Season of Glory (20 page)

Ronan gripped my wrist and pulled me back as I tried to surge ahead. “No, Dri, wait,”
he whispered, passing me by. “Let us check it out first.”

I stifled a groan and followed behind him, ignoring how his whole
being
practically
turned into a scowl when I refused to stay put. But how could he think I would be
left behind? This was a Remnant ahead of us, or a Knight—clearly Ailith blood.

We crested a small rise in the path and looked down to a shallow clearing among the
woods, the light from our torches filling it like a bowl as the rest of our party
arrived. There we found a young man on his knees, dressed in an old, worn sweater
and dirty pants, with only a small bag strapped across his chest. His head was bowed.

At first, I didn't recognize him and wondered why no one spoke to him. But when I
looked over at the others and saw Kapriel's profile, gaping in disbelief, I knew
who it was before I even saw the newcomer raise his chin.

Keallach.

CHAPTER
22

ANDRIANA

I
watched it all unfold as if it was happening to someone else. Everything seemed
slow.
Muted.
Ronan growled and pulled his sword, as did Bellona, both of them rushing toward Keallach.

I screamed. I thought I screamed, anyway, along with Tressa. I could feel my mouth
open and the strain in my throat, but I couldn't seem to hear anything. Niero opened
his mouth in an obvious shout as he surged after the knights.

Chaza'el stepped forward, eyes wide.

Kapriel closed his own eyes and lifted his face, fists clenched at his side, as if
in agony, beseeching the Maker.

Killian, Azarel, and Niero circled us, partially crouched, looking toward the trees,
preparing to defend us. They worried that Keallach was only the first of many of
our adversaries. I reached up to my arm cuff and patted it, wondering if it
was
working correctly. Why it was neutral. Because it didn't know if Keallach was friend
or foe?

Then everything clicked into real-time action. Fast. Loud. Everyone moving and shouting
at once.

Keallach remained on his knees, palms open, as if surrendering. “I am unarmed!”
he shouted to Ronan, as my knight lifted his sword to strike, just feet away. “I
mean you no harm!” He kept his head bowed, shouting it again and again. “I mean you
no harm! Mercy! I beg you for mercy!”

Ronan's mouth twisted into pure, impotent rage. I knew his loathing then. His hatred
for our brother-enemy. Jealousy. A thirst for revenge. My heart wrenched in terror
for Keallach. And yet I also knew enough of Ronan to realize that he would never
kill a man who wasn't trying to even fight for his life. It was dishonorable.

Still, I was moving before I quite realized what I was doing. Walking calmly. Sliding
between Ronan and Bellona. Then, turning to stand between them and Keallach.

Ronan's frown increased, his sword still in the air. “Dri . . .” he bit out, sweat
rolling down his temples, even though it was in the cold early morning hours.

“Ronan,” I said, lifting my hands to him. “Please put that away. We are in no danger
here, together.”

“She's right,” Vidar said. “He's alone.”

Still, Ronan stood there, sword hovering, as if he still had half a mind to drag
me aside and murder Keallach. “You would defend him?” he raged at me. “Even after
all he did to you? To us?”

“Was it him?” I cried. “Or Sethos? I swear I saw evidence that he was manipulating
Keallach, making him do things, messing with his mind. Perhaps he has, all along!”
I dared
to glance Kapriel's way, testing my theory to see if he might agree, but
he was looking to the ground, shaking his head slowly, hands now clasped together.

Niero sighed heavily and turned halfway around to lay a gentle hand on Ronan's arm.
Without a word, Ronan lifted his eyes to the starless sky, heaved a breath, and then
sheathed his sword. But then he shoved between Niero and me to reach Keallach. He
lifted him up to his feet, both hands fisted in Keallach's shirt, and pulled his
face close. “Why are you here?” he grunted. “Tell us!”

