Helen took a step back toward the wall, trying to process what was being said. Were they talking about her?
“Your mistakes are yours to make,” Darius said quietly. “I’m simply trying to save you the pain of making them.”
“Your reference to my affection for her as ‘a mistake’ only proves how little you know. Now, kindly stay out of my affairs, will you?” Griffin asked, but Helen knew it wasn’t really a question. She had never heard him take a stand with his brother in such a way. The fact that it might be due to her made her exceedingly uncomfortable, and her cheeks burned even in the shadows of the hall.
She turned around, walking carefully back toward the staircase before turning yet again. This time, she announced her arrival.
“Griffin? Darius?” she called, heading back to the door of the library.
“In the library.” She wondered if it was her imagination that Darius’s voice was curt.
Retracing her steps, she plastered a look of calm on her face and tried to forget the conversation she had overheard minutes before. It didn’t quite work. When she met Griffin’s eyes, she could only hold his gaze for a second before her eyes flitted away from his.
“What time is it?” she asked. “How long did I sleep?”
“Nearly three hours.” Griffin rose from the sofa. “It was obviously needed. Do you feel better?”
She nodded. “Much. Though I was worried you might have left for Galizur’s without me.” Without meaning to, she cast a look in Darius’s direction.
He laughed aloud. “I suppose you’re not far off to think I’m the one who would suggest leaving you behind, though probably not for the reasons you imagine.”
“Please.” she said, already annoyed.“Enlighten me.”
He stepped around the desk, grabbing a waistcoat off the chair as he made his way toward her. “It’s simply a matter of safety. Yours and ours. You’re not ready to face the wraiths and demons that hunt us, and your untrained presence is a distraction.” His eyes swept to his brother’s face. “To some of us more than others.”
Helen saw Griffin’s cheeks flush in the moment before he turned away. She hated being used as a pawn in the game of one-upmanship Darius insisted on playing. And she hated being used against Griffin most of all.
Lifting her chin, she tried to sound nonchalant. “Perhaps I wouldn’t be such a distraction if you gave me a weapon to defend myself.”
Darius’s laughter was a bark into the room. “On the contrary. It would be even more of a distraction to have you wielding a weapon for which you have had no training. More so because we would be in close proximity. One slip and we’d be the ones dead.”
Her chest tightened with anger, a sensation she was growing accustomed to around Darius. “Yes, but—”
She did not have time to lodge her protest before Darius, one hand raised against her words, stopped her.
“Griffin has already argued your case, Helen. I won’t arm you. Not now. And that’s the end of that.” He was already heading for the door, his next words directed at no one in particular. “Shall we?”
With Darius well ahead of her, Helen was still seething when Griffin pulled her under the light of the streetlamp.
“I don’t understand why he gets to make all the decisions,” she ranted.
“He doesn’t,” Griffin said. “Sometimes it’s simply more effective to ease him into an idea.”
The touch of his hand on hers was oddly intimate. Her tirade was immediately forgotten, though she hardly remembered the moment when Griffin had held her close the first time they went to Galizur’s. Now, as Griffin’s fingers grazed her waist, his arms pulling her tightly against him until she felt the strength of his body against her back, a tingling started in her belly, rising upward until her cheeks grew hot.
She spoke to cover her nervousness. “I think I should learn to jump on my own soon, don’t you?”
“And deprive myself of the opportunity to be near you?” His voice was husky in her ear, his breath tickling the tender skin of her neck. “That seems foolish on my part, but if you’d like to learn, I’ll teach you.”
She nodded, her voice stuck in her throat.
“Very well,” he said. “But not tonight. Tonight you’ll stay with me.”
There was something possessive and bold in his voice. Something she hadn’t heard there before. But she didn’t have time to put a name to it. A moment later, he pulled her more tightly against his body and she felt the odd displacement she’d felt before. Her physical being breaking itself down, disappearing like smoke into the London air.
