Finn smirked. "I'll meet you at the top."
Like ghosts he and the other oshota disappeared the same way Graydon had, leaving Kira and the marshal standing alone, the gate at their back, the sea beneath them, and the stairs in front of her.
"Does it matter how long this takes?" Kira asked, staring at the twisting stairs as they threaded in on themselves.
"Only that you complete it."
"And if I don't?"
"Anything that falls is given to the sea."
Aw, the first trick. Falter, sit, and you were likely to get a little wet. Good to know. But he hadn't said you couldn't try again.
Kira considered the two bags. There was little chance she’d be able to carry both up the stairs.
She grabbed the one Raider had ceded to her. Why did she get the feeling that this was going to get more difficult the higher she climbed?
There was no way to tell without starting.
Kira set her foot on the first step and then started up at a controlled pace. If she truly didn't have a time limit, then there was no reason to rush. Slow and steady wins the race, as the saying went.
A few piddly little stairs weren’t going to defeat her, the Phoenix, Scourge of the Tsavitee.
FIVE
Graydon moved through the place he'd once called home. The few Tuann he passed stepped out of his way, none daring to delay him.
Not with that focused look in his eyes, one that didn't invite casual conversation.
The place he'd once called home was ancient, steeped in tradition and paid for by the blood and sweat of generations. The fortress's design was brutally simple. Those who'd built the Fortress of the Vigilant had understood its purpose. Every brick laid was done to maximize its defense and increase its offensive capabilities.
Perhaps because of its simplicity, it was a place of minimalist beauty. Graydon had visited many strongholds, spent time on countless planets, yet Roake's fortress was still among the most stunning he'd seen.
Two oshota framed a massive wooden door at the end of the hallway. The door was functional, yet managed to be imposing, as if taking its cues from the man waiting behind it.
Once upon a time, Graydon would have found the sight of that door intimidating. It would have loomed like a specter. More than one Roake Tuann had faced that door and felt nerves eating away at their stomachs.
For Graydon, that time was over, his position and the intervening years blunting its impact.
"The prodigal son returns." The tall man on the left greeted him with a faint smile. His chest was wide, and he had skin that reminded Graydon of thechokotrees in the southern tip of the continent.
"Veer." Graydon dipped his head as a sign of respect. "Is he in?"
"He is, but you might want to compose yourself before you enter," Veer cautioned, seeming all the more amused. "You know he won't respond well if your control wavers even a little."
Graydon held in his response. Outside these walls, he was feared, his reputation for swift justice and decisive violence well earned. He was respected, even as he was treated with wary caution. No one wanted to earn the enmity of the emperor's youngest Face.
In these halls, however, was a different story. Here, he was still the undersized whelp the Overlord's brother had taken under his wing and trained.
"Little Storm, you're not usually so off-balance." Indya was a tall woman with strong features and eyes that always seemed to be laughing. "Has the child worked her way so far into your heart?"
Used to it by now, Graydon didn't let the teasing distract him. Most of Roake's oshota had assisted in raising him after his parents fell in defense of their Overlord.
They'd acted as honorary aunts and uncles from the time he took his first step. In House Roake, every adult cared for the children like the precious treasures they were. That went double for the warrior class, where a parent might die at any time.
Indya had taught him how to hold his sword. Veer had worked with him on hiskattas. The man behind that door had overseen every step of his training, pushing him when he would have faltered, forcing him to stand when he would have fallen.
He owed Harlow everything that he was. He wouldn't be the man he was without him.
