King of Mist (Steel and Fire Book 2) (26 page)

“I did not design the containment system,” Zage said. “Sovar Amintelle, the First Good King, created it when it became clear his son could not Work. He didn’t want the mountain to descend into chaos after his death. He had to stretch out with his considerable will to reach the channels where the Fire flowed naturally and redirect them so the power wouldn’t seep through the mountain at random.”

Zage continued to twirl the Fire above his hands, sometimes kneading it with his fingertips, sometimes forming it through will alone. The movement of the Fire was mesmerizing. Dara could sense Zage’s power, almost like a physical force, as he twirled the Fire into ever more complicated designs.

“You know the Fire is liquid until a Worker completes the solidifying process that holds it in place,” Zage said, “whether it be in a Fire Lantern or in the core of a Fire Blade. Sovar’s Work solidified the channels of Fire to create the system as we use it today. It is strong, but malleable enough to be modified. When I need to change it, I concentrate on the channels, slowly undoing the Work to allow the flows to split further, and then solidifying the holds on the power anew.”

Zage formed the Fire into the shape of the three peaks of Vertigon, sitting on his palm like a statue, then allowed the shape to melt again.

“Sovar’s original Work was strong, and it requires a tremendous amount of power to change it. When I first became Warden, I used to put the channels back in place a bit weaker than they started so they’d be easier to unravel for future modifications. The number of people with the Firespark was increasing as the Workers had children, you see. I wanted all Workers to have the opportunity to develop their craft and build a business around a Fireshare.”

Zage created a lantern of pure Fire. It glowed between him and Dara like the Orange Star. She looked away from it. Zage’s voice was as dry as burning parchment.

“I also knew it would be better to allow the Fire to spread to keep large quantities out of the most powerful hands, as we have discussed. There were enough new Workers that I had to constantly redo the system. I didn’t want to make each new channel so strong that I wouldn’t be able to open it up and split it without a great deal of trouble. Unfortunately, this continued for long enough that the overall system weakened.”

The burning shape of the Fire Lantern melted, and Zage formed the Fire into coils of chain.

“I should have made it as strong as possible, never mind the extra effort to expand it. I shouldn’t have allowed even a hint of weakness into the design. Unfortunately, I miscalculated. I thought myself stronger than I was.”

Zage’s voice took on a bitter note. He didn’t meet Dara’s eyes.

“I was arrogant, thrilled with my own cleverness and my own strength. I was aware of the weaknesses in the system, but I was too proud. I was convinced I’d catch it in time if anything slipped. I was wrong.” He took a shuddering breath, like a gust of summer wind. “The day of the Surge, I was splitting one of the biggest channels, an original artery put in place by Sovar himself. It took extra effort for me to break through. I grew frustrated and forced through the channel too quickly. The Fire surged and burst through every one of those weaker and more malleable bonds I had put in place for my own convenience. Before I could regain control, the Fire had surged through every access point on the mountain.”

“Including the one my sister was using,” Dara said quietly.

“Yes.” Zage finally met her eyes, his gaze unwavering but full of regret. “I bear her death on my conscience every day. She was so young . . .” Zage’s face twisted with pain. “You see, it wasn’t the concept of disbursal and containment that killed your sister. It was my arrogance. My foolhardiness. My laziness. I thought I could keep track of the system as it got ever more complicated, and I took shortcuts. I failed, and a child paid the price.”

“But you didn’t pay anything,” Dara said. She stretched out a hand and pulled on the Fire Zage had been twirling in front of him. It shot to her hands like an arrow from a bow. “You kept your position. You still control the Well.”

“I begged on my knees for King Sevren to remove me from my post,” Zage said. “I questioned whether I deserved to live, much less continue in the task at which I had failed. But Sevren was a man of mercy. He believed in second chances. Sevren saw my remorse, and he decided the mountain would be safer in my hands than if he passed the job to someone who hadn’t suffered so deeply from their mistakes.”

Zage reached out and drew the Fire back from Dara, slowly so as not to hurt her. She let him take it. He twisted the Fire until it formed an ornate leaf. Dara recognized the shape. It was the same as the silver pin Zage wore at his throat to hold his cloak.