And then she was back under the streetlight in front of Galizur’s, Griffin’s arms still around her.
“You can let go now.” Helen followed Darius’s sarcasm to the step where he stood, waiting for their arrival.
Griffin did, stepping away, and Helen was surprised to find she missed the warmth of his body next to hers.
They made their way toward Darius, following him to the door. Anna answered his knock a short time later and, after a short and hurried greeting, they trailed her through the darkened halls as they had done before. Helen was already used to the silence. The journey to the parlor seemed like a passage to another world, the quiet only adding to the feeling that they were leaving one world behind and entering another, as if the labyrinthine halls were a place of transition and speaking would break their spell.
Finally, Anna closed the last door behind them, turning to lock it with one of the keys from the oddly ornate ring. She turned to them with a smile.
“Father is in the laboratory. He’s a bit frustrated with the progress on one of his newest inventions.” She looked at Darius. “Perhaps you’d like to take Griffin down while Helen and I prepare tea?”
Darius nodded, his eyes soft, and Helen marveled that he could look so different by virtue of the fact that he was gazing upon Anna. His affection for her changed his features completely. Or rather, he seemed to come more fully into them, as if his everyday countenance, the one that was angry and smug and sarcastic, was a mask he only let drop in the company of Anna.
“Will you be all right?” Griffin asked, turning to Helen.
She smiled. “Of course.”
He gave a small nod of his head. As Helen watched him descend the stairs after his brother, she couldn’t help wondering at the look in his eyes. She appreciated his protection, of course, but she was not sure if she wanted to be looked at in the way Darius looked at Anna. As if she were fragile. A thing to hold gingerly, as one holds a delicate rose, careful not to bump its silken petals lest they should spill to the floor.
“Well!” Anna’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “I daresay you’ll know how I feel soon!”
Helen’s cheeks grew warm. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course, you don’t.” Anna grinned, and Helen caught the first glimpse of something clever and sly in it. She linked her arm with Helen’s. “Come. We can talk all about it while we get the tea.”
Other than her parents, Helen had had little company over the years. She was only now beginning to sense how very alone she had been. Anna’s offer of friendship was a lifeline, and though Helen was unused to being touched by strangers, she allowed herself to be pulled from the room, unable to stop the smile that sprang to her face as Anna told her of the difficulties she had suffered due to Darius’s overprotective nature.
“He’s simply maddening!” she said, letting go of Helen’s arm to cross the kitchen. She made her way to the kettle, steaming angrily atop the stove. “The way he behaves, you would think I’m about to fall over dead any moment.”
“Why does he worry so?” Helen asked.
Anna sighed. “My heart has a small irregularity,” she said. “It gets bored beating to the same rhythm day after day, you see.”
Helen shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Well,” Anna hesitated, reaching into one of the upper cabinets for a tin of tea before continuing. “It ski
ps a beat now and then, and sometimes it speeds up so that I’m short of breath.”
“Does it hurt?” Helen asked, moving toward the counter where Anna spooned tea into the cups.
Anna stopped for a moment, looking into the distance as if the answer to Helen’s question lie against the faded paper on the far wall.
“Not exactly.” She laughed a little, turning her gaze to Helen. “It rather feels like I’ve been running too fast. I can feel it beating in my chest, and then my face feels very hot as if I’m coloring from embarrassment. But no.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt.”
“Is it…” Helen paused, searching her mind for an appropriate word. “Is it dangerous?”
Anna turned to Helen, placing a hand gently on Helen’s arm. “You’re wondering if I’ll die from it.”
It was not a question, and Helen was surprised at the ache that formed in her own heart at the idea of something happening to Anna. Yet, Anna deserved the same truth she seemed to give to everyone else.
Helen nodded. “I suppose so.”
Anna’s smile was kind. “You needn’t worry. The doctors are still learning about my condition, but I’ve had it since I was born and have managed just fine.” She poured the steaming water into the waiting teacups and turned back to place the kettle on the stove. When she spoke again, it was under her breath. “Darius has to understand that I have obligations equal to my love for him.”
