Division of the Marked (The Marked Series) (23 page)

“I believe so,” Yarrow said shortly. “I’d be happy to tell your protégé all about it.”

Dolla looked for a moment as if he had affronted her, but then the corner of her mouth twitched in the hint of a smile.
 

“Very well, boy. Come along. They are in the Chiona meeting hall.”
 

Ko-Jin shrugged at Yarrow and looked amused. The woman hadn’t spared him a second glance. They followed in her wake.

“Into the lion’s den we go…” Ko-Jin said softly.
 

“If they do not arrive tomorrow, we should consider leaving without them,” Adearre said, lounging in a chair around the great round table.
 

“Not sure we shouldn’t be leaving without you, too.” Peer eyed his friend with concern. “You need to rest.”

Adearre snorted. “I would like to see you try.”
 

“Bray, you think Adearre should come?”

Bray was only half listening. She leaned forward, examining a newspaper clipping. “I think Adearre should do as he likes.”
 

“Thank you, my love,” Adearre said. Peer frowned.
 

Bray’s eyes flitted over the usual national news—the food riots in the south, typhus in Adourra, the latest escapades of the Pauper’s King—until she found what she sought.

“Listen to this.” Bray pressed the newspaper flat on the table with her hand. “‘An investigation of the fire in Greystone has led authorities to believe the building struck by lightning. ‘The fire appears to have started at the roof and several neighbors report seeing flashes of light on the night in question,’ Arns Fielding, Greystone Constable, told reporters yesterday.
’”

Peer shifted restlessly in his chair. “They’re meaning us to apprehend the weather, then?”

“We’re meant to gather evidence and come to a conclusive answer,” Bray said. “It seems too great a coincidence to me. Of course, the longer we wait, the more the scene is going to be disturbed. Blighted Cosanta…”

The door opened and Bray heard Dolla’s familiar footfall. Without looking up, Bray said, “Dolla, come read this.”
 

“We have company,” Dolla said, and two people entered the room—two Cosanta men.

The one in front was a distractingly handsome Chaskuan man. Bray didn’t much like the long braids and robes of the Cosanta, but they both suited this fellow well. She shook herself. Being attracted to a Cosanta was akin to a betrayal of her kind.

His face broke into a perfect white smile. “Bray Marron?”
 

Bray’s brow furrowed. Surely she would remember having met
this
man before. He laughed at her lack of comprehension. “It’s Ko-Jin,” he said, putting a hand to his chest.
 

Ko-Jin…Ko-Jin…
Bray at first could not place the name. And then she recalled—a small, crippled Chaskuan boy with a sweet smile.
 

“Ko-Jin? Surely not.”
 

The second man stood behind Ko-Jin, obstructed from Bray’s view, but a creeping sense of expectation filled her gut.

“Yarrow Lamhart?” Peer asked.
 

Her heartbeat quickened.

“Peer Gelson?” the second man said with a laugh of recognition. His voice was deeper, but familiar still. It pulled forth a slew of long unthought-of memories—Yarrow and her fourteen-year-old self racing in a sunny field, drinking a bottle of wine under the stars in Gallan, holding hands in the grass, nearly kissing in the pouring rain…
 

Yarrow crossed the room to shake hands with Peer and came fully into view, and it was him—Yarrow,
her
Yarrow. He was tall and lean, his dark hair pulled into the same intricate braid that every Cosanta wore, save for a few shorter pieces about his forehead that fell loose. He had the same light gray eyes ringed in dark lashes. His eyebrows looked thicker and his jaw line sharper, but all in all, he was very much the same.

He and Peer shook hands and Bray sat, staring foolishly. Finally, after a split second that felt like an age, Yarrow turned and locked his eyes on her. She saw the recognition there, saw the intensity of his gaze, saw the way the corners of his mouth pulled into a small, private smile.
 

“Bray…” he said her name softly, like a caress.
 

For an insane moment, Bray wanted to spring from her seat and throw herself into his arms, to laugh and recall old times. But that desire did not come from herself, at least not her adult, Chiona self. She slammed reason down on those fancies like a vise. She hated the Cosanta. And the fact that it was
him
—the only one of them that she would struggle to truly distrust—sent by the Cosanta, made their presence all the more suspicious. The cold, calculating bastards were blatantly trying to manipulate her, and in the process they tarnished a treasured memory. A fury filled her innards.
 

Yarrow’s animation drained from his face and he eyed her questioningly. The tips of his ears turned red and his brows drew down. Then, coolly, he turned from her and introduced himself to Adearre.
 

 
Bray studied him closely—the way he held himself, the way he spoke to the others in the room. She decided that he was not at all what he had once been. And what did it matter? What was Yarrow Lamhart, really? Just some boy she had known briefly, long ago. A stranger.

“I take it we all know each other?” Dolla said. The guarded tone in her voice made it clear that she, too, found this turn of events suspect.

“We’re all of the same year,” Peer said. “Yarrow, Bray, and I even came to the Temple in the same carriage.” He turned back to Yarrow. “What of Arlow? Do we have a full set?”

“No,” Yarrow replied, taking a seat. “He’s an advisor for the King now.”

“Well, well. That ought to make him happy.”
 

“If we’ve finished our little reunion, might we talk business?” Dolla asked, her drollness cutting Peer short.

