3013_REVOLUTION Read online

  Mostly, he was pissed at himself for being such a selfish jackass. Despite his misgivings of all things fate-related, he’d never meant to hurt Rya. If someone had explained the pain that would come from his distance, perhaps he would have chosen differently. That didn’t mean he wanted a companion—soulmate, whatever—but at least Rya wouldn’t have been forced to suffer needlessly.

  The guilt surrounded him, crushing him beneath its weight. Even as he slipped through one of the side doors of the great hall to find Rya, he didn’t know what he would say when he found her. “Sorry” didn’t really seem to cover it, and would likely end up getting him slapped again. Not that he could blame her, but it wouldn’t solve anything, either.

  On the raised dais at the far end of the hall, three long tables had been arranged across the back and down both sides in a blocked U pattern. At the forward facing table, Sion immediately recognized members of the Court of Elders by their silvery white hair. Some, such as Elder Tak Meadowlark and Kai’s father, Elder Elor Blackthorn, he’d met previously. Others, he knew only by sight, and at least two of the elders, were completely new to him.

  The Vaseres and Vaseras of the Five Isles gathered at the table facing the entrance to the hall, and seated at the table opposite them were emissaries from the Isles, representatives chosen to speak on behalf of the people. Six-tiered rows of wooden benches stretched across both walls of the hall, filled with nearly four hundred Xenon delegates from around the planet—two from each city, town, and ramshackle village on Xenthian.

  Ivy stood from her seat and waved a hand at him, motioning him toward the dais. Nodding, he started toward her, but made it only a few steps before the air whooshed out of his lungs, and everything went black. Staggering as he landed a few feet behind Ivy’s chair, he pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned as his stomach twisted and his head spun.

  Once the world came back into focus, he realized he was once again dry and dressed in a fresh tunic. While Ivy had been practicing, she hadn’t quite mastered the level of magic his transformation required. So, while he still wanted to ram his fist into Kai’s face, he settled on a brief nod of gratitude, followed by a low growl that said he hadn’t forgotten the incident that had landed him in the courtyard.

  To his surprise, however, Kai only arched an eyebrow and shook his head. Then a slow smile stretched the Vasili’s lips at the same moment the strange and enticing scent of summer sunshine invaded Sion’s senses. Before he had time to react, a warm, soft hand slid into his own, grasping his fingers lightly.

  “This doesn’t mean I’m not still angry with you,” Rya whispered, not looking at him but staring straight ahead.

  A tingle started in his palm and traveled up his arm. His chest tightened, his heart pounded too hard, too fast, beating a painful staccato against his sternum. Standing so close to her, feeling her skin against his, he couldn’t believe he’d ever had the strength to walk away from her in the first place. Something inside him, something he couldn’t explain, recognized Rya Clearwater on a visceral level.

  As the seconds ticked by, something miraculous happened. His pulse slowed. The knot in his chest loosened. The nervous energy he’d spent weeks trying to shake vanished, replaced by a tranquility he’d never experienced. With Rya by his side, he felt content, but more than that, he felt…complete.

  “How are you feeling?” Tightening his hand around Rya’s, he pulled her even closer to him. “Does this help? Touching?”

  She still looked straight ahead, but she leaned into him, and the corners of her lips twitched. “I don’t know if touching helps, but it feels nice.”

  A little color had returned to her cheeks, but the sunken hollows around her eyes continued to worry him. “Can I get you something? Have you eaten?” His gaze strayed to the empty seat next to the one she’d been occupying. “Where’s your brother?”

  “Oh, he’s nearby.” With her free hand, she waved vaguely toward the risers. “He’s terribly put out with me right now.”

  Frowning, Sion searched the crowd for Garrik. “Shouldn’t he be protecting you?”

  “He is,” she answered confidently. “We should take our seats. It appears the elders are ready to begin.”

  Nodding, Sion reached for the back of Rya’s seat to help her into it, but stumbled backward when an icy blast of wind hit him in the chest. Even in a crowd of nearly four hundred, he didn’t have to see the perpetrator to know who had cast the random bit of magic.

