Rhian, Delphia

We arrived in Delphia the day after Feargus's twentieth birthday. I remember on account of it was the day I swore off drinking too much. Along the way, we'd cracked open a bottle of Hocks—the one we'd been saving for a special occasion, and that special occasion was coming back to haunt me. Never mind the rumbling in my tummy, but the isles were so goddess-be-damned bright, and our eyes were so goddess-be-damned sensitive, it felt like someone cracked open my head, scooped out my brain, and replaced it with the sun. Apart from that, there was nothing particularly interesting about that day.

A day is a day, a job is a job, and as you know, Feargus Finlay and I were partners in almost everything. We were dropped off at the orphanage around the same time. We learned to walk around the same time. We learned to talk by talking with each other. We shared our snacks, our deep, dark childhood secrets, and when there weren't enough cribs or beds to go around, we shared those also. We were basically inseparable, so when the Palisade Consulates scooped us up from Stracha when we were eight, the Assembly decided it could work for them. A solid partnership makes all the difference in getting a job done properly, and that's one of the few things the Assembly and I would ever agree on.

Gus stepped off the embark with a goofy, lopsided smile. As a matter of fact, I'll save myself some future trouble and say: that's how he looked almost all the time.

Also, I should get another thing out of the way in case you've forgotten this as well: an embark is a small boat used to transport Partisans from here to there. They slept no more than six to a cabin, and seeing as they had no manual steering, they could only be operated properly by a Celestian Navigator. That's all I'm saying on the subject.

While Gus took about twelve minutes to stretch his legs, I grew more irritated by the second. He was taking his sweet-arse time getting moving that morning. Look, it's not that I was impatient with him. Other people weren't the problem. I was the problem. I didn't like stopping for too long. Stopping meant thinking, and thinking meant realizing, and there was no room for any of that in our lives. Well, not in my life, anyhow. Gus was a special case. Not in the least bit on account of after his stretches, he spent the better part of an hour stuffing his over-sized cloak into an under-sized bag.

"Nothing like the Isles, am I right?" he asked.

He was. The territory of Delphia was our favourite place to work. Not only were each of its six islands interesting, but the weather was always nice, and they sold my favourite snack.

"Since we're early," I said, "reckon we ought to grab a bite to eat at the Moon, trot around the bazaar and swipe a few trinkets." I snatched the cloak from Gus and draped it over my shoulder. "Get you a new bloody bag while we're at it."

From the docks at the Drop, we made our way straight to the outpost. There's a Drop in every territory, and the Drop is where Partisans get dropped off. The outpost is where we'd report for duty after being dropped off. We checked in at the outpost. You're welcome.

Right. So, it was easy picking Partisans out of a crowd. The coloured armbands we wore were one thing, but let's face it, they weren't glued to our goddess-be-damned skin. Our eyes, though—can't take those off. They were more or less the same: bright, grey, and the reason we were out on a dangerous mission instead of lounging around the homestead eating Hockberry pie in our comfy clothes.

From somewhere behind us, a little boy asked, "Mother, do you think there's trouble on the Isle?"

I glanced over my shoulder in time to catch his mother—a woman in a green dress—shaking her head. "No doubt they are here to celebrate the arrival of the Tear from Palisade."

For the record, that's not we were there, but it was good to know.

"Could we speak to them?" the boy asked.

There were upsides and downsides to having excellent hearing. On the upside, we got to hear everything everyone was saying about us everywhere. On the downside, we had to hear everything everyone was saying about us everywhere.

"Of course, but first you must catch them," the woman said. "Quickly, before they disappear into the crowd."

"So you know, we're being pursued," Feargus whispered.

Glancing over my shoulder again, they'd multiplied. The little boy ran hand-in-hand with a little girl. Their little footsteps were closing in on us.

I picked up the pace. Feargus slowed it down.

"Come on, Rhian. What's a couple of minutes?"

"Aye, and a couple of minutes always turns into a couple of hours and one of us in deep shite for something or other. We ought to keep to ourselves."

"Partisans, Partisans!" the little boy said. "May we have a moment of your time?"

We could've pretended not to see them, but there's another downside to the excellent hearing—we couldn't pretend not to hear someone hollering at us. We stopped in our tracks and turned. Even though we were full-grown adults, we weren't all that much taller than the kids, and when they finally caught up, it seemed they'd dreamed up everything about the chase except the catch itself. I could relate.

