RAVAGED HEARTS | CHAPTER TWO

LOUIS SANCHEZ HAD not spent much time in his hometown that didn't involve glancing over his shoulder every two seconds. He'd left when he was fourteen, when Vayante was partially taken over by neighbouring Melique. In the years that followed, he could count the times he'd stepped foot here on one hand, and the times he wasn't here on a mission numbered zero.

  Until now, of course.

  In a way, he was still in a state of disbelief that the war was over. Oh, there were temporary reprieves, of course. Like seven years ago, when the peace treaty between Melique and the countries it battled had been signed. But even then, everyone knew the war would continue on. Eventually, both sides would raise their rifles and pistols again, meeting each other on a blood-soaked battlefield.

  But this time... this time, it was permanent.

  And that both invigorated and terrified him.

  In the history books, they always spoke of children who were brought up by war. Who spent their lives living ration by ration, constantly hearing about fallen allies and friends. Who contributed every little bit they could to war efforts, praying nightly for peace. And when they grew, how they were affected and damaged and improved by the things they had to go through in their youth.

  It wasn't until recently he realised he was one of those children.

  Now, he walked away from the windows where the birds had been singing him a tune, giving him his daily report, and him whistling his message back. He stared at himself in the mirror as he adjusted his sleeve cuffs, making sure he looked alright for the evening's activities. He'd been summoned here for a reason, and he was quite certain he knew why.

  Vayante's future was in turmoil. It wasn't shocking anymore. These days, he barely batted an eye when that happened. It did not mean, however, that he could neglect his duties.

  Besides, agents from all over would be scrambling to Vayante after what had just occurred. Jenaro Bailen was the most promising and reliable out of all the candidates for president. He could not be taken out of the race.

  It mildly irritated him that they needed all these countries' interference for one bloody election, but he didn't have a choice. Vayante was still rebuilding from the effects of the decade-long war. It would be a while until it was fully self-sufficient. For now, they had to rely on the mercy and generosity of the other countries, while trying their best to keep them at bay in case they got a bit too close.

  It was like juggling a bloody circus act.

  They were managing so far. Had to. The fate of an entire country wasn't something you could just fail at. Especially when it was his home too. He felt responsible for Vayante, some kind of strange, unexplainable loyalty. Years working in Caershire hadn't changed that. The dirt of this land ran in his blood, and nothing short of draining him dry would make that different.

  He took one last glance in the mirror. He looked fine. Acceptably formal and well-dressed, yet low-key enough no one would pay much attention to him. Exactly what he wanted.

  He was no longer the youngest son of a Vayantean baron. Once upon a time, that title might have helped him. Now, it was nothing but a burden. He was just Louis Sanchez now, formerly Caershireen agent, now working tirelessly as an advisor for the newly established Vayantean Republic. Someone who'd made a name for himself.

  His flat was a pleasant and spacious accommodation, provided by the government. Louis had used most of his own wages in an attempt to rebuild his family's old manor. They'd been allowed to keep it. Their titles too, technically, even though it held not even a sliver of the power it once did. His family was still in denial over it, but they'll move on. If they didn't, they'd break.

  Louis didn't care. He didn't need the privilege to be handed to him on a silver platter. He'd fought for it himself.

  Tonight's event: a ball hosted by one of the new ministers' wife. But that wasn't the real point of his attendance. It was what the ball was a neat cover for.

  Spies on a field often made acquaintances with each other, especially if they were from neutral or allied countries. Many friends would be attending the ball tonight.

  For a split second, he let himself hope, then clamped it down. Not her, though. No one had seen her for almost a year, and every time he went to search and came back empty-handed was torture.

  He couldn't tell if she was even alive. There hadn't been a single word, and if she'd told her friends in Sai, they refused to let him know. He supposed he deserved it.

  Sometimes, he couldn't help but feel guilty. Sometimes, he couldn't help but wonder if he'd been one of those hands pushing into this self-imposed exile.

  He'd let her down.  He hadn't realised that until years later, after so much thinking and analysing and reanalysing that fateful night, but he'd let her down. She'd placed her trust in him, and he'd been too young and stupid and neglectful to notice it.

  And he'd decided to let her have space. By the time the war was over and he finally decided to reach out, it had already been too late.

  He still remembered, of course, clear as day.

-♡-

THEN, ONE YEAR AGO

  "WHAT DO YOU mean you don't know?" Louis asked, expressions tightly knitted together. He stood in the receiving room of Lady Asteria Lu, Countess of Zi Yan and future Duchess of Shui Xiang. The room was tastefully decorated with a light blue and white palette, centuries-old porcelain vases displayed on meticulously carved cupboards and drawers.

  The sunlight streamed in from the window, casting a soft, almost divine glow on the countess, who sat in front of the window, looking mightily displeased, as if he was a stain upon a perfect pristine canvas.

  Instead of answering his question, the woman replied, raising her hand slightly, "Please. Sit."

  "My lady, I mean no disrespect—" he decided it might be a good idea to follow the countess's commands and sat down across from her "—but what do you mean you're completely unaware of Io's current location? Are you not her superior? Her friend?"