  “Your brother is a dickhead.”

  Staring at a point midway down the top riser across from them, Rya tilted her head one way, then the other, her eyebrows drawing together as she did so. “I don’t understand,” she finally admitted. “I see no resemblance.”

  The Xenon penchant for literality never failed to amuse him. “Never mind, princess.” Reaching for her chair again, he managed to pull it away from the table without further incident. “I should go find a seat.”

  “There are several available. I’m sure you won’t need to search long.”

  Snorting under his breath, Sion helped Rya into her chair and did something that surprised them both. He bent at the waist and kissed the top of her head. He’d acted without thinking, driven purely by instinct, but he didn’t regret it. While the idea of fate and destinies and reunited souls all sounded like pretty fairytales told to children at bedtime, in his heart, he knew something had changed. He felt different, not better, not worse, just…different.

  And it had all started with the raven-haired beauty with lovely pink eyes.

  “Look.” Rya patted daintily at the cushion on the chair next to her. “I found one.”

  Charmed by her subtle humor and sweet smile, Sion lowered himself into the seat without the conscious decision to do so. A part of him wondered if the elven princess had truly bewitched him, because he couldn’t seem to think at all. Thankfully, he didn’t have long to contemplate the dilemma. His butt had barely touched the cushion when Elder Tak Meadowlark stood and lifted his hand, waving to the gathered delegates for quiet.

  “To our delegates from the Five Isles, I say welcome. By now, you are aware of the reason for this summit, and I trust each of you have given the concerns great consideration.” The elder’s thin lips twisted into something resembling a grin. “For the sake of posterity, and so that these minutes may be documented in the historical recordings, introductions must first be made.”

  “Is he joking?” Sion whispered to Rya from the corner of his mouth. “He expects everyone to introduce themselves?”

  Rya’s lips pressed together tightly, and her nostrils flared as she reached beneath the table to pat his thigh. “Not every delegate,” she answered, amusement ringing with each hushed word. “Only the elders, rulers, and emissaries.”

  That still seemed like overkill. Perhaps the elders planned to bore everyone until they finally agreed. It would probably work, too. The summit had barely begun, and Sion already wished it was over.

  In turn, each elder stood and stated their name, then bowed their head slightly before resuming their seats. Elders Meadowlark, Blackthorn, Rayne, and Lakewood, he recognized from previous meetings. The last two males, however, he didn’t recall ever seeing inside the citadel.

  Elder Jossilian Ashgrove spoke quietly, yet his deep timbre somehow resonated throughout the hall. He held his hands together at his waist, all but his fingers hidden within the sleeves of his black robes, and his silvery hair draped over one shoulder when he stood and nodded. Staring at a point on the back wall, he looked at no one in particular, yet his expression was anything but vacant. In his gaze, Sion recognized a great intellect coupled with decades of wisdom, and if he wasn’t mistaken, a respectable amount of weariness.

  The last male at the long table, on the other hand, appeared bored at best. He looked less like an elder, and more like a moody teenager, and he didn’t even bother to stand when introducing himself. He simply lifted his hand, gave it a small wave, and grunted.

  “If you don’t
know who I am, it doesn’t really matter.” The elder flicked his fingers down the table toward Elder Meadowlark. “Carry on.”

  Unlike the rest of the Court in their pristine robes and hunter green tunics, the unknown male wore a brown, leather vest over a white shirt with long, billowing sleeves. He’d knotted his long hair at his crown, secured haphazardly with a strip of leather, and several piercings adored both of his pointed ears. Lounging back in his seat, he picked at his fingernails, the air of indifference practically pouring from his entire being.

  Sion liked him immediately.

  “Elder Torren Blue,” Rya murmured, answering his unspoken question.

  Sion frowned. “His name is almost normal.”

  It had once been thought that magic could only be used against a Xenon if the wielder knew their true name. To protect their children, the race had gifted their offspring with long, complicated names, presenting only a shortened version to anyone other than family. As the planet and its people evolved, so did their understanding of the myth and legend, yet the tradition still remained.

