Page 116 of The Amber Sunburst

“Don’t rush it,” Zeno butts in, because he has no doubt this mysterious plan is dangerous and fragile. Nobody wants to see Kallias punished because of the group’s impatience.

“Understood,” Kallias says, though he doesn’t look convinced.

Alexander starts to say something, pinning Kallias with a worried stare, but Eudoxia interrupts him.

“Someone should warn Lazarus about Kleitos.”

Alexander takes Eudoxia’s addition as a cue to amp up his energy, but not without one last glance at Kallias. “Good idea. If Lazarus thinks Kleitos is a threat⁠—”

“He might take out the beady-eyed bastard before he can become a problem for us,” Ophelia finishes. She looks ready to enact vengeance herself.

“Violence looks good on you,” Alexander says with a wink, and Ophelia sticks her tongue out at him.

“Oh, and in terms of actually leaving the island,” Kallias says.

“Yeah, the two of us were talking,” Alexander continues for him, “and we secured a boat in Arc Eight’s port. So we just need to get there from the Trial.”

Alexander and Kallias share a look, and Zeno has the distinct feeling that there’s something they aren’t saying.

“We all know our next steps?” Eudoxia asks, standing.

When everyone nods, she says, “Good. Then let’s focus on getting all of this—” she points to Alexander’s beautifully formatted board “—done.”

“Let’s do it,” Ophelia agrees, and it hits Zeno that they have a plan. And thank the Forms for that.

31

LAZARUS

Lazarus wishes he had weed.

Not that he’s ever tried weed, nor seen any sort of depiction of it. All he knows is that people used it before the Fall of Nations to calm down.

That in mind, Lazarus wishes he had a big old cup of weed to drink or snort or whatever you’re meant to do with it. Because he is, unsurprisingly—in fact, very predictably—insanely stressed.

The door in front of him isn’t unfamiliar, but he’s never been called here unless it’s for something important. It’s on the top floor of the Main Building, looking down into the courtyard, two doors down from the Educator.

Lazarus nearly jumped out of his skin when, just as he arrived, he heard the door to the Educator’s chambers slam shut.

When Lazarus checks his ring he sees that it’s—Oh, Forms—eleven forty, meaning he’s been standing here like a coward for a full ten minutes. He gathers his courage and knocks twice, and the door swings open. Sitting across from its entrance is Apollonia, third member of the Council of Kings.

“Lazarus. Sit.”

He does.

Apollonia is an unforgiving spirit. That much has always been clear in the deep lines on her face and her eyes filled with drive. She knows what she wants, and she always gets it.

She leans back in her chair and whips her grey hair over one shoulder, a stark contrast to her navy Council uniform. The harsh set of her features is almost unnatural given their delicacy: gentle cheekbones, small brows, and upturned, almond-shaped eyes.

“I don’t need to remind you of the importance of the upcoming Trial.”

“No, Councilwoman.”

“And I don’t need to tell you how many people are depending on your success.”

“No, Councilwoman.”

“Good,” she says, no kindness in her face. “You’re dismissed.”