  Lady Asteria lifted her chin, a picturesque description of a lifetime dedicated to learning the skills of elegance and the characteristics of nobility. The woman exuded privilege. She was powerful and she knew it, more than willing to use her connections to shift things into her favour. She was comfortable in her own skin and confident, never over or underestimating herself.

  He admired her greatly. But right now, he threw all that out of the window.

  With a voice as calm as an impending storm, Lady Asteria said, "Io does what she wishes to. I do not, against contrary belief, have a leash on her. And considering the war is over, it is not surprising if she retired somewhere for some peace and quiet. She would not be the only agent to have done so. Still, I don't see how any of this is of interest to you, Mr Sanchez."

  "I'm her friend."

  "Was." The countess's lips lightly twitched upwards in a mocking grin. "You stopped being her friend six years ago, Mr Sanchez." She let that sink in for a moment, because she'd always been devastatingly good with using her words as bullets and munition. It was what made her such an excellent diplomat. Now, much more gently, as if coaxing a small child, she said, "Go back to Vayante. You have duties there. You need not trouble yourself with Io's state, she would not want you to."

  Because she doesn't want me to worry? Or because she doesn't want to associate with me any longer?

  Because god if it's the latter, I don't know what I'd do.

  He clenched his fists beside him. "If you hear from her, you'll tell me?"

  Lady Asteria tilted her head. "It's her choice. It's her privacy. But I'll ask. I wouldn't get my hopes up, though." She gave him a long, scanning look, shaking her head by the slightest. "I don't know how it came down to this. I didn't see this coming."

  I don't either, he wanted to reply. It was all going so well. I thought it was going to last forever.

  But nothing good did. Everything good ended, crashing down on your head before you could realise what was even happening. He'd fallen victim to that trap far too many times. Along the way, he'd lost part of that childhood optimism. That ability to see the world through sugar coated lenses. It was an unavoidable part of growing up.

  It was sad. Tragic. But inevitable. You did not live by seeing the good in everyone. You survived by seeing the truth.

  Instead, he said, "I screwed up."

  Lady Asteria nodded in that wise, sage way of hers that should have felt patronising yet didn't. "That you did. And I think it's a bit too late to make up for it, Mr Sanchez. I'd suggest you move on."

  "I'm not going to. Not until I at least have a chance to apologise. I do care about her."

  "Then you shouldn't have been so clumsy with your care." Lady Asteria stood. "She cared for you. And look how that ended up." She sighed, a soft, sad sound. "Some things just aren't meant to be. Don't think too much about it, Mr Sanchez. Bi jing shi qing shen yuan qian a."

  A deep love with shallow fate.

  Yes, maybe that was it. Maybe that explained all the sadness and misfortune that had come their way. The Saians always seemed to have a saying for every situation, but it wasn't until then Louis had truly felt one struck the very chords of his heart.

  Maybe some things just weren't meant to be.

  Maybe there was nothing he could do about it.

  But no, he refused to believe that. There had to be a way.

  Daneira Pang had been a lot less pleasant to talk to. Expected, of course—he'd worked with the half Meliquean, half Saian woman. Knew her temper well. Knew the temper of her lover even better. But he still wasn't prepared for his meeting with them, as Aleksandr Volkov watched disapprovingly from a corner and Miss Daneira did the talking.

  "You fucked up. Bad. No go away before you make it worse."

  She'd always had a way with words. Blunt to an almost ridiculous level, Louis had seen it coming.

  Like an idiot, he attempted to argue back. "I'm here to apologise. Make things right."

  Volkov reminded gently, "It's been six years. Everyone's past it."

  "Then at least let me talk to her. We used to be friends." He loathed the pleading note in his words, but he didn't hide it. Because he was desperate. He wanted to see her. Wanted to talk to her. Wanted to apologise and reminisce about the good old times. Wanted to see how things had gone so wrong.

  They had to know where she was. One of them had to know. But none of them were telling him.

  (And Louis wasn't sure if he could blame them.)

  (It didn't mean he would give up, though.)

  "Key word, used to be." Miss Pang's distaste of him was clear. She never bothered hiding her emotions when she thought it wasn't worth it. It was funny, matching the image of the woman standing before him with the one he'd met so many years before. When they'd first met, he had thought her a silent, passive wallflower.

  How time changed things, skewed and altered one's views. And there was no one way to go back.

-♡-

NOW,

  THE BALL WAS packed with elegantly dressed gentlemen and lavishly accessories ladies. Louis almost despised the fact he fit right in. In another life, he'd have belonged here. In another life, he'd have grown up around all this, treated this like second nature. Now, he felt uncomfortable in his own skin, awkwardly making conversation with the people who approached him. Most of them had somewhat been friends of his father, or were friends of friends he'd made himself.

  The ballroom itself was gorgeously decorated with silk curtains and chandeliers hanging from every corner, lavish and expensive. A bit overkill, perhaps, and the intent was clear. But Louis didn't mind it all that much.

  (Not everyone had taste, after all, and it wasn't something you could fault others for.)

