Chapter 1

Honovi left the Comhairle nan Cinnidhean chambers at the center of the government building with an aching fury he dared not show on his face after the session ended for the day. Despite his effort, he knew his father could read the seething truth in him better than anyone.

"The Comhairle nan Cinnidhean hasn't changed its stance since the last time you stood before them. This alliance you seek with Ashion is not viable, and you paint our clan in a bad light by repeatedly bringing it to the table. You must have known the session would have gone this way," Alrickson said with a heavy sigh as they walked through the curved hallways of the capital's governing building, leaving their fellows behind. The gardens situated in the space between the circular buildings were in summer bloom, but Honovi barely spared them a glance.

Honovi clenched his hands into fists and matched his stride with his father's, the hem of his kilt brushing against his knees. "It's my right as jarl to request a vote."

"Perhaps, but it is also the Comhairle nan Cinnidhean's right to refrain from bringing it up. I told you that your latest motion would be tabled."

"You could have voted yes to hear it."

"I have before, several times, and always the vote is the same. I couldn't in good conscience proceed when there are other pressing needs to be dealt with. There will be no vote for alliance, now or in the future. You are not Ashion's ambassador, so stop trying to be."

That wasn't an unexpected result of Honovi's continuous lobbying since last year, but it was disheartening, to say the least. "But you agree with me that Eimarille is a threat. That this war she persists in fighting will not end at the Eastern Spine."

"She has made no moves beyond her own borders?—"

"What do you think this war with Ashion is? And what of the rionetkas found in our government?" Honovi all but hissed to keep his voice low as they passed by clerks and political aides. "What of our former Seneschal?"

Alrickson slanted him a look, hair ornaments depicting his rank glinting in his long graying braid with the motion of his head. "There isn't any proof of Daijal interference there."

Honovi snorted his opinion on that and stared straight ahead as they walked to his father's office. "Pretending it's not there doesn't negate the threat, and you know it."

Gregor of Clan Wind, once their country's Seneschal, had been found to be a rionetka last year, bearing the vivisection scars on his body of someone else's control. The wardens had been reluctant to advertise their ability to rework the control as they had done with Nathaniel, but they'd eventually sent Ksenia to Glencoe over the winter to handle the operation. They hadn't had Caris to write out the notes the clarion crystals sang or find the dips in his mind, so it had taken much longer.

In the end, Ksenia's efforts had given Gregor back his mind but not his memories or his position. The clans had been forced to vote on an interim Seneschal until the next round of elections arrived to fill it permanently.

It had also made E'ridians wary of giving more aid to the wardens after their initial rush to help in the wake of the attack on the Warden's Island. Rumors were persisting and building that the wardens had a hand in creating the rionetkas, despite their sworn duty to protect Maricol under the Poison Accords. Honovi knew the truth would be devastating—that a warden was responsible for the horror of rionetkas. That the warden in question had been thought dead at the time would not negate the public's opinion on the matter.

Delani, the wardens' governor, had remained silent in the face of such pointed questions, refusing to confirm or deny such a fact. E'ridia would still tithe, as was required by the Poison Accords, but Honovi could see how this might build resentment in the clans. So, too, could he see how the clans' insistence on noninterference would be their undoing if Eimarille had her way.

Honovi held his tongue until they were ensconced in his father's office, the space familiar after years of standing in his father's shadow and learning how to lead a clan as much as how to help govern a nation.

"Father, you know I am right," Honovi said once the door was closed behind them. The whir of the mechanical fan in the corner was white noise, moving the sluggish air, as there wasn't a window for a breeze. Summer was only two weeks away, Seventh Month half over already.

Alrickson went behind his desk and started sorting through the folios left there by a clerk. "I am not in a position to agree with you. You haven't brought us any proof beyond what Blaine insists is the truth."

"The Dusk Star wouldn't have left him with us if we weren't supposed to support his duty."

"His road is not enough to dictate policy."

Honovi bit back the first and second retort that came to his lips. "Will the Comhairle nan Cinnidhean wait until Daijal is at our border? Is that our policy now?"

"Ashion's war is not ours."

"Does the attack on the Warden's Island mean nothing, then? Is Solaria's alliance not evidence enough they see Daijal for the threat it is?"

