Kui's eyes hurt, and his neck too. His bed was comfortable, but it wasn't a reading chair, and from dusk to dawn he'd been shifting, twisting, and turning. He paused to rub at his eyes, wishing he hadn't spent the whole night at this.
But at the same time, he wished he'd done it sooner.
Vaneer was the Messiah! Obvious in hindsight, obvious enough Kui had hit himself on the forehead a few times with the old man's book just for how stupid he'd been to miss it. Maybe Vaneer used his telepathic Gift to make others less suspicious?
Then there was Jason. Jason, head of the White Hand, head of the Whispers...Jason, the Messiah's Right Hand, Vaneer's senior-most lieutenant. His accomplishments and exploits read like a bad adventure novel, or, more accurately, a series. From infiltrating high-security magical prisons to assassination for political gain and even toppling entire governments, there seemed to be nothing he hadn't done. And he'd taken Estelle under his wing.
And now Kui knew why.
It had nearly made him vomit when he learned the truth: there was a reason the majority of the Illuminators had the same Gift. Vaneer had perfected the art of alchemy, and one of his creations was a tonic to...instill a Gift if taken regularly. He'd fine-tuned it for the abilities he demanded for his order, then mixed it into all the food and drink on the island. Kui shivered. Who knew what Gift he might have had, if this one hadn't been forced on him?
And who knew what Gift Estelle had, since she hadn't taken to the draught? Something great, something powerful...or, on a darker note, something which made her a liability and not an asset, like her lacking the potential for a Gift at all.
That was Jason's mission. And Kui didn't like the implications he drew from his limited reading materials. Estelle's file would have been the final piece in the puzzle, but since it was gone–presumably with Vaneer, while he contemplated her worthiness–he had to work with what he had.
And the one thing he couldn't do was warn Estelle.
She wouldn't believe him. She wouldn't want to, especially given how large of a role Jason played in the three-act drama unfolding in Kui's mind's eye. She'd already shown that when the pressure came down, she'd break in favor of her crush. Kui would have approved if he hadn't been a lying, manipulative piece of...
"This isn't helping." He forced himself up, shaking his head to clear it. "Sleep later. For now–"
The door twitched, and the end table jarred. Kui threw his pillows over the books.
"Where have you been all night, Estelle?" He reached for the table. "Hang on, I must have..." He pulled it aside. "Did Jason take you to the mountaintop again...."
"Good morning, Ku'uaki." Tempest nearly pushed him aside, and behind her came two Whispers, each with a pistol drawn. Kui raised his hands, stepping back as Tempest flipped over his pillows. She examined his books. "Bedtime reading?"
"Vaneer." Kui didn't indulge in the nice string of epitaphs he wanted to add. "What's he planning for Estelle?"
Tempest jerked her head, and one of her minions confiscated the contraband. "Let's go for a walk, shall we, Kui?"
***
The world wove its way into focus, and Estelle blinked slowly. She made a catlike noise as she arched her back and stretched. Her arms and legs cracked and popped.
"That doesn't sound healthy."
"It feels good." Estelle didn't bother pulling the sheet up to cover herself as she sat up. There he was, framed by the window: sculpted and chiseled like the warrior he was. Scars from battles long past trailed over his shoulders, chest, and abdomen. His eyes sparkled and shone like his amethyst-set silver necklace. Estelle drunk him in for another moment. "It's not the only thing."
YOU ARE READING
Midnight
Fantasy"I'm not going to die" was the promise Estelle's cousin demanded...before he shot himself. Because of his sacrifice, she had enough food to get her boat to land, even if on a deserted island. Because of her promise, she learned to survive, enduring...
