Reubinon Palace, Pellarmus.
The day of the voyage to Erydia.

Jaxon sent me back to my room to wait while he devised a plan to get me out of the palace. Why he'd actually agreed to help me in the first place, I didn't really know. In truth, he had no reason too. Even if he did want Harper to get her interview, it probably wasn't worth the risk to himself—but I was grateful he was doing it, whatever his reasons.

I definitely wasn't going to try to convince him not to help. At this point, he was my biggest chance at escape.

All of Jaxon's warnings and suspicions came true as I watched the space between the bottom of my door and the floor. It was nearly two in the morning as the light guttered in the hall and boots moved to block my door—Darragh had put guards outside. Directly outside my door.

In my time in Reubinon Palace, I'd never really seen sentries positioned in the hallways, not like they were in Oredison Palace. Caine had kept guards everywhere, their hands and guns always within reach in case he needed assistance—needed someone to remove me.

I guess I shouldn't have been surprised to see something similar happening here, not after hearing what Jaxon had said. And yet...some small part of me ached at the realization of it. The bone-deep betrayal it signified.

There were guards here. People with weapons who were meant to keep me in the room. Far from the ports and the boats that were supposed to take me home. Take me to Kai.

I'd wanted to believe that Jaxon was wrong.

I forced myself to stay calm, to remember that I was not caged—not truly. Even if Jaxon didn't come for me like he'd promised, I could get out of this room. I'd burn down this damn palace, melt the walls around me if it came to that. As I lay atop the thick down blankets and watched the shifting of those guards' boots, I found the idea of it both wicked and appealing.

I could do it.

There were moments when I knew I could burn it all. Time when the level of power I'd experienced in Third Corps when I'd killed those guards was just the beginning, just the barest glimpse of what I knew lurked inside me. There were seconds—fleeting and raw—when I could taste the ash on the air, could feel the hiss of that smoke.

And I was unafraid.

Darragh didn't want to be on the receiving end when I lost myself to that depth of fire. When I plunged into that heat, he didn't want me to be in Pellarmus. No. He had no idea what I was capable. I was just beginning to realize it myself.

I fiddled with the fire in the hearth, pulling at the flames until they were nothing, until I held that heat within my chest. I'd been practicing for days, becoming once again acquainted with myself and what I could do. I'd let myself become lazy. But now—I'd meant what I'd said to Jaxon. Caine was mine.

I'd end him. His life was one I wouldn't regret taking. Not ever.

As the hours drifted on and those boots continued to keep vigil at my door, I began to worry that Jaxon had lied. He'd said he had to prepare and that he'd come get me an hour before the others were supposed to go to the docks—so, around three in the morning. I watched the clock on the mantle inch towards three-thirty while those invisible hands still threaded through the flames of the hearth, rolling them over and over again, pushing them higher and then lowering them to embers.

Kai had always insisted I work on control.

He hadn't wanted me to douse it or pretend like my ability didn't exist, he'd always just wanted me to own it—possess it instead of letting it possess me. But the line between that unnatural energy and myself was thin, if it existed at all. It wasn't a matter of me owning it or it owning me—we were one and the same.

But using my ability was a craving—one I'd spent all of my childhood trying to suppress and ignore. As if denying who I was and what I could do would make it less true. Like the goddess might have let me go. Like she could have forgotten one of the chosen ten, if only I'd pretended to be normal.

But I couldn't pretend.

Even when I wanted to.

The desire to put my hand in the fireplace had been instinctual since I was young—even before my mother had known what my ability was, I'd been drawn to things I shouldn't. The fire in the stove. The box of matches my brother used to light my father's remembrance candle. The barrel my mother used to burn old clothes and paper.

Whatever lurked in my bones had been singing to me since I was too young to even know to listen. I'd heard those whispers, felt the goddess's guiding hand in my life from the very beginning. I'd heard those cries, felt that earth shifting power, the moment that the videra had seen me kneeling on the floor of Demarti Station. I'd known who I was and where I was headed and I'd been afraid.

Of the Culling. Of my future.

But not of myself.

Now, that song in my bone was different. More insistent. It called for blood and violence and death and all things wicked and terrible. It buried itself deep, carving out new spaces for the kindling of those death-bringing fires. And suddenly the control Kai had always insisted upon wasn't necessary, because I wanted what the dead goddess-touched girls did—or whatever that dark voice was.

Now we wanted the same thing.

