13. Chapter Thirteen

The Fates were trying to kill me.

It wasn’t even two days later that I found myself stumbling into a certain guardsman, yet again.

“Are you following me, Arken?”

That irritatingly attractive voice came out of nowhere as I’d been waiting in line for breakfast.

“Fuck!” I yelped, jumping out of my skin.

I had finally made my way back over to the bakery, with the intention of a croissant and maybe even one of those little pastries for later. I had been lost in a daydream when that low, gravelly purr returned right next to my ear again. Did this man have no concept of personal space whatsoever?

Gods above and below.

A chuckle that was already starting to sound familiar fell from his mouth as I whirled around to face him.

“My, my. Such language…”

His words were admonishing, but he was grinning, clearly amused by my reaction... or my profanity. I swore like a sailor more often than not. Amaretta hated it.

“Where do you even learn such foul language, Arken?”she’d often cluck irritably. “Certainly not from me.”

No, not from her.

Not from anyone in particular, really. But even back home, I liked to watch people from a distance, observing the mundane little things they’d do and say when they thought nobody else was paying attention.

The stable hands, for example, often exchanged tales of their filthy exploits whenever they’d return from a night or two in the city. The men were hardly careful with their language when mucking out the stalls and describing their most recent rounds in the sack. Apparently in Elsweire, you could find women who offered their bodies in exchange for a fistful of Lyra, if you knew where to look. It was all a bit crude and vulgar.

Still, I liked the way certain words rolled off the tongue.

I shrugged at Kieran, who was still grinning at me like a fool. There was no use pretending that the curse had been an anomaly, and my vocabulary sure as Hel wasn’t going to change any time soon with him sneaking up on me like that.

“You clearly came in here after I did, so who’s really following who here?” I asked him pointedly.

“I think you’ve been scoping out my breakfast patterns. I come here almost every day.”

“You must think awful highly of yourself if you think I’d go through all that trouble just to talk to you again.”

“And yet here we are, talking again,” Kieran said, flashing his oddly sharp teeth.

“Indeed. By sheer coincidence.”

“So she claims,” he chuckled again. He seemed to be in a particularly good mood this morning.

“Wouldn’t it reflect rather poorly on you as the Scouting and Reconnaissance Captain if you could be so easily followed and monitored for your breakfast habits?” I asked.

“You’ve got me there, Little Conduit.”

Ah, wonderful. That irritating nickname had stuck.

“I recommend the croissants, by the way,” he added. “They’re divine.”

“I didn’t ask, but I had already been planning on getting one, so don’t get too excited when you see me taking your recommendation,” I said, trying—and failing—to resist the urge to glance back at him.

Gods, he was attractive.

“It’s too late now, I’m completely ecstatic,” the guardsman replied, with an irritating glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

“You’re completely demented,” I replied, rolling my eyes.

“Such a rude mouth you have,” he laughed. “It’s impressive, really. What other tricks do you have up your sleeve, freshling? Or is it just your wicked tongue that sets you apart?”

“My tongue is not the only thing that—You know what? I’m not finishing that sentence,” I hissed, getting the sense that I’d somehow walked into one of his traps.

He looked like he was about to keel over, laughing out loud in the middle of this tiny pastry shop. And yet again, I found myself disarmed by the sound of it. Of that welcoming rumble of thunder. The man was as dangerous and alluring as an aetherstorm.

After catching his breath, Kieran slipped past me, sauntering up to the counter to pick up a small brown box tied up with string. He must’ve ordered ahead.

“I told you, I’m a regular,” he said with a wink, headed straight for the door. “Have a nice morning, freshling.”

But naturally, the attractive guardsman added one more comment in passing on his way out. “You and that wicked tongue of yours.”

Gods, I hated him.

After picking up breakfast and surviving one particularly rude interruption, I made my way over to the Biblyos.

Earlier in the week, I made plans with a fellow Conduit from my Bios lectures, Laurel Ansari, to get together for a study session. Though I typically preferred to study alone, I liked Laurel. After the lecture in the Wyldwoods, the charming, extroverted Earth Conduit had made a habit of sitting next to me in class, often making sly but good-natured jokes under her breath that made me bite the insides of my cheeks to avoid laughing out loud. Poor Scholar Larkin.

