As Alina and her guard led Dayne through the streets of the cavern, he couldn't help but notice the colours of each major house were on display in one place or another.
To Dayne's left, a man who was clearly a fisherman – judging by the noxious odour that wafted from his clothes, and his long scraggy beard – walked past wearing a belted tunic coloured in the pale blue of House Koraklon. Behind the man was a woman dragging along a small child whose face was beetroot-red as she tugged against her mother's grasp. Both wore the green and gold of House Deringal.
Across the street, a man in the red robes of House Herak sat on a stone bench chatting to another man in the black of House Vakira, while a woman in Thebalan yellow listened in with her arms folded and her face twisted in a disapproving look.
"Alina," Dayne called, pulling close to his sister, lowering his voice. "How is this? I see all the Houses here."
"We do not fight for House Ateres or House Vakira, brother." A weak smile touched the corner of Alina's mouth. "We fight for Valtara. One nation."
A thousand questions floated through Dayne's mind. The infighting between the houses was legendary. Even during the rebellion, they had been at each other's throats over whose flag would be carried at the front of the army or hang from the walls of a captured city. It had always been the way. His father had often cited it as a major reason the rebellion failed. 'You cannot win a war when you are fighting enemies from the outside and from within.'Alina led Dayne to a short stone staircase that veered off from the main street towards a large rectangular building that rose three storeys off the ground. The building consisted of pale grey stone, with no embellishments whatsoever, much like the rest of the hidden city. It was clear everything in this place was built solely for function.
The entrance to the large rectangular building was flanked by two guards in traditional Valtaran armour – smooth, bronze-hued steel cuirasses that flowed down into armoured skirts. They each wore a large helmet that covered most of their face and neck, with almond-shaped slits for eyes and a thin opening that dropped sharply from their nose to the base of the helmet. Their arms were protected by a set of steel vambraces, while their legs were guarded with steel greaves that ran into lightly armoured boots, built for flexibility. They are ready for war.Each guard held a circular ordo shield in one hand, a valyna in the other, and a short sword strapped at their hip. But it was the colouring of the cloth in their armoured skirts that attracted Dayne's attention. One wore skirts of pale blue to represent House Koraklon, and the other wore the yellow of House Thebal – old enemies. Growing up, Dayne could not remember ever seeing warriors of House Koraklon and Thebal in the same room together, at least not with both of them leaving alive.
"Your weapons," the Koraklon guard said, stepping in front of Dayne as they reached the top of the staircase.
Without a thought, Dayne reached out to the Spark, pulling threads of Air into himself. It was always better to be safe than sorry. His brother had just betrayed him, and he would be a fool if he didn't believe that Alina might do the same, though he hated himself for thinking that way.
"You won't be coming in without handing them over, brother," Alina said with a shrug as she handed her sword to the guard who wore the Thebalan colours. The two Redstone guards who had accompanied them from Skyfell did the same.
Dayne puffed out his cheeks before acquiescing with a reluctant nod. It was not like he had many weapons on him anyway; he had left his sword in Baren's office, and he had not carried a spear in a long time. Reaching down to his belt, Dayne pulled the two knives from their sheaths at his hip before producing three more from within his robes. "Don't lose those, please. I'm quite fond of them."
The Koraklon guard just grunted at Dayne as he took the knives, then nodded him on.
"In here," Alina said after they had spent a few minutes walking down a maze of winding stone corridors with nothing adorning the walls save for just enough oil lamps to provide light.
The room where she led him was large enough to fit twenty people. Its grey stone walls were drab and lifeless, and twelve uncomfortable-looking wooden chairs sat around a heavy oak table that ran lengthways through the room, six on each side. The fireplace set into the far wall, behind the end of the table, crackled with a low flame, warming the room and tingeing the air with the aroma of burning wood. The door before Dayne was the only way in or out of the room. The two Redstone guards took up positions on either side of it, standing as straight as tree trunks.
"Are you coming?" Alina called from within, standing beside the table, her arms folded, a single eyebrow raised.
Dayne had a rule: never go into a room that only had one way out, and if you did, never let anybody stand between you and that way out. He hadn't broken that rule since the day he had deemed it necessary, twelve years ago.
Taking one more look at Alina, Dayne stepped over the threshold, walking past the guards and taking the chair closest to the door, on the right side of the table. His first opinion was proven correct: the chair was indeed uncomfortable. The wood was hard and roughly sawn, grating against his skin. It would have benefitted from a cushion of some sort.
"Not quite up to your standards, brother?" Alina asked with a laugh. "We don't exactly have the spare coin to waste on luxury."
"I wouldn't quite consider a cushion to be luxury," Dayne said with a shrug before folding his arms across his chest.
