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  “Get it out of here!” Delilah hissed.

  Vitio gazed at the beautiful animal. “I can’t,” he said, reaching to pet its hooked beak with his finger. “Her name is Radon. She’s our new carrier bird.”

  “That thing isn’t a pet!” she said.

  “The letter clearly states not to call her that,” Vitio said.

  Delilah lay back down, yanking the covers over her as she twisted onto her side. “It never ends,” she said.

  Vitio read through the letter once more. Aside from all the information provided, it also asked for his trust. Apparently, Ophala had a convoluted plan in the works, but it would require True Light elites to follow her orders as they arrived—typical of a Spy Pilot to ration information and instructions in such a way. Still, at least now he felt like he had a sense of direction in this war.

  * * *

  All kinds of breakfast foods covered the dining hall table; quail eggs, bacon, pancakes, and orange juice were just a small selection of what the feast entailed. Seated around the table were Bryson, Olivia, Shelly, Lilu, and a couple special guests, Thusia and Suadade. On a typical morning, Himitsu and Vuilni would have been included. But today Lilu was going back to Brilliance. It was a breakfast reserved for siblings and their Branian only.

  Thusia’s plate—or plates, rather—couldn’t be seen underneath the piles of food she had gathered. A stack of seven pancakes sat on one, with a mountain of scrambled eggs beside it. Glancing around her pancakes, she looked at Lilu and asked through a mouthful of mush, “What’re you learnin’ up there in that fancy city?”

  “How to not doubt myself,” Lilu replied.

  “You doubting yourself?” Bryson balked. “I’ve never witnessed it.”

  “That’s because she’s always hid it around us,” Olivia said. “Sealing off her vulnerability.”

  Thusia pointed her chopsticks at Olivia and nodded. “And that’s coming from a girl who knows a thing or two about suppression.”

  A goofy smile slipped onto Olivia’s face, forcing Bryson to shake his head. Olivia was still trying to learn how to properly express herself facially. Most of the time, it looked awkward and unnatural.

  “I’ve also managed to get a grasp of weavineering,” Lilu said.

  Bryson glanced at Shelly to see how she’d react to the comment. Her face was over her food, but he saw a slight twitch in her cheek. The initial excitement of her pregnancy had dwindled for Shelly in the last month—worsened by the presence of Lilu, who had admittedly done quite well for herself since departing to Brilliance a year ago.

  Shelly felt trapped. She had voiced her frustration to Bryson nearly every night before bed. She couldn’t do anything physical, which eliminated her training sessions; she was barred from any of her father’s important meetings; and she was forced to walk the halls in maternity wear.

  Meanwhile, Lilu was a Weapon’s Specialist at a place called Weavineer Tower, with her own laboratory and team of assistants. It all still sounded a bit farfetched.

  “Suadade, Thusia,” said Lilu, “do either of you know how Olivia’s ability is water?”

  “Not the slightest idea,” Suadade admitted, making his voice heard for the first time all morning.

  “I don’t even think there’s an ancient that grants the ability of water,” Thusia said in wonder. Her pancake stack had diminished considerably. “At least, not any documented cases. Then again, I’m not an expert on ancient pieces.”

  Lilu turned to Olivia. “You haven’t had another incident since that first time?”

  “No,” Olivia said. “I can’t make myself do it. It only happened that one time when I lost my composure.”

  The conversation took a lighter tone after that, but Shelly continued to stay quiet. Bryson had learned that when she entered this mood, it was best for him to let her stew. His previous attempts to intervene ended with him on the receiving end of a verbal lashing.

  As breakfast concluded, Bryson asked if everyone could leave, so he could speak with Lilu. They obliged, leaving the two Intel Jestivan alone.

  “What is it, Bryson?”

  “I heard about what you did in Brilliance,” Bryson said, referring to a statue of his father that Lilu had demolished.

  She rolled her eyes. “Professor Jugtah tell you?””

  “Professor?” he said. “That sounds strange. Director Jugtah did, yes.”

  “And what about it?”

  “Thank you. It means a lot.”