Helen tried to hide her surprise at the boldness of the confession.
“He worries that something will happen to you?” Helen asked. “Because of your heart?”
“Among other things. And I understand it. I do.” Anna set a saucer of sugar and a small dish of lemon on a silver tray. “But my family has been in service to the Dictata for centuries. They’ve suffered an assortment of hardships, yet they’ve all done their duty, as I will do mine.”
Helen assisted her in placing the cups on the tray. “And what is it, exactly, that you and your father do? That your ancestors have done for the Dictata?”
“We’re an intermediary of sorts,” she said. “We interface with the Dictata on behalf of the Keepers, giving you a representative in those matters that concern you. And we provide you with assistance to fight those who hunt you.”
Helen shook her head. “I don’t understand. I thought the executions were recent.”
“These ones are.” Anna’s voice was solemn.
“What do you mean?”
“The Keepers have been hunted on and off throughout history. This threat is new, and in truth, the closest someone has ever come to extinguishing your kind. But you have always been in danger.” Anna lifted the silver tray from the counter. “Get the door for me, will you?”
Helen held open the door. “May I help?”
“It’s quite all right. I’m used to bringing tea to Father while he works.”
Helen followed Anna through the parlor to the staircase, marveling at the steadiness of the other girl’s hands. The cups, bowl, plate, and spoons made not a clink as she began descending the stairs with Helen at her heels.
“I don’t understand.” Helen picked up the thread of their conversation as they reached the bottom of the staircase. “Other than the Syndicate, who would want to harm us?”
“Who wouldn’t?” Anna said softly. Their footsteps echoed across the stone walls of the tunnel as they made their way toward the faint blue light of the Orb in the distance. “One of you has always held the key to the records. To the past, present, and future. There have always been those with enough power—or simply ambition—to attempt a coup.”
“Then why the alarm this time?” Helen asked.
She saw the worry in Anna’s soft brown eyes. “Because no one has ever some so close to rendering the Keepers extinct.”
NINETEEN
They entered the large open room Helen remembered from two nights before. The Orb spun laboriously through the air, the blue sea of the Atlantic rippling as it turned past. Darius and Griffin were observing Galizur as he worked with various instruments and tools atop a long work-table. Oddly, a row of melons were lined neatly along one edge.
Galizur turned at the sound of their footsteps. “Ah! There you are. You’re just in time for the demonstration.”
“What demonstration?” Helen asked as Anna busied herself pouring tea.
“I’ve been working on a solution to the size of the glaive.” Galizur’s eyes dropped to the stafflike weapons hanging from the brothers’ belts. He held out a hand. “May I?”
Darius turned his gaze to Griffin, who sighed and reached for his glaive. With a brief glare at his brother, he handed it over to Galizur.
Galizur turned it over in his hand. “It will have to be retrofitted.” He set it on his worktable, reaching for a short, slim rod sitting on its surface. “Try this one.”
It was significantly shorter than the glaive Griffin had handed to Galizur.
“I’m not sure how this will help me defend myself,” Griffin said, taking it.
“Will it to open with your mind,” Galizur said, “the same way you will the glaive’s blades to engage.”
Griffin stared at it a moment more before holding it away from his body. His face went very still, the pendant glowing at his shirt collar. A second later, the rod in his hand elongated until it became the same size as the glaive Griffin had brought with him from the house. Griffin’s eyes lit up in wonder as he lifted it, inspecting its tip, pointed and sharp.
Darius took the glaive from his brother, running his hand along its shaft before turning to Galizur. “How did you do it?”
A smile touched the older man’s lips. “I created interlocking pieces to the outer skin and mechanized it so your power would cause it to open, just as your power now causes the glaive’s inner blades to deploy.”
“What about the inner blades?” Darius asked.
