4
The cavern was dark, and Theo lit a hand in order to peer deeper into the depths of it. He took a deep breath and continued as quietly as possible. It was hard to be clandestine; each foot scuff felt like it echoed and reverberated across the walls. He rounded another corner and winced as he accidentally kicked something. The chain rattled, and the noise grated on his nerves. He glowered down at it, but a chain was a sign that the intel he had gotten was right. It seemed this was a secret nook of slave trade after all.
He heard something behind him and barely managed to turn in time. A flash of aura, and the bolt flew against the wall.
"Well, well, seems you've got some reflexes after all."
Theo narrowed his eyes at the assailant in the dark. "Were you seriously trying to kill the Heir to the throne? Are you crazy?"
The man scoffed, aiming his crossbow again. "Well, if you weren't so recognizable, we might have a spot for you in our stores. Buyers are offering big money for powered folk, so says the word on the street. I'd like to get my hands on one. But as it is, no one's gonna buy someone with such a high reputation as yourself. So I guess I'm just going to have to kill you."
Theo lit his hands with aura, but the man just laughed.
"We got you surrounded, boy. Don't try anything funny."
Theo glanced back to see a few other thugs brandishing knives and sighed.
"If you ask my friends, I'm not all that funny," he offered. "I suppose I should give you the option to end this peacefully and let me go."
The thugs all laughed and jeered. "Peacefully? We didn't lure you down here so that we could end this peacefully; we wanted to end your snooping once and for all. Seems you stuck your nose down one too many hornets nests."
Theo sighed, his hands held up in surrender. "So…I'm guessing you gave me your own intel?" he asked, picturing the letter in his satchel. "This is an ambush?"
"That's right, sonny," the man sneered. "Can't always believe what you hear…though you are as naïve as they say. Walking into the belly of the beast without any backup just because someone says to come alone is not the smartest move, freak."
The man cocked the weapon and Theo just shrugged. "You know, you aren't the first to call me naïve," he offered. "But I actually did bring a friend along today…and for the record, he doesn't like other people calling me Freak."
The brute's expression flickered with unease, but Theo had already spun to blast the two traders behind him with aura. They flew back, and the man with the crossbow might have fired, had Tolan not ended him with a quick attack from behind. In seconds all three brutes were down, and Theo looked up to grin.
"See? Told you it would be an ambush."
Tolan scowled. "I knew it was an ambush," he pointed out. "That's why I was supposed to go first."
"But they wouldn't have had their guard down with you. People love taunting me."
"Because you're an easy target," Tolan snapped. Theo just smiled.
"Exactly. Now come on; these caverns definitely held slaves at some point. Let's go find out if there are any still locked up somewhere."
Tolan pushed his way in front of Theo with a glare behind him. "You were supposed to wait for me, Freak."
"I had it under control!" Theo argued. "I knew you would get here in time. I could have probably taken all three of them, if I needed to.
"A crossbow? At that close of range?" his bodyguard asked skeptically. "If your parents knew the half of the side-quests you drag me into during your weekly errands…"
"Whatever happened to the Tolan who taught me how to pick locks and climb out of windows?" Theo asked, following along behind as he used his aura to scan the rooms they traveled through. "What happened to 'it'll be good for you to get out into the world and earn a few scars…'"
"He grew up, became a father, and realized how easy it would be for people to sheath their weapons into your clueless body!" Tolan snapped. "I'm all for you getting out of the fortress, but you keep taking these unnecessary risks. I have half a mind to tell your parents—where do they think we are right now?"
Theo shrugged as he followed after his bodyguard. "Meeting with Ottan. Look, we both know it's better if my parents have less to worry about than they already do. You're worried about nothing, Tol."
"Those traders could have killed you so easily back there!"
"But they didn't," Theo pointed out. "That's what I learned from my father's ninja stories; villains love the 'neiner-neiner, I outsmarted you!' moment. They love to brag and taunt before they go for the kill. I knew I could get them talking. I wanted to know if they knew of any powered kids; it sounded like they didn't."
"All that risk for a little intel," Tolan scoffed, glancing back at Theo. "The older you get, the more you remind me of my brother."
Theo blinked; it was extremely rare for Tolan to speak about Peder. Theo only knew about him from stories from his parents and Ret. "Isn't that a good thing?" he tried cautiously. Tolan just scoffed.
"He died in a battle because he let his guard down. His good intentions didn't protect him, Theo. Yours aren't going to protect you either. You have to be smart. You can't let your guard…"
"Look out!"
Theo blasted right next to Tolan's face, causing his bodyguard to whirl. An assailant hidden behind a boulder smacked into a cave wall and groaned, the crossbow falling from his hand as he crumpled. For a moment, both guard and Heir stared at him.
"So…" Theo started, and Tolan's expression darkened.
"Don't say it," he growled, marching off into the caves with both katanas at the ready.
"You're welcome!" Theo called, and he couldn't help but smile as he heard Tolan muttering to himself.
Syn looked up as Tolan came in and shook her head. "Rough day?"
"You know, I always thought Pip was going to be the death of me. But the Freak's taking me to a whole new level."
Syn stood to come over to him as he unstrapped his katanas. "What happened?"
"He walked right into the middle of a crime-ring ambush…unarmed. Willingly. He could have died."
Syn fell quiet. After a moment she spoke up. "Is he…okay?"
Tolan sighed, stashing his weapons into their usual spot. "He's fine. Managed to keep everything together this time. But if he keeps pulling stuff like this, who knows what will happen."
"At least you're there with him," Syn offered. "Come get a cup of tea; you look pretty wound up."
Tolan huffed but followed his wife over to their seats by the fireplace. However, he paused as he passed the work table they kept in the middle of the tent. He frowned as he picked up a knife. "What's this?"
Syn glanced over. "Oh, that's something Hershel brought by for me."
Tolan frowned at it, pulling it up to scrutinize it closely. "Where'd he get it? And why did he bother? He knows I can make much better stuff than what you can find at any market."
"One of his students made it," Syn tsked, coming over to take the knife. "Hershel got the boy an apprenticeship at a blacksmith shop, and this is the first thing he's made."
Tolan scowled at it. "This is a first attempt?" He studied it closely. "Kid wasn't patient…he quenched it too quickly. Though, considering it's a first attempt, I suppose it's..." he trailed off, his eyes narrowing. "What the?"
"What is it?" Syn asked, and Tolan turned to fix her with a steely look.
"The little hooligan tried to copy my insignia!" he pointed out, showing Syn the small, swooping character near the handle. Syn tried not to laugh.
"I think he borrowed one of the knives that you made Hershel and styled this one after it," she admitted. "He probably didn't realize what it even was."
