The Sleeper and the Silverblood
The Reconciling

Silence met the High Councilor’s outburst as the others in the room stared at him, none more incredulously than Kitara.

“You Felled him?” she whispered. “I didn’t know—”

“No one knew,” Cornelius said, running his hands through his uncharacteristically disheveled hair. “We had to keep it quiet. Phoenix, the pioneer silverblood, Felled for assault…we’d only just recovered Robert, offered him a seat on the High Council—we couldn’t afford that scandal when we had worked so hard to do right by the Engineer we wrongly Felled.”

If Robert felt reassured or vindicated by the High Councilor admitting they’d wronged him, he didn’t show it.

“But he…he is one of the Myragnar’s children,” Ilythia rasped. “You Felled him?”

Cornelius went to his knees before her, shocking them all. “My love,” he murmured, “the silverbloods are just as precious to us as to the Myragnar, but it does not excuse vicious acts of evil.” He glanced in Baylen’s direction. “Especially when the offender exhibits no remorse for the behavior.”

Baylen met his gaze squarely and nodded once, wordlessly agreeing with Cornelius’s sentiment.

“I do not have a different opinion about the justice you deserve for your sins, Maker,” Cornelius said quietly.

“Something I’m sure we can negotiate once we’ve addressed the crisis of your son’s abduction,” Baylen replied, unfazed.

Cornelius sighed and looked up at Kitara from his position at his wife’s feet. “What is your plan?” he asked, weariness edging into his voice.

“Baylen and I will go to Ostragarn,” Kitara said without preamble. “With his help, I will rescue Storm.”

“Absolutely not,” Cornelius replied sharply. “The Dark Star Directive expressly prohibits such a measure—”

The days of fear, stress, heartbreak, and exhaustion shattered her restraint.

“Stars and hellfire, fuck the Directive!” Kitara shouted, clenching her fists as darkness twisted around her fingers.

They all stared at her like she’d finally lost her mind. Zayne shifted closer to his mother, Declan took a step toward the Avensäels. Kenric stared at her from the gurney, wide-eyed, as Robert put himself between her and the recovering Commander.

“Mija,” Phoebe said softly. “Take a breath.”

“Kitara?” Kenric’s stunned gaze flickered between her face and her shadowy hands.

Cornelius slowly rose to his feet, eyes narrowed, as he watched the shadows coil around Kitara’s fists like a serpent ready to strike. He did not, however, move away from his wife, planting himself between them.

The Sleeper and the High Councilor faced off for a long, charged moment.

Finally, he sighed. “Kitara, did you ever wonder why I insisted Storm become your handler?”

The unexpected question caught her off guard, taking some of the edge off her anger. But not for long. “I assumed it was to make sure I failed.”

He let out a dark laugh. “No, Kitara. It’s because I knew you wouldn’t fail.”

She rocked back on her heels, frowning. “What?”

“My son is precious to our community. He is even more precious to me, after Ilythia—” He broke off, gathering his composure. “He was all I had left. Your well-being is important, but despite all I’ve done for you, his safety came first at the time.”

“Done for me?” she asked, shock and anger flaring again. “What the hell have you done for me?”

He shook his head. “I didn’t leave you in Spokane to punish you, Kitara. I put you there to keep Ostragonians from replaceing you. I didn’t object to you becoming Saoirse’s protégée because I thought you unworthy. I did it because Sleepers walk straight into the arms of those Ostragonians. And I didn’t quietly handle Phoenix’s assault of your friend because I wanted to cover his misdeeds, I did so because I recognized the damage you did to him. If anyone outside the High Council recognized it for what it was, the backlash would almost certainly have resulted in your execution.”

Reeling, Kitara gaped as she stared at him. She snapped her mouth shut and scowled. “You told Storm my family ambushed your wife…”

“I said I thought it was a trap for her. That Netherlings laid a trap for her.”

“We were Netherlings!”

“Stars, Neil,” Ilythia muttered. “What the fuck did you do?”

He glanced at his wife, swallowed hard, then turned back to Kitara, his expression filled with a mixture of regret and resolution. “I did what I had to, to keep you safe. To keep all of you safe.”

Kitara pointed at Ilythia, and the room tensed. “It led him to believe my family put your wife in a coma!”

“I won’t apologize for the misunderstanding,” Cornelius said, unfazed. “Because by allowing him to draw that conclusion, I hoped to protect him.”

“How?”

“I knew his feelings about your family. I knew it would make him want to keep his distance. And you are the best, Kitara. I bet on your expertise in the field boring him when it wasn’t as much action as he wanted. If that didn’t work, I bet on his disdain eventually driving him to pursue other interests.”

“Do you know your son at all?” she whispered. “He’s too stubborn for that.”

That made Cornelius laugh in earnest, even as tears pooled in his eyes. “Yes. I should have bet on that more than anything.”

Kitara fell silent for a moment, processing. “You threatened me with execution when I was only ten years old, Councilor. The Dark Star Directive—”

“Is worded in a way to protect you, Kitara, not harm you. Why do you think we haven’t discussed even the possibility of trading you?”

