Chapter 3 Ren Monroe

Dinner concluded.

Ren watched the others around the table rise, drinks in hand, conversations filling the air around them. She knew they were about to be subjected to even more mingling. Theo would be congratulated on his new post. Each repetition would be performed with the slightest hint of mockery. She caught his eye as they stood. It was startling to see the effect the news had on him. It reminded her of the way he'd looked right after he'd been gutted by the blade-sharp claws of a wyvern. After Cora's surgery had stitched him back up. Nearly all of the life drained from him.

It made sense. His confidence had always been rooted in his name. He was a Brood. An heir to one of the great houses. It was only logical that his father was the one person who could steal that from him and leave him looking so barren.

"I'll stay with you."

"No," he replied. "Not for this."

She didn't need him to explain. Sometimes, it was unbearable to have a witness to your greatest shames. He would be forced to smile and nod, all while the designs he'd made for his own future vanished into thin air. Ren would want to face that alone too.

"If that's what you want, I'll wait for you downstairs."

No one noticed her leave. Down a floor, she found royal cousins seated, laughing loudly at the far end of the table. Merchants with deep pockets discussed politics and shipping routes and trade goods. Ren hadn't thought about the fact that the other tables might still be dining. It made her feel even more out of place. She located a corner seat at the table and claimed it without a word.

The elderly woman on her right was little more than bones. An elegant bracelet of jewels dangled from one sparrow-thin wrist. She swirled her wine, inhaled the scent, and turned to Ren as if they'd been in conversation the whole time.

"As I was saying, it's all that anyone is talking about. Can you imagine? Dead for nearly ten years and suddenly the name just—pops—back up. The Broods pretend not to be concerned, but I have found that even the city's elite have a healthy fear of ghosts. No doubt they're wondering how he survived."

Ren sipped her drink to cover any confusion in her expression. What was the woman talking about? Her confidant grinned, a flash of wine-stained teeth, before plunging into a conversation Ren assumed she'd been having with someone else. Likely someone who looked vaguely like her. It became clear that the woman had been drinking for some time now.

"Dahvid Tin'Vori." The woman said that name, then shushed Ren as if she had been the one to speak it aloud. "I know, I know. Don't say the name. Never fear. Thugar Brood is a floor above us. I have no doubt he's flirting with everyone except for his own wife."

Ren nearly spat out her drink. She knew there were factions and divisions amongst the upper class. Houses that naturally opposed one another. Minor houses striving to be more. Merchants who disdained the whole system, having succeeded on hard work instead of inherited pedigree. But she'd forgotten there were some who were bold enough to make fun of an heir so publicly. She supposed wine and old age were natural encouragements toward bluntness.

"Remind me," Ren said. "What happened?"

The name Tin'Vori sounded familiar, but she couldn't recall where she'd read it. One too many drinks had dulled her own senses. The old crone's eyes narrowed with delight.

"I told you. It was quite the scandal. Ten years ago…"

Before Ren had enrolled at Balmerick. Well before she'd have been in a position to hear the rumblings of the city's elite. She leaned in to hear the next part of the story.

"It started with the oldest brother, Ware Tin'Vori. He made the mistake of dancing with Brood's fiancée in front of everyone. When Thugar asked to cut in for the next dance, Ware Tin'Vori made his second mistake. He confused the Brood heir for someone with a sense of humor. The boy kept dancing with the girl. He claimed that it was a sin to stop in the middle of a song. A normal person would have laughed. Because it was a joke. But Thugar Brood? That is a man who brooks no trespasses. He vowed—then and there—that he would bury Ware Tin'Vori in his family garden. The famous threat was heard by everyone in that ballroom: ‘I will plant you in the ground.'?"

The crone waved a hand, jewels dancing farther down her wrist.

"Everyone thought they were empty words. Tall talk. After all, House Tin'Vori was a bosom-mate to House Shiverian then. One of the few houses that the Broods would not risk opposing. But there was the rub. No one knew the Shiverians had been eyeing the Tin'Voris' holdings for years. Thugar's anger was an invitation to act on that greed. A raid between the Shiverians and Broods was arranged in secret. Ware Tin'Vori was sketching down by the river when Thugar found him. The boy begged for his life as he was dragged through the Lower Quarter. No one intervened. They threw him in the back of the carriage and took him up to the old Brood estate. The two dueled. It was a long fight, but only because Brood made it a long fight. He broke that poor boy. Slowly. Then he did what he'd promised to do."

Now the woman looked down the length of the table before glancing back at Ren. For a moment, she narrowed her eyes, and Ren wondered if she'd finally realized that she wasn't speaking with the person she thought she was. Instead, she simply lowered her voice.

"Have you ever been to the Brood estate, dear?"

Ren nodded. "Once."