  Lilu pushed herself out of her chair. “I didn’t do it for you,” she said. “There are other reasons in the world besides you.”

  Bryson bolted out of his seat to cut her off as she headed for the doors. “You mean a lot to me,” he said. “Our relationship has been rocky, riddled with terrible farewells. I’m not allowing it again.”

  “You focus on my sister and your future child,” she muttered.

  They held each other’s gaze. After a long pause, Bryson pulled her into a hug. “I bonded with you quicker than I did with anyone else in the Jestivan—perhaps, too quick. That may have been our undoing.”

  He felt her arms wrap around him. “A flame that died as fast as it formed.”

  The begonia pinned to Lilu’s bangs sat under Bryson’s nose. He inhaled the familiar scent and said, “Only fitting.”

  * * *

  It was an hour before King Vitio’s scheduled departure to Phesaw. Bryson and Vistas sat on the fountain’s marble edge, watching as a royal carriage was prepared near the main gate.

  His mind weighed down, Bryson scratched underneath the bandage around his shin. On one hand, there was the war. And while he was happy to have been included in recent tactical meetings, he was still antsy to finally do something. Talk was cheap.

  Then there was the other, more personal weight. Bryson was going to be a father, and that scared him more than anything. Not because he didn’t want a child, but because he didn’t want to be the same disappointment to said child that Bryson’s father ended up being to him. Could he provide the proper nurturing, instill the correct moral lessons, or even stay alive long enough to watch the kid grow up? The brutal reality was that Bryson would likely be risking his life many times in the coming years—if he even made it that far.

  “Any proposal plans?” Vistas asked, snapping Bryson out of his trance. Vistas was a servant of the Intel royal family, native to the Dev Kingdom.

  During a short pause, Bryson gathered his thoughts. “I can’t say it hasn’t been on my mind,” he said. “I believe I love her.”

  The Dev servant turned and smirked. “I was speaking of your proposals to the king, arguing your case to infiltrate either the Dev or Archaic Kingdom.” As Bryson’s face turned red, Vistas added, “But the proposal you speak of also intrigues me just as much, if not more.”

  Bryson’s face twisted with discomfort. “I feel weird, Vistas.”

  “Love can be a complex concept,” Vistas said. “It’s supposed to make you feel that way—especially at your age.”

  “It doesn’t feel right for the world to be carrying on after what happened to Jilly. I shouldn’t be anticipating a child, entertaining the idea of marriage, or even having a moment of happiness.”

  Vistas nodded, his lips pressed together. “I felt that way when Tristen died. If I smiled even once in a day, I needed to punish myself for such an inconsiderate gesture to my brother’s spirit. You’ll struggle with the same dilemma for quite some time. But what you’ll eventually realize is that the world doesn’t care, and wallowing in grief doesn’t help anyone. Your enemies have lost lives, too.”

  “Either move past it or let the anger fuel you,” Bryson said.

  “Anger can be productive, but is it safe?” Vistas mused.

  “It’s driving Toshik.”

  “Which is exactly my point,” the servant said. “That young man has always fought conservatively, worried more about protecting Jilly than anything else. Now that responsibility is gone. With Jilly’s death, he’ll train li
ke never before. And when he finally rendezvous with that Yama girl, there will be a reckless abandonment in the way he fights. He’ll fight with the intent to kill, not protect.”

  “I know what you mean,” Bryson said as he watched General Lars direct soldiers into formation. “He’d likely jump off a kingdom’s Edge if it meant taking Yama with him.”

  “Good morning, you two,” said a new voice.

  Vistas stood up. “Good morning, milord.”

  Bryson turned and looked up from where he was seated. “Hey, Vitio.”

  The king smiled and smacked the back of Bryson’s shoulder. Ever since the reveal of Shelly’s pregnancy, Vitio’s pleasantness around Bryson had increased exponentially.

  “I’m kind of in a hurry, Vistas,” Vitio said, glancing at the carriage. “I can’t find Flen. I need him to meet us in the main wing’s second parlor. Tell him it’s the most urgent command I’ve ever given him.”

  “He’s on his way, milord,” Vistas replied after a brief pause.