  He waited patiently for the signal. Anita and Celinos had called for this little gathering, so they were in charge. At the end of the day, Louis wasn't precisely a Vayantean agent anymore. Technically speaking, he'd never been one. Caershireen agent, That's what he was. Someone who worked for foreign country. Someone who'd done it most dutifully.

  He'd already seen and talked to a few people he knew. That was quite nice. Most likely they'd be present at the meeting that had summoned them all here later. Most likely that was why they were here in the first place. They needed to retrieve Jenaro Bailen's children, neutralise that threat. For the future of Vayante, for the future of the world.

  He twirled around the cup of champagne he held in his hand, being careful with how much he drank, not willing to risk it. He needed to be completely and utterly sober for what came next.

  "Long day?" The voice was familiar, and Louis turned around, one brow raised. Myung-Dae Sterling stood behind him, arms crossed. He hadn't heard the man sneak up on him, but Louis wasn't all that surprised. Sterling was one of those friends he'd made over the years, a Cheonuang immigrant who'd moved to Arecia at an early age. The lover of the latest head of Arecia Secret Service. A powerful, powerful man.

  A kind one, though. Dryly, Louis replied, "A long year. No, screw that, decade."

  Sterling let out a soft chuckle, tilting his head of black hair. "Same for all of us. Nice to see you here, Sanchez."

  He nodded. "Nice to see you here too, Sterling. It's been a while."

  Sterling shrugged, the movement carefree and relaxed. "The war's been over for a little bit. Everyone's trying to make up for the time they've lost."

  People like him, Sterling, they'd sacrificed most of their youth for this interminable war. Now that it was over... Louis said, "It's difficult to regain time, you know. Some might say quite literally impossible."

  "We're trying our best. That's what counts."

  The two men said nothing for a long moment.

  Sterling said, "Have you seen her?"

  Louis blinked. "Who?" he asked, despite knowing fairly well what he was asking.

  "Io."

  Louis shook his head, heart suddenly speeding up the way it always did when someone mentioned her. "Have you?"

  Sterling shook his head as well. After a second, he murmured, "I've made a gamble tonight."

  "A gamble?"

  "You'll see what I mean later. If it pays off, that is, and there's a high chance it doesn't. But I'm willing to be a bit more optimistic about this."

  "Our life is a gamble."

  "Very fair," Sterling said, a small smile curled on his lips. "But this one... ah, well, if it pays off, it'll pay off. If not, there's no harm caused. I'll see you later, Sanchez."

  He didn't take two steps before Louis was intercepted by someone else. Natasha Dunner, one of his former colleagues from Caershire. She greeted him with a quick nod. "Anything from the two?"

  "Neither have said anything yet. You won't miss it when they do."

  Dunner's eyes narrowed. "Our mission—"

  "Is of utmost importance, yes. Which is why we have to be careful. Give it a while more."

  Dunner tossed her flame-coloured hair over her shoulder. At thirty, the woman was considerably one of the more experienced agents, but Dunner had never gotten much of a promotion. Sanchez had noted from early on that one of Dunner's affairs had ended quite sourly. The man in question was, of course, one of their superiors. It did explain why someone with Dunner's skills never got to lead her own agents and was kept at a near-bottom position. To her credit, Dunner never complained. Dunner said, "Whatever. You seem quite agitated."

  "It's been a long while since I've been on the field."

  Dunner let out a huff. "You've been moved to paperwork. Me, I've been positioned to act as eye candy to bored officials and ministers in Caershire. Fucking hell."

  "You're here now, aren't you?" Louis reminded half-heartedly.

  "To act as eye candy to the Caershireen delegates, yes." A snort. "You're missed around the agents, you know. Everyone wants you to come back, or at least visit. You've been with us since you were what, fifteen? Then boom, after a decade, you suddenly vanish as if you never worked alongside us at all. It stinks of abandonment."

  "I had to come back."

  "No one says you should have stayed. Your home is your home. But stop by once in a while, yeah? Cartan's dying inside every time he realises you're not around for him to boss around anymore."

"He has dozens of other people to boss around," Louis snorted.

  "Ah, yes, but none who do so as dutifully as you." Dunner rolled her eyes, smoothing her flaming dress, the same shade as her hair. "You enjoying life here?"

  "I've settled back in quite well." He'd never been that close with Natasha, so he kept his answers relatively more simple. Most of their interactions had been over work.

  "That's pretty good. Not everyone is. A lot of the agents at home have been restless. There's a massive drop in missions and jobs. Some agents have basically gotten sacked or forced into early retirement. A mess."

  "Caershire employed far too many agents, and not all of them have another option waiting for them like me."

  "We're dealing with the consequences now." Dunner raised her chin. "The ones with enough money are just retiring. The ones without are trying to switch to desk jobs in the government or fighting desperately to keep their jobs. Not even Cartan can do much to stop it."

  "Cartan's nearing retirement himself."

  "He will, soon. After all of this is settled. Already made plans for it last I heard."

  "He deserves it."

  Dunner didn't answer, just glanced around. "Excitement's starting to wear off. Everyone will be dancing around in a few minutes. I'll head off too, see you later."

  So simply, he was dismissed.