Exile in the Water Kingdom (The Elemental Phases Book 3) (31 page)

His
stomach dropped at the idea of producing edible food.  Gion
hated
doing
a less than a perfect job.  He had no idea how he could possibly pull this off
without looking like an idiot.  Air House soldiers didn’t cook.  Parald worked
in the kitchens when he was younger, so he considered any assignment there to
be a punishment worse than death.  Only the lowest servants handled the food
preparation.

That
was probably why Amarna always met with the Air House rebels in the kitchens.

She
thought it would be safe and she was right.  Oh, Gion knew that they gathered
there after dinners, Patrick Henry-ing about their oppression.  He just didn’t
really care what the anti-Parald factions plotted, so long as they never
actually endangered his waste-of-oxygen life.  At least, not for the next fifty
years or so.

Here
in the Water House cooking clearly wasn’t a punishment.  They seemed to take it
all in stride, so Gion didn’t see his new assignment as degrading, just…
scary.  Anything more complicated than bowls of tap water for dinner was out of
his culinary skill set.  He should have done the takeout thing.

“I
told you that I don’t want you to see me making an ass of myself, Ty.”

“Oh,
you’ll be fine.  I’ll be sous chef.”  She winked at him.  “It’ll be fun.”

Gion’s
resistance melted away under her smile.  Making an ass of himself meant
absolutely nothing compared to having Ty want to spend time with him.  Over the
past eleven years, there had been many moments where Gion would have gladly
given his life to have her sit next to him for just five minutes.

“Hey,
Guy.”  Tharsis called as Ty lead him away.  “Probably should set an extra
place, too.  We’re expecting a guest.”

Wonderful.

Job
must be arriving with a prepared audio-visual presentation on why Gion sucked.

“Really?” 
Ty asked.  “Who’s coming?  Job?”

Tharsis
looked right at Gion and smirked.  “It’s a surprise.”

There can be but one element of human power; and that
element is man himself.

Monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy, are but creatures
of imagination.

Thomas Paine- ‘Rights of Man’

“I
don’t want him to just to die.  I want him to
feel
that he’s dying.” 
Parald paced around the throne room.  “I want him to suffer for what he’s done
to me.”

“Of
course, sire.”  Saxon said obediently.  “Gion deserves to pay for all his
crimes and I’ll see that it’s done.”

Parald
gave a skeptical snort.

With
Isaacs stupid enough to go blind and Gion off fucking
Parald’s Match
,
Saxon was the only general left.  Lacking Gion’s powers or Isaacs’ hardnosed
loyalty, though, Saxon was definitely a step down on the flunky roaster.  Saxon
kept the other Air Phases in line, but against Gion…?  Not even Parald was
feeling confident about the outcome of that fight.

The
plan to separate Ty and Gion would work, though.  It
had
to.  Parald was
convinced about that.

But,
Parald still wanted Gion dead for his traitorous actions against the Air
Kingdom.  Parald enjoyed Saxon’s cruel streak.  No one came up with more
creative execution methods than that vicious son-of-a-bitch.  He had high hopes
that Saxon could redeem himself for not killing Gion
yet
, by killing
Gion in some horrific, nightmarish way
now
.

Parald
wanted Gion ripped apart by rabid tigers, or hacked to pieces by chainsaws, or chained
in plastic and left to starve to death.

He
frowned thoughtfully at that last idea.

Phases
could starve, given enough time.  Gion could be wrapped in thick plastic chains
and shackled to a wall for months of excruciating torment.  People could heckle
him and pelt him with rotten vegetable.  That would be lovely.  That smug
dickhead deserved to be brought down to size.

To
learn who the
real
King was.

“I
always told you that Gion was dangerous.”  Saxon put in.  “He’s been plotting
against you from the beginning.  Once he helped get rid of Seneca, you should
have executed Gion.  He’s a threat to all of us.  You were a fool to think that
you could control him.”

Saxon
was probably right.  That galled Parald.  Yes, Gion had been a diabolical
turncoat, but Parald
still
couldn’t stand some subordinate questioning
his decisions.

“Shut
the hell up!”  He picked up the closest object at hand, which happened to be a
liquor decanter, and hurled it at Saxon’s head.  Parald had good aim.  He’d
been throwing things at his minions for years.

Saxon
had to dodge to the side, so it narrowly missed his face.

Glass
and brandy sprayed out in a violent explosion as the bottle hit the wall. 
Actually, it hit a portrait of Parald posing like Napoleon.  It amused him to
fill the Air Palace with pictures of himself as dressed like human leaders. 
Canvases of Parald as George Washington, Alexander the Great, Caligula, and
Elvis filled the throne room.

Parald
wasn’t exactly certain what land Elvis had conquered.  He didn’t give a shit
about human history, actually.  But, Elvis had definitely been the king of
something and Parald approved of the man’s uniform.  That was Parald’s favorite
portrait of himself.  The gold sunglasses and gemstones on his jumpsuit were
regal.  Even Gion had admitted that Parald looked like the
King of the Whole
Wide World
in the painting.  Something about the gleam in the guy’s eyes
when he said it made Parald suspicious, but he couldn’t really disagree with
the sentiment.