"You don't steal a blacksmith's insignia!"
"He's just a kid!" Syn argued. "Hersh says that he's doing the best he can. Apparently, he's a little headstrong and has been kicked out of a few forges. Hersh is trying to help where he can. I think it's sweet he made him a knife, even if it isn't the best quality."
"Sweet? This is forgery!" Tolan argued, stashing the knife in his belt. "Now I'm going to have to track down the nose-wiper and…"
"Oh Tol," Syn coaxed, squeezing his arm. "Don't blow this out of proportion. The kid's just trying to get by in life."
"Then it sounds like someone needs to give him a lesson on surviving."
"I appreciate you watching the Trio on such short notice." Tobias Bentworth's hair was frazzled, but it often was these days. However, his eyes sparkled with surprising youth as he flashed Haiven a bright smile. "Pallo's swamped with her father and I'm headed to the Central Fortress for the monthly meeting."
Haiven waved aside Tobias's thanks, and the man turned his attention to the three children scrabbling all over Haiven's house. At the man's shrill whistle, all three froze and before rushing to line up in an identical row.
"I expect you to listen to Haiven," he warned, and the three children saluted.
"Yes sir!" the two-and-a-half-year-olds chimed in small voices, and Tobias's stern expression melted into a smile.
"Let me know if they give you trouble," he offered, but then he left. Haiven watched him go, and when she turned around, the three children had already gone back to searching her house. Tawn and Juan began fighting over a length of shimmery yarn, while Rosa began nestling under a pile of scarves, no doubt looking for a place to take a nap. Haiven watched the boys fight for a few minutes before coming over. They looked up at her as she deftly cut the yarn length in half before making her way over to fish Rosa from the pile of scarves. The youngest triplet squealed as she was dragged from the cloth, but she was grinning up at Haiven as the young woman managed to get her untangled at last.
The boys were fighting again, this time about who's length of yarn was longer, but Haiven tuned them out as she realized that Rosa was clinging to something with both hands. Frowning, Haiven managed to extract the piece of cloth, and her heart fell as she realized what it was.
"Who dat?"
Haiven jumped as Tawn appeared next to her, frowning down at the cloth in her hand. The loquacious two-year-old had his father's skin, his mother's eyes, and brown hair that flopped down in his face.
"Feo?" brother chimed in. Juan looked just like Tawn, except his head was always basically bald because he claimed he could feel bugs crawling around in it when it was long.
Rosa reached out to touch the embroidered cloth shyly. Her eyes looked like her brother's, but her skin was pale under her brown hair. Haiven had always felt connected to the youngest of the triplets, possibly because Rosa was a girl of few words, while her brothers were already sporting an impressive vocabulary for their age.
Rather than answer the triplet's questions, Haiven's expression darkened. She balled up the old embroidered picture, trying to figure out what to do with it. She had forgotten that she had hidden it under all those scarves, but now she was at a loss for what to do. Part of her wanted to throw out the reminder, but she also just couldn't bring herself to.
"Haiven?" a voice called from outside, and the triplets squealed in excitement as they booked it for the door.
"Yona!" the boys yelled, and Rosa toddled along after them. Haiven followed the Bentworth Trio to the front of her home. Sure enough, Iona was standing in the alleyway. The Xinta scowled down at the three toddlers as they hung on her, pushing Juan back with her cane.
"Don't tell me the Ninjagoan made you watch his hooligans again," she griped. Haiven couldn't help but smile, and the triplets laughed as Iona tried to wade through them. "I brought some food. Blist wanted me to tell you that she's going to be out for the next few days. Her patrol is following some lead or another...you know how she is."
Haiven nodded. She had nearly forgotten about the embroidery balled up in one hand until Iona caught sight of it.
"What's that?" the village leader asked, and Haiven hesitated. At last, the young woman handed the cloth over to her mentor, and Iona's expression pinched as she caught sight of the embroidered picture. After a few moments, the horned Oni glanced up to meet Haiven's eye. "Still stewing about the Oni prince?"
Haiven scowled, crossing her arms. She wished she could explain that it was Rosa who had unburied the picture, not Haiven, but she hoped her irritated expression would come across in the meantime. Iona sighed, tucking the embroidery into her own pocket.
"I know that things didn't turn out the way that you had hoped," the wizened Oni tried carefully. "But I do think you did the right thing by calling it off. After all, he wasn't going to be willing to give up his title to be with you, so unless you were going to move into that cold, empty fortress all alone..."
Haiven huffed, holding up a hand to stop the Xinta from talking. Iona blinked in surprise, but by now, the triplets had started chasing a butterfly down the alley. Before Iona could drive any further emotional knives into place, Haiven left the weathered Xinta behind to catch up with her charges.
"And stay out, you hot-headed rascal!" a voice called from the blacksmith shop. Tolan watched as the fuming boy turned back to yell one last time.
"I wouldn't come back if you paid me!" he yelled. "Not that you were going to, you cheapskate!"
He turned, muttering as he glared at the ground. He tried to go around Tolan, but the lanky guard stepped in the way. The boy went to move the opposite way, but Tolan cut him off again. Finally, the boy looked up to scowl.
"You gotta problem?" he snapped, and Tolan raised an eyebrow.
"Shoulda known it was you. Long time, no see. The mop-hair is new."
"Who the heck are you?" the boy demanded, and the guard scoffed.
"The person you're trying to rip off, you whiner. Don't recognize me?"
Teag bristled. "Should I?" Tolan tossed the knife back at him. Teag managed to catch it, and then he looked down in surprise. When he looked back up, he was glowering. "You stole this!" he accused. "How dare you!"
"I'm not the thief," Tolan pointed out coolly. "That insignia you're trying to copy belongs to me and my family line, and I don't appreciate people trying to mimic it. It's an insult in blacksmithing circles…which you would know, if you were anywhere close to being the real deal."
Teag flushed with anger as he gripped the knife. "This is a great knife!" he argued.
"You didn't heat it up properly and quenched it too fast, making the metal brittle on the inside, no matter what it looks like on the outside." Tolan countered. "A hit with a broadsword, and that knife would snap clean in two."
Teag blinked and then scowled. "What idiot would be fighting against a broadsword with a healing knife?"
"You'd be surprised," Tolan said dryly. "A good weapon holds up for far more than just its intended purpose. That doo-dad you made would look nice on a wall, and that's about it."
"Who the heck are you, anyway?" Teag demanded, just turning a deeper shade of red. "And how did you get Master Hershel's knife? This was a present to him!"
Tolan scoffed. "Please. Just call him Hershel, like everyone else. He's kinda against the whole title thing, if you haven't noticed."