“Change of plans, Asher,” Laurel informed me as soon as I found her on the front steps, tossing her mane of bouncy black curls over her shoulder and flashing me a wicked grin as I walked up to her. “It’s far too nice out to spend all afternoon inside studying plants.”

I could hardly disagree. It was rarely this warm, this late in autumn—or at least it hadn’t been back home. It was more likely for Atlas to see early cold fronts than this balmy breeze. My classes this week felt empty, as if half of my fellow Conduits had taken off early for a weekend on the Pyrhhan Coast.

“That so? What are we up to today, then, Miss Ansari?” I asked, amused.

“Mischief and nonsense.”

See, this was why Laurel and I got along.

“Any particular flavor of mischief?”

Laurel reached into her bag and pulled out a dark green bottle.

“Strawberry.”

I snorted. “Day drinking it is.”

In all honesty, I felt a tinge of relief. I felt comfortable enough around Laurel so far, but a hint of alcohol in my system often helped me loosen up around the presence of others. A light buzz was a balm against my social anxieties, and that strange sense of inhuman otherness that so often plagued me in groups.

“Don’t forget the nonsense,” Laurel added.

“How could I possibly?” I laughed. “What nonsense are we up to this afternoon?”

“How opposed are you to heights? And a bit of harmless breaking and entering?”

“Color me intrigued,” I replied with a grin. I was in—so long as we didn’t get caught.

“I knew I liked you, Lightbearer. C’mon,” she said, tugging at my hand and taking off towards the back entrance of the Biblyos. “I’ll show you my secret route.”

As it turned out, Laurel’s “secret route” involved the two of us sneaking through a restricted floor, climbing up some questionable looking scaffolding, and trying not to laugh every time the bottles clinked together in Laurel’s bag. Because of course she brought two.

Once we got ourselves situated up on the rooftop of the Biblyos, Laurel spread out a small blanket and sat down, stretching out her legs and motioning me to join her.

“The view is great and all, Asher, but if you gawk on the ledge for too long we’re gonna get our asses caught. Come, come. Let us sunbathe and get drunk.”

I would have to be cautious about the drunk part of that plan. Tipsy, maybe—but sometimes when I got too inebriated, my Resonances would start to get a smidge too comfortable. The ones I normally kept hidden got tempted to come out and play. I’d had one too many close calls in the Brindlewoods, back when I was still learning my limits—and it was sheer dumb luck that I never got caught. I liked Laurel, but that didn’t mean I could trust her with this. I couldn’t trust anyone with this.

I watched with a little bit of awe as Laurel twirled her fingertips over the neck of the first bottle of wine, the cork simply popping out with ease.

“Earth Conduit, remember?” she laughed. “Corks are made out of bark. Or something.”

“Convenient,” I said with a smile, taking a seat beside her.

“It’s a neat little party trick. Here’s hoping I learn how to do some things that are slightly more useful while I’m here, though.”

“What’s your area of focus?” I asked, taking that first thread for potential conversation and artfully weaving it away from myself. “Arcana?”

“Trade,” Laurel replied with a grimace.

“Not your first choice, I take it?”

“I mean, if I had it my way, my only field of study would be women,” Laurel said with a sly smile.

“But I’m the eldest daughter of the Ansari family. The eldest child. And so I’m expected to take up my father’s mantle as the High Advisor of Trade to Lord Ymir one day.”

“Oh! You’re from Samhaven, too?”

“Yup. Yvestra. You?”

Ah, it would make sense for the Ansari family to live in the capital city if her father worked in the House of Torrents.

“The Brindlewoods.”

“No shit? Like one of those small villages out there?” Laurel asked, curiosity clearly piqued.

Most people in Sophrosyne didn’t know villages like mine even existed.

“Mhmm,” I said, pausing to take a swig of strawberry wine—pleased to find that it was sparkling. I loved the feel of effervescence on my tongue. “Exactly.”

“Wow. What was that like?”

“Quiet,” I mused. “Slow.”

“Gods, I bet. No wonder you scampered off to Sophrosyne. Did you just need an escape from the boredom?”

