Forbidden (23 page)

A part of her wanted him to be right. But he was wrong. She didn’t know.

“You see an old man gone mad, reeking in his own rags,” he said. “But I would seize a sword and fight to my last breath—spill every drop of my worthless blood—to defend the truth. And so would you, dear Feyn. Because when you know what we know, what I know even in my own dead state, there’s no going back. There is nothing else. Whatever it takes, we live for this truth, this hope—even if we can’t feel it.”

“You’re rambling, old man.”

“You know it, girl. I know you do,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’m telling you, I don’t.”

“She knows it,” he said, murmuring again. “If I can be a keeper, then by the Maker, so can she.” He glanced up. “And so you will have your deal.”

“My deal?”

“Yes. I will tell you more than I’ve ever told a single soul, dead or alive, because by drinking the blood you surely became one of us even if you didn’t know it.”

“Tell me what?”

His eyes bore into hers.

“Tell me what it was like to drink the blood. Then I will tell you precisely how the boy will come to power.”

T
he door
to Neah’s apartment hung open. It swung on its hinges with the wind as though pulled by an invisible diaphragm.

Rom stood rooted to the floor, breathing a prayer. Twilight had brought out a chorus of crickets, but no other sound came from inside the house.

He’d spent most of an hour with the boy, there in the countryside, basking in mystery, believing Avra was safe. But now as he stepped into the living room, his heart froze.

The apartment had been ransacked. Neah’s glass vases were broken on the floor. Chairs lay askew. Cushions torn open. Stuffing everywhere. So much for Neah’s soothing and fearless world.

“Avra?”

Nothing.

He ran to the kitchen, crushing shards of china underfoot. Open packages of meat and wilted vegetables covered the floor.

Panic. “Avra!”

Every room told the same story, of the search for one thing.

The blood.

Where were Triphon and Neah? And what about Avra? He couldn’t be sure that Feyn had been able to free her. For all he knew, they were all being held captive.

“Avra!”

Then he saw it. There, scratched right into the surface of the counter, where he had kissed Avra last:

He blew out a breath.
She got out. They must have all gotten out.

He helped himself to a knife from the kitchen, tucking it into the waist of his trousers.

The closet in the back room hung open in similar disarray, coats and cloaks spilled onto the floor. Another priest’s robe hung among several articles of Neah’s personal clothing. He grabbed it, rolled it into a bundle under his arm, and then left, racing down the outside stairway. At the bottom, a neighbor unlocking her front door turned to stare at him as he rushed by.

He wondered how many others saw him through their windows, were even now hurrying to report him.

He ran.

Rom unfurled the robe as he descended into the underground station, pulled the cowl up over his head. Midday traffic was thicker than usual just two days before inauguration, but no one paid attention to the priest who purchased the single pass and rode with his head bowed in pious prayer.

All the way out to the southeast edge of the city, he thought of Avra, of Feyn.

Of the boy.

He knew without a doubt that he would give his life for Jonathan if required. Many keepers already had. For the first time, he could think of his mother’s death with a measure of comfort, knowing that her death had been for something. For everything, really.

And now? Avra waited for him, and Feyn was somewhere in the Citadel.

Out on the street, it was all he could do to walk sedately. But as soon as he turned down the old cobbled street, he quickened his pace and then broke into a full-out run. Down to the end of the lane, to the old print shop with the boarded-up windows.

The splintered board that had ripped his jacket was gone, pulled away by stronger hands. A gaping hole yawned in its place. He glanced around and, seeing no one, ducked through the opening into darkness.

“Avra?”

Dripping water echoed from an unseen leaking pipe.

“Triphon?”

He saw, from the periphery of his vision, the small form rushing him from the side before he heard her. Avra flew into his arms with a sob. Relief hot as lifeblood itself flooded him. Only then did he realize he was shaking.

He buried his face in Avra’s hair. Breathed deeply.
Thank you. Thank you.
He was only vaguely aware of Triphon standing nearby, of Neah off to his side. He had never felt such gratitude in his life. And then he pulled Avra away to look at her and his heart stuttered. Her face was marked by a dark, angry bruise.

