Fall
Chapter 14

Atlas

The document was surprisingly short and to-the-point. Despite this, Atlas, Milla, and Finch each read it over with care to make certain unnecessary loopholes and agreements were omitted.

The North was to give nation status, acknowledged borders, favorable trade and a choice pick of fera breeds from their territory, along with the promise of developing a vitrum plant that could be grown in Trene soil.

Trene pledged safe passage through their forest.

However lopsided this treaty appeared, Atlas knew the unspoken agreements balanced the scales. Trene would side with them in the line of fight, and give them any assistance they needed for the war. This treaty was only a reminder of what the North had paid for that loyalty. Should the document fall into unwanted hands, Nell would be safe from her neighbors.

Atlas had succeeded in his mission.

But as he stood out in the deepening dusk, he felt angry. Angry at Nell for putting them in this position, at the East and West for giving them no other choice. Angry at himself for ever entering this Life-forsaken treehouse village.

We will put this behind us soon, Hudson said.

We shall see. Atlas bid goodnight to Milla, and followed Finch cautiously across the rope bridges to their hut. The guards that trailed them from Nell’s redwood replaced the ones standing at the door.

Skye slept on the couch—their only true piece of furniture besides the table and chairs—while Piper was curled with Reine in front of the fire. Both of their eyes were half-lidded in shared exhaustion.

It took a couple seconds for Piper and Reine to register that they had returned. Waving a hand to the table, Piper said, “They brought blankets and pillows for us. And dinner.”

“How generous.” Finch’s words were abnormally clipped. Atlas gave him a sidelong glance.

Piper ignored him, and leaned back on her fera. “I’m guessing it went well?”

Atlas shrugged. “As well as it could go.”

Finch had grabbed a blanket and pillow, and claimed a spot close to the door.

Farthest from Piper, Hudson noted. They must have had a disagreement.

Reine-fueled?

Mm… Hudson regarded Piper with a discerning eye. I wouldn’t be so certain.

Atlas spread out his blanket near the table, where he could see the rest of the party, and the entrance, without much strain. Skye rolled over to face the back of the couch. Madoc softly clacked his beak above her, eyes closed.

Finch stared at the ceiling while Chip messed with the blanket until he formed a shallow bowl over his human’s stomach.

“Goodnight,” Atlas said.

Finch mumbled something inaudible.

“’Night,” Piper said.

Atlas waited a few moments before giving his quiet announcement. “We’re leaving tomorrow.”

He heard Piper shifting. “Really?” She did not sound eager.

“You would like to stay?” he asked.

“I…” Piper paused. “You’ll be going to Chesa.”

“And you to the West.” Atlas waited for her response.

“To Biscay, yes.” Another pause. “It will be the first time I’ve traveled alone. Without you guys.”

“It’s not far,” Atlas assured her. “And you have Reine.”

“And me,” Finch said.

“And Finch,” Atlas amended.

Piper sighed. “I guess so. But after Biscay…”

“You will return to the North, and we will be back there shortly after.” Atlas hoped his plan wasn’t too optimistic. Piper would be counting on his word. “Thea will be there, and Kit, Kane, Cooper.... And the whole of Elbe, who will welcome you back with a hero’s feast.”

“Or maybe just a big crowd,” Finch added.

“Quiet you,” Atlas said.

“It’s okay. I don’t need illusions,” Piper said.

No one spoke after that.

Kane

Kane tensed as he walked up the dais. Every part of his screamed, King! King!

Except for the part that was Flint. You will be fine. One step at a time. There, he said as they passed the throne, now was that hard?

Kane felt that he did not belong behind the throne. That was for King Asher alone, and perhaps the rare staff member.

Yet who is leading us here? Flint rebutted.

King Asher’s cape swept the floor in long laps. If there were any dirt on the floors, Kane imagined it would collect quite thickly on the white border.

Suddenly, the cape was gone. Swallowed by the sea of blue that separated the throne room from another world. Kane stared at the floor-to-ceiling curtains.

Flint put his nose on Kane’s shoulder. One step. You will be fine.

Stop repeating yourself. I am fine, Kane said.

Flint stared at him with a marble eyes. Then go.

The curtains were thinner than they looked, and Kane passed through them with ease.

He was blinded at first by a burst of light, but blinked to replace himself in a hallway of stained glass windows. He observed them in confusion. Bears on their hind legs, men fighting with spears, and a girl in blue with a silver moon hovering above her head. There was no clear connection between any of the scenes.

“A history of my people. Our people.” King Asher was at the end of the hallway, but his voice carried as if he were beside Kane. “It is made of pure vitrum. Cooper made it shortly after my ascension.”

Kane put a hand to one of the windows. It was cool under his touch. “It’s well-crafted.”

“He was adept at forming vitrum, even in its early stages. Before his mentor, Rocco, this would have been made of regular glass.” When Kane pulled his gaze away from the stained vitrum, he saw Levi dappled in a blanket of color. He turned to see Flint covered as well.

“What was it like before Cooper? Before Rocco?” Kane said. He spoke softly, although he knew they were safe from unwanted ears.

“There was no vitrum, outside of our doctors. It was an exclusive tool, until Rocco discovered it could be used for other purposes. Innovation, protection. Hope.” A muscle feathered under the king’s jaw. He opened the door behind him, and motioned for Kane to enter.

Kane hadn’t known what to expect, but found that he was mildly disappointed by the small desk and shoulder-height bookcase that furnished the room. A single vitrum scene watched over them; a dark-haired man robed in royal blue before a wide crowd, a white tiger by his side. The man seemed so small and insignificant compared to the mass before him, but he appeared unmoved.

“Is that…” he began.

“Me? Yes.” King Asher coughed. “Considering I am now a part of Northern history… But it was strange to see it at first. Memorials are usually saved for the deceased, not the living.”

Kane nodded in agreement. When we are kings, let’s not have this happen to us. It’s like he’s already in memory in the artist’s eye.

That would be Cooper’s eye, not just any artist. Flint inspected the stained vitrum. We cannot control if the people love us enough to create renderings of our actions.

Or a hatred of us. Kane remembered a scene of blood in the hallway, with a murderous man charging with his horse fera. Would his rule be judged in similar taste? Was he to be seen in the future as a thief for going forward with his rightful title? Would Charlotte be seen as a saint?

Sensing his discomfort, Flint fed him a string of peace. Do not worry about the future, for the future will worry about itself.

The solid thump of books brought Kane from his mind. King Asher had piled four heavy tomes on his desk. Where they had come from, Kane could not see. The small bookshelf adjacent to them hardly looked diminished.

“This is what I have on the East’s history.” King Asher slid two of the books to the side. “They are nearly as old as the North.”

“These are their laws.” He slid another tome away. “And this is a running record of every correspondence between our nations. From King Foster and Queen Adeline, to Queen Celia and I.”

Kane’s eyes widened. “Every letter?”

“Every letter that was bothered to be written.”

“Why? Why keep a record?” Kane said.

King Asher scratched his chin. “I think King Foster had the foresight to see that a rift would eventually occur between the two oldest territories. But we have records for the South and West as well.”

Kane eyed the books hungrily. How much information could he glean about the queen, their advisory, from this? “Can I take these home?”

I can keep them in my satchel, Flint added.

“No.” King Asher’s words were sharp. “These books are highly classified. But you may come back here as needed.”

King Asher walked out from behind his desk and to the door. “Let’s hope your rabbit-trail leads to gold, Prince Kane. Something my guard has not glimpsed from these already.”

The door closed, and Kane began to read.