Teag blinked. "You…know him?" He studied Tolan a little more closely and finally scoffed. "Oh, I should have recognized you sooner. Lanky, arrogant dude with a surly attitude. You must be Tolan."
"And you're a snot-nosed kid who thinks that because you've got a weird hairstyle, you're cooler than you actually are. It's been a while since we found you in that little ramshackle tent…but you're definitely still one of Hershel's little projects."
Teag's face was a deep maroon now, and his grip on the knife tightened. "I'm no project!"
"No? Then I bet you won't need Hershel's help finding your next blacksmith gig, since you've apparently ruined your chances with this one."
Teag scowled, glancing back at the shop. "This guy was basically a slave driver, anyways…"
"Stop stealing my insignia, kid. Or one of these days you may find yourself at the end of an authentic blade." Tolan turned to leave the kid fuming. He had come to say what he needed to. He knew Syn and Hershel would probably say he was a little harsh, but the kid had to learn sooner or later. He couldn't just—
Suddenly Teag was in front of him, pointing the healer knife at him. "Maybe you should teach me, if you're so good!"
Tolan stared at the kid, one hand resting on his katana hilt. "No way," he said dryly. "I've got my hands full enough keeping one headstrong idiot alive. You're on your own."
"You scared or something?" Teag snapped. "If you're Tolan, you have to be Pippa's father, right? She talks about you a lot…made it seem like you couldn't pass up a challenge."
"This isn't a challenge, kid. This is a desperate attempt at manipulation," Tolan said flatly. "I'm not interested in being in charge of another snot-nosed kid with a penchant for rebellion."
Teag smirked. "Guess you already get enough of that from your daughter, huh?"
Tolan unsheathed the katana quickly, but his expression remained as passive as ever as he pointed it at the troublemaker. "I would suggest not making me angry."
The kid blanched, but he managed to still step in front of Tolan as the guard went to leave again. "Look," Teag finally said, looking a little more sheepish. "I only copied the knife because it was really good. That's the kind of stuff I want to make; not the half-made dime-a-dozen weaponry that everyone insists is good enough. So you don't want to teach me your skills…fine. But I need to learn the basics of quality weaponry…" he glanced at the blacksmith shop one last time and huffed. "And I may have burned a few bridges."
"Not my problem," Tolan pointed out, but he had stopped trying to get around the colorful-headed kid. Teag sighed.
"If you could teach me the basics, then I could get a job somewhere a lot easier. I wouldn't have all these people underestimating me just because I don't know anything."
"Even though you don't know anything?"
"I can't go back to Hershel, all right?" The confession came out almost painfully, and Teag dropped his gaze as he continued. "It was bad enough the first and second time. Don't make me go face him and that disappointed look he gets…" He shuddered and looked back up at Tolan. "Do you have any idea what it feels like to disappoint that guy? When you know he's tried to help you for so long and you just manage to screw everything up…"
Tolan could have probably inserted some cutting remark, but he was silent as he studied Teag with a stony expression. The kid squirmed a little.
"I don't want him to know I already messed up again. Can't you just teach me the ropes so that I can strike out on my own for real, without having to rely on someone else?"
Tolan wanted to point out that if he was relying on him to 'show him the ropes,' he wasn't really striking out on his own. He opened his mouth to turn the kid down, but something stopped him. After arguing with himself for a few minutes, the guard finally exhaled through his nose. "I only work at the forge at the Western Fortress these days," Tolan finally said. "Once a week tops—I've got a full-time gig elsewhere. I'm not promising anything more than a few rudimentary lessons, got it? And you better be ready to do everything I say. You so much as sneeze out of turn…"
"I can do it," Teag assured, his relief obvious on his expression. "I'll do everything, I swear."
"You better be serious," Tolan scoffed, glancing back at the blacksmith shop. "You thought that guy was a slave driver? You haven't seen anything yet."
5
"That was incredible—honestly, at this point, you'd do better on this test without me."
Amber rolled her eyes as she was taking off her ballroom shoes. "Don't sell yourself short, Patrick. The last giro was your idea, and you do it well."
The young man standing a few yards away put a hand to his heart. "High praise," he said, and Amber would have thought he was teasing if she couldn't feel his sincerity. Though, it was rare that her suspenders-wearing dance partner wasn't sincere.
"Gosh, I need new shoes," Amber muttered, taking in the wear and tear on the black heels. "Grandpa even asked me if I wanted some for my last birthday, and I told him no. But they are getting raggedy."
"Is it any wonder, with how often you dance?" Patrick asked, and he began to tick off on his fingers. "Competitions, private lessons, not to mention you're taking three more classes this semester than most of us."
"The extra classes aren't ideal," Amber admitted with a grimace as she stuffed her shoes into a bag and pulled out a pair of sneakers. "But if I want to graduate a year early, that's what it was going to take."
"You are so inspiring," her partner said. He didn't bother changing his shoes—he wore the same worn, brown wingtips for dancing and normal life. "I can't believe we're the same age and you're so far ahead of me."
"I'm really not that far ahead," Amber argued, flushing as she tied her last shoelace. "I think the headmaster just wanted me out of his school as fast as possible. That's the only reason he's letting me do all the extra classes."
"Or he just knows you're planning on pursuing a career in dance," Patrick argued, pushing his brown hair out of his eyes. "I know you think the Headmaster doesn't like you, but I think you've really grown on him. After all, the school's seen a huge uptick in people applying ever since you started here, and tons more people are offering financial support to the only school with an Oni student."
Amber stood and frowned. "Where'd you hear all that?"
"There was an article about it in the Ninjago City Tribune. Didn't you read it?"
The Oni rubbed her arm. "I tend to avoid the news."
Patrick laughed, and he moved to hold open the practice room door for her. "I don't know how you get away with that, given that you're an ambassador. Man...your schedule is so crazy busy, I don't know how you do it all."
"It's kinda nice being busy," Amber said. "Makes it easier to not think about the future."
Patrick followed her down the hallway toward the cafeteria. "I don't know why you're worried about the future, Amber. You could honestly do anything you want."
"I guess." Amber sighed. "I've got to get my application in for N.C.U., but I'm still debating between programs."
"Which programs?"
"Technically I'm leaning toward ballroom dance, because that's what I really enjoy, but the city council has been harping on me to go into political science or international relations."
"Why not do both?"
Amber turned to give her tall friend an incredulous look. "Both? Ballroom and political science aren't even related to each other!"
"Well, if anyone could do it, you could," Patrick offered with a wink.
Amber rolled her eyes, but it did leave a lot to think about. Before she could get too lost in thought, however, her phone began to buzz. She frowned and fished it out of her pocket, and she was even more surprised when she saw who was on the caller I.D. After puzzling a moment, she answered the phone and put it to her ear. "Julien? Did you mean to call me?"