News of that alliance had come out of Calhames nearly two weeks ago. Honovi had left for Glencoe soon after Caris had confirmed it, along with Lore's and Soren's frightening disappearance. The alliance was all the broadsheets were reporting on, even in E'ridia, though Soren's absence had yet to be truly questioned. There'd been no demand sent to either Caris or the Imperial emperor that he knew of, and Honovi knew faith in finding the pair alive was flickering.

But that was information Blaine had sworn him to secrecy about, and Honovi, for all that he was jarl, was a husband first these days. He believed in Blaine's road, in his duty to stand as witness for Caris, because in doing so, it would keep Maricol safe and whole, not subjugated by one country determined to assimilate everyone under one crown.

"The Imperial emperor's alliance was dictated by a debt. The Legion is marching north, but it remains to be seen how long the Houses will support such an endeavor," Alrickson said before sitting. He gestured pointedly at the chairs in front of his desk.

Honovi withheld a sigh before obeying the wordless order and claimed a chair. "The Imperial emperor has the Dawn Star's blessing."

"And Queen Eimarille has the support of the Twilight Star. An argument could be made for who is more favored, but it is not one the Comhairle nan Cinnidhean will participate in."

Honovi met his father's gaze. "Standing on the sidelines is not the answer."

Alrickson sighed, spreading his hands. "It is not our fight."

"The vote today was wrong."

Honovi knew it in his gut, in his soul, in a way he thought his father might have until he'd voted no. Honovi might be jarl, but his father was ceann-cinnidh,and it would be years yet until Alrickson ceded the clan seat to him. He knew there were some in Clan Storm who disliked his persistence regarding the dangers of Daijal, but he was resolute in his fear that to ignore what was happening beyond their borders was detrimental to their own sovereignty.

He'd been sounding the alarm since last year, and no one seemed inclined to listen. It didn't matter that he was jarl of Clan Storm—he had limited power to make people listen when they'd rather turn the other way.

Unlike his mother and sister, Honovi was no magician. Perhaps he was graced with a little foresight, though he'd forever wish he weren't when the city sirens pierced the walls of the government building just then.

Honovi jerked to his feet, the tone one he'd never heard before outside the yearly tests to ensure the whole system was working. Siren warnings for revenants were a pattern everyone knew, the sound bone-deep and jarring, but this one—this was a nightmare of their own making that had followed the winds back home.

He watched his father stand, all the blood draining out of the older man's face as the siren positioned outside the building blared the inconceivable.

"All airships are to launch in defense of the city. All citizens are to seek immediate shelter."

Alrickson opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, the office door banged open, one of the peacekeepers on duty in the building appearing in the doorway. "Ceann-cinnidh Alrickson, jarl Honovi, the building is being evacuated. We need to get you to the shelters."

E'ridia had stood for several thousand years, and the clans had not always been so easy with each other. Even after the Age of Separation, when they'd gained sovereignty, learning to govern with so many disparate groups had sometimes degenerated into actual, physical battles. And when aeronauts fought, airships were always involved.

Their country had an old history with aerial bombardments, but the bomb shelters had not been needed in generations. Funds were always allocated in the yearly budget for their continued upkeep and repair over the centuries, but Honovi knew that Glencoe wouldn't have enough to shelter every citizen. They hadn't needed them for war, and the walls kept revenants out.

They would need them now.

The telephone on Alrickson's desk rang, the sound different from the unceasing warning siren. His father snatched up the receiver and pressed it to his ear, nearly knocking the base off the desk in his haste. "Ceann-cinnidh Alrickson speaking."

Honovi couldn't hear the person on the other side of the line, and the peacekeeper was gesturing hurriedly at them to move, but his feet remained planted in the office. He stared at his father, watching as that political mask he'd worn for years cracked, a horrifying disbelief filling his gaze. Alrickson swayed on his feet, leaning forward to press his hand to the desk to hold himself steady.

"I understand," he rasped. Seconds later, he placed the receiver in the cradle with a shaking hand. He blinked, focusing on Honovi, eyes terribly wide. "Compass Air Force Base and the Ferric Repair Yard were attacked. Initial reports indicate we've lost nearly half the war airships at the base and almost all those in the yard."

The bitter truth of the situation wasn't a victory for Honovi—it never would be, when it was his country that had been harmed. He looked at his father, the siren still piercing the air as if it were trying to wake the dead as the peacekeeper entreated them to evacuate.

"Daijal was never going to stop at our border," Honovi said.

And E'ridia's insistence for neutrality had crippled their vaunted air force in a preemptive attack no one except for Honovi and Blaine had feared might happen.