Crest (Ondine Quartet Book 3) (48 page)

The fire had been completely extinguished, the ocean wave carefully controlled by the ondine who navigated it.

But the cost was high.

The school and Áimoni were gone.

Shock gripped me. The beautiful woods, the serene tranquility with which the selkies educated their young and trained their future gardinels, were ruined.

Devastation remained.

A familiar presence drew up by my side.

"Whoever did this will pay," I said simply.

"Not if I find him first," Tristan replied.

We may currently be confined to this kingdom, but that also meant the traitor was in here with us.

There would be no escape.

We made our way to the smoldering remains of the school. Chloe, Aub, and the rest of the elites arrived.

Silently, we worked beside the gardinels and helped clear the wreckage. An hour later, Tristan joined me.

I threw aside another broken piece of wood. "Casualties?"

He lifted a heavy piece of metal. "A few injuries. No bodies."

Yet
.

The word remained unspoken between us.

Tristan gestured. "I want to show you something."

I followed him to the eastern portion of the building. It was the same mess of wood, metal, and plastic debris.

But colors were also splashed on the ground like a strange expressionist painting. Shattered easels and the occasional brush were strewn among the rubble. It had been an art classroom.

Ewan marched over. Exhaustion carved into every line of his face and his hair stood straight up.

Dread prickled along the back of my neck. I knew what he was going to say.

"Your Highness," he said quietly. "We found two dead. But not from the fire."

Tristan frowned. "What happened?"

"Two demillirs and an ondine were cornered by an Aquidae in the woods just outside the south ward line. The demillirs didn't make it."

I shivered. "Who were they?"

Ewan hesitated. "Dylan and Nicolas Rosamund. The ondine was —"

"Amber."

A horrible numbness settled over my chest. Dylan and I didn't run in the same social circles. I intensely disliked him and we always fought.

But he was seventeen-years-old. My classmate.

The loss was visceral.

I exhaled. "Amber took out the Aquidae with her magic?"

"Looks like it. We found the demon encased in ten inches of hardened mud, but..."

"But?"

"Amber's in shock. She hasn't said anything yet, so we're not sure what happened."

Tristan glanced at me. "Do you know why they were outside the wards?"

"She was going to break off her arranged binding with Dylan," I said wearily. "Marquis Rosamund would choose somewhere private for that."

Dylan's father wouldn't have thought twice about safety. He'd probably been more worried about someone finding out the binding was over.

"How many things can happen in one night?" Ewan murmured.

That was a trick question if I'd ever heard one.

Tristan bent down, his fingers poking through a pile of ash, mud, and broken wood.

"Look at this."

Charred glass shards from a bottle mixed in with the dirt.

I crouched beside him. "What is it?"

"Remains of a molotov cocktail." He nodded at the entryway behind me."Someone threw this, expecting to cause a small blaze. It was set-up to be a fire with minimal possible damage. Plenty of time to get everyone out and for help to arrive."

"But something went wrong."

He pointed to the window frame on the opposite wall. It was open an inch.

"Two things went wrong. I spoke to the art teacher. Because the humidity was so high from the rain, she left the window slightly open so the classroom wouldn't be muggy tomorrow."

He pointed at the debris near the broken glass. "Ewan, anything unusual you detect here?"

Frowning, Ewan leaned in and sniffed. After a moment, he said, "Gas."

Tristan nodded. "She had a lot of equipment stored in this corner for various projects. It's possible there was some kind of gas leak."

A disastrous chain reaction. Wind drifted in, heated the burgeoning flame which then came in contact with gas.

Boom
.

It also meant the fire wasn't the real objective.

Illusion is the art of showing what someone wishes to see.

"Misdirection." Like a magic trick. "He knew what we were doing tonight."

Tristan's face tightened. "Evaded our plan, then used the fire to distract us from the real target."

Ewan's brow furrowed. "The Rosamunds?"

"No." I stood. "The target was Amber."

***

Rough, heated sand squeezed between my toes. Cool ocean tide swirled around our ankles, sparkling with vibrant rainbow of colors.