"You have been gone too long." Alina's expression didn't change. "Wait here."
With Alina gone and the room empty, Dayne let his shoulders sag. He sat there, leaning back slightly in his chair, his eyes staring at nothing in particular, the sound of crackling wood fading into the back of his mind. He was home. It was not the homecoming he had hoped for, but at least he was finally there. Slipping a small, round-backed throwing knife from where it had been strapped to the inside of his sleeve, Dayne started flipping it across his fingers. His mother had always said he had fidgety hands. He had never admitted it to her face, but of course, she was right. It helped him think. And at that moment, he needed help thinking.
Dayne couldn't get Baren's words out of his head. 'You left us here, alone.'
Not a day had passed in over twelve years where Dayne hadn't felt guilt tear strips from his heart for having left his brother and sister that day. The more logical side of him said he had never had a choice. If he had not left, the empire simply would have killed them all. Usually, Dayne listened to the more logical side of his mind, but Baren's words ate at him. Regardless of how he rationalised it, he had left them alone. If Baren was an angry young man who had turned towards the empire for help, that was Dayne's fault because he had left Baren with no one else to turn to.
At the sound of footsteps coming down the hall, Dayne slipped the knife back into the strap under his sleeve and once again folded his arms.
Striding into the room, Alina tossed an apple towards Dayne and took a bite out of the one in her other hand. "Still your favourite?
Dayne nodded, shaking his head in disbelief that she had remembered – she had been so young when he left.
Alina pulled out the chair opposite Dayne and took a seat, resting her elbows on the table. "You listen first, then you talk, understood?"
"Understood." No matter how hard he tried, Dayne couldn't get over the woman his sister had become. Their parents would have been proud, of that he had no doubt.
Alina sat back in her chair, the top of her foot tapping methodically against the air. She took another bite of her apple, the orange glow from the fireplace casting shadows across her face. "Things have not been easy. With mother and father dead and you gone, our House was in tatters, as were all that stood by us – Thebal, Deringal, Herak. High Lord Loren consolidated every shred of dropped power. He stood on our necks."
Guilt pushed against Dayne's heart. He should have been there. Exile or not, he should never have left.
But then again, what could he have done? One man, under threat of death. "I'm sorry."
Alina frowned. Dayne could see the concentration on her face as she forcibly stopped the slight twitch in her foot. "Being sorry soothes nothing but your own ego, brother. Be better."
The words stung, but Dayne could not find fault in them. He would be better. He could not fix the past, but he could help forge the future. "What did you do?"
"It was not me. It was Baren. He was head of the House, and he took it upon himself to piece our world back together. He made deals with Loren and brokered peace among some of the Houses. It was not a peace that would last, but it didn't need to be. It just needed to survive long enough so we could get back on our feet. At first, it was better. But over time, Baren became so buried in the politics of the Houses that it consumed him. At some point, it became more about showing, taking, and holding power than it was about protecting family. I don't think he ever saw the wrong in the things he did – even now." Alina paused for a moment, staring up towards the ceiling, a slight tremble in her breathing. "He asked me to wed High Lord Loren's son, to 'strengthen the bonds between our families.' Though, it was less a question and more of a command."
"He did what?" Dayne could do nothing to hide the surprise on his face, leaning forward, cracking his fist down on the table. "He had no right, Alina!"
Alina raised her hand in the air. "It doesn't matter. What is done is done. I never wed the grimy little bastard anyway. Not after he found out I already had a lover." Alina's voice trembled, and she buried her nails into the wooden arms of the chair, exposing some of the lighter wood underneath. "Baren… He…"
Dayne leaned forward. A shiver ran the length of his body, and a sick feeling set into his stomach.
"He was furious when he found out about Kal…" The tremble in Alina's voice grew stronger. "Not that I was hiding him, but…" Alina clenched her jaw, lowering her head. "He had Kal murdered, Dayne. He doesn't think I know, but I tracked down the filthy wretch who did it. It didn't take long to find out who had hired him." Alina lifted her head, her eyes growing cold and vacant. "I still can't get the sight of it out of my dreams. Kal's body lying there, lifeless and cold… all the joy and laughter drained from his heart. All to make sure I would wed Loren's son… All for 'the glory of the House.'" Alina fixed her gaze on Dayne, her voice taking on a sombre tone. "I should have killed him before we left Redstone… I should have just…" Tears streamed down Alina's cheeks, her eyes red and raw. Her fists were clenched so tightly that a thin stream of blood rolled through her fingers and dripped onto the stone floor. "I will kill him, Dayne." It was a simple statement of fact.