Amber pushed her way into the diner, frowning as she looked around. It wasn't too hard to catch sight of Julien Cyrus and his girlfriend—it was hard to miss the tall Metallonian. The Oni made her way over to the booth, feeling strange. She couldn't remember another time ever that Julien had invited her to something.
"Oh look, she's here!" Agatha said, catching sight of Amber first. Julien turned, and though his expression didn't betray much, she could feel his relief. What on earth?
"I am sorry to bother you with such short notice," the pale scientist offered awkwardly, pushing his glasses up his nose.
"It's lunch hour regardless-it's not really a bother. I don't have anything until a private lesson in an hour," Amber assured. Agatha and Julien were both sitting on the same side of the table, so the Oni slid into the booth opposite. "What's up?"
"We just thought it would be nice to have lunch together," Julien explained cryptically. His emotions were hard to read, but Agatha laughed charmingly.
"J.C., don't be embarrassed," his girlfriend teased before turning to Amber. "It vas my fault zat he called you. Ven I realized Julien knew ze Oni personally, I couldn't help but insist ve get togezer."
"Oh." Amber flushed, and Julien cut in.
"We went ahead and ordered you a burger. I hope that is okay."
"Fine," the Oni promised, though she still felt flummoxed.
"So, ze horns," Agatha cut in. "Zey are real, yes? But not all Oni have zem, from what I've discovered."
"Uh, yeah, they're kinda rare," Amber admitted, pushing her hair behind one ear.
"Do zey grow vith those markings?"
"No. I actually recently carved them. It's a cultural thing."
"Ven I heard about a living Oni in our realm, I vas so intrigued," Agatha gushed. "Robotics and engineering is my passion, but I've alvays had a soft spot for biology. It is incredible, ze different kinds of races scattered throughout ze realms. In science circles, you are a marvel...but even in ze more barbaric areas of Metallonia, Oni are hailed as great varriors. Zere are many legends of old zat contain Oni in zem."
It was Amber's turn to be intrigued. "Really?"
The waiter stopped by the table to deliver steaming plates of burgers, and Agatha took a massive bite of hers. Amber picked at her fries as the Metallonian finished chewing and continued.
"In legend, Oni visited zis realm many many years ago, looking for ze first spinjitzu master. Thus, many legends exist in ze oldest cultures of Ninjago about ze Oni." Agatha winked. "You are following ze example of your forefathers, living here. Zough, it is good to know you are not a bloodthirsty varrior bent on enslaving the Ninjagoan race."
Amber had no reply to that, and Julien choked on a French fry. Agatha and the Oni turned to where he was sitting, and he finally managed to find his voice. "Sorry for the bombardment, Amber. Agatha just gets passionate about learning new things."
"It's true," Agatha agreed, and Amber was surprised to sense embarrassment from the tall Metallonian as she pushed golden hair from her face. "I just find zings so interesting—zat's vie I vent into engineering. Nozing is more rewarding zen pulling somzing apart into a billion pieces to figure out how it vorks, and zen putting it back togezer as somezing completely new! But I've been told I can get carried avay." She turned to her boyfriend, who had gone quiet. "Am I embarrassing you, J.C? Have I gotten carried avay again?"
The pale young man blinked before looking up at his girlfriend. "Not at all," he said, though his tone was strained. "Your passion for learning and robotics is what I have always loved about you."
Agatha flushed, and Amber could tell the woman was flattered. Amber tentatively began eating her burger, trying to read more into what Julien was feeling. Ever since the dinner at Ashley and Will's apartment, she had been trying to figure out why Julien was obviously hiding things from his girlfriend. However, Pixal and Zane's son had always been good at masking his emotions, and the Oni wasn't really able to pick up on much more than discomfort.
"So, you are a dancer." Agatha had turned her attention back to Amber. "Tell me about zat."
"Keep stoking."
Teag scowled. "I've been stoking this whole time!" he muttered. "When are you actually going to show me…"
"That sounds like complaining, Hot Stuff," Tolan pointed out without looking up. "You want my help? You have to kill the whining. Drives me crazy."
Teag huffed, but then began moving the bellows to stoke the fire again. After a few minutes, Tolan turned to look at him again.
"Rookie blacksmithing mistake: getting so wrapped up in heating and pounding that you let your forge die down. If your fire goes out while you're pounding away like a crazy person, then you're going to waste hours of work waiting for it to light again and get to the right temperature. Stoking's got to become second nature."
Teag didn't reply, but he didn't complain about stoking again. Eventually, Tolan nodded to himself and inserted a skinny piece of metal. Teag scowled. "That's hardly enough to make a sword."
Tolan snorted. "I'm not showing you how to make a sword, kid. You wanted basics, so you're getting basics."
"So what are you making?"
"Hoofer-shoe."
Teag scoffed. "Hoofer-shoe? I know how to make a hoofer-shoe. Everyone with a brain knows how to…" He trailed off as Tolan shot him a look. Still feeling irritated, but understanding he was trying the lanky man's patience, Teag stoked the fire again. "You're leaving it in too long," the kid finally muttered when he couldn't take it anymore.
"No. You're just impatient, Hot-stuff. I can tell by your work that you like to pound when it's red. But you have to wait till its orange if you want it pliable enough for quality stuff."
Teag frowned, logging that away. Eventually, the metal became orange and Tolan pulled it out to take it to the anvil. Teag came over to watch, but Tolan just snapped with his free hand.
"Stoke the fire, genius."
"But I can't see from over…"
"No arguing."
Teag sighed dramatically, but he obediently stoked the fire a few more times, arcing his neck to see what Tolan was doing. He watched as the man quickly formed the arched shape—he did it fluidly, and all his hammering was almost in a rhythm. Teag watched in awe as the hoofer-shoe took form. He snapped out of it as Tolan came back over and put it back into the heat.
"You don't hit it nearly as hard as the other blacksmiths I've seen," Teag pointed out, stoking the fire again without a reminder. "How do you get it to do what you want?"
"If you leave it in the fire long enough, you don't have to hit as hard," Tolan pointed out as if it should have been obvious. They waited in silence as the shoe heated back to red, and then orange. Then Tolan was taking it back over to the anvil for more shaping.
"Does Hershel know you're teaching me?" Teag finally asked, and Tolan wiped at his sweaty face. He didn't look over as he answered.
"I might have mentioned it."
Teag bit his lip. "Does he know I got kicked out of that last place?"
"What do you think?"
Teag stoked the fire. "Was he…angry?"