Something like that.

Now didn’t feel like the right time to delve into the nuance and complexity of the feelings that brought me here.

“Basically,” I replied instead.

“Well, I’ll drink to that,” Laurel said, pulling the second bottle of wine out and popping the cork with ease. “Cheers to reckless escapism, my friend.”

“Hey now,” I countered. “Who said it was reckless?”

“You followed a strange, charismatic woman on a quest to get drunk on the roof of the Biblyos. I’d say you have a bit of a reckless streak.”

“Gods, Ansari,” I laughed. “Give a girl some warning before you read her for filth.”

But she certainly wasn’t wrong.

“It takes one to know one,” Laurel explained with a wink. “Though, speaking of filth... Have you taken a tumble with the sexy guardsman yet?”

“Who, Kieran?”

“Oooh, Kieran. Of course the bastard would have a sexy name, too. So I take that as a yes?”

I rolled my eyes. “No. I did run into him this morning at the bakery, though. I regret to inform you that he is still devastatingly attractive.”

“And you haven’t taken him home yet because...?” Laurel asked, flicking a pebble at my forehead with irritating accuracy. Damned Earth Conduits.

“First of all, that’s the second time I’ve even had a face to face interaction with the man,” I argued. “Second of all...” I trailed off.

“Girl. Don’t tell me its nerves. I saw the way he was looking at you in the Wyldwoods. He wants you. Like, bad.”

Did he?

You and that wicked tongue of yours…

Maybe.

“I mean, it’s not necessarily nerves so much as...”

“As what? Spit it out, Asher,” Laurel prodded. “I need to know this. For science. Consider this me studying Bios. The mysteries of human willpower, if you will.”

I sighed. “I haven’t slept with anyone since my ex, back home.”

“Ah, I see. Sounds like there’s some baggage with that one?”

“With Grays?” I sighed, running one hand through my hair. “Absolutely. I’m pretty sure she still hates me.”

“Grays, eh? That’s a femme name. Am I to believe Miss Asher goes both ways, then?” Laurel smirked.

I grinned. “I most certainly do.”

“A victory for all the sapphics in Sophrosyne, honestly,” Laurel replied, raising her bottle as if it were a toast. “But, apologies. I got us off track. The Grays situation—you wanna talk about it?”

Not particularly, I thought to myself. I generally tried to avoid thinking about Graysen. Everything about that breakup had been inevitable. And everything about it had been my fault.

“Nah, not really. It’s old news at this point. But I’m also not looking for a relationship any time soon.”

“Fair enough. I’m not much for long term commitments either,” Laurel replied easily. “I fully plan to sample my way through the city... For now, at least.”

“Just for now?”

“Yeah, well. My parents are still Hel-bent on trying to set me up with an ‘advantageous marriage.’ Archaic fucks. My father apparently has some loose agreement with the Lord of Clay that I might marry his heir, Anders—with the right trade agreements in place.”

“Gross.”

“Yeah. I was so annoyed about him springing that shit on me the day before I left, trying to sell me off like cattle. I didn’t even bother telling him that if I had to settle down with a fucking Cragg, it would be Hanna—not Anders.”

“Would that bother him?” I frowned. Same sex pairings were almost as common as heterosexual relationships, especially among the noblesse.

“Nah, I just didn’t want to encourage the auctioning of my own agency. I’m sure Mama will course correct that eventually. And on the bright side, Hanna Cragg is hot as Hel.”

“I do like a woman who has her priorities straight,” I cackled.

“Only damn thing that’s straight about me,” Laurel agreed, clinking her bottle against mine.

Maybe an hour or so worth of casual conversation and quippy remarks passed us by until Laurel and I both fell asleep, lazing around like cats in the sun. I stirred first, though—and decided to let her rest just a little while longer. Meanwhile, I meandered over to the edge of the building again, my mind wandering through the haze of strawberry wine and the balmy breeze.

Life in Sophrosyne was… different from what I had expected. Back home in the Brindlewoods, I had pictured myself a shut-in, furiously thumbing through books and researching all day and night. Before I set sail for the City of the Gods, my intentions had felt so singular:

Find out who—or what—I really was.