This practicing wasn't because I was afraid to lose control. No. It was the building of a wall, the creation of a force. Each rise and fall of the fire in that hearth wasn't a show of control, it was a reminder of what I was going to do with it.

Goddess.

I forced myself to try to relax, even as the minutes pushed past three and inched towards dawn. Jaxon would keep his word. I believed it. And that belief, however uncertain it became as the minutes drug on, was rewarded when something struck the balcony door—a soft ping of something hard against glass.

The sharp sound was enough to have me scurrying from the bed and throwing open the curtains. I winced as a second quiet clink of stone on glass sounded in my bedroom, but the shadows beneath my bedroom door didn't shift. The door didn't open. The guards hadn't heard.

I opened one of the balcony doors and stepped outside, peering over the high railing and into the dark garden below. Four stories of darkness greeted me—fours stories and a small, shadowy figure. A hood lowered to reveal a line of braids and a wide smile, Jaxon's features it only by the light of a nearby lamp post.

He waved to me and then thumbed towards the open garden gate. I turned to look back at my dimly lit room. The fire still danced in the hearth; the guards still stood waiting at the door. I walked inside and grabbed my jacket and small bag I'd packed earlier. It held only two changes of clothes, the sketchbook Justinian had gifted me, and an unopened letter Anna had written to Kai.

I tugged on my coat and slung the bag across my torso, tightening the strap as I stepped back towards the railing. For a moment, I just stood looking down at the gray landscape below me. It was so high. High enough that I wasn't sure I would survive a fall, not if I wasn't careful in how I landed. And even then, there would probably be broken bones and...shit.

I really didn't like heights.

In my list of fears, it wasn't at the very top, but it was there none the less. I'd fallen from a tree as a kid in an effort to free myself of that bone quivering terror and—despite Kace's claim that climbing the tree would banish my fear—I was still fairly terrified.

Jaxon stood down there, his attention locked on the open gate—the pathway beyond was clear of guards, but a patrol was certain to come our way eventually. The Pellarmi guards circled like vultures, I knew because I'd taken to watching them in recent nights. They walked the perimeter of the palace every few minutes. So, if they hadn't passed this way yet, they were sure to be coming.

When Jaxon saw me appear on the balcony again, he pointed to a section of wall next to the edge of the balcony where the stones seemed to be larger and less blended with the stucco. I'd have to stand on the railing to reach it and get my initial foothold. So, higher then. I'd need to balance precariously on the railing before I tried to climb a wall. Four stories up.

Below me, Jax held out it his hands as if he'd somehow catch me if I fell. I knew that he meant it to be something soothing, but it did little to help the way my legs trembled. I carefully pulled one of the balcony chairs towards the railing and stepped onto it. I thanked the goddess for the tick, squared top of the railing as my boot pressed into it and I reached up, using a hook for a potted plant to pull myself up into a stand.

High. I was so damn high up. I cursed under my breath, promising to kill Darragh and Britta and Cohen and anyone else even partially responsible for locking me in this damn room.

I inhaled, deeply, and then I reached across, into open air, and took hold of the stone wall.

For a moment, I stayed like that, one foot on the top of the railing, one braced against a jutted-out stone, one hand caught in the metal hook on the balcony ceiling, and my other clawing for any sort of grip. It was a long drop down. Like, long enough that I'd have time to realize what was happening.

Time to panic before I was crushed against stone.

I could almost hear Kai's voice in my head, goading me the way he used to when we'd only just met. Back when he found teasing me and pushing my buttons to be a good source of entertainment. Get your shit together, Monroe. It's climb down or stay here. That's the choice. No use prolonging it.

And my imaginary Kai was right. There was no convincing Darragh to let me go. If he'd have been willing to discuss it, he wouldn't have lied to me, wouldn't have mislead me, and he certainly wouldn't have stationed guards outside my door. I either took this chance and risked my life or I stayed here in Pellarmus. And I couldn't do that—I couldn't stay here.

I wasn't a prisoner.

And I would never be one again.

Not for anyone.

And so, I let go of the hook and swung my body sideways. For a second, my hand caught nothing, I only slid against stone. I heard Jaxon curse, the sound quiet and afraid. But then, my fingers caught hold of a ledge. I released a pent-up breath and then carefully slid my foot from the railing and onto the wall. The tread of my boot scraped at the stucco of the wall, making flakes of it come loose and fall towards the ground—but I found purchase and it held my weight.