The beach was both familiar and unfamiliar, a setting echoing in the deepest parts of me.

"This was always one of my favorite spots." Nostalgia colored his tone. His brow furrowed with concern. "You look sad."

"Awful things happened today."

Telling him about it would disturb the peacefulness of this place.

The comforting weight of his arm slipped over my shoulders and woodsy after-shave gently washed over me.

"It's hard." Our footprints imprinted on the sand, one beside the other. "I've been looking but I don't know how to find it."

"You will."

I looked at him, missing him so much my entire body ached. "How do you know?"

"Because it's already inside you." He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "The past belongs to all of us."

THE SATIN, STRAPLESS CONCOCTION HUNG neatly on a wardrobe bar at the far end of the living room.

Silver material shimmered like a glimmering waterfall, the elegant drapes winking as it caught the morning light.

I couldn't stop looking at it.

Yahaira's eyes twinkled. "Do you like it?"

"It'll look great on her."

The color would perfectly complement her long, sleek hair.

She sighed. "Well, at least someone likes it."

"She doesn't?"

"My daughter doesn't particularly care for these things." She smiled affectionately. "She detests political functions."

That was a surprise. Sian seemed so elegant and confident. I remembered how easily she'd mingled and laughed at the opening reception.

"My daughter will make an appearance tonight at the ball and likely flee at the first opportunity." Yahaira raised her brow. "I suspect you have a similar plan."

"I don't even know what I'm wearing yet," I admitted.

Because of my schedule, I hadn't gotten around to looking at the dress Chloe ordered for me.

Her expression turned concerned. "Did you get any rest?"

I sipped my tea. Like everything Yahaira made, the flavor was perfect. Warmth seeped into my bones, slightly easing the sick feeling I had whenever I thought of the crushed Áimoni and school.

"We stayed up most of the night cleaning up the mess."

"Children should be spared the atrocities of our war. Yet they are so often the first victims." She shook her head woefully. "I visited that poor girl, Helene, in the infirmary."

Guilt trickled down my spine. "How is she?"

Renee had asked me to look out for her. But I had a strong suspicion Helene's hero-worship died the moment her sister left.

"Withdrawn." Yahaira sighed softly. "I honestly don't know what Catrin was thinking."

"About Renee?"

"That. And also letting Helene watch the entire thing." She cradled her mug. "It must've been terrible."

"How do you know her?"

"I met Catrin several years ago when I went to New York for kingdom business." She paused. "There is a fragility about her."

Her tone set off an alarm. I'd sensed distrust when she spoke to Catrin in the hall.

"You don't like her?"

"That's too strong of a statement." She exhaled and carefully considered her words. "Perhaps I'm unsure of how to understand someone who has been through what she has. I was lucky with my mate, David."

She stirred her tea and I waited for her to go on.

"I admit I wondered if there was any anger she harbored from what she'd been through," she mused.

"You think there's more to her."

"It is surprising what people will keep hidden," she said in a subdued tone. "Sometimes the rage and pain are buried so deep they forget it even exists."

And the traitor would have hidden it deep. I remembered the hate I sensed at the opening reception.

It had been ugly, the kind of viciousness that lashed out with no care for the pain inflicted.

But the reason behind it was still unclear. What would cause such rage, such hatred for an elemental to turn against his own people?

"Listen to me. I sound like a gossipy busybody." Yahaira waved her hand and lightly laughed. "Forgive me, Kendra. How about some pound cake?"

The way she fussed over food was both motherly and charming.

I smiled. "I'd love some."

A few minutes later, I returned to my room to prepare for the forum and mulled over what she'd said.

An arranged binding caused Catrin Bessette years of suffering at the hands of her mate.

I remembered her anger when we spoke of elementals' archaic traditions. Did she have the kind of rage necessary to fuel that degree of hatred?

Her friendship with Rhian and her kindness to me in New York had taken her off the list of possible suspects. But now I wasn't so sure.

