yet he'd never helped her. Kess wasn't a sibling to Oliver—she was an experiment. The realization hit her exhausted body like another blow. She'd sacrificed and fought to rescue this.
Finally, boots scuffled as Oliver got to his feet, and for the first time, Kess saw his face reflected in the torchlight. She expected emotion, or at least some sort of familiarity. Instead, his eyes were cold, and a slight note of disgust played on his face as he gazed down at her.
"That's all well and good, Kess, but you'll be executed in three days. You're not getting a second chance." And with that, he walked away from the cell, his footsteps leaving cracks in her heart.