  “No one knows his true name,” Rya explained. “He lives alone, and he’s rarely seen outside of his home. I suppose you could say he’s somewhat of a mystery.”

  Her mouth softened, her gaze took on a faraway quality, and she leaned forward as a quiet, breathy sigh escaped her parted lips.

  Possessiveness, swift and unyielding, overwhelmed him, and Sion clenched his teeth to hold back the growl that threatened to rise in his throat. He knew the expression on Rya’s face all too well. It was the same look he’d seen directed at him on several occasions since his arrival on the planet. Males and females alike were intrigued by his presence, his appearance, but mostly, their interest stemmed from what they didn’t know about him.

  Mysterious. Dangerous. Exciting.

  He’d heard it all, mostly in hushed whispers from those he passed on the street or in the hallways. While he didn’t necessarily agree with the assessment, he had no qualms about using it to his advantage. Unfortunately, whatever charms other Xenon felt he possessed had little effect on Rya.

  Steered by jealousy, he reached over to cup Rya’s chin in his palm. “Hey.” Holding her gently, he turned her face toward him until she met his gaze. “Eyes over here, princess.”

  He didn’t delude himself into believing everything between them was okay, but the smile that lit her heart-shaped face made him want to earn her forgiveness. Never had he met anyone like her, felt anything like he did when they touched. Rya was someone completely new to him, yet wonderfully familiar all at once.

  The shadows under her eyes had begun to lighten, and hints of pink covered the tops of her cheeks. Her ebony hair was shinier, healthier, and even her voice sounded less strained. Watching her transform before his eyes, grow stronger, healthier, he could no longer deny he’d been the one to cause her distress in the first place.

  The emissaries at the table across from him began to stand, one by one announcing their names and which island they represented. Uninterested in the proceedings, Sion continued to stare at Rya, searching her face, her eyes, for a hint of the forgiveness he knew he didn’t deserve.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “When would I have told you?” Her voice, while barely audible, dripped with icy condemnation. “When you ran away from me the first time?”

  “I didn’t run.”

  “Yes. You needed time.”

  Sion was beginning to regret asking the question. “I only meant—”

  “Or,” Rya interrupted, raising her voice so that she drew the attention of everyone at their table, “maybe I should have told you when you were avoiding my communications and asking Vasera Blackthorn to lie for you.”

  “Please,” Ivy hissed from Sion’s other side, “leave me out of this. I feel bad enough as it is.”

  “You.” Turning in his seat, Sion jabbed his index finger at his friend. “You should have told me.”

  “I didn’t know,” Ivy shot back, cutting a sideways glare at her mate. “Don’t try to put this on me. This isn’t my fault.”

  No, it wasn’t, but Sion needed someone to share in the blame, because if he tried to shoulder it all, the guilt would destroy him. Honorable, it wasn’t, but he was willing to let his pride take the hit in the interest of self-preservation.

  He’d almost left the planet. For weeks, he’d been chastising himself for not boarding the Contingency with Tariq and Cami. If he’d actually left, if Rya had died because of him, he’d have never been able to live with himself. Just the suggestion of what might have happened tightened his chest and twisted his stomach.

  What no one seemed to understand, however, was that he’d never doubted the connection between them. From the moment he’d met the Vasera, he’d felt it. Every part of him had been alight with the energy that flowed between them, and for a brief moment, he’d wanted it, all of it, every promise that bond offered.

  Then, he’d panicked.

  The last time he’d left his fate in the hands of another, he’d ended up with only a deep, crescent-shaped scar that ran the length of his left cheek from temple to jaw. He’d lost more than his best friend that day. He’d lost his identity, and it had taken almost a decade for him to find it again.

  “What are you thinking?” Rya asked, taking his hand and lacing their fingers together beneath the table.

