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“Taking you into my bed doesn’t mean much, Esha. I think you should head on home.”
Chapter 7
Zeph
“Well,well,lookwhofinally decided to grace us with his presence,” Mace sneers, facing me as I slide into my seat at the round table in the middle of our headquarters.
The rounded table is meticulously stained to a deep cherry, with ornate carvings on the sides. The meeting room is scarcely used but is still kept in pristine condition by the staff working in the Palace. Not a spot of dust hangs off the gold light fixtures that are powered by the Bliksem grid, and the cabinets surrounding the square room are always stocked with writing supplies and refreshments for long planning sessions.
I meet Mace’s stare and make my face into a mask of indifference as I shrug and casually say, “Yeah, some of us have exciting evenings that make it a bit more difficult to get up in the morning.”
Rolling his eyes, Mace turns back to face the table, “And some of us can go all night and still be productive the next day, but I’ll apologize to the women of Ytopie on your behalf for your lack of stamina.”
The group of Patricians and advisors around the table titter with laughter, and I start to reply when Cirrha, the lead representative of Air and fellow Patrician, speaks up, “Now boys, you’re both pretty. Let’s move on to business.”
“She’s right, team. We’ve got a day until the opening ceremonies. Where are we at?” Stone calls out over the clamor of noises in the headquarters.
“Tempests have the mesh set up and should be visible in all homes and businesses as long as the home has scheduled the setup of their connection,” Cirrha responds, as Stone nods and checks something off on the paper he’s holding.
“Nereids are preparing the rain, siphoning magic from the sea as we speak, waiting for Zeph’s command to drop.” Nimh, the water-wielder’s voice, like a cool breeze, snaps me out of my musings. I nod appreciatingly at her, admiring the shimmering blue hair that falls into her eyes.
“The Bliksem are prepared with the lightning,” Stone says, speaking for his magic clan.
“Geomancers have increased the hazards of the terrain, adding more boulders, carving out some pits, and generally just making the terrain hellacious,” Mace laughs, representing the earth wielders. They are solitary, preferring to live on the city’s outskirts in caves. They always come through with assisting on Race Day, though. As a magic under Autumn, Mace is the vocal representative of the society of hermits.
Why they’d choose him to look out for their best interests is a mystery to me.
“And what of the Seasonale?” Mace asks, turning to me. I have been working quietly for weeks to avoid detection from all of the Patricians in how I plan to expose the Race, which is hard when I’m the one responsible for assigning tasks to the most powerful magic users of the city.
I want all of Krillium, including Ytopie, to know that the Gods have abandoned them. I want them to understand that the Race is a pointless spectacle designed to keep humans below the fae.
I want to burn it all down. Starting with Mace.
To do that, I have to make the Race easier for humans but still entertaining for the city. Then, when the majority of the Racers enter the arena for the winner’s ceremony, I’ll expose to everyone how the Gods have abandoned us and that the winners are slaughtered every year.
But Mace doesn’t know that, so I tell him what he wants to hear. “Spring is on standby to encourage the growth of healing plants for anyone we do not want to see out of the Race too soon. Autumn is preparing to decay trees for fall hazards and coordinate lighting storms. You’re also going to influence groups to meet up to increase conflict, right Mace?”
He nods, a wicked grin on his face. “Okay, great. And Summer?”
I glance down at my papers as if I’m reading from them, “Summer has strengthened the shields around Ytopie and is prepared to extend the sunlight hours if needed and increase the ambient temperature.”
The shield is, in fact, not strengthened. I’ve been working diligently for the past few weeks to strategically place weak spots throughout it. I can only hope it will be enough for the Lowlanders to break through once chaos erupts. The benefit of being the head of Summer is that I can keep others from undoing my work.
Mace nods appreciatively and then turns to Stone, clapping him on the shoulder. “Alright, old man, it seems like all is in place. Has anyone checked to ensure the Coalition is setting up for tomorrow’s opening ceremony?”
We all exchange furtive glances, and Mace runs his fingers aggressively through his dark hair in frustration. “Zeph, can you please go check?” I nod, grateful for the excuse to get out of the room. With a quick straitening of my clothing, I slip out the door.
I make my way down the intricately decorated hallway to the command center, where the connection site for Race viewing has been set up. The walls are adorned with sconces of gold and black, and soft carpets in rich shades of red cushion my footsteps. As I step into the room, I’m greeted by pitchers filled with water and mead, along with platters of fruits, nuts, and cheeses arranged on the counter. A U-shaped table sits empty in the middle of the room save for scattered papers atop it. After last night’s activities, I should not have skipped breakfast, so I pluck a round red fruit and lean against the table, taking a bite as I gaze up at the connection site. At that moment, my reflection catches my attention, and I see the features that remind me so much of my mother.
My mother was small, with hair like a sunset, that I was lucky enough to inherit. Where her hair was long and fell in waves to her waist, I keep the thick auburn locks short, barely touching my forehead. My eyes are hers as well, bright green and clear.
Throughout my life, I’ve been told that I bear a striking resemblance to her. Her presence was captivating, like the flicker of a candle in the dark. Her vibrant energy mirrored the sparks of magic that ran through our family, and she was beloved by the citizens of the city. Her fiery spirit was an intensity that lit up a room, leaving a lasting impression on those she encountered.
I still feel her loss deep in my chest, a pounding that never quiets. It’s especially bad around Race time. The incident that took both my parents from me after a Race decades ago still remains shrouded in mystery despite the efforts I’ve expended to find out the truth of what happened. Questions linger, and the absence of answers only deepens my ache.
All I know about their deaths is what Stone told me shortly after. He said a freak accident left them dead on their way back from the arena. I was too grief-stricken to examine it any deeper than that, and now that I have healed, the absence of information leaves me consistently frustrated. Stone is adamant that all he knows is what he’s told me, but in my gut, I know there must be more.
Lost in my thoughts, I’m brought back to the present by Stone’s voice behind me. “Zeph, we need to double-check everything. Mace is on edge, and so am I.”