Luckily,
none of his stunning artwork was damaged by Parald’s reaction to Saxon’s
stupidity.

Saxon
swore as the flying glass cut his cheek.  He turned to pin Parald with a feral
look.  For a second, Parald thought the man would openly challenge him, which
was almost amusing.

Physically,
Saxon was one of the biggest Air Phases, seven and a half feet of craftiness
and muscle.  His short blond hair was spiked into a short punk style that
Parald had always found unbecoming for an Air House solider.  Hate glowed out
of his pale blue eyes.

Parald
smirked at him, almost hoping for a chance to teach Saxon his place.

For
all his upper body strength, Saxon didn’t have what really mattered.  His
energy was only a fraction of Parald’s.  Gion might have been the most powerful
Air Phase, but Parald wasn’t a friggin’ lightweight.  And he was always on
guard, waiting for one of his men to try and stab him in the back.  He wouldn’t
kill Saxon.  He needed the asshole, right now.

But,
he’d make Saxon beg.

It
gave Parald a perverse sense of satisfaction to know that his men hated him,
but that they still had to do what he told them.  He’d loved taunting Gion with
Ty for that reason.  He knew that the arrogant prick wanted her.  Parald had
just never thought that Gion would desert the Air House and steal her for
himself.  Disloyal bastard.

And
now he wouldn’t be able to force Isaacs to watch him fuck women, either.  The
inconsiderate jackass decided to go blind and that took away Parald’s favorite
pastime.  Sex wouldn’t be nearly so enjoyable without Isaacs silently and
miserably enduring the show.  Parald got off on the power that gave him and now
his pleasure had vanished along with Isaacs’ eyesight.

Parald’s
frustration at both of his top men had him looking forward to crushing Saxon’s
pride.  Before they could see if Saxon really had the balls to try and take his
spot as king, a new force entered the palace, though.

The
walls of the throne room came alive with light.  Words, spelled out in glowing
cursive letters, just appeared on the gently curved walls.  Three sentences,
repeated again and again:

Six
o’clock.

Be
ready to move.

The
Revolution is coming.

Saxon
seemed to forget about his possible plot to overthrow his king.  “Where the
hell did
that
come from?”

“It’s
Job.”  Parald slowly got to his feet, his panicky gaze sweeping around the
room. Not even Gion could have pulled of something on that scale.  It had to be
Job.  “He’s declaring war on me, now!”  He spat out the words as if he couldn’t
imagine why he wasn’t the most popular kid on the playground.  “You see?  You
see?  Job passed that fucking amnesty law to steal my people.  He let Ty
renounce me.  And now he wants war.  He won’t be happy until he takes
everything
that’s mine.”

“But,
we’re already at war with the Council.”  Saxon reminded him.

Parald
ignored that inanity.  He took a step closer to the blazing writing.  His eyes
went to the domed ceiling, looking for the source of the illumination.

Nothing.

His
eyes narrowed.

Would
Job do such a thing?  Someone was projecting the image from a distance, right
through the Air House’s dense barriers.  That took incredible power.  Job was
the logical suspect, but it really wasn’t that pantywaist’s style.  He was all
about hiding in his damn Council Hall, shuffling papers in his heroic quest to
save the world.

So
what was it?  A challenge?  A rallying cry?  A warning?

Some
kind of… help?

Parald’s
head tilted, reading the words more closely.

The
Revolution?

“You
think it’s a Light Phase?”  Saxon guessed.

The
Light House could certainly manipulate all sorts of illumination, but Parald
couldn’t think of any Light Phases advanced enough to pull of something on this
scale.  Granted the throne room doors were open, which negated his personal security,
but how did they get passed the kingdom’s shields?  This little trick was on
the level of a doctoral thesis, while most of the Light Phases barely passed
superpowers 101.  They were a bunch of mindless barbarians.

On
the other hand, it was definitely Elemental in origin and no other House could
control Light to this level.  So, now that he really considered it, it almost
had
to be the work of a Light Phase.

It
didn’t make any sense.

A
Revolution.

Some
make-believe plot of those fictional Air House rebels, perhaps?  It
had
to be something more important than that.  But, the only thing that Parald might
want to revolt against was… the Council.

He
slowly smiled.

“Probably,
a Light Phase.”  Saxon decided, answering his own question.  “But, which one? 
Rysimer?  Kahn?  Not exactly their style.  And who’s this message aimed at?”

“Me,
obviously.”  Fucking moron.  Did Saxon really think that someone would go
through all the trouble of light writing some message on the walls of
his
throne room if they didn’t mean for the message to reach
him
.

Jesus.

He
actually missed Gion, right now.  The guy was a wiseass, but at least he wasn’t
an idiot.  Of
course
, this Light Phase wanted Parald on his side for the
Revolution.  Who
wouldn’t
want to join forces with a king? 
The
King.

Saxon
shook his head in bafflement.  “Well, if the next message says, ‘Surrender
Dorothy,’ I say we hand the bitch over.”

Parald
had no idea what that meant.

It
didn’t matter.

