Honovi watched his mother close her eyes, the tip of her wand glowing softly with magic. Glittering lines of aether wrapped around Gregor’s head, casting a colored shine on his skin. The Seneschal breathed slowly through whatever exam Isla was putting him through—right up until he panicked.
Gregor’s eyes snapped open, head jerking away from her wand as far as the collar restraint would let him. His lips peeled back over his teeth, eyes going so wide Honovi could see the whites all around the irises.
Despite the strain in Gregor’s body—the muscles standing out in his arms and legs, the tendons stark in his neck beneath the padded collar—despite the great gasping breaths he took, he didn’t say a single word. Isla removed her wand from his temple, and Gregor sagged against the bed, breathing harshly. His fingers clawed at the white sheet covering the thin mattress, but he stopped yanking at the restraints.
“His mind is his own except where it isn’t,” Isla said, staring down at Gregor. “He is a prisoner in his own mind and knows it but can’t break free.”
Honovi dragged a hand down his face. “Was there any hint of who is controlling him?”
Isla shook her head, mouth twisting as she lowered her arm. “No. Only empty places, gaps in his memory.”
“How long has he been arionetka?”
She looked at him with a kind of horrified grief that Honovi never wanted to see on her face. “Over a year.”
Alrickson swore viciously, banging his fist against the wall hard enough to rattle the medical supplies in the storage cabinet. “This is an unfathomable breach of our sovereignty.”
“We shouldn’t be discussing anything in this room,” Kele said. The older man’s blond hair was tacky from blood, the graze across his right temple neatly bandaged. He’d been lucky, oh so lucky, that the bullet from Gregor’s pistol had mostly missed its target.
Alrickson gestured for them to follow him out of the private hospital room. Honovi went where directed, eyeing the peacekeepers who stood guard outside the room. One slipped inside once they left to take up a post at the door, attention on the man in the bed.
“We’ll need to institute body checks for scars. It’s what they’ve done in Ashion,” Honovi said.
Kele nodded grimly. “Can magicians be taught to search for clockwork hearts? The magic powering the devices must be noticeable.”
“Gregor has been holding office for over a year, and no one noticed the change,” Alrickson pointed out.
“We didn’t know of the threat.”
“Whatever powers his body, it is a type of invention and magic that is well-made,” Isla conceded. “I would not have felt its presence if I didn’t already know to look for it. The device works like a heart, and the aether is contained by the clarion crystals inside the body. It’s subtle in a way and tied to the mind control. It is, in essence, an elaborate infernal engine.”
Honovi closed his eyes, thinking of Siv and wondering when she had been turned—if it was before he’d arrived in Amari or after. How long had he spent in her presence, looking into her eyes, and she was screaming for help in her mind, but none of them heard?
He opened his eyes and met his father’s gaze. “We need to call an emergency meeting. We need to set standards on how to ensure someone isn’t arionetka. When word gets out about why the Seneschal opened fire in the chambers, it’s going to incite panic.”
“Let’s gather the others who can leave and return to the capitol,” Alrickson said before reaching for his wife’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Stay safe.”
“You, too. All of you,” Isla said, gaze flicking over them.
They couldn’t speak openly in the hospital, and the press was clamoring at the doors to the building, wanting answers. If they left, they’d be expected to give a statement, something Honovi knew they were all against providing at the moment. They still braved the shouted questions and cameras that followed their every move as those of theComhairle nan Cinnidheanwho could leave the hospital were escorted back to the motor carriages.
Honovi joined Kele in one of the vehicles, but the ride back was made in silence. They both understood the need for discretion, and nothing of substance was discussed until they found themselves pulling into the well-guarded plaza. The fountain in the center was surrounded by candles inside glass cases and so many bouquets of flowers he couldn’t see the wall.
The sun was in the west, dipping toward the horizon and the mountains that reached up to the sky there. It was a familiar sight, one Honovi had missed while in Amari, that city sprawled across the Northern Plains and beneath the wide-open sky.
Drifting through the air came the sound of temple bells, offbeat to the pipes and drums that echoed from too many pubs and neighborhood plazas to count. E’ridians prayed differently than those in Amari had, and Honovi was comforted by the sounds he’d grown up with.
Peacekeepers were on guard duty around the capitol building, but Honovi also saw people in military uniform. E’ridia’s army was minuscule compared to other countries, but its air force was second to none. Still, it wasn’t typical to see soldiers guarding the civic area. Honovi feared the extenuating circumstance would soon become a new normal none of them would like.
Alrickson must have used his televox to call thejarlsof thecinn-chinnidhwho remained at the hospital. They had arrived and waited near the guarded entrance, and it was a whole contingent of E’ridia’s governing body that entered the capitol building once more.
The chamber was still being handled like a crime scene, so Honovi wasn’t surprised when his father led the group to a conference room used by theComhairle nan Cinnidheanfor private purposes. The peacekeepers who had escorted them inside took up guard positions in the hallway.
Kele shut the door, and Honovi didn’t blame him for locking it. Honovi gazed at the group of people who took their seats at the table, his attention lingering on Frey,jarlof Clan Sun and there because her mother had been injured during the shooting and the mantle of leadership had fallen to her. They’d grown up together amidst the trappings of government and clan needs, though they’d been apart more than together in the last decade or so.
Frey carried herself as if she belonged, much the same way Honovi did. She inclined her head at him in a silent greeting, the metal ranking hair adornments threaded through her braid glinting as she did so. She said nothing, seemingly content to observe first before giving voice to her own clan’s needs in this trying time.
Honovi kept his own peace unless directly addressed as theComhairle nan Cinnidheanstruggled in the aftermath of the unthinkable. This was a new road they were all walking down, and Honovi didn’t care for the steps.
