King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) (21 page)

“It’s nice to see you, Master Corren,” Dara said warily.

The lantern shop was exactly the same as when she left: eight elaborate Fire Lanterns, each a different design, hung from elegant wooden arches around the room. A huge desk covered in drawings and neatly organized papers sat in one corner, with the same hard wooden chairs Dara had spent too many hours in throughout her youth. Corren lounged in one of these chairs with his Firegold-trimmed boot resting on his knee, but her parents were nowhere in sight.

“Where is my mother?” Dara asked.

“She’s just gone to fetch your father from his workshop. She doesn’t have you to do that for her anymore, eh?”

“I guess not.”

“I don’t mean to give you a hard time,” Corren said. “You have to find your own path, but your parents miss you.”

“I’m sure they do.” Dara avoided standing too close to the lanterns and focused on staying very calm so she wouldn’t accidentally draw on the Fire. She had left her sword behind at the castle. She still hadn’t managed to do much with the Fire without metal in her hand, and she didn’t want to take any chances.

“How are things up at the castle?” Corren asked. “I hear you’re making a name for yourself, along with some of our favorite duelists. Everyone’s talking about the New Guard.”

“We’re doing well.”

“I wish I could have seen them at the carnival last night. I hear it was quite the show.”

“It was.”

Corren smiled warmly, and Dara couldn’t figure out if there was more behind his words than polite chatter.

“You know,” he said, “I was talking to Daz Stoneburner at the Guild the other day, and he mentioned that he had seen you.”

“He did?”

“Indeed.” Corren traced a swirl of gold on his boot. “He said you were asking questions about a suspicious-looking weapon. I’m curious: did you ever find out where it came from?”

“Uh . . . no.” Dara breathed steadily.
Focus.
It’s just like being in a duel.
“Why do you ask?”

“Oh, just wondering if you had managed to get your hands on any more of those blades.”

“I wasn’t . . . No, I haven’t.”

“So the New Guard isn’t armed with Fire Blades, then?”

Corren’s question was so casual that Dara almost answered him. Instead she shrugged, as if the distinction between a Fire Blade and cold steel were inconsequential. She was already rushing through everything she and Berg had said in front of Daz Stoneburner that day. If he had been reporting back to the Guild all along, they would know Berg had offered to give her information.

That would mean the Guild knew all about Berg. That wasn’t necessarily a surprise. Her father had once stated outright that Berg didn’t have their family’s best interests at heart.

But Daz Stoneburner had also been watching her very closely indeed when she held that Fire Blade. Was it possible he had noticed she could Work? And if he had, did her parents know too? She fought desperately to control her breathing and the pounding of her heart.

Corren smiled.

Footsteps sounded in the passageway, and Dara’s parents entered the lantern shop a second later.

“Corren, we need to discuss last night’s—” Lima stopped abruptly when she realized Dara was standing there. Her husband halted beside her, allowing a brief glance at Corren before fixing his gaze on Dara.

“Hello,” Dara said. “I . . . I mentioned last night that I would come by for a visit. So . . . here I am.”

“Yes, here you are.” Rafe studied her from head to toe, and Dara resisted the urge to squirm. How much had Stoneburner told them? Did he already suspect she could Work the Fire? Did he know she had been the one to alert the Fire Warden last night?

“I can come back later,” she said. “If you and Master Corren need to talk.”

“We do,” Lima said, “but it won’t take long. Why don’t you wait in the kitchen?”

“Yes, ma’am. It was nice to see you, Master Corren.” Dara ducked her head and edged around her parents to get to the door. They waited until she had closed it behind her before they started to speak.

Dara snatched a mug from the cupboard and filled it with tea. She set it on the stone table and hurried back to the door. With luck, her parents would assume she was sitting and having a quiet drink while they talked. She pressed her ear against the thick wooden door.

The voices were muffled, but she caught words here and there.

“ . . . was nowhere near us, but he knew . . .”

“. . . took me by surprise, and then it was too late to . . .”

“. . . don’t think the king even realized how close we were . . .”

“. . . too busy playing the fool . . .”