I certainly hadn’t pictured myself making fast friends, flirting with dangerous and alluring men, and getting drunk on rooftops. But maybe this was what I actually needed, for now. A sense of belonging. Something I’d never quite found for myself, even back home… because I was born alone.

According to Amaretta, they found me in the woods. Alone, abandoned as an infant, in the middle of the night on a full moon. Somewhat unusual, sure—but she told me people abandoned their children all the time for a multitude of reasons. Shame, poverty, fear.

“It wasn’t your fault, Arken. This world can be cruel to new parents, especially those of lower stations. We don’t know their story, but I do know this: It wasn’t your fault.”

If only I believed her.

If only the circumstances of my birth were the strangest, most mysterious thing about me. Perhaps if that were the only damning evidence surrounding my existence, I could have been content to stay home, comfortable with our slow and quiet life in the woods. But it was not—and I never had been. Because I was born alone, I was born hungry, and I was born… different.

There was something wrong with me. Something dangerous.

My Light Resonance manifested first, but it came too early, and it was too strong. I had barely been a toddler when I had first displayed signs of being a strong Resonant, my chubby little fingertips glowing every time I wanted something from my surrogate mother. Precocious, she’d called me. That’s how she had explained it to the others, too. Light Resonance was rare these days, and perhaps it just manifested a little differently from the other elements. It’s not like the people of the Brindlewoods had much of a frame of reference.

To this day, Light was still my strongest aetheric bond. It was what came naturally to me, my default wellspring of arcana. But it was not the only one.

Perhaps it was a gift from the Fates that my other Resonances didn’t manifest until I was old enough to understand how to hide them. Fire came first, then Air, when I was eleven. Earth and Water showed up within the week I turned twelve, and finally, Shadow. On the day I turned thirteen.

It had only taken me one glance at the sheer terror in my mentor’s eyes that day to understand that this secret of mine was a dangerous one. And Amaretta confirmed it the moment she made me promise to keep it hidden… to keep them all hidden. Everything except the Light. She couldn’t explain why, not in full. Something about the tattoo on her wrist, she’d said, kept her bound to secrecy on certain matters. They were typically things that related to the complexities of arcane science. I understood that, now, glancing down at my own wrist, where the arcane brand glistened in the sun.

I just wish I understood the rest.

I did know one thing though. My priorities were starting to shift. There was still a hunger in my heart, a desperate thirst for any and all knowledge I could get my hands on about aether, arcana, and Resonance. I didn’t think I would ever truly escape that need, that thirst for answers… the craving had just been dulled. Sated by something else.

But I had also realized that the pull, the tug that I had felt, drawing me away from home and into the unknown in the first place… it hadn’t just been the abandonment wound, or my lack of self-identity. Beyond needing answers, I had just been craving bigger and better things. Craving more.

And gods, Sophrosyne was more.

Every day, I found something new to fall in love with about the city. Slowly, but surely, I was coming out of my shell, stepping into the person I had been too afraid to reveal in the Brindlewoods because there had been no one else like me. Not just because of my secrets, either. Here, I was surrounded by similarities—surrounded by potential. The burden of my secret felt less heavy surrounded by so many like-minded individuals, by so much knowledge and history and art and Resonance.

I glanced back at Laurel, who had thankfully rolled over in her sleep. Even her deep golden skin was prone to burn, though, and she was tempting the Fates at this point. I got up from my perch, and went over to poke her with my wiggling toes.

“Pssst. Laurel. Wake up. I may be a Light Conduit, but I can’t control the sun. You’re frying like a fish, woman.”

Laurel groaned, flicking a pebble at me with astounding accuracy yet again.

“Fine, fine—suit yourself. I’m sure you look good in red,” I teased, tossing the pebble back.

“What if I had been dreaming about your sexy guardsman, hmm? The cruelty to just wake me up from such bliss!”

I burst out laughing. “Oh my gods, were you really?”

“No, I was dreaming about Hanna Cragg.”

“Of course you were.”

“Hey!” a third, unfamiliar voice shouted out, interrupting our conversation. “What the actual Hel are you two doing up here?”

Oh, fuck.