“Liam,” she said, stunned. His head snapped up, dark blond curls bobbing, eyes red, and all composure lost. Gone was the aloof boy, trying to act older than he really was. In his place was an odd mixture of a boy Kess remembered to be several inches shorter, combined with the sniffling panic of a young child. The guards finally let him go as they realized he knew her, and he straightened his shirt, still looking put out.
“Kess, they wouldn’t let me talk to you,” he said, voice cracking. “They say no one lives here by that name, but they’re terrible liars—I already knew you were here because Draven told me and—“
“Liam, slow down,” Kess said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Behind her, Eamon and Rowan looked on, curious. Kess led the boy away from the pack of guards, who returned to their post by the door. “What’s wrong? What happened?”
Liam seemed momentarily at a loss for words, his mouth forming shapes, but no sound escaping. Finally, he swallowed and croaked out a few choice words. “Draven, he…” His face crumpled, and he made a sort of squeaking sound, tears falling from his eyes. “They’ve got him, Kess,” he finally whispered.
Her heart paused.
Kess gave Liam a little shake, now frantic herself. “Who has him, Liam? The Witchblades?”
He shook his head. “Not anymore. They…they came for him. We didn’t know what to do—me and the boys went to tell everyone, and they sent us away and then came out of the tavern with spears, but…someone from the clouding Council showed up, Kess.”
“Are you…are you sure?” Her voice was hoarse, choking on the words. Liam nodded.
“Blue and silver sash. Face all garbled with Fulminancy—you can’t see who it is, but—please, Kess, you have to help him. They all ran away. Everyone else. They said he was as good as dead—that the Council was a death sentence and they needed to save the warehouses. Kess, please.”
He began to chant the words in a quiet whisper as Kess stood there, stunned. Her hand fell from Liam’s shoulders as she fought with the torrent of emotions that assaulted her. Her fingers had gone numb at just the tips as a sense of dread bit into her.
“Liam, I—what do you want me to do about it?”
Liam’s chanting stopped, and the disappointment in his face made Kess want to take the words back. “I…I don’t know, Kess, I thought…thought you’d have a plan.” He met her eyes again, some of that hope restored. “You always have a plan. You can help him, right? Just like you helped me? I…I don’t know who else to turn to.”
Kess paused, her heart thumping erratically in her ears, a pounding drum. Perhaps Liam didn’t know about her powers, but his gut had been right—he’d come to one of the few people Downhill who might have a shot at helping Draven.
Kess made a decision without allowing herself time to think about it, afraid that if she did, she’d do the more sensible thing and stay sequestered away within the manor. She grabbed Liam by the wrist and dragged him past Rowan and Eamon towards her rooms.
“Where?” she asked Liam as they hurried through the manor, Rowan and Eamon’s footsteps echoing in the hallway behind her.
“Dawnring’s Stone Market last I heard,” Liam replied. “I don’t know what they’re going to do with him, but…what in Mariel’s name are you going to do, Kess?”
“I don’t know,” Kess said, opening her door. She tugged on her boots, clipped on a dagger she barely knew how to use, and fastened her cloak with Oliver’s Stormclap pin, tied firmly to the fabric. She stared at it a little too long as she did the clasp, thinking of Oliver. I wasn’t strong enough to do anything about him, Kess thought, staring at the intricately carved golden pin. The ruby flashed in the light. I was too cowardly to use my powers, but this time will be different.
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Perhaps she’d simply blow the Stone Market to pieces, but if the Council had taken Draven, then they deserved what was coming. As an afterthought, Kess tucked a ream of fabric around her neck. If she managed to get away with her life, she wouldn’t have people connecting her to anything at the manor, or worse, the galas she’d soon attend with Rowan.
“Liam,” she said, adjusting the scarf. She ignored a pointed gaze from Rowan, who lingered by the doorway. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Well,” he said solemnly, “half the Downhill is on fire.”
“Early Lightstorm?”
“Some of it,” he agreed. “The rest, we think the Witchblades started.”
Why now? She wondered. While annoying, Witchblade patrols mostly left the Downhill to their own business, provided no one violated ring or sash laws in the city.
“Was it some kind of disagreement?” she asked.
Liam hesitated, his face pale. He looked out the window instead of at her eyes. “Forgebrand, maybe,” he muttered. “They were recruiting Fulminancers Downhill this last week, trying to get them to charge their Fulminant tools and the like. I…don’t think the Witchblades appreciated it. Draven had them stored in a warehouse, and it’s burning down along with the entire neighborhood.”
Kess paled, remembering her conversation with Draven. He’d wanted Mariel to charge his tools, but barring that, he’d sought other readily available Fulminancers—avoiding Kess for obvious reasons. All I can hope now is that the warehouse is nowhere near his tavern, Kess thought. She tried to chase the image of the tavern burning down from her mind.
“Thank you, Liam,” she said, patting the boy on the shoulder again, though he nearly towered over her now. “I’ll see what I can do.”
That seemed to brighten him up, though his face was still drawn and pale. He smiled tentatively at her, and for better or for worse, Kess suddenly felt the weight of her decision, heavy and unyielding across her shoulders.
“You’re not really doing what I think you are,” Rowan said quietly from the doorway. His voice was quiet and dangerous. She met his eyes and found them wary and unsettled. After a moment of silence, he caught Eamon’s attention with a jerk of his head at Liam. “See that our friend here is taken care of—if he needs a place to stay, let him. He can work in the kitchens if he wishes to stay permanently.”
Eamon nodded grimly and ushered Liam off, leaving Kess alone with Rowan. She tried to avoid the conversation entirely by walking past him, but he caught her shoulder at the door, his grip strong.
“Kess,” he said, grip tightening. “You can’t be serious—a Council member? Even if you had control over your powers, you’d be foolish to get involved with one of them. If they’re here, then your friend Draven can’t have been involved in anything legal.”
Kess shrugged the hand from her shoulder. “I’m not interested in debating the legality of any of this with you, Rowan. I was too late to save my brother—I won’t be too late for Draven, too.”
She recognized that what she was doing could have grave consequences, but neither could she abide the idea of simply staying in the manor, hoping to hear good news. If everyone else had abandoned Draven, then she was all he had left—his only family.
“So you’re going to rescue him,” Rowan said. His voice was tinged with a bit of sarcasm. “With what, Kess? You just got through arguing with me about using your powers at all, and now you intend to march into Dawnring and try your luck with someone who’s been studying those same powers since they were a child? At best, you’ll end up dead. At worst, you’ll take half the neighborhood with you.”
Kess shook her head. “No,” she said slowly, remembering that familiar location, usually packed with people. “The square outside of Stone Market is perfect right now,” she realized. “It’s broad, open, and during a Lightstorm, it should be completely empty.”
“So you’re going to ask the nice Council member to hold still while you dredge up powers you usually refuse to touch,” Rowan said flatly.
Kess scowled at him and tried to brush past him again as she spoke. “If I’m not trying for control, then they shouldn’t have to wait for anything—or stand still.” He caught her shoulder again, though the touch was gentler. The message was clear—Rowan wasn’t going to stop her, though he was trying to convince her of how foolish her plan was. He never needed to do that, Kess thought. I’ll be lucky to make it out of this alive. But she wouldn’t sit here while Draven suffered and died. She met Rowan’s eyes, and watched shock replace the disbelief there.
“You’re really going,” he breathed. “Kess, this is insane.”
“Men were cowards long before they were brave,” Kess whispered. Behind her, a nasty crack of lightning shook the building and caused her hair to stand up on end. “But sometimes foolishness strikes a coward just long enough to make him a brave man.”
She pushed past Rowan finally and left the manor behind.
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