  Sion didn’t know why he hesitated to tell her, but before he could speak, Vasere Finn Silveroak stood at the far end of the table and announced his name. A guard dressed in a plain gray tunic stood next, stating his name as Roethillian Silveroak, Captain of the Northern Guard.

  “Finn’s brother?” Sion guessed.

  Rya nodded slowly. “I wonder why Finn’s mate didn’t accompany him.”

  Since he didn’t have a good answer, Sion said nothing as Vasera Lasha Snowden stood and introduced herself. Another guard, this one dressed in a jade green tunic with golden inlays, rose next.

  “Trajillorn Brightsong, Captain of the Southern Guard.”

  Vasere Jericho Sundale of the Western Isle didn’t stand, but he did make a jerky movement of his hand and grumble his name. Sion had only met the male once, but from what he gathered, that was Jericho playing nice. The female guard beside him, however, pushed into a hunched, semi-standing position, stretching her pale gold tunic with shimmering bronze accents across her ample breasts.

  “Audrayllah Whitehill, Captain of the Western Guard.”

  When Rya stood to address the room, Sion stared down at the scarred tabletop and frowned. It should have been Garrik seated beside her, someone important with a fancy title. He’d taken over the role of Ivy’s personal guard until they could find a replacement, but he had nothing to offer to the proceedings. He was an outsider, a stranger to their planet, and as such, he shouldn’t even be there, let alone speak for the people of Xenthian.

  So, when it came time for him to address the delegates, he did nothing. He didn’t stand, didn’t speak. Instead, he reached under the table and poked the side of Ivy’s thigh. No one cared what he had to say, and judging by the quiet murmurs that had started in the risers, no one gave a damn about these formalities, either.

  The Court clearly realized this as well, and once Ivy and Kai had stated their names for the records, Elder Meadowlark motioned for Kai to take the floor. The great hall fell silent when the king walked to the center of the dais and turned his back on the elders.

  “Delegates.” He looked to the right and nodded. “Emissaries.” Then to the left. “Rulers and protectors of the Five Isles. I thank each of you for making the journey to Sommervail. We have much to discuss.”

  Sion didn’t miss the fact that Kai had deliberately excluded the elders from his welcome, but it didn’t surprise him. The king had made his displeasure with the Court widely known, hence the reason for the summit. It did, however, surprise him to see how many of the delegates listened with rapt attention, nodding their heads approvingly as Kai spoke.
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br />   “How does this work, princess?” he asked in hushed tones, angling toward Rya. “Does everyone get a vote? Is it like a trial where both sides plead their case?”

  Rya thought about her answer for several seconds, trying to find the best way to explain it to an outsider. “Meetings have already been held on the Isles, with the facts as they’re known presented to the people. The emissaries are the voice of those people, but ultimately, they have a duty to speak to the best interest of the citizens of Xenthian.”

  A frown tugged at Sion’s lips, and his eyebrows drew together over the bridge of his nose, stretching the scar that curved along the side of his face. “Then what do the delegates have to do with anything? Why are there so many here?”

  “The emissaries represent the Isles, while the delegates represent the cities within each Isle. If new information is presented during the summit, the emissaries are not required to, but have the option to poll the delegates before casting their final votes along with the elders and rulers.”

  “And majority vote wins?”

  Rya nodded.

  It had been the way their government had operated for as long as anyone could remember, but voicing the process aloud sounded terribly convoluted and somewhat inefficient. Then again, there had never been another summit called during her lifetime. For millennia, the people of Xenthian had been content to give the Court absolute power, following them blindly and accepting their words as law.

  Ivy’s arrival had changed everything. It had thrown into question the elders’ motivations and integrity. After all, it had been the elders who had decided to place the shield around Xenthian, hiding them from the rest of the universe. The Court had told the people for eons that their soulmates resided on the planet, and if they only looked hard enough, they’d find their happiness with another Xenon—and only another Xenon.

  Placing her hand on Sion’s forearm, she squeezed gently and sighed. Clearly, the historical records were wrong, perhaps even falsified. Not that she or any of the other rulers would know, since only the Court had access to such documents.