Dayne swallowed hard. "Alina… the Marking of Life… I…"
"It was a boy," she said through muffled sobs. "I was with child when Baren killed Kal… He found out soon after."
An emptiness consumed Dayne. A hollow filled his chest, and his heart felt as black as coal. This had been his fault. If he had not left them alone, if he had not left them to fend for themselves in a den of wolves. "Alina, I—"
"You're what? You're sorry?" Alina rose from her seat, glaring down at Dayne. Her skin glowed in the light from the fire, and her eyes burned with a fury. "It doesn't matter how many times you say it, Dayne. You weren't there. You weren't there when Baren murdered Kal, and you weren't there when he took my newborn son and handed him over to the empire, just like our father did with Owain. Just like every family must with their first-born son since the rebellion!"
Dayne got to his feet, holding his arms out wide. Alina was so close to him that he had to push his chair back just to stand up. "I swear—"
Alina shoved him in the chest before he could finish his sentence. "It doesn't matter what you swear! I don't know you. I haven't known you since I was barely up to your hip. The meaning of your word must be earned. I'll tell you what I swear." Alina dug her hand into the pocket of her robes, producing the letter he had given her. Aeson Virandr's letter. She ripped it open, shoving it in his face. "Aeson Virandr wants another war? Another rebellion?" She threw the letter into the air, ignoring it as it drifted to the ground. "He will have his fucking war! But I swear to you that I will feed the soil with Baren's blood. I swear to you that Valtara will either be free, or it will burn. I will never again feel another boot on Valtara's neck. And I will find my son."
Alina's chest heaved back and forth as she drew trembling breaths through her nose. She stared at Dayne for a moment. Then, letting out a heavy sigh, she wiped the tears from the right side of her cheek, replacing them with a splattering of blood from the cuts her fingernails had sliced into the palm of her hand. "I will leave in the morning. There are things that must be put in place. I think it is best if you lie low until I am back. I cannot say how the other members of the council will react to finding out that Dayne Ateres is alive."
With that, Alina left the room, slamming the door behind her. Dayne stood there for a moment, letting everything sink in before dropping back onto the hard wooden chair. As he sat, he became acutely aware of everything in the room. The sound of the crackling fire as it crumbled in on itself. The smell of dust and charred wood that hung heavy in the air. The thin line of ants that marched their way from a crack in the far wall towards a piece of stale bread that had fallen in the corner. It was easier to focus on the small things around him than on the gaping hole in his chest.
He had thought he had considered everything when he received Aeson's letter. He had mulled everything over in his mind, thinking up every possible scenario. Most of them hadn't ended well, but he had never expected this. He had never expected Baren to turn on Alina. Nor had he expected Alina to have had a child, though perhaps that was because she had still been a little girl in his mind. A little girl that used to follow him around like a shadow. She was not a child anymore, that was for sure.
"I will make things right," he muttered to himself, clenching his hand into a fist. He might never be able to rid himself of guilt, or fill the void in his heart, but he could fight. For Alina. For Valtara. For Baren.
Alina slammed the door shut as she stormed into her bedchamber. Gods damn him. Damn him for leaving her. Damn him for making her love him, and damn him for making her hate him. Was it possible to both love and hate someone?
Why had he not come back sooner? Why had Aeson's letter compelled him to come home when his family had not?
Alina roared, kicking out at a wooden stool as she did, a jolt of pain shooting through the top of her foot as it connected, knocking the stool to the ground. "Fuck!"
She let out a frustrated sigh, resting her back against the closed door and sliding to the ground. Tears still burned her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. She could taste the mixture of salt and runny snot on her lips. She had not intended to show her hand so quickly, but seeing Dayne again had brought out everything within her: anger, fear, love, loss. He would have found out eventually; he had always seen the things others had not. Besides, she refused to hide her Mark of Life anymore. She refused to hide who she was. Wherever her son was, wherever he slept at night, whatever roof he lay under, he was still her son, and she would find him.
Slowing her breathing down in an effort to calm herself, Alina ran her hands through her hair, then took a deep breath in through her nose, producing an involuntary snivel. Reaching up, she wiped away the mixture of snot and tears from her face, rubbing it into her orange robes, giving a disdainful look at the streaks of red that ran through the mixture. She had forgotten her nails had cut into the palms of her hands earlier.
Alina shook her head, then puffed out her cheeks. Bloodstains on her robe were the least of her concern. There would be plenty more blood on the path she was walking down.
For now, she needed to know her brother's true mettle. She needed to see if he felt the same fire that burned in her belly. Would he be willing to die for his people? To burn for them if need be? They all had to be willing if they were to truly start a new rebellion. It would take a different kind of courage to face dragons. Or a different kind of stupidity – she had not yet decided.