“This young man,” Dolla gestured to Yarrow, “was about to tell me why the Cosanta have sent a student of the Fifth to investigate the death of a marked girl.”

Bray exchanged raised eyebrows with Peer.
Yarrow studied the Fifth?
 

Yarrow pulled a small notebook out of his chest pocket and flipped through the pages with long fingers.

“I stumbled upon this several days ago,” he said, then read: “‘Fire conceals truth in times of marked famine.’”

Peer smirked. “What the bleeding Spirits does that mean?”
 

“I believe that ‘marked famine’ refers to the phenomenon of the past ten years—our shrinking numbers. ‘Fire conceals truth’ leads me to wonder if there is not some connection between this fire and the other issue.”

“Such as?” Adearre asked. He sounded as incredulous as Bray felt. What good did the incomprehensible ramblings of some long-dead mystic do? Everyone knew that most of their prophecies were only understood after coming to pass, and were therefore useless.
 

“My theory,” Yarrow said, “and mind it is just that—a theory—is that this girl represents one of hundreds of marked children who have been killed. That our numbers are not dwindling naturally, but that our youngest are being targeted.”

A chilly silence suffused the room. The notion was too awful. Bray’s mind rejected it utterly. Her reaction was not unique, around the room there were many frowns and shaking heads.

“It isn’t possible,” Dolla said curtly. “Not even
we
know who will be marked each year—how could someone else? How could a child be attacked before even making their mark known?”

“I do not know,” Yarrow said. “But I mean to find out.”

“What are you hoping to find in Greystone?” Adearre asked.
 

“Whatever there is to find,” Yarrow said with a shrug. “I sincerely hope I am wrong.”

The party grew quiet. Dolla picked up the newspaper clipping and set to reading it.

“When do we leave?” Ko-Jin asked. He fiddled idly with a ring on his middle finger.

“First thing tomorrow,” Bray said.
 

Ko-Jin placed his hands flat on the table and made to stand.
 

Bray cleared her throat. “There is more I have to say.” She carefully avoided Yarrow’s eyes, looking over his shoulder instead. “I want to make it perfectly clear,” she said in her most authoritative voice, “that you two are here as a courtesy. This is not a community of equals. I am in command of this investigation. You will do as I say in all matters, or you shall not be permitted to stay.”

The atmosphere grew static with tension. Bray made herself lock eyes with Yarrow; a leader did not avoid such things. His expression was difficult to interpret—the muscles in his jaw twitched and his eyes looked almost…disappointed? Ko-Jin crossed his arms before his chest, the bulk of his biceps and chest standing out more prominently.

Yarrow nodded to her once, then stood, turned, and stepped toward the door.
 

“I will need your word.”

He turned his head, but kept his back to her. “I make it a general policy to always defer to experience and wisdom.”

Then he strode from the room, Ko-Jin at his heels. The door shut behind them with a sharp click. Bray breathed a sigh of relief when she was left, again, with only her own brothers and sister.

“He didn’t give you his word,” Dolla said, still staring at the door.

“I noticed,” Bray said dryly. “Adearre, was he lying?”

Adearre also gazed at the entry, his eyes distant.
 

“Adearre?”

“He showed no outward sign of lying… I confess, I found him very strange.”

“Yarrow?”

“Yes. Most Cosanta work to conceal their emotions, and he seemed to do so to some extent. But much of what he felt played plainly across his face. I might think this an act, but if so it was an odd one. His manner changed several times without obvious stimulus. It was as if he were reacting to something other than what transpired in the room.”

“Did you notice anything about the other one?” Dolla asked.

Adearre shrugged. “Nothing useful. He did examine each of us for physical weaknesses as soon as he entered the room, but this seemed cursory. When he is distracted he still leans his weight to the right, as he did as a youth.” Adearre smiled widely. “Oh, and of course, the fact that he is a perfect human specimen with appealing eyes.”

Bray snorted, glad for a lightening of the mood. “I don’t think you’re his type, I’m afraid.”

“What makes you think so?”

“He was a bit of a flirt back when we were plebes.”

“Ah,” Adearre said, eyes twinkling, “but a man can change in ten years’ time.”

“Yes,” Dolla’s sharp voice cracked. “A man certainly can change. I advise all of you not to let your guards down merely because you knew these two as children. I do not trust a Cosanta, and especially not one as disconnected from reality as a studier of the Fifth. The fact that he brought himself a Chaskuan bodyguard is even more suspect, regardless of how appealing his eyes are.”

Peer stood so quickly he knocked his chair to the floor, where it clattered. Bray’s brows drew up in surprise at the intensity of his expression, his face pink and his mouth downturned. “Are we done here?” he asked.

“Certainly,” Bray said, eyeing her friend curiously.

Peer nodded curtly and departed. Bray and Adearre exchanged baffled expressions and followed in his wake.
 

Adearre excused himself to acquire pain medication from the medic, and Bray meandered across the grounds, her thoughts a jumble. A mere half hour ago, all she had to think about was the tragedy in Greystone. Now her mind was engaged in far more trivial and self-interested matters. Why did it have to be Yarrow Lamhart, of all people, to walk through that door? And why did it matter so much to her? She longed for some peace, so she found a quiet quarter of the garden and practiced the
Tearre.
She split her mind with ease and lost herself in the exertion of physical exercise. She did not let herself enter the
Aeght a Seve,
however, fearing that the tranquility there might open her mind to complicated thoughts.