Keallach didn't look away; he only stood there, with no fight in his stance whatsoever.
We were all silent, waiting. “I am here to answer the Call. I'm very late. But I
had no choice. After I spent time with Dri . . .” He glanced my way, hopeful, but
I only frowned back in confusion, desperately trying to get some sort of emotional
foothold with him. “And nearing you all and what was unfolding in Zanzibar . . .
The Maker brought it all up again for me,” he rushed on. “And I knew I had to leave
Pacifica behind, if necessary, in order to serve with you. Ever since . . .” He dared
to look my way again, but Ronan stepped between us. “Ever since Andriana left the
palace, I've been . . .
adrift
. Agitated. And I realized that it wasn't just her
I was longing for. It was you. The Remnants. My Ailith kin. The Call itself. You
were all in on something that everything in me longs for too.”

I think we all held our breath a moment, wondering if we'd heard him correctly. Ronan
let out a choking, scoffing laugh and then tossed him backward. Keallach narrowly
kept his feet, but then he just stood there, chewing on his lip and clenching his
fists, and yet choosing not to engage Ronan. Slowly, he looked from one to the other
of us. “I know you all
must be skeptical, but it's the truth. I've been called, the
same as you. And I am here to answer. As well as beg you for mercy. I know I've done
terrible things. That my men have—”

“Enough!” Azarel cried, nocking an arrow and aiming toward Keallach. “He lies! You
cannot believe a word from his mouth!”

He looked at her again, squinted, and then said, “Az? Azarel? Is that you? It's been
. . . it's been so long.”

“Not long enough,” she ground out, arrow still aimed at his throat.

“Azarel,” Kapriel warned, pain still etched in every syllable he uttered. This was
tearing him apart, seeing Keallach again.

“I agree,” Bellona said, pacing back and forth, hands on hips. “I say we kill him
and be done with it. His people almost killed Andriana. And her parents. And he would've
let Kapriel die! This is no brother of ours! Kill him! Now!”

Keallach was shaking his head, hands still up. His misery and sorrow engulfed me.

“No,” I said. I wasn't quite ready to fully defend him. But neither was I ready to
see him murdered. “We can't.”

I didn't have to reach far to feel the renewed rage and jealousy within Ronan.

“She's right,” Tressa said.

“No, Tress—” Killian groaned.

“No, listen,” she went on. “Did we not just leave the foulest city we've ever entered?
And did we not just see the Lord of Zanzibar himself turn to the Way?” She looked
at each of us until we met her gaze. “Can you deny such miracles? Such changes of
heart? Such healing?”

Ronan turned to Kapriel. “What say you?” he asked gently. “You who have suffered
at your own twin's hands?”

When he didn't respond, Ronan moved on to Vidar, his desperation growing. “Or you,
brother? What do you sense in this one? Tell me his blood does not now run with the
same oil as his master, Sethos!”

But Vidar remained still, staring at Keallach. After a moment, he gave his head a
tiny shake. “He's neither light nor dark to me. Perhaps he isn't fully on either
side yet. I want to hate this one. Deny him. But Ronan,” he said, reaching out to
put a hand on his shoulder, willing him to comprehend the utter neutrality we all
felt, “we can't. We just can't.”

“It's a trick! A spell!” Ronan spat out, shoving away Vidar's hand. “He's found a
way around your gifting.” He turned. “Chaza'el, tell me you have seen the truth,”
he said, his voice rising in desperation.

Chaza'el gazed back at him, black eyes somber and still. He bowed his head and then
glanced around at all of us. “I have seen Keallach, fighting beside Bellona and Ronan,”
he said softly, as if he could not quite believe it either. “Not against them. But
that is
all
I have seen.”

Niero took a deep breath and then sheathed his curved blades on his back. “We must
retire to the Citadel. We'll bring Keallach along, his hands tied. If nothing else,
he might serve well as our prisoner.”

“Prisoner?” Killian scoffed. “This one will bring the weight of Pacifica down upon
us before we're ready to defend ourselves.”

“Or with him, we might be more ready than ever,” Niero said, folding his arms and
inclining his head toward Keallach. “One who can move objects—a Remnant. Alongside
his twin, able to control the weather itself. Between them, they could defend us
against anything Pacifica brings at us.”

“Yes,” Keallach said, excitedly nodding. “I know I have wronged you—all of you—terribly.
But I can only beg you to seek your hearts. Wouldn't the Maker be warning you if
I was a true threat?”