“What happened?”

She pressed back in against him. “Don’t let go.”

He wrapped his arms around her slight frame. “Who did this? Did Saric do that? Triphon! I told you to keep her safe!”

“It was my idea.” Avra said. “I wanted to go.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“It’s nothing!” Avra said. “You’re safe. I’m alive.”

She was right. But it did little to quell the rage.

“Tell me this is all he did to you.”

“It is,” she said. “He did it knowing he had to let me go. Feyn exchanged herself for me.”

So it had worked. Feyn had gotten back.

And Rom had found the boy.

Rom let out an uneven breath. “Never again. You can’t ever do anything so stupid again!”

“She saved you, man,” Triphon said. “She risked her neck for you!”

“And you, Triphon. I swear if you ever let one hair on her body come to harm—”

“You’ll what? Beat me down? With what—your pen?”

“Try me.”

“Stop it!” Avra said. “What’s this, Rom? Not even a kiss for me?”

He kissed her, hard, desperate for the warmth of her, the taste of her, the feel of her lips against his own. “I love you,” he whispered into her hair. “I love you. You hear me? I’ll love you forever.”

Avra wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck.

“I thought they took you,” Neah said, moving toward them, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes seeming too large in her head. “I thought they had you.”

“They didn’t. And I got to Feyn. But I couldn’t get word to you in time. I had to get her out of the Citadel.”

“You—you got to her?” she said faintly. “What happened?”

He told them everything. Barging into Feyn’s room, escaping the Citadel, the ride through the night. The blood he had given Feyn. Her decoding of the vellum and Talus’s account…that the world was dead.

“Dead?” Triphon blinked. “Dead how?”

“Where there’s no capacity to feel and love, where the soul of humanity itself has been stripped from the genetic code, there’s no life,” Rom said.

Triphon fell back against the wall. “Dung hills. The whole world? A world of walking…corpses?”

“Pretty much.”

“And us?” Neah asked.

“The blood brought us back. For now. It isn’t permanent.”

Neah glanced at Triphon, but then stared at Rom, as though just now understanding him. “What did you say? It isn’t? How long do we have?”

“I don’t know. A year? Ten? Months?”

“That long?”

“What do you mean,
that long
? It’s life!”

“How can it be life if it wears off?” she demanded. “For all you know what we’ve felt is only the beginning of it. For all you know we could become monsters in a week! Don’t you feel the pain?”

Rom hadn’t considered the possibility. But surely, the vellum would have pointed this out. Or the keeper.

Then again, the boy’s dreams disturbed him. What if he saw a future very different from the one predicted in the vellum? Wars, he had said. He had dreamed of war. Talus was an alchemist, not a prophet. His predictions had come from advanced scientific calculations and mathematics in a time when machines could model more than the mind could.

So the future was still uncertain.

“We have to go with what we know. And what we know right now is that we’re alive,” he said.

“What about Feyn?” Avra asked softly. “She didn’t have a full portion.”

“She’s reverted already. But we now have an ally.”

“That’s a pretty powerful ally,” Triphon said.

“And the boy?” Avra said.

“I found him. Out east, on an estate beyond the hamlet of Susin. There’s a road that leads to a small home. He’s there with his nurse and Lila, his mother.”

“You’re sure it’s him?”

“It’s him.”

“How do you know?” Triphon said.

“If you met him…you’d know.”

“He knew about the vellum?”

Rom gave him a curt nod. “But he knows more than that, too. From his dreams. He knows about us.”

“His dreams? How’s that work?” Triphon said.

“I don’t know, but until I showed him the vellum he thought his dreams were just dreams. But I think somehow he knew. Maker, he’s only nine! I can’t imagine what that’s like.”

“And what does he know from his dreams?”

“Only what I’ve told you. He wouldn’t say more. But he’s a cripple, just like the vellum predicted.”

“I don’t get it,” Triphon said. “How’s a cripple supposed to do…all that he’s supposed to do?”

“Somehow. I don’t know.” How would anyone, for that matter?

“Maybe it’s a mistake.”

