Page 53 of A Broken Ember

“Are you sure you want to do this, Stas?” Rohit asked quietly. I sighed, tearing my gaze from the spectacular sight. My eyes fell upon my friend, wincing at the swelling in his face. To his credit, he didn’t show any pain. When I returned, nothing would keep me from exacting revenge on Oriana for what she had done to her brother.

I didn’t answer right away, not wanting to dismiss my friend's concerns. I allowed myself to truly think about his question. Did I want this? It would possibly mean a lifetime of struggling to keep the peace between the clans. There would be squabbles. Disagreements. Mistakes. But when I thought of the alternative—living a life in fear of death and enforcing suffering, continuing on the way we were, my stomach rolled. I thought of what things could be—the freedom to go wherever we wanted, to embrace death when we were ready, to Choose whomever we wanted. It was everything I had ever wanted. And that wasn’t taking Claeg into consideration. He was the ultimate prize, but I had to remember that my choices affected more than just me. I was De Vita. I let my eyes find Rohit’s. They were crinkled with concern, but I knew whatever I decided he would support me. My head dipped slowly.

“Okay,” he answered, and it was as simple as that.

“Do you think they are okay?” I asked, biting my lip. I found myself ruminating on everyone back at the De Vita stronghold. What was happening there? Was my mother handling things? Had Calian overseen the remainder of the trial? What would I return to? Did the people hate me or were they desperate for my return? My thoughts wandered to Thyia and everyone in the infirmary. Guilt pulled at my gut. There were so many souls there suffering, but I had fled. I left everything in chaos, abandoning my clan without direction. Sure, I had killed my father, but the likelihood that they would hurt me was low. I was the new De Vita.

“I think they are confused, maybe hurt. But I also know many of them love you. It won’t be easy, but if you’re willing to be patient, I think most of them will come around.” He chose his words carefully, but I could see what he wasn’t saying. There would be resistance. Perhaps from Calian, Hariasa, Oriana. Others. Would my mother support me? I couldn’t count on it, but I knew I could rely on Rohit, Ercan, and Claeg. And that was enough.

Chapter 57: Claeg

I stalked away from Ercan and Rohit, trusting them to care for Anastasius even though it pained me to leave him. It was tradition. Before our Circles were joined, they had to separate. So, I walked away. Bristling. But I did so anyway, unsure where I was going. I wandered the halls, letting my face be seen. There were a mix of reactions upon seeing me. Relief, confusion, and a little bit of fear. The Ruptor had returned, but with a man. With the enemy. What were his intentions? Who was he now? I could feel all the questions pressing upon my shoulders like a heavy coat. Sweat coated their palms, and curiosity laid slick upon tongues. Nearly tangible, but they held their questions. For now.

My instincts brought me to Clotho’s chambers. Something was going on there. Not quite a weakness, but a foreign thing. One I didn’t understand and that perplexed me. When the only thing separating me from her room was her door. I paused before lifting my hand to knock. Someone was inside, and it wasn’t just my sister. The voice wasn’t Circulus, the tone hitting me with a rough accent. The witch. Hushed voices seeped through the door, barely audible, but I caught fragments.

“Brother . . . changes . . . can’t . . .” Clotho hissed.

The witch’s voice was more discernible. More distinct. Still faint. “More . . . common . . . thought.”

“. . . Three favors . . .”

My interest peaked. I frowned, pressing my ear against the door like a child.

“Sivert’s here,” the witch announced a moment later. I startled. They were expecting Sivert. Shit. I did the bold thing when they stirred within: I knocked. I could practically hear the tension spike in the room. The Ruptor purred, sensing something hidden. Something secret. People hid things that made them weak. I swallowed the instinct to demand answers when Clotho opened the door. Her violet eyes widened remarkably upon seeing me.

“Claeg.” The greeting tumbled out of her mouth, revealing her surprise. She blinked rapidly, regaining her composure. Her eyes narrowed. “What do you want?” she asked, her emotions bleeding into her tone. Shit. What did I want? My throat tightened. My palms were slick with sweat, reminding me of the scars on them. My wounds. Pain that I had overcome with strength.

Clotho blinked at me, arching a brow. Another dry swallow. She opened the door wider, revealing her weapon-covered body. And more importantly, the witch. Again, it struck me how young she was. Younger than Clotho. I would be surprised if she were twenty sun turns. Yet her stance was heavy. Guarded. She wore just as many weapons as Clotho—an interesting choice considering she wasn’t Circulus. She wasn’t even De Vita. She was Other. But my clan seemed to trust her. The Ruptor probed her for weakness but found none. Intriguing.

“I have come to speak with the witch,” I said.

Clotho exchanged a whole conversation with the witch in a single glance. The girl nodded and beckoned me. She wore a necklace nearly identical to the one they had taken from Anastasius. They both had a light golden glow with energy swirling within the pendant. Magic. But that wasn’t the witch’s only strength. The Ruptor recognized itself in her. Another Ruptor. Did she sense our similarities, too? Did Clotho? I looked between the two, taking in the way Clotho stood with her teeth clenched, her hands flexing as if she were itching to grab one of the twin daggers at her back.

When the other woman spoke, the sound irritated my senses, like an itch within the lungs. . The tongue was foreign but familiar enough for me to recognize the notes of our language. “What is it you want, Ruptor?” Her cadence wrapped around the notes awkwardly. The speech grated my skin with its rawness.

“I am here to fulfill my debt,” I replied with a casual shrug.

She snorted. “That favor is mine and mine alone to decide when to use, Ruptor.”

I growled. The Ruptor didn’t like being indebted to anyone, hated the lack of control.

Clotho took a step between us. I cocked an eyebrow at her. Was she protecting the woman or her power? Likely the power. There was no weakness within the witch. She radiated strength.

“Did you need something else?” Clotho bit out. Again, I looked between the two. The girl was glaring at Clotho, pushing her tongue into her cheek. She was a fucking mystery. One the Ruptor desperately wanted to unravel. She was the unknown. Unknowns could be forged into weaknesses. Or strengths.

“Who are you?” I asked, wishing the Ruptor could compel her to answer. Her eyes widened.

“You haven’t earned that information,” Clotho said, oddly protective. Her hand went to the dagger at her shoulder, drawing it. I gaped at my sister. “Now leave.” She pointed the tip of her favorite blade toward the door.

I had no interest in fighting with my sister, so with a final glance at the fledgling, I left, pushing the odd encounter from my mind. For now.

Chapter 58: Anastasius

My eyes were heavy when a soft knock jolted me alert. Rohit jolted to his feet, grasping for an invisible sword. “Who is it?” he growled, stalking toward the door.

“Stas, it’s Hen,” a familiar voice assured us. The tension left my body upon hearing the witch, but Rohit remained guarded as he opened the door. I pushed back the blankets and stepped into a pair of trousers next to the bed. The soft light from her crystal illuminated her face. She was alone. The weapons she had worn earlier were still strapped to her body, but she didn’t reach for them despite giving Rohit a wary look. The two of them hadn’t been as close as her and I, but they had a healthy respect for what the other could do.

“It’s okay, Ro. She won’t harm us,” I assured my friend, but even I knew that wasn’t a guarantee.

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