Tolan was pounding a nail around the shoe to make holes for the shoe-nails to go through. "I doubt you've ever actually seen Hershel angry, Hot-Stuff. It takes a little more than one of his projects messing up."
"I'm not a project," Teag reminded, glowering. Tolan didn't answer; the shoe had cooled too much, and he brought it back over to the fire. Teag watched as the iron heated once again. "What's he like, in real life?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You know; what's Hershel like when he's not with a bunch of us realm rejects? When he's not trying to be everyone's father?"
Tolan snorted. "That's about him in a nutshell. Even when he was a snot-nosed kid himself when I first met him, he was pretending to be everyone's father. Bossed around Syn…tried to tell me what to do. Even told off his own master a few times, if I remember right."
Teag frowned. "He told me a lot about you guys. Well…more about Syn. Some stuff about you, and stuff about Pippa."
"Got the full life story, huh?" Tolan said, not sounding really interested.
"I don't know. I think there's a lot he left out. Mainly he just talked about growing up and getting his powers and all that."
Tolan had brought the shoe back for the final poundings. "Ever tell you about when he got his legs smashed in a dungeon by the old Northern leader? Or how he went blind?" Another few pounds, and then Tolan was frowning at the shoe as he studied it. "How about when he turned a guy into stone?"
Teag scoffed. "You're making that stuff up," he accused immediately. Tolan snorted.
"He never does share the juicy bits," he muttered before putting the shoe on the anvil to cool. Teag left his station by the forge to come over.
"There's no way that Hershel could have turned someone to stone. And if he was blind…well…he can see now. That doesn't make any sense."
"He was also dead once. I can't imagine he brought that up."
Teag just stared, and then he scowled. "Now you're mocking me," he accused, his eyes going to the shoe. "What are you waiting for? Stick it in the water already."
"If you quench stuff too quickly, it makes it brittle. You have to wait for it to cool naturally for a bit. Gives it more strength."
Teag stared at the horseshoe as it cooled back down to a dark color. He knew it was still extremely hot to the touch, and he wondered how long Tolan was going to leave It for.
"Why didn't Master Hershel tell me more about his life?" he finally mused. "He doesn't trust me?"
"More like he's a secretive stick-in-the-mud," Tolan muttered. He picked the shoe up again with his tongs and finally dunked it in the bucket. "But he's stronger than he looks. Though, not quite as strong as when he had powers."
"What did happen with that? He's always been vague about it," Teag pointed out. Tolan smirked as he pulled the shoe out to admire it.
"Not my story to tell," he said at last. "Now, I've got a few more iron rods. Time to see how well you were listening through all your whining and nagging."
Teag wanted to be annoyed, but he felt a thrill run through him. "You're finally letting me do it?"
"Might as well," Tolan said, but then he glanced over at the forge and smiled grimly. "Though we're going to have to wait."
"Why?" Teag demanded. "You've already had me waiting for hours while we gathered fuel and…"
"Your fire's nearly gone out."
Teag whirled and felt a sinking sensation as Tolan tsked.
"Rookie mistake."
Theo looked up from his notes as the first leader came through the door of the meeting room. Ottan caught sight of the Heir staring, and the grizzly southern leader flashed a smile. Theo returned it, though it was more forced.
"Ottan...we need to talk," he started, picking up his piles of notes from the table as he headed over. The southern leader laughed.
"Second thoughts about that girl I introduced you to? I thought you'd reconsider. She's still keen on the idea, so lucky for you..."
"No." Theo's tone was level, and he tried not to shudder. "You tricked me onto that date, and that woman was..."
"Perfect?"
"Handsy," Theo corrected. "Listen, Ottan...we have to discuss something more important than my love life."
"If you didn't like Und, then I have another girl..."
"Ottan..."
"Reminds me of you! Sweet, naïve, a great diplomat."
"Let me guess...forty years old?" Theo asked flatly. Ottan blinked.
"Forty-two...but she doesn't look a day over thirty-five, I swear!"
"The south is still crawling with traders," Theo snapped, slapping the paperwork down on the table. "If you spent more time sniffing out criminals than my future spouse, then maybe I wouldn't have to do so much clean up."
The leader seemed blindsided by the change of topic, and he immediately bristled defensively. "Slave traders, you mean?"
"They're in the mountains...in fact, we've been getting reports of them everywhere. Ottan, it's time for you to stop turning a blind eye."
"What exactly are you accusing me of?" the leader demanded, his voice getting louder.
"To put it straight, traders wouldn't still exist if there weren't people willing to pay for their wares," Theo said evenly. "Someone in the south is buying slaves, whether or not its you." Ottan narrowed his eyes dangerously, but Theo smacked his hand on the paper stack once again. "Slave trade was outlawed twenty-five years ago, so why are there still traders in the south?"
"Where's your proof that there are?" Ottan growled. "Whatever reports you've been getting..."
"I've seen enough evidence myself. We rooted out an entire ring of them in the caverns near the south-west villages just this week."
Ottan's gaze was hard as he and Theo held each other's gazes for a minute, and then the southern leader scoffed. He pushed the papers away without even looking at them. "You're forgetting your place, Theodynn."
"What do you mean by that? I outrank you, Ottan."
The southern leader stiffened, but he continued in the patronizing tone he had. "You may be on top of the hierarchy, but that doesn't mean you have the freedom to do whatever you want. If anything, it means you have certain expectations to uphold. You're the Oni Heir, boy...you shouldn't be running around the realm, sniffing out criminals and conspiracy theories. Your place is here. Honestly, right now your biggest concern should be finding a worthy partner who can help shoulder the tasks that actually fall under your jurisdiction."
"I've never been the type to sit around," Theo pointed out, taking the papers back with a scowl. He had known Ottan would blow him off, but the leader's continued apathy toward the trader problem was really starting to rile him.
"Now's a great time to learn," Ottan offered breezily, meeting Theo's eye once again. "It would be a pity if you got hurt on one of your many heroic ventures."
"Is that a threat?" Theo asked softly. Ottan snorted.
"I'm not threatening you, boy...but the world out there is dangerous. Do what you do best, hmmm? Look for the good in the realm, not the bad." The Leader leaned back in his chair and yawned. "If you need something to do, maybe you could plan another tournament. Or a binding."
"Ottan..."
"What's this about a binding?" The door opened to admit the other leaders, and Tala looked grim as she marched over to the table. "Don't tell me that you've fallen for that hag Ottan set you up with."
Theo wanted to push the issue further with Ottan, but he wasn't eager to get the whole room in on the conversation—especially knowing his parents would be here soon. He sighed, moving back to his chair at one end of the table. "No, definitely not. There's no binding."
"Good. Anyone that this old sniffer suggests will have fleas or worse."
"Und does not have fleas," Ottan roared.