  A short while later, Bryson entered the parlor with Vitio and Vistas and took a seat at the miniature bar while they waited.

  “Where is he?” Vitio asked, clearly losing his patience.

  “If I know Flen, he’s probably taking his sweet time in hopes you’ll abandon this little meeting in favor of departing Dunami on time,” Bryson said.

  Vitio glared at Vistas, who echoed Bryson’s thoughts. “I must say that’s a spot-on assessment, milord.”

  “But I actually need his skillset for once,” Vitio said.

  Bryson’s face pinched at the center. “Flen and skillset in the same sentence?” he asked in shock. “Vistas is right here. He has all the skills you need.”

  Vistas’s calm gaze shifted to Bryson. “Flen is a superior weaver than me. He was the most promising out of us brothers.”

  Bryson squinted at the Dev servant. Every fiber of his body wanted to guffaw, but Vistas wasn’t one to lie. “Well, he doesn’t make it seem that way,” he finally said.

  Tapping his fingers against the polished wooden countertop, Vitio shook his head. “Of course he doesn’t. Of the triplets, he was always the rebellious one. But don’t confuse his disinterest with stupidity. He might not be as wise and insightful as Vistas or as driven and fearless as Tristen, but he’s by far the superior weaver.”

  The door opened and in walked Flen. “I’m blushing,” he said, wasting no time in walking behind the bar to grab a bottle of liquor.

  “I need your help, Flen,” Vitio said while Flen poured himself a glass. It almost sounded like a question, which caught Bryson by surprise.

  Flen smirked at the king, then nudged the bottle into Bryson’s shoulder. “Thirsty?”

  “I don’t drink,” Bryson replied.

  Flen paused, then said, “Of course not.” He returned the bottle to its compartment and asked, “Is this finally the request?”

  Vitio nodded. “It is.”

  “It’s about time, old man.”

  At a complete loss, Bryson glanced between the two of them.

  “What do you know about teleplatforms?” Vitio asked.

  Flen tilted his cup and said, “I understand the theory behind the weaving.”

  “Do you think you could make one?”

  This was becoming absurd. People didn’t just make teleplatforms. That was a rare skill acquired by only a handful of Devish over centuries.

  Flen seemed to mull over the possibility with a frown. “I might, but it would take months.”

  Vitio crossed his arms. “I received a letter by falcon yesterday from Spy Pilot Ophala Vevlu.”

  “She’s okay?” Bryson asked.

  “She’s great apparently. And she provided me with some important information. She believes there are teleplatforms stationed throughout Phelos—a few in the palace and a couple somewhere in the city. Someone has been constructing them, and they’re fully functioning. It’s how Toth’s uprising was successful.”

  Vistas and Flen exchanged looks. “What is it?” Vitio asked.

  Flen gazed down at the countertop and laughed. “Do you remember Tazama?”

  “I’d never forget that blue hair,” Vitio said.

  “It’s her,” Flen said with a firm nod. “I only know of three Devish presently alive who could maybe build a teleplatform. She’s one of them.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me that before I gave her away to King Supido years ago?”

  Flen shrugged. “It never came up. She played dumb to get away from you, knowing you’d only keep the most useful Dev servants.”

  Vitio’s brows furrowed. “I gave Marcus to King Damian, and he was one of the best.”

  “Everyone knows you and King Damian were practically an old married couple. Of course you gave him a gift.”

  “We’re way off track,” Bryson said.

  “So I’m guessing you want me to build a teleplatform that can connect with the ones in Phelos,” Flen said.

  “I do.”

  Flen threw back the rest of his alcohol, then said, “I know you’re not familiar with the functionality of teleplatforms, Vitio, but that’s impossible. I’d have to figure out the weaving pattern of those teleplatforms’ Dev chains before I could do that, which would require gaining access to Phelos ... and that’s not happening.”

  The room fell quiet. Bryson’s head drooped at what seemed to be the end of that idea.

  “What about their corresponding teleplatforms?” the king asked. “The ones that they link to?”