“Oh, he's warning us,” Vidar said, stepping toward him. “Don't get ahead of yourself,
brother
. We're not ready for you to nestle into our mother's bosom quite yet.” He
passed him, heading up the path.

“Good,” Keallach said, nodding, earnest. “That's good. Right. I would expect nothing
less. Give me time. Test me.”

“It's a ruse,” Bellona said, arms crossed, looking to Niero as he began to bind Keallach's
hands behind him. “A means to get inside the Citadel.”

“We will not bring him inside,” Niero said. “Not until you all agree it is right
to do so.”

“I, for one, vote that we keep him chained up outside during the deep of Hoarfrost,”
Bellona sneered as she passed him, following Vidar.

Keallach nodded, and I felt the sorrow from him. “That would be just,” he said sadly.
I frowned. Could he truly be feeling contrition? Or was it all a trick, as Bellona
said? But he couldn't manipulate minds . . . only bodies.

Bellona turned, walking backward, studying him a moment longer. Then she just shook
her head, turned on her heel, and hurried on.

“What say you, brother?” Keallach said—almost shyly—to his twin.

“I have nothing to say,” Kapriel said. “Other than I cannot trust you. Not after
everything. What you ask is . . . impossible.”

I swallowed against the gathering lump in my throat as I experienced the aching swell
of his grief along with him.
But Keallach was feeling it too. For the first time,
he seemed totally open to me, no walls within. Their combined emotion actually made
my knees weak. All of that loss . . . all of that brokenness . . .

Keallach stared back at his twin and looked as if he might cry. Behind him, Niero
finished binding his hands. “There are not enough apologies to make amends,” Keallach
said. “I can only beg you for mercy, brother. Mercy and mercy and more mercy on our
past. And give me a chance at a future.”

Kapriel stared back at him. “I don't know if I can find it within me to give you
anything, past or future.” But there was longing within him too, a chasm of loss,
harrowingly deep. I'd never sensed it in him before, and now it came at me like it
wanted to pull me in.

Separate yourself,
Niero said to my inner ear.
These are their emotions; it's their
tragic tale, not yours.

But isn't it all of ours? We're all connected.

Not this part. You can't bear it all as your own, Dri. Take a deep breath, and set
it aside as their pain, not yours. If you take it all on, you'll sink. We need you
to swim, Dri. Stay afloat. There is much ahead of us.

I nodded as I passed him, heading toward Ronan, who awaited me ten paces up the path
and still seething. Niero was right. If I took on the twins' grief and Ronan's rage
and Azarel's bitterness and Bellona's distrust and whatever else everyone was feeling,
it would be too much. For the first time, I thought about my ability to cast emotion
into another. I was born to acknowledge emotions. Could I not use that for healing
emotions, healing a person's heart, much like Tressa healed the body? If I could
do that, could I not persuade Kapriel and each of the Ailith to give Keallach another
chance?

If he was innocent.

But what if he isn't innocent?
Niero asked me.

I scowled.
Just because you can read my thoughts doesn't mean you should.

Agreed. But just because you can cast emotion doesn't mean you should.

He was quiet then, which suited me. I fell into step behind Ronan, who hiked up the
trail with the longest strides possible, which he knew bothered me since it meant
I had to practically run to keep up. After a while, I let the distance spread between
us, forcing him to slow down if he wanted to stay beside me. He could be angry. I
understood his frustration, his distrust. But he didn't have to take it out on me.

After a while, I caught up with him again. “I understand why you're so frustrated,”
I said, reaching out and casting a sense of calm into him.

He shook off my touch. “Don't do that,” he said. “Not now. It feels manipulative.”

“I'm not trying to manipulate you,” I said. “I'm just trying to calm you down enough
for us to talk.” But Niero's words came back to me. Maybe he was right. It wasn't
really fair for me to use my gift on a fellow Ailith.

“I want you to stay away from him, Dri. As far as possible. I just don't trust him.”
He looked over his shoulder, down the trail.

“I know. I will. Until we all are fully satisfied, I promise to be with him only
when we're in a group. All right?”

Ronan took a deep breath and offered me his hand. “All right.”