"If you're looking for a quality partner, you're not going to find her in the south," Tala argued. "However, there are a few people in the east I think you should meet."
"Thanks, but no thanks," Theo sighed as he dropped into his chair.
"Artisans and craftsmen are far more loyal than southern barbarians..."
"Southern warriors are far more durable than eastern waifs!"
"If you like women with eyepatches."
"That was one girl."
"That's enough!" Theo snapped, and the leaders turned to look at him. The heir heaved a sigh. "I appreciate the concern, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now. Can we focus on the more pressing matters at hand, please?"
"The problem is that you're too picky," Ottan mused, continuing as if he hadn't heard Theo at all. "Und is a great conversationalist, which I thought you would have appreciated after things went so wrong with the girl you wasted all that time with. Like a mute could have been much help to you in the long run."
There was a whip of aura wind, and papers went flying off the table as Theo's eyes blazed. The table went quiet at last, and Theo found it difficult to curb the anger inside. He could feel the leaders staring at him, and he finally managed to get the reaction under control. Before anyone could say anything else, the heir headed for the exit. He reached the door right as it opened to admit Cole, Keyda, and Myrah. They all looked surprised as Theo shoved past.
"Theo?" Keyda started.
"Start without me," he snapped. Rather than go into the meeting room, however, he heard his parents go to follow him. Feeling another flash of rage that no one ever listened to him, the Heir transported out of the fortress completely.
6
Syn pushed her hair out of her face with her shoulder as she kneaded the loaf. Would Pippa even be back for lunch? Or was she with her Uncle today?
"Let's see…she wasn't with Hershel yesterday, or the day before. Must be apprentice training today," she realized as she muttered to herself. She heard a slight cough, and she turned in surprise to see someone poking their head through the tent's door-flap.
"Umm…I'm sorry," the boy offered. His face was red, and he had colorful cords hanging all over his head rather than locks of hair. "I'm looking for Tolan's tent? I was told it was around here."
Syn blinked. "This is it," she offered, dusting off her hands. "I'm his wife, Syn. I'm afraid he won't be back for a couple more days; he spends most of the week out with the Oni Heir. He's his bodyguard."
The boy's face reddened more. "Oh, I know. I just wanted to, um, drop something off." He pulled something out from behind his back, and Syn blinked as she saw the small knife. Realizing who this was, she smiled.
"Come on in. You must be Teag."
He swallowed. "Um. Yes. You must be Syn. Er…you just said that."
She laughed and waved him over. "You hungry? I just made a big loaf for lunch and realized that it's just me today. Come help me eat it."
Teag froze, and Syn gestured again.
"No need to be shy; I know that you've been helping out in the Western Forge a lot these days. No doubt you've worked up an appetite from all the chores."
The boy finally made his way into the room. "Um, thank you, Ma'am."
"You can just call me Syn," she offered with a smile. "I don't even make my students at the school call me Ma'am. Now why don't you take a seat and tell me a little about yourself?"
He sat stiffly, and Syn went back to kneading the dough. "Not much to tell," he told her, setting the knife down on the table. "I like blacksmithing. And…um…I've got powers." Syn just nodded, and Teag seemed to get a little more confidence. "You're Hershel's sister, yeah?"
"That's right."
"I've heard a lot about you," he offered, and she turned to smile wryly. He flushed. "I mean, like, good stuff. Obviously. Well, except when you got shot, I guess that wasn't good…"
"I've heard a lot about you too," Syn responded, finishing the loaf and getting it into the oven. "From both my brother and my husband. You're a lot more polite than Tolan made you out to be."
Teag flushed again. "Well, he doesn't really bring out the most polite in people," the boy huffed, but then he froze. Syn laughed out loud.
"No, no, I'm with you," she told him as she took a seat. "He can be pretty blunt sometimes." Her eyes fell on the knife. "Did you make that?"
Teag looked down and finally offered it shyly. "I think I still quenched it too soon," he told her. "But it's better than my first one. I just, you know. Wanted to see what he thought of it. And I didn't copy his insignia this time."
Syn smiled as she studied the blade. "This is pretty good," she offered, and Teag rubbed his neck.
"Thanks, Ma'am."
"It's Syn," she reminded as she passed it back to him. "You know, Tolan comes across as rough around the edges, but from what I hear, he's been working with you on his off days for several weeks now. Knowing my husband, he wouldn't bother if he didn't see some potential in you."
Teag's eye grew wide, but then he glanced away with a nonchalant shrug. "Oh."
Syn studied him a little longer and finally smiled. "Let's see if we can get some tea going while we wait for the loaf."
"Focus, Pippa."
Pippa scrunched her face. "I am focusing!"
"You've got to listen to your powers—don't try to force them," Hershel responded. "Focus on listening."
"It's taking too long," the twelve-year-old complained. She opened her eyes to see her uncle smiling at her. Nearby, Raiyn was trying to eat a flower, oblivious to his cousin's struggle.
"You've got to be patient with yourself," Hershel pointed out gently. "Blasting is easy, but our aura can be used for more than just destruction."
"Anything else is boring," Pippa complained. "Can't we work on overdrives? I'm old enough now."
Hershel's smile faded, and something flicked across his face that Pippa couldn't quite interpret. He knelt down next to her, reaching out to take her hands. "No. That kind of training doesn't need to happen for a long time. In fact, I'm not sure I ever need to teach you."
"But that's the most powerful thing we can do," Pippa pointed out with a huff.
"It's the most destructive thing we can do," Hershel corrected. "But power doesn't always lie in explosions and devastation."
"But why do I have to smell people's feelings? How is that gonna help with anything?"
Hershel chuckled. "Aura perception is a power in its own right, Pip. It's the first thing my master taught me, and it came in handy throughout my life. Knowing how other people are feeling—being able to sense emotion itself—"
"I could just ask people what they're feeling," Pippa muttered. "I don't need to feel it."
"Close your eyes," Hershel instructed. "Phos once told me that when people unlock their power, they generally tend to be better at either manipulation or perception. You've always had a knack for blasting and manipulating your aura, but to be well balanced, you need to practice the other side."
"The other side is boring." Pippa complained, but she shut her eyes. For a few minutes, she tried listening. She could hear the wind whistling and her cousin's antics, but she couldn't sense any feelings. "Raiyn's happy," she finally tried.
"Did you sense that, or could you just hear him laughing?"
"What's the difference?" Pippa scowled. She opened her eyes to glower at her uncle. "We've been trying for forever, but I can't do it, Uncle Hershel. Can we please do something fun now?"
Hershel sighed, pushing himself to his feet. "I guess we can call it a day," he admitted. "We should head back home before it gets dark."