There was an indistinct murmuring, and then Corren’s voice rose above the others.

“What about Dara?”

“She won’t help us,” Lima said.

“Are you sure? She’s your daughter. Maybe if she . . .”

Dara’s father responded, his voice a low rumble, but she couldn’t make out his words. He would agree with her mother, though. Dara’s parents had long since decided she wasn’t truly a part of their family, not when she wouldn’t dedicate herself to their Work as they wished.

Dara frowned, running her fingers over the grain of the wooden door. She knew it shouldn’t hurt her feelings to hear her parents dismissing her. She didn’t want to be part of their nefarious activities anyway. They were murderers! But the rejection stung deep down, in a part of her beyond the reach of reason. She glanced around at the kitchen. It looked exactly the same as the last time she had been here. Renna’s chair still sat beside her own. The castle was still visible through the window. But this place was no longer her home.

Dara pressed her ear to the door again. The conversation had moved on from Dara and the unlikelihood that she would assist in their next assassination attempt. They were debating what to do next.

“. . . has the resources in place. It would be easier than getting all the Workers in line,” Corren was saying.

“That didn’t work as well as it was supposed to last time,” Rafe replied. “I still don’t trust him.”

“And you shouldn’t,” Lima said. “But you can use him.”

“Perhaps,” Rafe said.

“It’s overdue,” Corren said. “We shouldn’t have let them walk over us for so long. You are the one to secure our futures. But like I said, he has the resources.”

“Very well,” Rafe said. “I will visit his greathouse.”

“You’ll tell him you support his bid for the throne?”

“Indeed.” There was a shuffling of feet in the lantern shop, a scraping of chairs against the wooden floor. “It will take some time to prepare. In the meantime, Corren, you . . .”

Dara pulled away from the door and darted back to the table. It sounded as though Corren was taking his leave. She quickly gulped down half of her tea, which had gone cold. She had just managed to adopt a relaxed posture, her face in her mug, when her mother entered the kitchen.

“Dara,” she said.

“Mother.”

Lima took a seat across the stone table from Dara. She looked at her for a moment then stood and rummaged in the cupboard for some bread and cheese. Dara stayed silent, still processing what she had overheard. She leaned back a little so she could see into the lantern shop. Her father was shaking Corren’s hand.

So they had a noble ally of some kind, someone who wanted the throne for himself. And this ally had resources. Dara thought of the cavern she and Siv had visited, where Pavorran the General had been overseeing the training of the mysterious group of duelists.

But Pavorran didn’t live in a greathouse. His quarters were located beside the army barracks on the far eastern side of Square Peak. Whoever her father planned to collaborate with was definitely a member of the nobility. And it sounded as if he was preparing to overthrow the king!

Lima returned to the table and put down the bread and cheese. She met Dara’s eyes for a moment then turned away to prepare some tea for herself. She was a tall, imposing woman, not at all prone to nervous activity, but she couldn’t seem to think of anything to say to her daughter.
She had plenty to say last time,
Dara thought bitterly
.
She glanced at her sister’s chair, wishing Renna were around to help her understand their proud, cold mother.

 By the time her mother finished making tea, Rafe had entered the kitchen.

They sat down across from Dara together.

No one spoke. Dara fiddled with her mug and took another sip of cold tea.

Rafe sliced the loaf of bread and ate a piece of it slowly and methodically, his strong jaw churning. He offered some to Dara, and she took it without a word.

What were you supposed to say to your parents after you overheard them planning a coup? After you last left their home in a hailstorm of bitter words?

After a while, Dara cleared her throat. “Thank you for the bread.”

“It came from Tollia’s bakery,” Lima said.

More silence.

Finally, Lima sighed, a long, heavy sound. “How is your new job?”

“It’s going well,” Dara said. “I enjoy training with the Guard.” She looked up at them. “And the king is good . . . good for Vertigon, I mean. I’m honored to be in his service.”

The Ruminors looked at each other.

“Are you so certain?” her father said.

“Yes.” Dara leaned forward across the table, catching a trace of her father’s familiar scent: fire and metal. “He’s a good man,” she said. “I’m very sorry for what happened to his father, but I think Siv—King Sivarrion will be a good ruler.”