So, down I climbed.

I'd just reached the balcony below mine when my hold gave out. The stone I'd been standing on came loose from beneath my right foot and fell. The sound of it clattering against ground echoed through my bones as I fell a few inches, my knee scrapping rock as I fought to get a foot hold again. Fear—white hot and blinding—pounded at my senses, blocking out any pain. I forced myself to focus. I shifted slightly and braced my foot on the nearby balcony railing, resting there just long enough to get my bearings.

Then I was moving again.

I couldn't let myself think too much about it, couldn't allow myself the space to hesitate. I needed to go now, to move while the shaking in my legs was still minor and not enough to get me killed. I sensed, more than saw, Jaxon move to stand below me. We needed to hurry—the guards could arrive at any minute and then our game would be over. I'd be dragged before Darragh and Jaxon would take the blame.

There was no balcony of the second floor, just a clear drop to the ground. Now, it was all relying on the stone and my own decision on where I placed my hands and feet. My knee throbbed from where it had collided with the wall and my fingertips ached from gripping rock, but I didn't let myself slow.

Find the first foothold, then a handhold, then a second foothold, then the last handhold, then the first foothold and then—

"Shit."

I heard Jaxon curse.

My eyes flitted down—the drop only about a story and half now. He was looking towards the far end of the garden, where two shadow figures were strolling our way. Shit was understatement. I didn't know what to do. If I continued to climb, I wouldn't get to the ground in time. If I stayed where I was, they'd see me. And a glance towards the balcony above my head told me that I couldn't reach it in time.

And so, I let go of one of the handholds and turned, angling my body outward.

I could jump. It was maybe twenty feet down, if I was being optimistic. And I wasn't super optimistic. But either way, that had to be survivable fall, right? Right?

Jaxon seemed to be trying to decide too, because he stepped back from the wall, giving me room. We caught gazes and he nodded.

Easy for him to be so calm, it wasn't his body doing the jumping.

But those guards were getting closer, their hushed conversation beginning to reach me even as far up as I was. For my brothers. For Kai. For Kai and to kill Caine—I could do this. I'd fought in the goddess-damned Culling, after all. I was Monroe Benson and I was goddess-touched.

Afraid wasn't even a good enough description of what I felt as I let go of the wall and jumed. Or, fell. Which was probably a better descriptor of what actually happened.

Thankfully, my fall from the tree as an eight-year-old had taught me something—to roll into it, to keep my body loose.

As I hit the ground, I was caught around the middle by Jaxon, who had half tackled me, half supported my weight. It was perhaps only him being there that softened the blow of my fall, that kept me from hitting the stone path. But before I could even register that I was on the ground and not dead, he was hauled me into a row of bushed to our left.

My knee still throbbed and the joints of my ankles ached with impact of my jump, but I was in one piece as we crouched in the shadows between the shrubs and the palace wall. We'd just barely slipped into those shadows when the guards strolled by. They didn't even glance our way, didn't so much as pause.

We remained hidden there for moments after they'd disappeared through the open gate, pulling it shut behind them. They locked it, which, judging from Jaxon's annoyed expression, wasn't good for us. But they hadn't seemed alarmed that it wasn't locked to begin with. No one had come to search for us yet—so the guards outside my door didn't know I was gone.

These were all positives, as far as I was concerned.

"What took you so long?" I whispered as Jaxon pulled me from the bushes, his grip on my wrist nearly painful in its severity.

He rolled his eyes and tugged me towards the gate. "I'm sorry, Your Majesty. I have a post. I work here, remember? I can't just abandon my duties when it suits you."

We paused at the gate and he helped me climb over it, silently directing me where to put my feet and brace my hands. Once I was on the other side, he followed. As we rounded a corner of the garden, he tugged up his hood and then reached over and tugged mine up too, blocking our faces from sight.

"Just, do me a favor, Benson," he said, "whatever happens, don't say anything. Let me handle it."

I opened my mouth to ask what might happen, but the words died on my lips as we left the garden path and walked directly into the courtyard of the palace barracks. It took everything in me not to flinch as soldiers walked past us, barely giving us a second glance. A few seemed to recognize Jaxon. They nodded in acknowledgement and a few even patted him on the shoulder, the gesture brotherly and affectionate.

Jaxon nodded back to them, but mostly he kept his attention on me and the task ahead. I expected us to go through the courtyard and out one of the side gates the soldiers used to enter the city proper, but we didn't head that way.