“I have never told another soul before today, but I wear this pin in memory of your sister,” Zage said. “It is the leaf of a phoenix tree.”

“What’s that?”

“A tree that grows only in the Burnt Mountains. Legend says that when the true dragons wake and spread their fire over the mountains, the phoenix tree is the first to bloom again. It grows back stronger and more beautiful than ever after each burning. I wear it as a symbol of my penitence and my dedication to making Vertigon a safer place for its children through the Fire, even though a child’s death had to teach me that lesson.”

Dara swallowed a lump in her throat, thinking of the necklace of misshapen steel beads that her sister had given her, made with her own hands. Renna had been so proud of it.

“Do my parents know that?” she asked.

“Your parents will never forgive me for their daughter’s death, Dara, and I do not believe they should. They are correct that I deserved to be removed from my post. But I will work to make the mountain better in their daughter’s memory, even though I have no right to invoke her name.”

Zage let the phoenix leaf melt away and returned the Fire to the Well. Dara watched it drip down to rejoin the seething lake of Fire beneath their feet. She realized this was the first time Zage had ever used her first name in all the time they had been working together. She wondered if his remorse over her sister was part of why he had agreed to help Dara learn to Work.

She wanted to hate Zage for what had happened to her sister, but she was all too aware of the sins of her own father. Zage suffered the way she had suffered over her father’s responsibility for King Sevren’s death, probably more so. She should have been more attentive to her father’s schemes instead of staying selfishly wrapped up in her pursuit of dueling glory. She could have warned King Sevren if she’d paid heed sooner. For that, she would be forever culpable in his death. She didn’t know if Siv would ever forgive her. But what if she could forgive Zage? He too was trying to atone for something. She only hoped Siv would find it in his heart to be as merciful to her as his father had been to Zage when she finally told him the truth.

Dara looked up at the Fire Warden. He appeared small and thin without his cloak, and telling the story seemed to have drained him further. She could hardly believe that this shriveled, sorrowful man had drawn her parents’ ire for the past decade. The Ruminors had grown strong and bitter over the years. She hoped somehow they’d find solace and justice before they burned the mountain down around them.

“Shall we get back to work?” she said.

Zage inclined his head. “Very well, Miss Ruminor.”

When Dara left the Fire Warden’s home later that night, she felt restless. She thought about visiting Siv to reconcile with him. She had avoided being alone with him since his engagement, but they had to work together against the growing threats from the Fireworkers and the missing duelists. She hated the thought of his coming marriage, but she would not break her oath to protect him just because he had chosen a queen—as she had always known he would.

He’d probably be asleep by now, though. He had been as busy as she had lately.

The night was cold, especially after leaving the heart of the Well. Not many Fireworkers trained so close to that much power. Dara wondered if Zage had her work there instead of at one of the access points in the castle so she would learn control faster. He certainly wasn’t coddling her. Strange as it was, she was starting to appreciate Zage.

As Dara left the austere marble house, laughter spilled from the window of the building next to it. She hesitated. This was where Lady Atria lived. She hosted influential people in her parlors every night, facilitating alliances and liaisons amongst important figures. Dara had been here with Siv when he was still a prince. She drew even with the parlor window, listening to the raucous babble. Who was here tonight—and what might they be discussing behind closed doors? Would Atria let her in? She’d become well known in the city of late. Hopefully being a prominent figure on the Castle Guard would be enough to get her into Lady Atria’s without a noble escort.

Before she could think better of it, Dara knocked. Quick footsteps sounded inside, and Lady Atria flung the door open, looking as rotund and cheerful as ever.

“Yes?”

“Lady Atria? I’m not sure if you remember me. I’m—”

“Nightfall! Of course, darling, come in. It has been too long.” Atria pressed Dara’s hand with a fleshy palm and pulled her into the entryway of the greathouse. “We’ve been taking bets on when First Snow will fall. Care to wager?”

“No, I just came for a quick drink, if that’s all right.” Dara thought First Snow might happen that very night. It was customary to stop what you were doing for a toast the moment the first snowflakes touched the earth. Many Vertigonians started celebrating early as soon as the clouds hinted at a change.

