Page 199 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
Hixon’s face shone with sweat in the sunset light, but he grinned and looked over at Kase. “I never realized…” He took a few steadying breaths. “I never realized just how exhilarating that would be.”
Still a lot of words, but fewer than before. Kase would take his wins where he could. “Welcome to the club.”
They took off once more, and Kase guided the hover back into the hangar. After fumbling a little bit getting the greenie down from the cockpit, Kase finished off the post-flight checks with Hixon in tow, talking his ear off.
He didn’t stop all the way to the rations station.
Oddly, Kase found he didn’t mind. And when he returned to his tent that night, he found a small, wrapped package lay on his cot. Inside was a Zuprium dagger tucked inside an ornate red leather sheath embroidered with a sword mounted inside a stone, Arthurian-style. Under the dagger lay a small strip of parchment.
I never got to thank you for saving my life that night. Please accept this gift as my thanks. I’ve heard you are an avid reader, and I thought this would fit. Thank you.
Trainee Pilot Laurence Andrew Hixon
Kase could help the burning in his eyes, and despite the tempest of emotions and revelations of the day, he went to sleep feeling a little lighter.
Part III: Swords
Interlude II
NAVARA
Yet I know there is but one hope…love, which conquers all.
Chapter 38
THOSE CURLS
15 Years Ago
HARLAN’S HEADACHE BLAZED BRIGHTER THAN the sun shining on the beautiful summer day outside his chamber window.
The day was anything but warm.
Days like these made it nearly impossible to tell if his body was finally giving in to the Fogs or simply preparing him for the worst. Nothing seemed to help—not sleep, not food, not even the vintage wine in his glass. The wine, of course, had other uses. It helped dull the events of the morning to a mere memory, though he knew it would only be a short reprieve.
He would still wake up tomorrow as the man who’d executed his own brother-in-law and nephews.
It was what Ezekiel wanted, and with his crimes, it was what he deserved.
Outside his window in the manor courtyard, Harlan and Les’ children were playing a game of tag. His adoptive mother,Aurelia, sat on a chair watching them, soaking in the joy that was her grandchildren. Carleton was cleaning up from the day’s events, a kindness Harlan appreciated.
He focused on his children.
Ana, the youngest, was only four—and only four thanks to Ezekiel.
Harlan paused to take a steadying breath.
Ana’s blonde hair, so like Michael’s, blazed in the summer sunlight, unbound and swirling about her as she ran. Her tenacity often outpaced her ability to keep up; her giggly pursuit of her brothers ended with a scraped knee and heartbroken sobs after her feet got ahead of her. Kase skidded to a stop and awkwardly picked her up with his boyish strength, her feet dragging the ground. He took her to Aurelia, who pulled the girl into her ample lap. Once his sister was taken care of, Kase was off after Zeke, who’d ducked behind one of the trees. What Kasedidn’tsee was Jove hiding in the branches above him. Jove pelted his youngest brother with a pinecone or something else of the sort. Kase barely dodged it and shouted something up to the other boy.
Despite being nearly six, Kase held his own against his two older brothers. He was quick, like Harlan had been at his age, and more than determined. His smile could light up any room, and if he continued to grow into those curls and that wicked sense of humor, he would be a perfect reflection of the man who’d hung from the gallows three hours before.
He hadn’t seen Les since the execution. Once they’d returned in a silent carriage, she’d locked herself in her library. Of course, she’d been distant ever since her brother turned himself in, retreating further into herself with each passing day. He understood. He wouldn’t want to be near himself, either.
How had they gotten here? How had they fallen so low? Harlan was Kominder General of Kyvena, the third-highest rankwithin the city, but the accolades on his military jacket felt more like a sham. His rank hadn’t changed anything at all.
He’d still been forced to sit steely-eyed and firm-jawed as he watched the man he loved as his own brother hang for his crimes.
Ezekiel Fairchild betrayed the nation of his birth. Soul Technology had cost him everything good he had left after Rose died. That had been the turning point, that grief. Harlan knew it well.
