“We can take a moment. We still have the grimoire and the vessel—" She hesitated, eyes flashing between Seren and Cal now. The latter tucked an arm around her and she sucked in a calming breath. "There's nothing he can do with the stone without the other two. You should speak with your father while we sort out what to do next."
Icarus shook his head, the scholar in him pulsing with a disappointment that irritated the edge of guilt her words had provoked. Once more, his eyes darted towards the dorm room where his father slept and that pulse of guilt blossomed. To have the man he'd longed for so close . . . but there might as well have been an ocean between them, for how could his father ever forgive him after what he had done?
With a quick shake of his head, he cleared his throat. "Wrong again, Miss Marudas. On its own, the stone is still a power beyond our comprehension. Made of pure moondust, blood magic, and starlight there is not another conduit like it in all Lynoria. It will give him the upper hand. He must not be allowed time to plot and bolster a defense. The time to strike is now before he has the chance to leave Calami and go back to the fortress that is Mistral Hall."
"The ball doesn't end for hours. He is still here. I can feel him." Arabella shuddered as though the sensation made her sick. Cal pulled her closer. "Meanwhile, your father who you haven't seen or spoken to in years lays just beyond my door, weak, possibly near death. I would give anything in the world to speak with my father one last time." The corner of her mouth curved bitterly like she wanted to say more, but Seren took a graceful step between them, pale but otherwise unharmed.
"Bella is right, Icarus." It shocked them all to hear her say it, perhaps Arabella most of all by the look of sheer surprise on her face. "Go speak with your father, or at least sit by him a moment while we discuss what to do about Cyrus." Seren's dark eyes glimmered with that light he could not resist. That feeling that bewitched his very soul rose as she lifted a hand to gently stroke his cheek, not caring about the way Arabella glared her disapproval.
He pushed into her touch, savoring the way it made the world fall away for a moment. Basking in sweet nothing. But then he blinked and gently removed her hand. "You three have five minutes to think of something good. Five minutes and no more. No matter what, I will see our uncle bleed tonight." His gaze met with the bursting fire-orange of Cal's who nodded solemnly.
Without giving himself a chance to hesitate, Icarus pushed open the small crack in Arabella's door and stepped inside. A pair of round green eyes opened, glowing through the darkness to watch Icarus step slowly towards the bed. The small red fox was curled up on the chest of a man that, for a moment, Icarus feared he didn't recognize. How could this be his father? A man who had been full of life, of unmatched vigor. Dark and handsome, who towered over leagues of wizards at war time. Who had lifted both him and his brother on each shoulder, effortlessly, with a booming laugh that echoed in the den of their estate home to be heard from even the furthest halls.
The man that lay before him was none of those things . . . and yet hints of that ghost clung to the line of his jaw and bend of his brow resting beneath a sweep of matted graying hair.
Icarus felt his knees buckle but hardly registered the pain when they slammed into the floor beneath him. A broken cry tried to crawl its way out of his lungs as he shifted towards the bedside, careful not to touch the frail, scarred arm poking out from beneath Arabella's thick quilt.
"Father," he whispered and let his face fall into his open hands. His shoulders shook beneath the quiet effort of his sob so that he hardly registered the feel of the warm palm that moved to rest over his hair.
"Icarus?" It was a weak, groaning rasp. A fractured memory—half lost under years of nightmares and self-torment. But at the sound, Icarus truly lost himself. Thick tears cascaded down his cheeks, and he pulled for breath that would not come.
In the gentle darkness, Elias eased himself up to sit and let his hand trail down to the top of his oldest son's back. "Icarus," he repeated as though waking from a dream. "My son, my boy." With what weak muscle his father had left, Icarus felt him gather his trembling frame, pulling him close. The feel was a warmth he remembered well now, something he hadn't realized he missed so much.
