When he finally turned onto the street that held Caris’ estate, the Royal Guard let him pass without argument, the number having doubled since the morning. He drove his velocycle up the estate’s drive and parked it behind a motor carriage. He removed his brass goggles and shoved them in the travel compartment, along with his gloves. He’d cleaned up as best he could at the facilities assigned to wardens near the main gate, removing any excess poison that might have transferred during the fight.
He needed a bath more than anything, and he couldn’t help but think of the bathhouses in Solaria that he’d shared with Vanya. Those didn’t exist in Ashion, and he’d have to make do with the small copper tub in the estate’s guest washroom. As much as he was looking forward to a hot soak, it would have to wait. When he entered the home, the hallway beyond the foyer rang with loud, arguing voices.
Moments later, a door slammed open, and Caris stalked out of a room down the hallway, heading in the other direction with jerky strides. She disappeared around a corner right as Lore darted out of the room and skidded to a stop in the hallway. “Caris!”
She didn’t run after the other woman, though, hands fisted at her side as Blaine stepped out of the room, expression resigned. He said something too low for Soren to hear before touching Lore’s shoulder and heading off in the direction Caris had gone in. Lore let out a heavy sigh and turned on her feet, jerking slightly when she caught sight of Soren. With determined steps, she closed the distance between them, a mix of relief and anger on her face.
“You went past the wall when General Votil told you not to,” Lore said by way of greeting in stilted trade tongue.
“Your general isn’t mine,” Soren replied. “I had my duty.”
“You aren’t a warden anymore.” Soren didn’t even bother replying to that, merely stepped around her and walked away in the direction Caris and Blaine had gone. “Alasandair!”
Soren grimaced at the use of that name and refused to respond to it. He bypassed the room where Meleri and a handful of people he didn’t know were huddled, ignoring the cry of his name the duchess let out.
In the scant few weeks he’d lived in the estate, he knew the one place Caris always went to when she felt out of sorts and needed to clear her head. The door to the small laboratory in the rear garden was shut, but the gas lamp lights were turned on, a soft glow shining through the windows. Soren didn’t bother knocking, and instead let himself inside to the furious sound of Caris venting her frustration to Blaine.
Soren couldn’t really understand what Caris was saying, but he understood the look of frustration in her gestures, and the grief on her face, even if the tone of her voice was all anger. Caris made a sound not unlike a furious hawk might make. The machinery and chunks of clarion crystals scattered around the worktables vibrated in place, a few tools rolling off the edge to the floor.
Soren watched her take a deep breath, hands clenched into fists, and squeeze her eyes shut. The shaking stopped, everything settling back down. The temperature in the laboratory took a nosedive, the heat Soren had thought had accumulated during the day actually coming from Caris.
“What’s wrong?” Soren asked in the trade tongue.
Caris wrenched her eyes open, startled, and stared at him. “You’re back.”
Blaine twisted around, relief writ clear across his face. “Captain Nash was furious you decided to fight. Caris wanted to join you, but General Votil forbade it.”
Soren stared at Caris. “You’re not a warden. You can’t go past the walls during a revenant attack.”
“I could burn them from the top with starfire,” Caris shot back waspishly. “I did it on your island.”
The shores of the Warden’s Island still retained black glass scattered through the sand from her efforts. He’d nearly cut through the sole of a boot from the shards once. “Maybe next time.”
Caris smiled thinly, gray eyes hard. “If Meleri has her way, I’ll never see the fighting up close.”
Blaine sighed tiredly. “You know why we can’t have you on the front lines.”
Caris raised her hand and spread her fingers. The bright, incandescent glow of starfire crackled into existence against her palm, the shine of it as brilliant as its namesake. “I think I would have better reach than even our best artillery.”
“Not if you’re dead,” Soren retorted.
“I feel as if I’m useless here, treated like a child, when I could behelpingpeople.”
“Youarehelping people,” Blaine said.
Caris’ lips twisted bitterly. “Not enough. You know it doesn’t matter where I stand. Eimarille wants me dead. She wants Soren dead. It’s the only way she can claim the starfire throne. So long as we live, the North Star’s decree can be put out, and she will stop at nothing to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
The vow hung like a noose around Soren’s neck, a weight that had never felt as heavy as it did in that moment. He’d thought about it in the weeks since his arrival and he’d learned what Ashion was up against, what it would mean to finally use what was promised, and what would happen if he didn’t. But this war was about more than just the starfire throne—it was about the whole of Maricol, even if some countries refused to act. To let Eimarille win would see the subjugation of the wardens, and Delani had tasked him with guarding them.
“If there was a way to get Solaria to ally with you, would you take it?” Soren asked.
Caris curled her fingers over the starfire burning in her hand and snuffed it out before crossing her arms over her chest, giving him an odd look. “Of course, but my diplomats have been unsuccessful in convincing the Imperial emperor or his Senate to change course.”
Soren hooked his thumb under his collar, snagging the gold chain of the vow and dragging it free. The medallion spun at the end of the links, glittering in the gas lamp lights that burned in the laboratory. “I saved Vanya’s life some years ago. I am owed a debt, and he will pay anything I ask. If you need an alliance, I can get you the Legion.”
Caris’ eyes went wide, and she didn’t immediately speak. Blaine, on the other hand, had no qualms about expressing his shock. “You’rethat warden?”
Soren let the chain go, and the vow thumped heavily against his chest. It took effort to get his answer out, feeling as if the vow itself was strangling him. “Yes.”