Landwin had invited her for a single family gathering. She'd been allowed on a small tour of the high-walled estate that was northwest of the city. Theo had delighted in telling her stories about his childhood. All Ren could see, though, as she walked from villa to villa was what she was truly up against. All of that wealth. All of those guards. An impenetrable fortress that had stood against its enemies for centuries.

"There's a tree with a black trunk. Bloodred leaves. Did you see it?"

Ren nodded again. Near the very heart of the estate. She remembered how Theo had fallen quiet there. He offered no anecdotes about that place. As they passed, Thugar had stopped in front of the tree while the rest of them continued through the gardens. Landwin Brood, who rarely displayed his emotions openly, had looked back at his older son with distaste. Ren hadn't understood the subtle expressions on the faces of the rest of the family that day. Thugar had bent a knee, his head briefly bowed. Ren had assumed he was praying. Now she had the real answer.

"That is the tree that grew, fed by Ware Tin'Vori's body. Only Thugar visits it. The gardeners aren't even allowed to prune the leaves. No one has properly mourned the boy."

Ren was surprised. "The family didn't ask for his remains to be returned?"

The old woman scoffed. "Haven't you listened to a word I've said, Isabelle? The raid was that night. The Tin'Vori estate was overrun in an hour. A single boat made it out to sea. It was believed that the other three children—and their parents—were on board. The Shiverians torched and sank the vessel. Everyone watched as boats circled the blaze. There were no survivors."

She swirled her wine again and accidentally sloshed some onto the table. It was a pause for dramatic effect. Ren didn't know the old crone's name, but she was a rather masterful gossip.

"At least that's what everyone believed. Until Dahvid Tin'Vori was spotted in Ravinia last week. Rumor is that he fights in the gladiator pits. I've no doubt the Broods will send their spies. Confirm whether or not it's really him. He's rather distinctive, though. Hard to miss."

"And why is that?"

"He's an image-bearer."

That snagged Ren's attention. The old crone looked rather satisfied by her reaction. Image-bearers were nearly as rare as enhancers. They were living vessels, capable of wearing magic directly on their skin. Magic that required no source except for the wielder themselves. She'd never seen someone with the specialized tattoos before, but she'd read about them in books.

"… a far more common practice in Tusk, but not unheard of here. What I want to know, though, is how did he survive? And if he survived, what of the two sisters?"

The woman leaned back in her chair as servants set down a roasted shank of meat in front of them. Ren leaned back as well, her mind racing. She was so consumed by the story that she almost didn't notice Theo trying to get her attention. He'd come down the stairs, looking utterly drained.

"I need a bit of air," Ren said to the older woman. "Excuse me."

The old crone nodded. "Yes, of course. Go on, Isabelle."

Ren smiled at the thought of some confused girl reappearing at her grandmother's side, unaware that she'd just been briefly confused for a stranger. Ren could feel the relief from Theo as she crossed the room. He wanted to leave, and he wanted to leave with her. There was a subtle flicker in her chest at that realization. She quieted the feeling. Whatever his father's reasoning for the exile, Ren realized that the leader of House Brood had made a mistake. His punishment was driving Theo away from House Brood and into her arms. She was the only one he could trust now.

"Take me on a walk," she said. "Let's look at the stars."

In spite of everything that had happened that night, Theo smiled.

They took a long, winding route back to his villa in the Heights. By unspoken agreement, they walked out onto the balcony. Stars glinted above like teeth in the dark. It was ironic that Ren found herself in this place. It was the exact spot where she'd first met Theo. She'd wanted to murder him that night. Now she was back—pitying him instead of despising him.

"Stop that," he whispered. "Please stop."

Ren's eyes met his. "What?"

"I can… feel it. You feel sorry for me. It's not helping."

A gust of wind swept over the balcony. Theo's blond hair tossed across his forehead as he turned away, eyeing the city below. Ren understood. In her lowest moments at Balmerick, pity had never done anything for her. Teachers had always bemoaned her situation. How unfair it was that a talented girl like her was not receiving proper attention. But they'd done nothing to actually improve her standing. Their pity was as useful as a threadbare coat offered in the dead of winter. Ren's thoughts returned to the old crone and her story about the Tin'Vori family.

"Let's strategize, then," Ren proposed. "How long do you think your father will keep you in Nostra?"

Theo sighed. "The last person assigned to the post was Uncle Lander. There was a party. All the people you saw tonight. Lander was very drunk. His guard was down. A manipulator from one of the other houses cornered him. He foolishly revealed our family's designs for taking over a new business sector in Kathor. They took that information, used it to cut off our plans, and spoiled the entire enterprise. When my father found out the source of their information, he exiled Lander to the same post in Nostra. It was always… a joke. A good laugh for the rest of the family. ‘Don't be like your bumbling uncle or you'll be sent to live in the mountains.'?"

"And how long ago was that?"

"He's been in Nostra for twelve years," Theo answered in a dead voice. "I'm sure he will be very grateful to be returning to Kathor. Finally, another fool has arrived to replace him.…"

Ren's heart sank. "But you're his son. Surely he wouldn't keep you there.…"

"Lander is his brother. I think being his son makes it worse somehow. More shameful."