The
more he considered it, the more he realized that the writing was a
good
thing.  The graffiti came from an ally.  Someone who could tell that he was the
real
King.  Someone who wanted the help him recover what had been stolen
from him.

It
was time.

He
slowly reached over to flatten a hand against the wall, feeling the slight heat
of the lighted word “revolution.”  He looked over at Saxon.  “Start gathering
the men.  We need to be ready by six.”

“For
what?”

“For
me to reclaim everything that’s mine.”

And with
strong flight did forcibly diuide

The yielding
aire, which nigh too feeble found

Her
flitting partes, and element vnsound,

To beare
so great a weight

Edmund
Spenser- ‘The Faerie Queene’

“Then,
you add the pasta to the water and –Voila!-- dinner.”  Ty turned to smile at
Gion.  “You see how simple it is?”

He
nodded, his intent gaze on the boiling spaghetti.  Ty had the feeling he really
wanted to take some notes on it, but she’d confiscated his clipboard.  That was
another thing she and Gion had in common.  They were both serious students.  Ty
found his studious concentration and repressed bookwormyness adorable.

Under
the badass black and the male model angles of his face, Gion was sort of a
nerd.

Just
like her.

Ty
leaned up to kiss the side of his jaw.

Gion
flashed her a surprised glance, his mouth curving.  He always looked so shocked
and pleased when Ty initiated even the tiniest thing between them.  “You’re
distracting me from my cooking.”  He said gravely.

“Well,
since I’ve done most of ‘your cooking,’ so far, I don’t think dinner will be
effected.”

“Well,
you
had
to cook it, angel.  Otherwise, Cross would need to hire a food
taster before we could eat.  He’s already been in here six times looking for
any poison I might be slipping into the pasta.”

“Oh,
he has not.” 
Yes, he had.
  Ty glanced up at Gion through her lashes and
bit down on another grin.

Gion
gave a skeptical arch of his brow and went over to check on his microwaving
sauce.  As he passed, his hand came over to caress her hair.

Ty’s
gaze fell on his wrist.

He’d
changed his watch.

Her
lips parted.  Gion had gotten rid of the elegant, un-Water House-ish, Cartier
timepiece that he’d been so uneasy about at Ty’s narcotics meeting.  In its
place was a Timex with a blue dial and a rubberized band.  For some reason,
that small show of insecurity had tears stinging the back of her eyes.

Gion
could do anything, but he’d changed his watch in an effort to fit in better with
her family.  A man who wore a cape every day of his life without an ounce of
self-consciousness had switched his watch because he wanted to belong.

She
stared at Gion and felt her whole world reorient itself around him.

In
that second, Ty, of the Water House fell completely in love with the Darth
Vader of the Elemental realm.  So totally, madly in love that she knew she’d never
recover.

It
actually happened so fast that Ty felt dizzy.

This
wasn’t just the energy.  This was so much more.  This connection she felt with
Gion went straight through to her heart.

Without
warning, terror filled her.

What
was she going to do, now?  Ty’s fingertips tingled as she realized what she’d
done.  Gion wouldn’t want her.  Not really.  He had a Match someplace.

The
edges of her vision waivered.

This
wouldn’t work.  She couldn’t tell him.  He wouldn’t want her.  He’d leave.

Ty’s
throat closed off.

Just
when she was trying to get stronger she went and did something so pathetically,
hopelessly stupid.

Why
was she so weak?

Always
too weak.  Too weak for Gion.  Too weak for everyone.

She
couldn’t breathe.

Ty
backed up, right into the stove, not even noticing the heat of the burner
against her arm.

“Ty!” 
Gion grabbed her, yanking her away before she scorched more than just her
sleeve.  “Ty look at me!”

She
didn’t hear him.

Panic
attack.

Panic
attack.

Panic
attack.

Fragmented
memories filled her head.

Screaming. 
The roar of the fountain.  Running.  Hands grabbing her.  Fire House pyres
burning in the distance.  Falling.  Screaming for help.  Swords and pain and
screaming for help, help,
help
.  Her energy grabbing for someone and
finding him.  The mob shouting as they were torn away from her by…

…Air.

Ty’s
sightless eyes went wide.

Gion.

“Ty!” 
He cradled her close.  “Focus on me.  You’re fine.  I’m here.  You’re safe,
angel.  Calm down.  Keep breathing.  You’re fine.”

Her
hands grasped the front of his shirt, giving him most of her weight as she
shook.

In
Ty’s jumbled memories of the attack, Gion was there with her.  Talking to her. 
Ice blue eyes crying.  Begging her to stay.  Holding her hand.  Her energy
trying to reach him.  Gion and so much power.  More power than anyone should
have.  Flowing through her.  Keeping her alive.

Gion.

Ty’s
knees gave out completely.

“Shit!” 
Gion picked her up.  “Ty, angel, try and focus on my voice.  You’re safe. 
You’re safe with me.  Nothing in the past can hurt you.  I will never let
anything
hurt you.”

In
the midst of Ty’s panic, the Water energy grabbed for his, again.  Ty had the
impression of Air powers surrounding her.  Protecting her.

Connected.

And
then she was pulling him down.

…Into
darkness.