Honovi laughed, guiding Blaine down the ramparts. The wall surrounding the fort was wider than the length of a motor carriage, providing enough space up top for them to walk side by side. Defensive towers rose up a single level in evenly spaced intervals, armed with weaponry. They passed through the arched entrance of one, bypassing an unmanned Zip gun.
He knew the Eastern Spine was a propagator of revenants the same way the Wastelands were. Spores weren’t eradicated in those areas, and the dead—be they human or animal—had a tendency to rise again and look for the living. In the trailing edge of the mountains, the Celestine Lake was a draw, specifically for the island the wardens called home. The Zip guns and automatons on patrol with the night shift of wardens kept an eye on the land around the fort.
The moon was half-full, giving off enough light to reflect on the water of the lake. The Leviathan constellation had pride of place in the sky, and Honovi’s gaze tracked the set of stars, mentally giving shape to the beast it represented.
“Do you think the wardens can free Nathaniel?” Honovi asked.
Blaine sighed, gesturing vaguely with his left hand. “Their alchemy is far more advanced than anyone else’s, and I think they have a chance to undo it. It’s not saving him, though. Not with what was done to his heart.”
“They aren’t condemning him to death, though.”
“I think they see him as an interesting experiment over an actual person, but that may just be Ksenia.”
“Do you trust they’ll do right by whatever they find, even knowing one of theirs perpetuated it?”
“We can’t blame all of them for the actions of one.”
“Do they know who it was?”
“I think they have an idea, but they haven’t been forthcoming about it.”
Wardens kept secrets more than most, and with good reason. For all the good they did guarding borders and working in the poison fields to cleanse the land, they weren’t always treated fairly. The stigma of poison and handling revenants was something they couldn’t always escape, no matter the country. The clans dealt with spores and revenants more than most other countries save Solaria with its Wastelands. They knew what horrors wardens kept at bay, and wardens were always welcome.
Honovi steered Blaine over to the edge of the ramparts to lean against the wall overlooking the training grounds. He couldn’t see much of anything past the glow of lights around the walls. Blaine leaned against him, a line of warmth against the cool air.
“If word gets out a warden created therionetkas, that will put a target on their backs from people in governments across Maricol,” Honovi said.
“Countries can’t keep wardens out of their borders. The Poison Accords don’t allow for that.”
“But if people distrust them, governments could keep them out of cities and towns. Perimeter walls protect us. There will be those who argue wardens don’t belong inside, not when they handle the dead so often.”
“That aids no one.”
“Are you sure?” At Blaine’s questioning look, Honovi continued with “The last civil war between Daijal and Ashion ended up with over a hundred thousand dead. Who do you think dealt with the bodies and the revenants that rose from the battlefields? It certainly wasn’t the armies.”
“Wouldn’t starfire have made a difference?”
Honovi shook his head. “The queen at the time only had a nominal amount. Some Ashionen historians blame her lack for the armistice that happened. The Iverson bloodline didn’t have starfire to aid them. She could have theoretically won that war.”
“But she didn’t.”
“By the time she agreed to go into the trenches, it was too late. Too many more people would have died on both sides. She opted for an armistice instead. After the civil war, the Rourke bloodline married based on genealogy records, not for love. They chose people for their ability to cast starfire or the strength of it in their bloodlines. Queen Ophelia could cast starfire, but not to the extent her children can. She meant them to be a deterrent.”
Blaine snorted. “I don’t think she’d be proud of the road Eimarille has walked.”
“Agreed.” Honovi absently rubbed his hand up and down his husband’s arm. “But what does Eimarille gain by turning people against wardens? If she’s intent on war, she’ll need them just like they were needed during Ashion’s first civil war. Otherwise, she puts her own troops at risk when revenants rise.”
“She doesn’t strike me as the type of person who cares about that.”
“She’ll pretend to and blame the wardens for a high death toll.”
“Wardens are supposed to be neutral.”
“Do you think that matters if everyone believes it was a warden who created therionetkas? If the wardens are pushed aside, unable to do their duty, then the Ashion army that Meleri hopes will stand against Daijal will have to fight the living and the walking dead.”
“Damn it.” Blaine dragged his hand down his face before turning to wrap his arms around Honovi’s waist, resting his forehead against Honovi’s shoulder. “I want to say you’re wrong, but I don’t think you are.”
Honovi turned to better hold his husband. “The diplomatic corps were certainly useful in showing me just how cutthroat politics can be.”