"And what about me?" She thought about the best phrasing for her question. "Do you think he'll allow me to go with you?"

Theo shook his head. "Tomorrow you will receive an invitation. An internship, perhaps. From one of our respected trade partners. He'll offer you something enticing to keep you here in the city. If you turn it down, he can use that against you. ‘See? I offered her a place, and she would not take it.' But if you accept, he begins the work of separating us. I will be there. You will be here. My father is a thorough man. I learned long ago that if he ever offered me a choice, both possibilities had already been carefully curated by him. I was simply allowed to choose between his desires for me. It's always been that way."

Ren couldn't help thinking that Theo was edging into less pitiable territory. What had those choices been for a child in his position? Listen to your priceless tutor or else I'll send you to a bedroom that's larger than most people's houses? A familiar anger curled to life in her chest. It never quite went away, no matter how much she'd come to actually care for Theo. The chasm between their lived experiences could not be forgotten. Theo was watching Ren. No doubt, he thought her sudden anger was linked to what he'd said about his father. About his own plight.

"I can't refuse. Not right now. But my father is a fool if he thinks he can keep me pinned in the mountains for a decade. I—we are meant for more."

His eyes locked on Ren's. She lifted her chin, meeting that stony gaze. This was the Theo she'd first started liking out in the Dires. The one who'd stood fearlessly before a wyvern, who'd fought shoulder to shoulder with her against a revenant. This was the version of him she needed if they were to carve a path forward in this world.

"We are going to change this city, Ren. He does not own Kathor. He does not own us, no matter what he thinks. Weather this storm with me. I will come up with a plan while I am away. There are gaps in my father's power. I thought the warden post would be the most natural path to independence, but there are others. We will discover them."

We could start by removing your father,Ren thought darkly. She buried those emotions quickly. Asking for that would be asking too much too soon. She needed to work with what was in front of her. Right now, Theo was burning with anger and indignation. It was possible that he would dare to plot a life apart from his family. His words tonight were a far cry from actual action, but they could be the start of something.

"I'm with you," Ren answered. "No matter what."

It frightened her to realize those words were at least partly true. Not just pretense. Not just a survival mechanism. Genuine feelings had started to blossom. Ren found there were two separate categories. First, there was the bond magic. She'd felt it on the bridge. Watching Theo bleed out, she'd briefly considered the possibility of not saving him. She could have returned home, demanded an inheritance from his family. Instead, her bond with him had roared to life and forced her to act. That initial impulse had only continued to grow. A deeply troubling development.

Would it go on like that forever? Increasing, year after year, no matter what? Would her feelings for him grow until they were something she couldn't override? She worried the bond might eventually outstrip her current purpose.

More disconcerting, however, was the other feeling. Separate from their bond magic. Not forced upon her at all. There had been moments, since they'd returned from the wilderness, where Ren found herself actually liking Theo. For no reason other than the fact that he was who he was. Those moments came in no discernible pattern. A glance of him reading by lamplight in his study. The subtle way he would redirect conversations back to her interests. Even the way he set his hand on the small of her back whenever they walked into a room, as if he wanted everyone to see her before they saw him. It was all annoyingly charming. And charm was a dangerous thing.

The simple truth was that Theo brought a certain level of unpredictability to the equations in her mind. Unpredictable. That was not an ideal word for someone attempting to execute a plan ten years in the making. Not ideal at all.

Theo waited a few paces away. With a sigh, Ren extended her hand. He accepted, tugging her up to her feet. Ren allowed his arms to curl around her until they were close. Less than a breath away. In the past few months, they'd not been overly romantic. Most of the time, they were called to public appearances and parties, and there'd simply been no room for privacy. Now she allowed it, knowing they were about to be separated for an indeterminable time.

A part of her knew that this was expected. Theo needed to cling to an image of his bonded sweetheart while he was gone. Creating that memory for him now would impact the coming months. Some other part of her, though, simply wanted the taste of his lips. She tugged him down by the collar. It was a clumsy, out-of-practice first kiss. The second was anything but clumsy. Theo shivered, and Ren answered by pressing her body closer to his. A third kiss, a fourth. As they tangled together, Ren felt a sharp spike of something entirely new. Her bond pulsed. Both of them broke away for a moment, gasping. She couldn't have said if it was pain or pleasure or both. All she knew was that they'd both felt it at the same time. It was like being burned. Like wanting to burn.

Neither one spoke after that. They did not try to kiss each other again either. Instead, they stood there, under the stars, eyes on the shadowed horizon. Ren knew all the tired metaphors about dawns and new days and fresh starts. For once, it felt true. Tomorrow would bring an entirely new world. Theo would leave for Nostra. She would be alone, surrounded by powerful enemies.

Unless she found allies before the circle closed entirely.