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“She looks fine to me,” Lowell added. Meira couldn’t even muster a smile to thank him as she watched Bram’s face turn a shade of purple.
Bram turned his attention to the rest of the legion as if suddenly realizing that they were not alone. The entire group, all ten of them, had stayed put. Then to Yule, he said, “Why don’t you and I go talk somewhere in private to sort this out?”
Yule pressed her lips into a thin line, and Meira was certain she was holding back the urge to roll her eyes, but she nodded and pulled away from the bench. Bram rose to follow, fists clenched at his side, and Meira reached out and grabbed his wrist.
“I want to go. Don’t do this.” Her words were laced with every ounce of frustration and need. She only wondered briefly if it made her look weak to the others, then decided she didn’t care what she looked like to them as long as they didn’t assume she was a witch.
His eyes softened, if only marginally. “This isn’t about want, Meira. It’s about your health and the safety of our legion. We’re only as strong as our weakest person.” Pulling himself free from her grasp, he slipped through the end of the row and followed Yule from the room.
One by one, most of her legion stood and drifted out of the hall to prepare for their mission. Only Willa stopped to lay a comforting hand on Meira’s shoulder for several seconds as she stared at the open hall doors where Bram had just walked out. Meira wanted to give her friend a reassuring smile, but the best she could do was a lopsided frown. Then it was only Meira and Jaselle, who picked at her nails instead of making any sort of eye contact.
“I don’t think Bram will get his way. Both Yule and Litorick want you with us.” The length of her ponytail swayed as she lifted herself out of the seat and stretched to reveal a slender line of pale skin across her stomach. “And for what it’s worth, Meira, even now you’ll never be the weakest of us.”
What Jaselle said was kind but Meira didn’t believe her. If Jaselle knew who and what Meira truly was, she wouldn’t be saying that. No matter that they were practically sisters in spirit. If there was one thing the people of Augustine hated it was scale riders. And if there was one thing scale riders hated it was witches. Meira was both.
5
Remis
The sun was quickly fading now. There were mere minutes before he’d be forced to venture out toward Croughton. Remis had started his day with a fountain of hope for his future all because of Elton Hamza and now…well now…Remis hated Elton more than ever. He died and now Remis would die too.
Leaning against the green wallpaper, Remis ran his tongue from one side of his mouth to the other, trying to count his teeth one way and then again from the opposite direction. It was something to keep his mind from counting down the seconds until his departure. He tapped his foot with impatience. Certainly, his father had purposefully overloaded his sister’s schedule so he wouldn’t have the opportunity to say goodbye, but it would be over Remis’ dead body that he didn’t get these final parting words with the kid he cared most about.
When the head of stick-straight dark hair rounded the corner holding a thick stack of books in her arms, Remis nearly fell over with relief. “There you are, Lettie.”
“Here I am.” Lettie nodded, a smile lifting the apples of her cheeks. Childlike youth still claimed the girl's round face. She was only fourteen years old and hadn’t yet begun to look like a woman, even if she’d jumped a foot in height since last summer.
Remis rubbed a hand against the ache in his chest. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
“Father set me up with a few extra classes this morning.” She tried to raise the sum of books in her hands a little higher as proof. One book was nearly triple the size of the others, the pages thick and weathered. His father’s business ledger no doubt. Remis could remember the day he’d been told to study the old book. It had the scribbling of his father’s notes on all business matters as well as detailed accounts of where the money came and went.
“We need to talk.”
Lettie’s face fell. “You’re going away, aren’t you?”
Remis nodded.
“For how long?”
“I don’t actually know.”
With a thwunk that echoed down the hall, Lettie lunged forward, letting the books fall to the floor. Her arms, still thin and gangly, circled around Remis before she gave him a tight squeeze. She was still so frail and small in his arms. A child who’d need protection and guidance for many years to come. Remis squeezed his eyes closed, holding her tightly.
“If you scratch the ledger, Father will be mad and I won’t be here to stand between you two when his anger gets the best of him.” He pulled Lettie away, examining her at arm’s length, trying to memorize all the details of the girl he’d watched grow up. Lettie was his sister in blood but in his heart, she was more akin to a daughter. It had been him, after all, who had practically raised her after their mother died in childbirth. Remis had been the person who’d held her blood-covered and incredibly fragile body while she screamed at the top of her impossibly strong longs mere seconds after their mother had bled out. He’d been with her when she took her first steps. Remis had taught her how to hold her sword properly. Most importantly, he’d taught her how to avoid their father. “Keep your head down and do what you’re told. Okay? No funny business while I’m gone.”
Lettie laughed despite the shine of tears in her eyes. The girl sniffled and stepped back before carefully picking the books back up into her arms. Her hazel eyes, courtesy of their mother, drifted over the still-pink cut where their father’s ring had collided with Remis’ face. “I will throw myself into my studies.”
Remis smiled though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Smart girl.”
They stood in silence for a moment, both of them looking the other over. An uncomfortable swell of emotion clogged Remis’ throat and a burning sensation in his eyes left him blinking rapidly, but the sun was setting and dusk was here. There wasn’t time left or any words that could be said to ease the pain rooted in his sister’s heart.
“I will try to write when I am able.” Remis cleared his throat. If he was able. If he ever got the chance. He took one step back creating the space neither one of them truly wanted to give. Then he turned and began down the hall.
His sister’s whispered “Goodbye,” resounded in Remis’ ears. He was bound to leave her one way or another whether it was to attend school on the other side of the empire or to go on this maddening business venture. Knowing that didn’t erase the blooming sense of worry. No one was going to shield Lettie from their father’s heavy hand. The girl was smart enough to know when to be silent and when to find herself busy with needlepoint and other feminine things with their young stepmother. Still, Remis remembered being fourteen and how he wanted to rebel against his father at every turn and then how quickly he learned not to when he’d spent too many nights nursing a fat lip, a black eye, or a sore gut from the fist of his father’s own hand.
Her goodbye followed him through the halls and right out the front of the manor where he jogged down the steps to the waiting carriage only to come to an abrupt halt. His foot hung in midair between one step and the other as he inhaled sharply.
It wasn’t the carriage that gave him pause, though it was a plain looking thing hardly better than anything a man of lesser standing would use. It was his two long-time friends glaring heavily up at him. Under the weight of their scrutiny, he managed to stumble down to the rocky drive.