“That’s not how you presented it to me…”

“Not my finest moment,” Cornelius admitted. “But the Dark Star Directive was drafted to keep your identity safe. It’s not worded to eliminate you; it’s worded to eliminate anyone who proved a threat to you. To monitor, apprehend, and yes, if necessary, eliminate anyone who might be a risk to you. True, portions of it are specific to your behavior: we would be remiss in our duty to protect Valëtyria otherwise. We couldn’t know what you would be like as an adult. So yes, some aspects allow us in the worst, most dire of circumstances, to protect ourselves from you. But you haven’t met any of those criteria.”

“I don’t understand…” Kitara whispered. “You hate me. You’ve always hated me.”

Cornelius rubbed his face with both hands. “I won’t lie to you. I couldn’t look at you without remembering what happened to my wife. I’m not saying it’s fair or right, my behavior. But she nearly died trying to protect your family, Kitara. Did you really think I would dishonor that act by refusing to protect the last member of that family?” He addressed the question as much to his wife as to the Sleeper.

Tears stung Kitara’s eyes as a memory of Storm’s words surfaced. “…It would be an insult to the very legacy I want to honor if I let the daughter of the woman she tried to protect walk into a potentially vulnerable position alone…”

She choked on a bittersweet laugh. “Stars, you two are more alike than I thought.”

The High Councilor managed a grimacing smile. “Which is why I suspect he would agree when I say I cannot let you infiltrate Ostragarn in pursuit of him. The silverbloods are precious to the Myragnar, to the Valëtyrians…” His gaze flickered to his wife behind him. “But you are the last remaining child of the Ninthëvels. At least—” He side-eyed Baylen, brow furrowing. “That’s what we thought at the time.”

“Stars,” Kenric breathed, his eyes darting between the High Councilor, the Myragnar, and Kitara. “You’re one of them too?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Kitara said quietly, glancing at him. “For your own safety.”

“And yours,” Cornelius added.

Kenric surveyed the room, taking in the lack of surprise on any other faces. “They all know?”

“Like I said, Commander,” Declan replied, “a lot’s happened since you’ve been out.”

“It’s like I’ve been out for twelve decades, not twelve days,” he grumbled. “Storm’s a prisoner, Kitara’s a Ninthëvel, the Maker’s an ally, and Ilythia Avensäel is awake?”

“I’ll do my best to catch you up as soon as I can,” Robert murmured to him, squeezing his hand.

“None of you were there for the Ninthëvels’ uprising,” Ilythia spoke up, “but I was. What they could do, what they were capable of…even just two of them posed an enormous threat to a whole regiment of Warriors—Myragnar Warriors. If Baylen’s work on the Commander here is any indication, if Kitara retained even a fraction of her father’s power…they will not only be Storm’s best chance, they could prove a bigger threat to Ostragarn than any of the AIDO’s regiments.”

“They won’t have to go alone,” Declan spoke up quietly from across the room. “I can’t speak for Zayne or ’Dair—”

“Sure you can,” Zayne interjected with wry humor. “But only because we’ll happen to agree with you in this case.”

Declan rolled his eyes at his friend. “Fine, I can probably speak for Zayne and ’Dair when I say…we’ll do whatever it takes to get Storm back. I’m a Guardian—I was his Guardian. If there’s a chance Kitara and Baylen can rescue him, I’m going.”

“I can help coordinate,” Zayne put in, nodding. “And with the Commander’s unexpected recovery,” he gestured to Kenric, “that will free up Alasdair to outfit us with tech—”

“Kenric’s been unconscious for nearly two weeks,” Robert protested. “He’s hardly in any condition—”

“Robbie.” Kenric touched a hand to his arm. “I’m okay. I’m exhausted, but I’m okay. Once I can put on a shirt and maybe catch a few hours of sleep, I’ll be able to take back control of the facility.”

“Devika will want to help too,” Kitara said, her brow wrinkling. “She’s done so much research into the Ninthëvels the last few days, into the Fallen…she may have some insight into the best way to approach this.”

Phoebe surveyed them all, her gaze finally coming to rest on the High Councilor, who appeared torn. “Cornelius,” she said, amusement and exasperation mingling in her voice, “I have a feeling even if you explicitly forbid it…they’ll replace a way to do it anyway.”

Kitara’s lips twitched in a tired half-smile. “She’s not wrong, High Councilor. I’ve gone through all this trouble to convince everyone this is the best way to save Storm, but the reality is…I’m going after him either way. It’ll just be much easier if you’re onboard.”

“My kind of woman,” Ilythia said, nodding in approval.

Kitara flushed but didn’t look away from the Myragnar’s husband. “You said it yourself; I’m the best. Time to prove you meant it.”

“Actions over words,” Baylen murmured, nodding, glancing at Phoebe. The High Emissary’s lips tilted in a lopsided smile.

After a long moment, Cornelius’s shoulders sagged, and Kitara knew she’d won.

“Do it,” he whispered hoarsely, reaching back toward his wife. Without a word, she took his hand and gripped it tight. “Go, Kitara Ninthëvel, and bring my son home.”