Obsidian Flame (Guardians of Ascension #5)(114)
Author: Caris Roane

Both boys turned, shock-eyed, and backed up against Thorne as if for protection. More apologies then silence as they stared at her. Thorne put a hand on each shoulder, and a strange look came over his face. Endelle understood. Shit, as soon as these men found the right woman suddenly they wanted kids.

Goddammit.

Oh, whatever.

“So you boys want to be warriors?” she asked.

But they’d grown very silent and they were both eyeing the octopus tentacles that covered her boobs. “Can we touch those?”

She laughed.

Well, they had the brass of warriors.

She opened her mouth to say something unholy because she couldn’t resist but Thorne called out sharply, “She’when’endel’livelle,” clicks and everything. Thorne was the only ascender capable of pronouncing her birth name.

She shrugged and rolled her eyes. To the boys, she said, “The two of you had better get out of here before I call security, or better yet, your parents. Now git.”

They took off running.

What is the measure of a man,

But to wield his sword with power,

Yet to hold his family,

Like the greatest treasure,

In the palm of his hand.

—Collected Proverbs, Beatrice of Fourth

Chapter 25

Grace lay in bed with Casimir. She had been his lover now for a little over a week. She touched his face, memorizing the line of his nose, the indentation above his lip, his chin.

Though his eyes were closed, he smiled. He whispered, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you’ve made me happy, more than I had ever believed possible.”

He was a difficult man, very difficult. He had a thousand techniques for shunting any serious subject aside. And he had little belief in himself. In his power, yes, but not in himself, not in what lay deep within his soul.

He satisfied her in bed. How could he not, when his mulled wine scent filled her with desire and when he treated her so gently. When he made love to her, it was as though he intended to find every means possible by which to bring her to a place of ecstasy.

But of all the paths she had ever walked, this one was the hardest. What she hadn’t told anyone was that she had seen his death. It was that seeing that kept her touching his face, his lips, his nose, and reaching down even now to kiss him.

In a week, she had grown to love the man, because in one swift brilliant moment well into the future, he would become all that the Creator had meant him to be, and for that reason she had given herself to him, body and soul.

But her heart was already breaking.

* * *

Two weeks after she had completed the breh-hedden with Thorne, and officially become the breh to the Supreme High Commander of the Allied Ascender Forces, Marguerite stood on a wooden platform in Prague, addressing COPASS.

She addressed each of her points: the need for better evaluation of all Seers Fortresses around the world, for Seers rights, and for a document to outline such rights. But what good was it doing?

The committee was very quiet, perhaps because Madame Endelle had introduced her by her new designation as Supreme High Seer of Second Earth.

So no matter how enthusiastic or strident she became, the committee members looked almost bored.

She had practiced her speech a hundred times and had asked Thorne to look it over and offer suggestions. She had taken his ideas and worked up several variations. Both Fiona and Havily had offered further concepts, which she had incorporated as well.

But as she stared out at the way the committee rustled papers, shifted in seats, and actually yawned, she realized she was talking to a group of men and women who already belonged to Greaves.

Besides that, she was sweating and really felt nauseated, like she would throw up any minute now.

When one of the committee members actually flopped backward because he’d fallen asleep, then awakened with a shout that he wanted his Scotch, she’d had enough.

Though she felt an impulse to flip them all off, she took a deep breath, thanked the committee for their time, and stepped down from the platform. She didn’t look back. The fight wouldn’t be won in a day and her stomach was doing some serious flips.

Once she was out of the stuffy building, she began swallowing hard and her cheeks had that telling cramping quality. Fiona had come along, so she was glad for the support, but she couldn’t even open her mouth to thank her.

She lifted her arm and folded back to administrative HQ.

She barely made it to the bathroom before she threw up a very nice tuna salad.

Fiona, of course, had followed her. “Are you all right?”

Marguerite looked up at her and for one of the first times in her life, she started to cry. “No,” she wailed.

Fiona’s eyes went wide. “No? Oh … no. Really?”

“I’m not sure. I don’t know. Probably. Oh, God. What am I supposed to do now?”

But Fiona didn’t try to answer the question. Instead, she sat down on the floor next to her, put her arm around her shoulders, and held her.

It might have been because of obsidian flame that Fiona knew exactly what to do in this moment, but Marguerite suspected it was just because Fiona was a really wonderful person.

“Aw, shit,” Marguerite said.

“Well, before you get all worked up, let’s hit a drugstore just to be sure.”

* * *

Greaves dreamed that he was wrapped up in something so angelically soft, his whole spirit gave a fine-grained shudder, head-to-toe.

A force moved around him, walking in slow steps, very measured, as though not wanting to wake him. He felt love, an overpowering wave of love, flow over him with each soft step. He breathed as he had never breathed in his life, as though his lungs were just learning to work and the air was fresh, and clean, and good.

What was the measure of a man?

What prompted each man down his chosen path?

What forces shaped that path and all subsequent choices?

How was a man responsible for those choices when they were predestined by the early years of love or the early years of torture?

In the end, how much of a choice did a man ever really have?

Greaves was not blind to his faults, the great chasms in his essential character, so great that each one had spawned his need for power, for control, for transforming the world into something safe and beautiful that he could command. He wanted to do for others what he’d been unable to do for himself when he was young. And so he was building a new world—two new worlds, and eventually six.

He was a visionary.

There would be lives lost but that was completely inconsequential to the end result, to the magnificence that would emerge, where all young children would be protected from evil.