Instead, Jaxon lead me directly into the barracks. The entry way was dimly lit, the lanterns inside all burning low, barely illuminating the faces of the guards lazily standing watch. They all grinned when they saw Jaxon.

"Aye! Look who it is!" One of them said.

"Jax!" Another drawled, pushing away from where he'd been leaning on the wall. He held out a hand and Jaxon took it, releasing me as the two embracing. It wasn't until they'd stepped back from each other that the man's blue eyes darted to me. "Fresh meat?" he asked in Erydi, eyeing me up and down.

I buried my hand in the fold of my jacket and prayed they wouldn't take note of my ripped pants and skinned knee as Jaxon said, "New recruit. She was left over from Haniver. She's easy on the eyes, for sure, but doesn't understand a word anyone says. They sent me with her to get her settled. Apparently, she's sailing with us today." He shrugged, just a soldier following orders he didn't quite understand.

I offered them a mindless smile.

This was a tricky game Jaxon was playing, one I didn't quite know the rules of. But what I did know was that if any of the guards had worked shifts in the palace or at the gatehouse over the last few weeks, they might recognize me. I hadn't been in the public eye here and my face probably wasn't as widely known in Pellarmus as it was in Erydia, but I was still myself. Anyone who had seen me before might very well recognize me now and call Jaxon on his bluff.

But all the guards just smiled at me, their expressions a mix of appreciation and humor. I didn't miss the suggestive way one of the guards said, "I wouldn't mind taking her in back and teaching her a few things. I'd give her a good a welcome to the team."

I wasn't supposed to understand them. But it was an effort to keep my expression neutral, unbothered. My nails bit into the flesh of my palms as Jaxon put a hand on the small of my back and guided me towards a side door. "Unfortunately, we're on a time crunch."

"Damn shame," one of them said. He moved sideways, angling his head as he eyes my backside. But I didn't let that stupid, naïve expression slip from my face. I don't understand them. I don't speak their language. I think they're just nice people.

But goddess, I wanted to push the shit out of him.

One of them laughed and said, "Tell her if she needs any help with—"

"She doesn't!" Jaxon called, cutting him off. "She's fine."

The door shut behind us and he hurried me down a long hallway and into a room lined with shelves and metal lockers. He used a key to unlock one of the cabinets and then he was handing me clothes—a soldier's uniform, the fabric sturdy and the same light gray as the one he wore. He found new boots for me too, and a different bag, this one larger than the one I carried.

I didn't wait for him to turn away before I started undressing. There wasn't exactly time to be modest and I told myself I didn't care—that I trusted him. The unform was a little too big, but Jaxon found a belt somewhere and that helped. I stuffed my old clothes and what I'd packed into the new bag, slung it onto my back and then turned to Jaxon, ready for the next thing.

He blew out a breath as he examined me from head to toe.

Even though he hadn't explained his plan, I knew what was he doing. Dressed like this, in a country where everyone was trained to serve in the military, I could now move about mostly unnoticed. I would definitely be able to get onto The Felice and stay there—as long as I didn't attract attention to myself or show my mark.

"You know how we stand at attention?" he asked.

I shook my head and he made quick work of showing me. It was easy enough. Feet shoulder width apart, a fist over my heart, the other down at my side, shoulders back, chin up.

"If you see a commanding offer—they usually have pins on their shoulders, here—" he tapped the place on my uniform. "Stand at attention. They'll nod and dismiss you pretty quickly. Just hold that position until they do. If you follow the lead of those around you, you should be fine. But, please, for the love of the goddess, don't do anything stupid."

He turned to take me from the room, but I caught hold of his arm. At the contacted, Jaxon turned to look at me, those brown eyes mirroring the anxiety I knew was written all over my own face. There was so much he was risking to help me, and not small things. If he was caught, it was possible they'd keep him here.

Away from his family and away from the girl he loved. And maybe that was why he'd agreed to help—because we were both just trying to make it home to the people we cared about. Because we both were ready to fight and possibly die for them.

I let go of his arm and met his stare. "Thank you, Jax."

He nodded in confirmation, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly as he said, "Just don't forget that interview."

***

Regularly updating like three weeks in a row. Who is she? 😌

If you enjoyed this chapter, leave this 🦖emoji in the comments.

Make sure you're following me on Instagram: @briannajoyc