Pippa felt both guilty and relieved as she headed for where Hershel's hoofer was grazing. The animal didn't mind carrying all three of them, which was good because Baffa hadn't been up to carrying Pippa anywhere lately. The old sniffer spent most of his time snoozing in sunny patches these days, and Pip tried to ignore a niggle of worry as she thought about her furry friend.
"Daddy!" Raiyn called as he followed along after Pippa and Hershel. The healer turned and smiled as he hoisted his son into the air.
"What is it, Raiyn?" he asked. The toddler seemed strangely serious as he stared at his father.
"Thee-thee mad."
Hershel frowned, and Pippa rolled her eyes as she lifted herself onto the hoofer's back. "Theo's not even here, Raiyn," she pointed out.
"Thee-thee mad!" the child insisted, and Hershel boarded the hoofer behind his niece.
"Maybe we can visit Theo another day," he promised. "We've got to get home—your mother's probably back from her meeting by now."
"Momma!" Raiyn exclaimed excitedly, his frown vanishing as he clapped. Hershel gave the hoofer a light kick, and the beast began its trek back toward the fortress. Pippa and Raiyn had accompanied the healer on his various healing visits in the west before taking a break to train, and Pip was excited to be back home. As much as she loved being Hershel's apprentice, on days like today she felt more like a babysitter than an apprentice.
They hadn't gotten very far down the trail before the hoofer began to slow. The sun had started going down, casting long shadows along the path around them. Pippa wasn't really paying attention to what was going on, lost in daydreams about being able to summon an aura overdrive. However, as Hershel pulled the hoofer to a stop, she looked up to see that someone was in their path.
The man was hooded, his feet planted directly in their way so that the hoofer couldn't continue. Pippa frowned, and she felt her uncle shift behind her. "We have business down this road," Hershel said in that soft way he had. "If you could move out of the way..."
"I'll move," the stranger cut in with a sneer. "But first, you and I have to have words, healer."
"Do you know someone in need of medical care?" Hershel guessed, but there was an edge to his tone. Pippa stiffened in the growing tension.
"You'll be the one in need of medical care," the man threatened, and Pippa watched as he pulled a knife from his belt. "If you don't stop stealing them powered children."
"Get out of the way before I blast you!" Pippa yelled, though she felt her uncle's hand come down on her shoulder.
"Pippa, be quiet."
"Consider this your warning," the stranger called. "Next time you and I cross paths, I won't be so cordial. I have half a mind to teach you a lesson now, to really get the point across."
From the shadows, a few more figures approached the hoofer. Hershel leaned closer to Pippa, his voice a murmur.
"Can you transport back to the fortress? I need you to take Raiyn."
"I'm not leaving!" the girl snapped, her eyes blazing as the hoofer became skittish beneath them at the approaching threat. "We can take these guys!"
"Well, well...seems you have a powered brat right here!" the cloaked man sneered. "On second thought, we'll be taking..."
The man's threat was lost as the hoofer reared, spurred on by a fierce kick from Hershel and fear of the approaching men. Pippa gasped and managed to cling to the hoofer's neck, and she felt Hershel holding himself and Raiyn onto the animal before it began to charge. Pip's mind was racing, but she managed to blast one of the attackers back as they tried to bury their knife into the hoofer.
"Pippa, can you transport?" Hershel demanded as the hoofer dodged another attack, plowing down the lane toward the fortress.
"I can't leave you," Pippa pointed out. "I have to protect you!"
"I can protect myself," Hershel promised. Pippa could hear shouting from the men behind them, and she rolled her eyes.
"You don't have powers anymore," she reminded. Up ahead of them, another figure came out from behind a rock. Pippa stiffened as she realized the attacker was lifting a crossbow, and she got prepared to send out a blast. However, before she could, the archer stumbled back with a cry. Pippa blinked and turned to see Hershel fishing out another throwing knife from his satchel. "Did Myrah teach you that?" the child asked in surprise. Hershel smiled thinly.
"I told you; I can take care of myself."
"But who were they?" Myrah demanded, trying not to pace and not succeeding. Her husband watched from their bed, his expression pinched with thought.
"I don't know. They had the sun to their backs—it made it hard to get any features."
"They targeted you because you've been seeking out and protecting powered Oni," Myrah mused. "So, they come from some party that's after powered children. That doesn't really narrow it down, though—I feel like every leader in the realm would love to get their hands on someone with powers."
"You think it could be a province leader behind it?"
"Maybe...or some completely separate party who's after aura for who knows what nefarious reason." Myrah sank down into a chair, rubbing her face with her hands. "I worried this would happen, when you started helping those kids."
"I couldn't not help them," Hershel pointed out, and she heard him coming over. Myrah sighed as she felt Hershel's arm slip around her shoulders, and she leaned into her husband.
"I know. But I don't like the fact you're getting ambushed with no protection."
"Pippa and I managed," Hershel said carefully.
"I want you to take a guard with you from now on." Myrah turned to meet his eye at last. "That's if Tolan doesn't insist on becoming your new shadow—at least when his daughter is with you." Hershel was quiet, but he didn't argue like she was afraid he would. "Have you told Syn and Tolan yet?" She continued.
"No. I brought Pippa straight back here, and I'll go speak with them tomorrow. No matter who was behind the ambush, I think it may be best if we keep Pip where she can be better protected. I was thinking of asking them all to come move back to the fortress, if that's all right with you."
"Fine by me," Myrah promised. "But I'm not sure you'll convince them. Tolan especially was eager to move out of here into their own place all those years ago."
"I know. But I think it would be for the best, especially since we don't know who the attackers were or what they'd be willing to try next."
Myrah glowered at the floor as she thought. "Is it too much to ask for some peace and quiet?" she finally muttered. "Have we not earned that yet?"
Hershel chuckled, and she felt him kiss her forehead. "We'll get to the bottom of this," he promised. "Then we can go back to normal."
"I'm not sure I can trust you out there without someone with you," Myrah countered as she stood. "I'm not sure why I've trusted you on your own for this long."
"I can hold my own against the general ruffian or thief," Hershel countered. "It's just the fact that this attack seemed so targeted that concerns me."
"The fact that you were attacked at all concerns me!" Myrah said. She reached out to touch his face, studying his expression. "Sometimes you feel so fragile..."
Her husband took her hand and smiled gently. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised softly, and she sighed.
"Maybe it would be best if you stay in the fortress too for a while."
"I have to make my rounds," Hershel countered. "Not to mention Iona would be furious if I stopped my visits to the village."
"Maybe I'll make you take a whole squadron of guards along, then."
"You know the village won't take that lightly."
"Can you blame me for worrying?" Myrah asked.
