Page 21 of Blue Embers
“You’re observations never fail you,” I said. “And yes. It can. It has.”
“Your friend. The one you got that bullet from. Is he ok?”
“He survived. He’s very special.” I grinned. “His Ashling dug the bullets out with her bare hands and he burned down a rebel compound deep in the outer territories.”
“He sounds a little more than special.”
“He’s the Archon,” I nodded.
Persephone faltered, blinking with surprise.
“Oh,” she said. “So...there’s an Archon. Not just a rumor about an Archon? Media didn’t cover that. If I were to venture a guess, it’s Draven Tempest.”
“That’s quite a good guess.” I tilted my head.
She shrugged. “Valerio’s mysterious twin brother? It wasn’t that hard to figure out.”
“Yes, well, we’re trying to keep things a bit quiet for the moment until we find our footing on the matter. The general public isn’t exactly observant enough to realize the details of the situation, so at least there’s that.”
“Obviously.” She adjusted her posture. “Guess it’s a good thing humans are generally stupid. Especially when someone or something is trying to start a war. A real war. That’s…”
She stopped herself, pressing her lips together in a way that made her seem genuinely disturbed by the idea. I stepped closer to her, a slight want to comfort her taking me by surprise.
“War is something we’re trying to avoid,” I assured her. “My people have seen far too much of it.”
“I know,” she smiled lightly, relaxing into an expression that masked her real feelings on the matter. “You told me how the exhibit is a way to bring the races together. It promotes understanding. I’ve just...I have that same vision and I don’t want to see it fade away in a panic if something really happens.”
“You look afraid,” I said, stepping in further. “Youfeelafraid, to be more precise.”
She was quiet for a moment, her eyes dropping for a bit before she picked them back up to look at me.
“I didn’t start in a sector,” she said. “My parents moved us around a lot on the outskirts. My dad was involved with things I knew were bad, even as a child. My mom didn’t care enough to raise me. My sister raised me. She’s fourteen years older. She left for a few months once and they were the worst months of my life. When she came back, she had a mark on her stomach.”
“She came back an Ashling,” I deduced.
“She said she met someone who could get us out of there. Next thing I knew, we were gone. We were housed and given all the papers to stay in a sector. Artemis got a job and things got better, but I know how ugly things are in a world where people are afraid. They start to act on their fear and they do horrible things. I always heard people talking about war like it was a game and none of them had ever even seen one. Humans are stupid and selfish. It’s why I gravitated toward this kind of work. No matter the past we have between Draak and humans and no matter the bloodshed that brought us here, humans didn’t save me and my sister. A Draak did. Even if he’s gone now, we probably wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for him.”
I sensed the emotion surge silently through Persephone, but she didn’t quite let it manipulate her expression. She was a hardened shell on the outside wrapped around a tender interior that I found more attractive every time I saw her.
9
Killian
. . .
Composing herself, Persephone aided in looking over some of the information I’d gathered on rebels and their activity, which was splashed across the computer screens around us. During the next few hours, she was able to identify a few individuals’ names that she recognized or heard mentioned while she was in contact with her dealer. I highlighted them for Draven, though I was unsure how useful the information had been.
Looking up numerous records of various criminals that she named off, I couldn’t find anything that would connect them to a well organized rebel group. Once more, progress had slowed to almost a snail’s pace, leading us to more dead ends. I tried to contain my frustration, unwilling to submit Persephone to annoyances I was certain she didn’t want to see. Instead, I stood up from one of the computers and started a calm pace around the office.
“I take it you run into these issues often,” Persephone said gently, removing her glasses once she’d finished staring at a computer screen.
I turned to her, relaxing my fists before they grew too tense.
“It’s been a bit of a struggle,” I admitted.
“I’m not sure exactly what happened, but obviously it’s made you very determined. I’d like to help wherever I can.”
“It’s not necessary,” I said, trying to resist the urge to get her more involved than she already was.