“It’s not a mistake. Because he’s also alive.”

“Like us? How can that be?” Avra said.

“He was born with the blood.”

Avra was shivering. When he looked at her she glanced away.

“What is it?”

“There’s something not right with him.”

“He’s the one, I’m telling you! I was there.”

“Not the boy,” she said.

“Then who?” But he knew.

“Saric.” Avra turned her dark gaze toward him. “The boy isn’t the only one alive with some other blood.”

“He’s alive?”

“Not like us. Not like it seems the boy is. More like a monster.” She wouldn’t say more.

Saric, filled with emotion?

The thought sent a chill through Rom, and for the first time he wondered if Feyn was in danger. Surely Saric had plans of his own.

Neah lowered her arms, eyes on the obscured window. “We should go and make our peace with him before he kills us all.”

“Don’t be crazy!” Rom said. “It’s up to us to see the boy into power, not make peace with his enemy.”

“How can one crippled boy be an answer to anything?” she demanded.

Rom wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Haven’t you been listening? This boy has the power to right all that’s wrong.”

“We have to stop Saric,” Triphon said. “We have to kill him.”

“No. Feyn has to be the one to fix this. She needs to know that I found the boy.”

“How do you know you can trust her? For all we know she’s told Saric everything,” Triphon said.

It was true, Saric could force Feyn to talk, surely. And Feyn knew the boy’s identity.

And Feyn hadn’t been the same person when they said good-bye. But she’d kept her word about Avra.

Sometimes death is the only way
. The boy’s words had plagued Rom for hours as he rode home.

“They can’t both be Sovereign,” Triphon said.

There it was.

Triphon squinted. “Right?”

Rom shook his head. “Jonathan is next in line. Feyn would have to bring him to power after becoming Sovereign, but I don’t know how. She’d have to actually believe he should be Sovereign first. Unless…”

“Unless what?”

He hesitated for the space of a heartbeat. “According to the law, if Feyn died before taking office, the next in line would take power. That would be Jonathan.”

“Surely, you’re not suggesting—”

“All I’m saying is that if Feyn died before her inauguration, the boy would be the rightful ruler. Feyn said so herself.” Whether he could actually come to power at his age would be another matter.

“Hades, man, listen to what you’re saying!” Triphon said.

“She saved us both,” Avra said.

Neah was silent.

“All I’m saying is that Feyn needs to know about the boy.” Rom looked up at Triphon. “And that’s why you need to get to the boy and protect him at all costs. Take Avra and Neah.”

Triphon hesitated only a moment. “Consider it done.”

“What about you?” Avra demanded.

His eyes were still on Triphon. “I don’t have to tell you that everything’s lost if the boy dies.”

“I swear on my life, he won’t lose a hair on his head.”

Rom turned to Avra. “I’m going back to the Citadel—”

“What? No! Everyone’s looking for you! Send Triphon.”

Rom shook his head. “I can get in. And Feyn will see me. I need to tell her about the boy.”

But there was another reason why he had to go, wasn’t there? Maker forgive him for even thinking it.

Avra moved closer. “Then I’ll come with you—”

“No. Saric’s too dangerous. I’m not letting you anywhere near him.”

“What about you? When I thought Saric had you—do you have any idea what that was like for me?”

A knot gathered in his throat. He took her hand, lifted it to his lips. “I can’t live without you, Avra. But this vellum found me, I didn’t choose it. No, I have to go.”

He didn’t tell her the rest of what was on his mind. He couldn’t.

Her expression twisted.

“Listen to me, Avra. I love you! I swear I’ll always love you. Go to the boy. See him for yourself. Keep him safe. I’ll be right behind you.”

She averted her eyes.

“Avra, please.”

“Promise me one thing.” She looked at him again. He could barely bear the full brunt of those eyes. “Promise—”

“I promise.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“It doesn’t matter. I promise.”

“Promise me by this time tomorrow I’ll be in your arms.”

“I promise.”

But they both knew that promises were the stuff of fantasy. It was all Rom could do to keep the sudden surge of sorrow that rose in him from spilling over.