"I knew you would worry," Hershel said. "I nearly didn't tell you, honestly."
"Then why did you?" she asked. Her husband smiled and leaned in to kiss her.
"Because we don't keep secrets from each other," he pointed out. Myrah fell quiet, and Hershel rested his forehead on hers. "I'm sorry to worry you. More than anything, I just wish I hadn't had Pippa and Raiyn. Though, you would have thought racing out of an ambush was Raiyn's favorite thing in the world, the way he was laughing. I don't think he even realized we were in danger."
"If its powered kids the thugs are after, we should keep Raiyn in the fortress as much as possible," Myrah mused. "Not that he's unlocked his, but they might think he has, given who his father is."
Hershel kissed her one last time, his hand rubbing the back of her neck gently. "Please don't worry too much about all of this," he begged softly. "We're going to be just fine."
"You're back late."
Theo jumped, turning to see his mother in the doorway. He hadn't heard his door open, and he scowled to cover the fact that she had surprised him. "Care to knock?" he muttered, turning back to his desk.
"Where were you?" Keyda pressed, coming into his bedroom and closing the door behind her.
"Out."
"Out where? You transported and we had no idea where—"
"I transported to the stables, and took Dragon for a ride. Is that allowed?" Theo snapped, shoving the papers into a pile. His mother went quiet, and he felt both bitter and guilty. Keyda finally sighed, and he heard her coming closer.
"Theo, we were worried. It's not like you to miss an entire meeting, and we didn't know where you were. You didn't have Tolan with you. Something could have happened."
"Still don't trust me to take care of myself?" he muttered, turning to face her. Keyda's gaze was stern, but there was also concern in her amber eyes.
"We've had this conversation so many times," Keyda pointed out. "You're the Heir, Theodynn...that makes you a target. We have to be careful."
"You know, I feel like most people have moved out of their parent's houses by twenty-two. I can't really do that, but would it kill you guys to at least treat me like an adult?"
Rather than look abashed, Keyda's gaze hardened. "We're trying to help, Theo."
"Help with what? Making sure I never leave the fortress?"
"Where is this stemming from?" Keyda demanded as she marched closer. "Actually, I know what's causing this. You've been all wound up since Haiven broke it off." Theo flinched, but his mother continued. "Your father and I have tried to give you space, but we've been walking on eggshells for months and it's got to stop. You've got to talk to us...what's going on with you?"
"Nothing is going on with me!"
"Why'd you storm out of the meeting?" his mother countered. "That's not like you. Did someone say something?" Theo was quiet, and Keyda's eyes flicked across his face. "Was it Ottan?"
"It's not what he said...it's what he's doing," Theo growled, and he turned back to his desk.
"What do you mean?"
He debated whether or not to answer, but he also knew his mother wasn't going to leave, no matter how long he tried to ignore her. He finally huffed, pulling the papers closer. "There's slave trade going on, Mom. It's all over the south still, in secret pockets. Ottan has to know about them, but he's turning a blind eye. Ancients, I wouldn't put it past him to be involved in it himself." Theo glowered at the data he had meticulously written down. "But every time I talk to him, he pretends like he has no idea what I'm talking about."
"Which reports are those?" Keyda asked, reaching for the papers. Theo allowed her to pick them up, and he watched as his mother struggled through the reports. He knew reading still wasn't her strong suit, but she seemed to get enough of the gist. She looked up with a frown. "Omar sent you these?"
"Not just Omar—the data's compiled from a few different sources," Theo said vaguely. "But the point is, it's not just one or two traders hiding in the shadows. There are whole groups, and until Ottan decides to do something about it..."
"Theo." Keyda's expression was conflicted as she glanced between her son and the reports he had compiled. "We know that there are still a few problems with traders in the south...and we know how Ottan can be. That's why we have a whole force of loyal guards stationed there."
"Guards can be bought or threatened into silence," Theo replied. "The only way to really get rid of slave trade once and for all is to go to the source and cut it out at the root. If people are selling slaves, then someone has to be buying—"
"That's enough," the Ruler cut in. Theodynn blinked in surprise as his mother snapped at him, and Keyda set the reports back on the desk with a sigh. "I understand that you want to make the realm as great as possible...but you've got to learn the lesson that your father and I learned years ago. There's only so much you can do." She looked up to meet his eye. "I don't think it's going to do you any good to be obsessed with finding every criminal in the realm—we have to do our best, and accept that the world is never going to be perfect." Keyda reached out to touch his face, and Theo glowered. "But we can make it better—and you already have, with the education system you've helped Myrah and Tala construct."
"What are you saying? That we should be turning a blind eye to the slave trade, too?"
"Of course not—we'll put more of a focus on it with our forces in the south, and your father and I will talk with Ottan."
"You really think he'll listen to you more than he'll listen to me? If he's not going to do what's best for the realm, what's the point of having him be leader, anyway?"
Keyda looked shocked, but she recovered quickly. "You remind me of your father, when he first got here," she told him, but her tone was hard. "You can't go attacking Ottan, even if his morals aren't 100% virtuous. There has to still be some form of trust between the ruler and the province leaders, or things fall apart."
"So we just continue to let him get away with things? We let slavery continue in the shadows, with Ottan no doubt filling his pockets on the profits? We pretend like everything is fine when it isn't?"
"If you try to force things to be better too fast, sometimes they end up worse," his mother said. "Of course we need to get rid of the last veins of slavery, and I agree that Ottan needs to straighten up where it's involved, but we have to go about it delicately. Let your father and I take care of it."
"Oh, of course," Theo muttered sarcastically. "Leave the important things to you guys. What should I do in the meantime? Plan a realm party? Or is that not safe enough for you?"
Keyda narrowed her eyes, and Theo waited for her reply. However, rather than reprimand, Keyda took his face in both hands as she studied him. "Look at these bags under your eyes," she murmured. "You're not getting much sleep...are you?"
"I'm fine," he countered, but his mother didn't release him.
"Have you tried the tea Hershel gave you? Back when I was having aura nightmares..."
"I don't need tea! I need to figure out who the traders are supplying!"
"You need sleep," Keyda countered. "Your father and I will take care of the trader problem." She reached for the papers she had set down on Theo's desk, but he managed to grab them before she could.
"These are my reports," he said softly. He waited for his mother to demand he give them to her, but she finally sighed.
"Go to bed," she ordered as she headed for the door. "And please, Theo...just try the tea. I really think it could help."
Theo didn't say anything as he listened to the door close behind him. He studied the papers in his hand one last time, and then he glanced up at the bookshelf where he had stashed the bag of dark petals Hershel had given him. Rather than head to the bag, however, Theo scoffed and blew out the candle on his desk.