"Father." He choked, finally reining in the emotions that threatened to drown him. "I don't know what to say—"
"Then say nothing. Sit with me. Let me see you, my son. You've grown, no longer the boy ripped away so long ago. I tried to stop him. Tell him, Illiana, tell him what you saw . . . tell him how you are with me. Your essence never left my side."
Slowly, Icarus pulled away, confused to see his father staring into space, speaking to the air as if his wife was standing on the other side of his shoulder. Wiping away the tears that lingered, Icarus rose. "Father, you need rest. I must find Cyrus and make him pay for his treachery."
At this, Elias made a noise half guttural and tried to lunge for Icarus’s arm, but the pain the movement brought him had him falling back into the pillow, wreathing with gritted teeth as he clutched his side. "Please, son. Wait. There is something you must know."
When his father opened his eyes again, Icarus saw that they were clear once more, the delirium had passed. "Cyrus has a plan for the stone…"
"I know Father, he all but laid it out for us in the conservatory." Icarus tried to pat his father's hand reassuringly, but the older man wasn't having it. He gripped Icarus with a fever, spittle forming around his mouth.
"But did he tell you of his intention to free Atlas?" Elias groaned in pain, as he clutched his head. "He tormented me with it. Those long days and nights in that dungeon. He came to me, whispering his insane idea that Atlas’s spirit had been trapped somewhere and with the three he could release it, but that Atlas would need a vessel of his own to possess."
Icarus reached for his father, wishing to ease the pain that ravaged him. But his brow furrowed as he took in the words. "He would sacrifice his body to Atlas? Why? Why would he want to find and release someone who could challenge his power?"
"Your uncle believes Atlas is the only Darkmore fit for truly finishing the plan he started to take over Lynoria, but he would not give his own body. Atlas would never accept a vessel approaching old age. Cyrus has been molding Cal, ready to entice him with the promise that they could restore the waters of Meden and mend your mother’s fractured mind." A painful grimace overtook him again, withered boney hands clutching the sheets beneath him. The small fox let out a concerned whimper and pressed into the man's neck in an effort to soothe him.
Icarus frowned at the new information, unsure if it was more delirious raving or if his uncle would really do such a sinister thing to the nephew he claimed to love. "Rest, father. Rest and all will be well."
"Well? What's the plan?" Icarus closed the door quietly behind him, thankful the reunion had been a private one.
"The plan," Cal started, "is to hide Ara and the grimoire. Obviously, our dear uncle was bluffing when he threatened her life. Like us, he’s deduced that Ara must be the vessel. Otherwise, he would have tried to take Seren in the conservatory."
"I give you five minutes and that's all you've got? Hide Ara and the grimoire?" Icarus grappled with the urge to yell.
Seren piped up, not letting Icarus’s bite phase her. " He’s right, Icarus. It’s what we need to do. We're guessing he's after Sidonia because she is the only magical being with the strength to oppose him, and as you know, as headmistress, she has a connection to each and every one of her students. While in the Tower, a headmistress can track her students with ease. Be it by force or persuasion, he could get her to spill where Arabella is–"
But Icarus, more impatient than ever, was already cutting her off. "Even Cyrus is not delusional enough to attempt such a thing with an audience the size of which is downstairs. There are safety measures in place for such a thing. Wards around the dining hall because the outer boundaries had to be lowered for the Ball. His magic cannot harm or compel her within."
"Measures that would have heldbeforehe had the stone. You yourself said it wields power beyond our know." Arabella's scowl made the soft young woman almost unrecognizable. "And even if he didn't, Cyrus is cunning enough to lure her away."
"Then I will find them. You three get inside with Father and ward the room with the most powerful spells you can conjure. Cal, let Horacio be your eyes in the hall. Keep Tisiphone and the fox close."
Cal's laugh bloomed around them like the swells of sacred datura that thrived in moonlight gardens. "You are fooling yourself, brother, if you think you will be facing Cyrus alone. I have my own score to settle with him.”