“His reputation—”

“I know,” Dara said. “But he needs a chance. He’s intelligent and reasonable. I think you’d like him if you really knew him.” If only she could convince them to see what she saw in Siv. Perhaps they could work with him instead of against him. There was still a chance.

“Does he still favor Zage Lorrid?” her father asked. The name rumbled in his mouth like an earthquake. Dara resisted the urge to look at her sister’s chair.

“I . . . Yes, he does.”

“Then I am afraid he will be too much like his father,” Rafe said. “Ever since the Warden returned from Pendark he has been influencing the Amintelles to diminish the power of the Fire.”

“Pendark? What did Lorrid do in Pendark?”

“It matters little,” Lima said. “The damage has been done. And if this young king is like his father, I sincerely doubt he will ever give your father the position he deserves.”

“But—”

“Dara, you will understand one day,” Rafe said. “Let us leave this topic. You have made your choice, but we needn’t discuss it at home.”

“Yes, sir.” Dara held in a sigh. She shouldn’t push them too much on her first visit. “I’m sorry. I . . . I am happy to see you both.”

Her mother smiled at her, but it was more like a grimace. Her father studied her pensively. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something, but then he decided against it and took another sip of tea.

They finished the bread, cheese, and tea in silence. When Dara rose to go, she promised her parents that she would come see them again. She had thought about inviting them to the castle to meet with Siv in hopes of some reconciliation, but that would be too much of a risk. Her parents wouldn’t be dissuaded from their views with one conversation.

She gave them each a stiff hug as she took her leave. She kept her heart rate absolutely steady when she hugged her father and made sure no Fireworks were nearby. She was relieved to find he wasn’t holding onto any Fire himself. He didn’t even blink, so she thought her secret was still safe. Unless Daz Stoneburner had said something, of course.

As Dara crossed Fell Bridge and returned to King’s Peak, she felt utterly exhausted. She had learned information that could prove useful, but the encounter with her parents left her feeling drained and sad.

The sun sank in the distance, and a light rain began to fall. A sharpness in the air hinted at the snow to come. Soon, the mountain would be wrapped in a deep, soft blanket, and the people would rely on the heat of the Fire to get them through until spring.

Not for the first time, Dara wondered how things would have been different if she had learned to Work the Fire from an early age. She’d be well on her way to being an accomplished Fireworker instead of studying the basics in secret with Zage. Her parents would value and respect her choices. In the fantasy as she imagined it, her sister would still be alive to train alongside her. They would be a real family. But she never would have learned to duel, and she never would have met Siv. If things had turned out that way, she wondered if she’d agree with her parents’ actions against the Amintelles.

Dara’s father and his associates wanted unmitigated access to the power of the mountain. There was no telling what they planned to do with that power, though. Did her father want to be Fire Warden? Did he want to dominate the other Workers and show them he was the mightiest of all? Or did he set his sights on higher goals? Did he want to be the king himself, to rule the mountain with the magic flowing through its veins as the first Amintelle king had done a hundred years ago?

Dara wasn’t sure where her father’s ambitions led. The one thing she knew was that her parents wanted to change the balance of power in favor of the Fireworkers. And she might not have opposed them if things had been different.

Dara looked up at the tallest tower of the castle as she approached the end of Fell Bridge, remembering that stolen moment with Siv the night before. As she had known it would, the memory caused physical pain deep within her chest. She could never be with Siv. Not the way she wanted. It might have been easier to throw herself in with her parents’ efforts than to split her heart in two.

But there was no looking back now. Dara had made her decision, and she wouldn’t let Siv down.

Darkness finished falling over the mountain. She trailed her hand along the railing of the bridge, her fingers going numb from the cold, and descended the steps. Her boots thudded on the stones of Thunderbird Square in a pool of light from a solitary Fire Lantern.

Suddenly, a cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows and grabbed her arm. Dara reached for her sword, realizing too late that she had left it at the castle. She was about to take a swing at her assailant when he yanked off his hood.