By the time I arrived at the Royal Hall an hour later, the questions had faded, replaced by the more immediate concern of not getting ousted from power.

The Royal Hall composed the spine of the palace. Built like a concert hall, the ornate interior gleamed in crimson red and gold. Five-tiers of dark red velvet seats faced a polished and golden-lit stage.

The throne dominated upstage center. An austere high-backed chair built of rich mahogany, it rested on a base of obsidian rocks, much like the palace's placement on the cliff.

The large marble table, erected on center stage to accommodate the Governing Council during the conference, had been removed. Even Ancelin left the throne vacant to sit among the people today.

The stage was empty.

I peeked out the side door. Seats quickly filled and several groups of people settled directly in the aisles.

Jeeves silently appeared. "Are you sure about this,
sondaleur
? You can still change your mind."

I'd insisted on making this event open to the public. Conference delegates, visiting friends and family, as well as curious selkies packed the hall.

Some of the selkies were gardinels, their vividly colored
pedaillons
glinting under the hall lights. Others were family and relatives of the children affected by last night's fire.

Some were simply curious about the prophesied ondine and the new Governor-elect.

I took a deep breath. "Yes."

"I'll be in the second row to your left." He briefly rested a hand on my shoulder and left.

Like the Council Chamber, this was a performance. But this time, I was the only one on stage with no back-up or support.

Nerves fluttered through my veins. I strode out and hundreds of eyes followed.

An alien sensation spiked under my skin. On stage left, where the curtains would be, a large glass tank stretched to the ceiling. Jourdain floated, accompanied by two other dessondines.

 
Rhian, Tristan, and Ancelin occupied the seats directly in front of the stage. The rest of the Governing Council filled out the row.

Jeeves was exactly where he said he'd be. He flashed a grin and the twisted knot of anxiety in my stomach loosened.

A seat in the first row was empty. The one reserved for Head Chevalier.

Julian lounged against the wall on the right aisle, deliberately ignoring the pointed looks his mother shot at him. I controlled the sudden urge to laugh.

A crop of short red hair gleamed in the packed left aisle. Aubrey sat with Ian, Lucas, and the other elites.

If it weren't for the glinting lens, it would've been easy to overlook Helene's small form. She sat beside Alex, her camera focused on the dessondine tank.

Calm settled over me. I knew why I was here.

I'd originally planned to tell everyone about my family. I wanted to explain that the Irisavies understood the cost of war and loss.

But I had to remove the personal out of this if I wanted them to take me seriously.

This was no longer about my stake in this war. This was about all of us.

So instead of using terms like "mother" or
"
aunt", I'd simply tell them about two ondines.

"Naida Irisavie was one of the strongest clairvoyants in elemental history," I began. "Her predictions included the coming of the
sondaleur
and the day ondines would become active participants in ending the war plaguing our world for so long."

Tristan's quiet eyes rested on me and my voice grew stronger.

"When she realized her daughter might be the
sondaleur
, her immediate thought was to protect you. She and my father went Rogue with me to keep Haverleau and elementals safe."

Something in my chest tugged, but I continued calmly.

"She treated me more as a soldier than a daughter, training and pushing me so that one day I'd be able to return. She fought to the end, even after foreseeing her own death."

Thick silence hung over the hall.

"Marcella Irisavie also died fighting. She protected her students and fought for others on the Council. I have witnessed many kinds of bravery in my life. Some do it quietly. Others do it on the field of battle. Two days ago, you saw proof of another. Ondines willing to try what has long been feared. I ask you to show it as well by supporting the new endeavors to end this war."

Patrice LeVeq stood. Haughty distaste pinched her expression.

"Since the arrival of Kendra Irisavie, disturbing changes have been made to traditions that long protected us." Her voice dripped with derision. "The Chevalier Charter was revised to include ondines. The Governor initiated a secret plan without the Council's knowledge based upon the speculations of teenage ondines and a nix! And a dangerous training program was started without the permission of the Council. The Irisavies have become a threat."