Author's Preface
Merkra: I’m not one to gloat, but I called it.
Solana: Called what?
Merkra: That Leonie was a part of the rebellion. You remember their mystery visitors the first morning Fletch stayed there? Totally Melrhos coming through the fireplace.
Solana: We did not even know who Melrhos was at that point.
Merkra: So? That’s not what I said. I said I knew they were part of the rebellion.
Solana: You definitely didn’t.
Merkra: Definitely did, and I knew Leonie was playing him. Why would a fancy nobleperson be so interested in some foreign bard?
Solana: The foreign bard you’ve just got done describing as “the peak intimate partner”? It is truly a mystery.
Merkra: I…*pauses*
Solana: Mhmm… Would you like to continue, or should I take over?
Merkra: Don’t get all high and mighty with me.
Solana: squeal of laughter stoooop…
Merkra: That’s what you get. Now, I got a question before we go back. Did we find anything out about the spirit remnants?
Solana: takes a few deep breaths Not much, but I did find a few records of them. Mostly brief mentions of them in old druidic tomes. I don’t want to butcher their beliefs, but from what I understood, the spirits were fallout from the event Freya mentioned. Titans Fall. The druids believed that the titans were obliterated, leaving behind echoes of elements and primal concepts that turned into the spirits.
Merkra: She didn’t call it a spirit, though. She called it a remnant.
Solana: Correct, that is where my current research failed. I’ve been unable to find anything suggesting spirits could be broken or bits of them left behind.
“I’m confused.” Fletcher’s eyes remained locked on Leonie even as they glided across the room to take a seat and pour themselves a glass of wine.
“That’s understandable.” Leonie nodded as she sniffed at the vintage and raised her eyebrows slightly in appreciation. “It’s a complicated situation.”
“You two already know each other?” Melrhos clapped Fletcher on the back and pulled a cigar from beneath his mustache. “I’d say that makes it a lot less complicated.”
Fletcher blinked a few times, trying to sort through the pieces of this puzzle. Leonie in this dingy underground could only mean they were part of this rebellion. Were that the case, they were likely watching him since he stepped foot off the boat on Etos. Which could only mean…
“I was a mark?” His eyebrows rose at the realization. “You played me?!” He made eye contact with Leonie again, mouth just slightly ajar. Never had he been so deftly handled. Leonie had played him as if he’d handed them his own lute and begged for it.
They wet their bottom lip and looked down into the wine, trying not to meet his eye. “Initially, that was the case…” Leonie admitted. “I have grown quite fond of you, though.”
It didn’t occur often, but he was genuinely speechless. He just shook his head. Fletcher couldn’t even be mad. It was so expertly handled…all he could feel was impressed with the execution.
“I hope you’re not too upset with me.” Leonie finally looked up at him.
“Did I miss something?” Melrhos mumbled to Freya.
“I believe there was more than vetting happening between Mx. Mulbrook and Fletcher.” She responded, at which Melrhos’ eyes widened and his lips pursed.
“Oooh.”
Fletcher didn’t speak. Upset wasn’t right. Whether it be his inflated ego or a genuine feeling, the friendship they’d developed was real. There was no doubt about that.
“I guess I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.” Fletcher finally said.
Leonie nodded and looked down again. “After you joined I likely should have, but I’m a public figure. If there was even the slightest chance you were going to give up the rebellion…I’d be the first strung up.”
Fletcher winced. While them thinking he’d betray them hurt, he understood. His fingers reached for the glass and he downed the wine before he looked back up at Leonie.
“That makes sense.” He said simply.
Leonie gave him a sheepish smile. “No hard feelings?”
“What’s the saying? You bleeding the moon?” He chuckled and shook his head. “It probably requires a more private conversation, but I don’t think so.”
Leonie gave him a little wink before addressing Melrhos. “We should probably fill him in with the next steps?”
“Ah, yeah.” Melrhos hopped into the chair Freya had vacated for him, finding more comfort in the arms of Selene. “Leonie has sent a letter of recommendation to the king to have you play at their functions regularly. We expect there will be some kind of investigation into your life. Anything questionable we need to fix before that starts?”
Fletcher thought about that for a moment, a pang of sadness hitting him from nowhere. Blood, violet eyes, and a sadistic grin all flashed past his vision as he thought about Reggius. If he’d remembered him at all, that would be a loose string, but he’d inadvertently solved that problem already.
“I don’t think so. As long as they can’t track me back to you all.”
Melrhos gnawed at the cigar and shook his head. “We’re always watching your back, but not too close. That’s good. Should be a simple process then. You’ll probably be subjected to Penelope, which I apologize for, but it’s important we get you in there.”
“Who’s Penelope?” Fletcher asked, looking between the suddenly concerned faces.
“A particularly cruel Gifted.” Leonie said, their lip turned up in what came close to a sneer.
“Deviltouched is too kind a word for her.” Selene made the rare interjection. “I’ll crush the little bitch in my barehands should I get the chance.”
“Well… that’s horrifying to think about.”
No one volunteered the specifics of what could cause such an emotional reaction from the gentle giantess, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, so he didn’t ask. They had another glass of wine and discussed what the interview process might look like, but in the end it was all speculation.
He was led through a tunnel he’d never been down before, Leonie’s hand resting on his shoulder as they walked. Unlike the other underground passages, this didn’t feel like an old sewer. It had been dug out and supported with wooden beams. They eventually made it to the end, where Leonie reached out and pulled a thin lever, resulting in a metallic clang and then a groan of resistance from the stone wall in front of them.
