Second Interlude: One Of Us

Jean woke to sunlight streaming into the room, casting bars of light and shade across a whitewashed ceiling. This wasn’t Artair’s dingy guild hall, but he knew better than to say that aloud. He needed to know where he was before he made a move.

“Nice of you to join us.” The voice, to Jean’s left, made him tense involuntarily. Marissa, much as he loved her, always put him a little on edge.

He turned his head, despite the pounding in his temples. She was perched on a stool beside the bed, one leg crossed over the other and her hands draped elegantly over the top. Her hair was arranged in a complex mosaic of braids and knots that must have taken hours ‒ or, knowing Marissa, was all an illusion.

Jean blinked against the blinding sunlight. “Where am I?”

Marissa gave a rough laugh. “Don’t you recognise your own home?”

Jean blinked again. That white ceiling, the carved beams crossing it… He wasn’t in his own bed, but this was the Valpari family manor in Divinity’s Reach. “What am I doing in here?”

“In the house or in the guest suite?” Marissa sniffed. “Mother had our rooms ‘freshened up’ while we were away. Your room, in particular, looks like it’s been attacked by a haberdashery department. They’re on a trip, by the way, so you don’t need to worry about being interrogated over breakfast. I wouldn’t have brought you here otherwise.”

Jean absorbed that for a moment. He’d never been overly attached to his childhood bedroom ‒ he’d been quite happy to leave home at the first opportunity ‒ but he also wasn’t surprised that their mother would have redecorated without asking. Or that, in Marissa’s opinion, she had awful taste.

That was the least of their problems, though. “What happened,” he asked carefully, “in the Grove?”

Marissa peered at him more closely. “How much do you remember?”

“I was trying to send a message to Light’s Memory…” Beyond that, Jean had only hazy images to go off. He’d been tied up for a time, perhaps moved locations once or twice. He remembered Vasha’s face hovering in and out of his field of vision, her expression caught between sympathy and disdain.

“That was two weeks ago,” Marissa said flatly. “As far as we can ascertain, Artair’s had you drugged all this time. Did he question you?”

Jean tried to shrug, but the bedsheets were so tight around his chest that he could hardly move. “I couldn’t have told him anything if he did. I didn’t know anything useful about Light’s Memory.”

“A wise precaution, no doubt.”

“Did my message even get to you?”

“Not to me.” Marissa grimaced delicately. “I’ve been in Ascalon, chasing down financial backers from Yinn’s game. We even made two arrests. The first I knew of your predicament was when Erin sent me a messenger bird to say they’d rescued you.”

“‘Rescued’ is such a strong word…”

“I suppose you would have escaped on your own, otherwise?”

“I wasn’t trying to escape. You know that.”

Marissa’s sigh seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her chest. “And you know she didn’t deserve your protection ‒ or I hope you do, anyway.”

Vasha. She was still on the inside, still one of Artair’s Talons… Except she, unlike him, had chosen to be. She believed in everything Artair was doing, even when Artair kept them firmly in the dark. This war of his… None of the Talons had the faintest idea what they were fighting for. Artair was convinced there was a weapon to be claimed, but even he didn’t seem to know exactly what it was.

Marissa leaned forwards. “So tell me: when did you find out about dear old grandmother?”

Jean pulled the same grimace, despite knowing it made him look alarmingly like his sister. “Artair mentioned her almost as soon as the Talons were first assembled. He started raving about this weapon he’s after, saying Taria was keeping it from him. Actually, keeping it from the world, I think he said.”

“The world does not need any more weapons,” Marissa said, her tone severe.

“You don’t need to tell me that. I wanted to tell Light’s Memory that grandmother was involved, but by the time I could get a message out, I thought you’d already know.”

“Some of the guild did. I was otherwise engaged.” Marissa studied her fingernails. “Oska has quite a bee in his bonnet about her. Taria had him kidnapped, you know ‒ by a chit of a girl who calls herself Ruby Valpari.”

Flashes of combat filled Jean’s vision. “I remember her… I think. Is she really one of us?”

Marissa tapped her cheek. “It would seem so. It’s hard to fake this bone structure. No-one knows where Taria dredged her up from, but we’re stuck with her now.”

Once a Valpari, always a Valpari. Wherever Ruby had come from, she was indeed one of them now.

“Taria wants to see the twins,” Marissa went on, “but it seems we’re not invited.”

She didn’t sound disappointed. Marissa and their grandmother had never seen eye to eye. Jean had once heard Marissa refer to Taria as an ‘old crow’, whilst Taria seemed to think Marissa had been both spoiled and weak for leaving the Priory. In Jean’s mind, the reason the two didn’t get along was because they were so damned alike.

Alike, but not identical. “I’m sorry things didn’t work out,” Marissa said suddenly, with a genuine sympathy that Jean couldn’t imagine Taria ever showing. “I know what Vasha means to you, even if she doesn’t deserve it.”

Jean closed his eyes. There had been moments, over the last few months, when he’d been sure he and Vasha were becoming closer… But every time Artair entered the room, she became such a different person. A person who, if he was honest, Jean didn’t like very much. “Thank you.”

“What are you going to do now?”

The future stretched out ahead of Jean, empty and tedious. It was this same ennui that had persuaded him to sign up for Yinn’s game, he recalled. What was he going to do with it now? “Stay here, I suppose. Keep the house tidy until mother and father get back.”

“Nonsense.” Marissa’s softness had been replaced by her usual briskness. “Erin will take you in. You’re an honorary member of Light’s Memory already.”

“And then what?”

“Then you’ll help us beat Artair, once and for all.”

Jean opened his eyes, staring up once more at the ceiling. Beat Artair… He liked the sound of that.