“Of course,” Atria said. “Allow me to—Oh, my dear, one of my guests appears to be trying on the suit of armor. Excuse me. Feel free to go downstairs if you wish. You are always welcome here.”

“Thank you.”

“Put that helmet down this instant, Lord Farrow!” Atria cried as she disappeared into the front room.

Dara walked down the corridor, peeking her head through open doors to see if she recognized anyone. She was mostly hoping to run into Kel. She needed to find out what Bolden had been up to lately, but it was tricky to get in touch with Kel without arousing suspicion. She still suspected the swordsmen she’d seen training in the cavern might belong to Bolden and his father. She needed Kel to investigate the Rollendar lands in case they’d suddenly acquired dangerous new lodgers.

But as Dara passed one partially open door, she spotted a familiar head of sandy hair. It was Lord Bolden Rollendar himself. She checked to make sure the corridor was deserted and then stopped outside the door to listen.

Bolden paced in front of a large armchair in a wood-paneled sitting room. Someone sat in this chair, too short to be visible except for a slim hand on the velvet armrest. Dara leaned closer, easing the door open a bit more. It was a woman’s hand. That much was clear. And there was something familiar about it.

Then Bolden spoke.

“Can’t you move up the date? My father grows impatient.”

The woman in the chair said something indistinguishable.

“It doesn’t need to be a fancy feast,” Bolden snapped. “Just enough to keep that silly Guard occupied.”

The woman said something else and removed her hand from the arm of the chair so Dara couldn’t see her at all. Suddenly Bolden glanced up, and Dara pulled back faster than if she’d been burned. Well, back when she
could
be burned.

She waited a few minutes and then risked another look. Bolden had turned away from the door. He must not have seen her.

The woman stood up from her chair. She had slim arms and a petite, straight-backed figure.

It was Lady Tull.

She approached Bolden and laid a hand on his shoulder, speaking in a soothing voice. He turned around at her touch, and Dara had to leap back again to avoid being seen lurking at the door. Her reactions were slow, though. That was the king’s betrothed meeting in secret with a Rollendar!

She hadn’t moved fast enough. Bolden said something she didn’t catch. Then the sound of footsteps approached the door. Dara darted into the next room and pulled the door mostly shut. Bolden’s footsteps reached the corridor. Dara held her breath, gripping her sword hilt. It was silent for a moment, except for the distant laughter of the revelers in the front parlor. Finally, the footsteps picked up again, and Bolden returned to the sitting room where Lady Tull waited.

Dara remained still for a few heartbeats and then peeked into the corridor again. It was empty. When she emerged from her hiding place, the door to Bolden’s room was closed. Dara bit back a curse. She needed to hear more of what they were saying. She listened at the door, but the heavy wood muffled the sound too much for her to distinguish any words. Hopefully she’d learned enough.

Dara didn’t bother visiting the underground lounge at the back of Atria’s greathouse. She didn’t want anyone else to know she had been there tonight. With any luck, the armor-wearing Lord Farrow would distract Lady Atria enough that she wouldn’t remember Dara had even been there.

She left the greathouse and ran all the way back to the castle. So
that
was why Lady Tull had accepted the engagement. She was distracting the king! And it sounded as if the Rollendars would make their move the night of the engagement feast.
Well, let them come.
Dara and the Guard would be ready for them.

As she ran up the long stairway to the castle, the first light flakes of snow fell from the midnight sky. They coated her eyelashes and clung to her cloak by the time she reached the castle gates. She hurried through the corridors and up to the king’s tower, her tiredness forgotten. By the time she threw a quick greeting to Errol Feln and Yuri standing guard and pounded on Siv’s door, she had a plan.

25.

The Bottle

SIV
wished he hadn’t made things awkward with Dara. He could sure use her help as the news from Cindral Forest continued to complicate his life. He’d had a meeting with General Pavorran that afternoon. He wanted Dara there to watch for any hints from their conversation, but she had disappeared from the castle yet again after her usual training session. If they’d been on better terms, he might have called her to his room to talk it over afterward or visited her in the dueling hall. But she still treated him extra formally, and she was impossible to catch when she wasn’t carrying out her Castle Guard duties.