  Flen shook his head. “Even then, I’m assuming those are in the Dev Kingdom, which still requires penetrating enemy territory.”

  “Yes, they are, but they’re easier to reach. There’s a cluster a few dozen miles northeast of their main teleplatforms.”

  “I’m not crossing enemy lines,” Flen said, his whimsical tone replaced with something stern. “I’m not Tristen. I appreciate breathing.”

  “What would you estimate the length of time needed to properly study the weaving pattern?” Vitio asked.

  Flen’s eyebrows fell flat. “I’m not going.”

  “Well, all he’d need to do is record the patterns by sketching diagrams on some parchment,” Vistas said, causing Flen to shoot him a dirty look. “That would take a maximum of an hour. Studying the intricacies of the patterns is the lengthy part, but that could be done through the sketches.”

  Flen repeated himself: “I’m not entering the Dev Kingdom.”

  Vitio placed both hands on the edge of the counter. “I’ll assemble a skilled team of individuals to accompany you.”

  “You have a few screws loose up—”

  “You’ll go in the dead of night,” Vitio continued, cutting Flen off, “under the cover of Horos, Fane, and Himitsu—three Passion Assassins who can hide you with their flames.”

  “They turn off their teleplatforms during their first-night,” Flen said.

  “We have a makeshift teleplatform in the palace’s dungeon,” Vitio replied. “It can access the Dev Kingdom at any hour. It’s how the Jestivan and Vistas chased down Storshae all those years ago.”

  Before Flen argued again, Vitio said, “Bryson and Toshik will provide the speed. Combine it with the stealth of the Passion Assassins, and chaos should ensue once you arrive. And that’s when the third and final pair will join you—the muscle that will take advantage of said chaos.”

  Bryson pounded his fist on the table. “Olivia and Vuilni!” he exclaimed, his lips widening into a smile. For once, this wasn’t a reactionary or defensive maneuver, and he couldn’t hold back his excitement.

  “Calm down there, boy,” Flen said before refocusing on Vitio.

  The two men stared at each other. Brooding was a foreign expression for Flen. “What if there are powerful people waiting at the teleplatforms?”

  Bryson laughed. “The people worth worrying about would be elsewhere.”

  “That’s correct,” Vitio said. “Ophala said that Toono and Storshae were well on their way bac
k to Cogdan.”

  Vistas offered his encouragement from across the parlor. “You’ll be fine with such a team around you.”

  Flen’s finger glided around the rim of his empty glass. “Fine,” he finally said. “But I get to live in this palace for free from this day forward, and I will not serve anyone.”

  “Well, that settles it,” Vitio said, standing straight again, a pleased grin on his face. “I must be going before Delilah murders me. Expect the mission to happen within the next two weeks. I’ll be back from Phesaw by tomorrow night.”

  As the Intel King walked to the door, Flen said, “If you want this done faster, I’ll need Joy’s assistance. I might be a great weaver, but she’s better at constructing Permanence vessels.”

  Vitio nodded. “I’ll talk to Spirit Queen Apsa when I see her.”

  “Which means I’ll also need provod,” Flen added, stopping Vitio halfway out the door.

  “Anything else, your highness?” the king asked mockingly.

  Flen cocked an eyebrow. “Yea, make that a habit.”

  * * *

  Himitsu and his dad, Horos, were in an empty ballroom in Dunami Palace as the day came to a close. Despite the abundance of Intelights in the chandeliers and walls, the only sources of light came from hundreds of candles. They were significantly dimmer, but they served their purpose for the father-son assassin lesson.

  “All that time I spent locked up allowed me to refine my weaving skills to the point of innovation,” Horos said. “And that includes my imprisonment when King Damian thought it was a Passion Assassin who murdered the Prim Prince and General.”

  Tables and chairs were pushed against the walls. The two Vevlu men stood far apart, at the center of the grand room.

  “My whole life, I’ve been taught that our flames are only effective in the dark,” Horos said. “And even then, if someone’s eyesight is exceptional enough, they’d be able to distinguish the blackness of the flames against the darkness.” He paused, then said, “Sprout a wall of flames between us, son.”