The horrible cracking sound of stone grinding on stone eventually stopped as the wall opened into Leonie’s beautiful kitchen. He laughed and started to talk, but Leonie put a finger to his lips and winced as they moved a painting on the wall and flipped a switch to allow the wall to close again.
“You’ve got your own secret entrance?” Fletcher chuckled through a half grin when the grinding stopped.
“It seemed so mysterious, cloak and dagger, espionage..” They rolled their eyes. “Turns out it’s just an invitation for Melrhos and company to bother me whenever they want.”
“Welcome back…oh.” Bluworth’s nasally tone called out as he turned the corner and glared down at Fletcher. “I see you’ve found Mx. Mulbrook.”
“I did.” Fletcher grinned at him, shimmying his shoulders smugly as he tugged gently at his lapels. “Thank you for your assistance, Bluworth.”
The manservant glared at him before turning to Leonie. “Is there anything I can get for you, Mx.”
“No, thank you, Bluworth. You can go for the evening.” Leonie said. Bluworth bowed his head and exited the room, leaving the two of them alone. “I hope you understand why I couldn’t tell you everything.”
“No, I understand.” Fletcher walked with them into the lounge. “It’s a complex position to be in. You’ve got a lot of irons in a lot of fires, and if it came out you were also a rebel, those could be turned on you. I just don’t know what that means for us.”
“Us?” Leonie smiled wide at him. “Are you asking if my boundaries were a ruse to keep you at arm’s length, Mr. Lightfoot?”
“Essentially…” He grinned from the corner of his mouth.
“While you are possibly the most charming man I’ve ever met, I assure you I am not looking for a relationship. I do enjoy the physical aspects of our friendship, though, so I’d just as soon not stop those if you’re still comfortable with it.”
Fletcher scratched at his bristly chin. “Purely platonic?”
“The best of friends.” They winked at him. “It’s simpler this way.”
Nodding, Fletcher hopped up onto the overstuffed purple couch and tucked himself into the corner. “Alright, but I’ve got questions.”
Leonie sat down across from him, pricking their finger on a tiny spindle and swiping it across the surface of a crystal teapot on the table between them. “Answers are the least I can give you.”
“You have an artifact teapot?” Fletcher asked. Steam rose from the pot as they added loose tea leaves.
“I do. Do they not have these in Ashoria.” Leonie asked, tilting their head slightly.
“No, we do. I’ve just not seen a lot of artifacts around.” Fletcher examined the magic teapot closely. It was just like one his mother had once used, taking just a drop of blood to activate.
Leonie nodded, capping the pot to let it steep. “It was before my time, but King Vilrut confiscated most useful artifacts. You’ll see a few more mundane ones around.” They indicated the pot. “Some lanterns, brooms that sweep the floors on their own, things like that.”
“Before your time? How old is the King?” That math seemed odd. He hadn’t spoken with the king directly, but he looked human and he couldn’t have been older than forty.
Leonie chuckled. “Another mystery, I’m afraid. I assume he has some kind of artifact that stops him from aging, but no one knows for certain.”
Fletcher pursed his lips and took in a breath. He’d been in power long enough to indoctrinate these people into thinking what was happening to newborn children was normal, so it stood to reason he had artifacts that did any number of things. Extending his life should not surprise him.
“Okay. Do you think there is any chance the rebellion works? Honestly?” Fletcher crossed one leg over the other and folded his hands as he watched their reaction.
They kept eye contact with him, mirroring his crossed legs. “Honestly.” An eyebrow arched. “Its unlikely.”
Fletcher narrowed his eyes, lips forming a thin skeptical line. He hadn’t expected that. “Then why bother? I understand why Melrhos and Freya do it. I’m too terrified to ask Selene. What do you gain from it?”
“Nothing.” Leonie answered simply. “In fact, I stand to lose much more than I gain. I bother, I suspect, for the same reason you bother.”
“And what do you think that is?” Fletcher took the cup of tea they offered and blew on it.
“Because when I see suffering, I help.” Leonie poured their own cup and leaned back on the couch again, giving him the once over. “I know I can only do so much, but every time I hear the people cheer when I walk into Jinty McGinty’s and order everyone a round, or see the smile on the face of a fisherman when I help them pay off a loan, or hear the giggle of a little girl when I drop toys off at the orphanage is a tiny bit of suffering that I can say I fixed.”
Fletcher sucked in his bottom lip, dragging it through his teeth as his eyes went misty. Was that what he did? It was a nice notion, but could he honestly say that? “I don’t know if I’m that good a person.”
That drew a hearty laugh from across the table. “Mhmm…You are as fine a person as I’ve ever met, Fletcher Sterling Lightfoot. You don’t allow the McGinty brothers to pay you. You joined a rebellion that has nothing to do with you. You walked a dying Gifted through the streets of Raven’s Crest to make sure she got medical attention. I would not have done that. You are a saint among heathens.”
Heat rose in his cheeks. Sure he’d done those things, but it wasn’t anything extraordinary. It just seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Fletcher sipped at the tea, trying to will the red from his face.
“We have not known each other long, Fletcher…” Leonie hesitated, their eyes briefly meeting his. Showing him a version of them that trusted more easily. “But I believe you may be the best friend I’ve ever had. If something miraculous happens, and this rebellion does succeed—I suspect it will be because of you.”
Fletcher laughed softly, but it caught somewhere in his chest. “No pressure, though.”
“None at all.” Leonie smiled, but their eyes told a different story.
He held their look a little too long, long enough for him to glimpse the fear behind the charm. He didn’t know when he’d gone from mark to friend, but that look said that they truly believed in him.