Galizur reached for a melon on the table behind him. He set it on the floor, taking the new glaive from Darius’s hands and lifting a hand in warning.
“Stand back.”
They were taking their second step back when Galizur plunged the tip of the glaive into the melon. A second later, it burst into pieces, juicy orange shrapnel hitting the walls and floor.
Griffin tore his eyes from the spectacle, looking at Galizur with reverence. “Incredible! It activates the inner blades on its own?”
“It’s pressure sensitive,” Galizur explained. “Once embedded in the flesh of your enemy, the blades will engage on their own.”
“Wait a minute.” Helen was still staring at the melon, now dripping down the wall. “Do you mean to say that this is what will happen to someone if you use the glaive against them? They will be… torn apart?” She turned her eyes on Griffin.
His expression, once full of awe, softened. “It must seem barbaric, but short of total destruction of the body, the glaive is the only thing that can kill those of the Alliance or the Legion.”
“What about the wraiths on the street last night? You killed them without it.”
Galizur raised his eyebrows at the mention of the wraiths.
“They’re not dead. We wore them down with the sickle. They were sent back where they came from, but they could appear again at any time.”
“And they’ll keep coming back until they’re dispatched for good with the glaive,” Darius added. “Don’t waste time feeling sorry for them. They would do the same to you in a heartbeat.” He turned away, walking toward the Orb. “You would do well to remember that, Princess.”
Delivered as it was with Darius’s sarcasm, the term was not one of endearment. Anger unfurled inside her, and she advanced on him, coming to a stop only once she was in his path. She put her fingertips on his chest.
He looked down at her hand, a mixture of surprise and growing fury clouding his eyes. But she couldn’t stop. Not now. She had too much in front of her.
“I may not be familiar with a sickle and a glaive. I may not have been forced to defend myself
until now. But I’m not as sheltered or weak as you would like to assume.” She glared up at him. “I’m no princess. And maybe you should try to come up with a wittier insult, if that’s how you want to play.”
The room had grown quiet. Too quiet. Somewhere beyond Darius’s shoulders, Griffin stood with Anna and Galizur, but they might as well not have been there at all. Darius stared at her, his eyes darkening gradually. She wanted to look away, but she knew doing so would mean defeat.
It took only a moment for a laugh to burst from Darius’s throat. Unlike Griffin’s soft, knowing chuckle, Darius’s laughter was loud and admiring.
“Good,” he finally said. “There’s some spirit in you, after all. You’re going to need it.”
He stepped around her, taking a cup of tea from Anna’s outstretched hand. His fingers lingered on Anna’s a few seconds longer than necessary.
Anna handed the rest of them tea, and Galizur lowered himself to a chair in front of a large black box.
“I understand we have some research to do,” he said.
Helen nodded. “We found—well, Griffin and Darius found it, actually—a piece of parchment at the Baranova’s old key factory. The paper had an unusual logo with the initials VA. I think it refers to Victor Alsorta.”
“So the boys tell me.” Galizur met her eyes. “They also tell me you are acquainted with Baranova’s son, Raum.”
Helen flushed, thinking of Raum’s proximity to her in the ruins of her childhood home. But of course, that was not to what Galizur was referring.
“I don’t know if acquainted is the right word.” She tried to keep her voice level. “I knew him as a child.”
“And you didn’t remember this before last night?”
She shook her head. “I thought I had imagined him. That is, I had a vague recollection of playing with him in the garden. My mother always told me he was imaginary. It wasn’t difficult to believe. She said it was a common phenomenon in only children. I think I was only four or five when he stopped coming around.”
Galizur sighed, leaning back in his chair. “It’s understandable that your parents would seek to distance you—and themselves—from the Baranovas even before their betrayal. Their alliances outside the Dictata were… questionable for some years before it was proven that they’d provided the Syndicate with keys to our most sacred locations and treasures. Your parents were not the only ones among the Alliance who thought it wise to cut ties with the family.”