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

After a minute shuffling their shoes, the boy was the first to speak. "My sister would like to meet you," he said.

"Is that right? Well, you can tell your sister that I'm Feargus and this," Gus gestured to this, "is Rhian." Feargus extended his hand. The handshake went on for about an hour.

"I am called Max Deville," the boy said. "And my sister is—"

"Dominique!" The girl's hair was tied in two braids a lot like mine, but she twirled the end of a ribbon around her finger.

Gus bowed and reached for the girl's hand next, giving it dainty shake. "It's a right honour to make your acquaintance, Dominique."

Dominique squealed.

"You know," Gus said, turning to me. "They kind of remind me of us. Don't you think they kind of remind you of us?"

Seeing as the kids looked nothing like us—what, with their dark hair, dark eyes, and dark skin, he must have been referring to the fact they seemed to love each other a lot.

"Aye, I reckon," I said. "Only they're much cuter than we were. Also, I've never worn ribbons in my hair."

Dominique's jaw dropped. "Mother says all pretty girls should have ribbons."

I shrugged. Feargus chuckled.

The girl's brows met in the middle, like she was working out something complicated. She let go of her brother's hand, tugged on the tail of each blue ribbon, and handed them over with all the determination in the goddess-be-damned world.

"Therefore, I've decided I must give you mine," she said.

Remember that thing I said about getting into deep shite for something or other? There it was. I might have been a bit of an arsehole, but I wasn't enough of an arsehole to refuse the ribbons, so—ribbons. I tied each around the end of my braids and smiled at the lass for being so thoughtful. We didn't have anything to give the kids in return, but they didn't seem to mind. They thanked us about a thousand times, and just as we were about to leave, Dominique had one last thing to say.

She was the bolder of the two, never mind how it seemed at the start.

"If you see our father, could you tell him to come home? Mother has been so sad."

Her brother gave her the look, but it was too late. Turns out, their father had gone missing several days before. He was a guardsman for the Liasion's house. They said it wasn't like him. He always came home after his shifts.

Gus promised we'd look into it.

The thing about Delphia, each of the five isles surrounding the main island represented something different. There was the Isle of Ocula, Audio, Pantomime, Littera, and the Isle of Tuition. Over the years, we'd visited each of them at least once, but more often than not, our jobs took place on the biggest and most eclectic: the Isle of Inspiration. There, you could find all sorts of folk hawking their art, reciting poems on the side-streets, and putting together random sidewalk performances in front of one of the fifty-thousand prop stores and costume shops throughout the market.

Making our way through the daily festivities, I felt sorry for the lass posing for a portrait somewhere along the way. Her eyes were a bit puffy, and her knuckles were white from clasping her hands in her lap. The corners of her upturned lips vibrated rapidly. I wondered how she'd feel looking back at that painting. Would she remember she wasn't actually happy? Or was she so used to pretending that she'd think she was? Whatever. Not my problem. While we were out and about, we stopped at the bazaar to find a new bag for Gus. I'd been saving my notes so I could get him something nice for his birthday. It wasn't long before we found what we needed. A bag unlike any other bag, designed to be worn around the back or the front with an adjustable diagonal strap.

"Between us, I reckon we have enough to stay at the inn," he said.

"Or we could save our notes and stay at the church."

Feargus stopped dead. "All right, Rhian?"

"Peachy," I said, nudging him to keep moving.

"What do you want to stay at the church for?"

"No reason," I said. "I mean, look—I reckon the inn will be packed, what with the arrival of the Tear from Palisade. Besides, it's free. I like free things."

Gus wasn't buying it, I could tell. But he went along anyhow.

The church of Delphia was built on a massive incline, so it could be seen from any point in the city. It looked more like a grand estate than a church. There were about a million stairs, it was white, had a lot of columns, and we entered through the front door like normal people. I don't have much else to say about that.

Inside, there were rows of marble pews, pots filled with big purple flowers, and it wasn't long before I spotted the reason I wanted to stay there in first place. I'd never met him before face-to-face, but I knew right away. Tall, lanky, jet black hair pulled back and tied with a strip of blue cloth. Too Amali to be all the way Celestian, and too Celestian to be all the way Amali. My heart leaped into my throat and my stomach dropped into my feet.

Andrei Strauss was the most handsome man I'd ever seen.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.