There was only a tiny bit of water left in the bottom. With a sigh, Malcolm pulled back his hood and drank.
If the other Brothers were surprised to see a new member, and one wanted by Auverraine, they didn’t make it obvious. Gabe pulled down his hood and took the cup from Malcolm, taking his own tiny sip. The water tasted cold and mineral. He half expected it to knock him out, for this to be part of some greater ploy. But it was just water. One more bit of exaggerated theater, making mortals feel closer to gods.
Across the room, Eoin watched him, that same eager smile on his face.
Minutes later, the goblet was back in the Prime Minister’s hands. With great reverence, he set it on the lip of the fountain.
“Brothers,” he announced, spreading his hands, “this is a momentous day indeed. Long we have studied the elemental gods, those powers forgotten by the larger world, made irrelevant in the face of Apollius. But today, we see that we were right. That Their magic is still here, and still powerful.” He gestured to Gabe and Malcolm. “Today, we see those gods made flesh in human avatars. The inheritors of lost magic.”
The Brothers turned to them, awe on their faces. Gabe fought the ridiculous urge to wave.
“Gabriel. Malcolm.” Eoin stepped aside and waved them up to the front of the group. “A demonstration, if you would.”
He’d known this was the deal, but Gabe suddenly felt at a loss, completely unsure of how to proceed.
You know.
Hestraon, His voice low, a banked fire in the back of his mind.
Find the heat and make a spark.
Instinctually, wordlessly, Gabe held out his hand. His vision immediately went black and white, save for the red-orange threads glimmering in the air, more concentrated around the dark shapes of bodies. He grasped one of those threads hovering right above his palm, pulled it through himself.
A tiny spark of flame floated above his hand.
The Brothers gasped, stepping back. Curious murmurs filtered through the crowd. A few braver ones overcame their initial fear and stepped closer, as if they’d examine the fire. A circus act, just like he’d said in Eoin’s office.
Gabe closed his hand, smothering the flame.
Eoin watched avidly, one finger tapping at his mouth.“Fascinating.” He grinned. “And how, exactly, did Hestraon’s power come to you?”
He knew already, if his words the night of their capture were to be believed. More theater. Gabe wasn’t sure if Eoin wanted them to lie or tell the truth.
“It just happened.” Malcolm spat it like an accusation. “We didn’t do anything.”
Eoin just nodded, nonplussed by his tone. “And have you experimented with it? Seen what else you can do?”
“We have not.” Malcolm’s arms were tightly crossed. “We don’t want it.”
“Is that so?” Eoin’s eyes slid to Gabe.
Gabe swallowed. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he’d channeled that fire directly through his vocal cords. “Yes.”
Liar, Hestraon said.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
LORE
One will hold any hand in the dark.
—Kadmaran proverb
The week passed in a foggy blur, much like every week before it. Dani offered to keep her on dock duty for the few days it would take for the Ferryman to arrive, cleaning glass and swabbing ship decks instead of hacking apart rocks in the mine, but Lore didn’t take her up on it. If she didn’t have backbreaking work to keep her occupied during the day, she would go insane, and she was already close enough that it felt like hubris to tempt a further fall.
So she was in the middle of whacking at a clod of dirt in hopes for gold when she saw Jean-Paul.
Back when she lived in the Citadel, for the brief months she was nearly the Queen, Lore had dreaded seeing anyone she’d known in her former life as a poison runner. The two stations were grossly incompatible, and she didn’t know how to live in the space between them, much less perform it for others. But now she was as far from a Queen as she could get, in station if not official title. Selfishly, seeing a familiar face was a relief.
