Chapter 10

"I acknowledge what you did for me."

Micah and Keegan both turned toward the voice, their mouths occupied full of food. Aiden approached them purposefully, having found their hidden alcove within the maze of the academy's massive layout.

Instructor Candace had called for a short recess after Kai and Micah's duel. Food, in massive quantities, was made available for the cadets as they waited for the instructors to deliberate the teams. The observers from earlier were sent home and the students, who did not make the final cut, were told to pack their things.

Having both succeeded in the trials, Keegan and Micah had grabbed a heaping plate of food and ducked out of the dining hall before the other cadets made an appearance. Micah wanted to eat without disruption and Keegan was more than willing to accompany him.

Across the room, Aiden focused intently on Micah as he clicked his heels in a proper stance and threw back his shoulders. It was if he were confronting an old adversary and wanted to appear his very best. "I acknowledge it and I am thankful for your consideration," he said, pitching his voice deep and formal. "Nevertheless, I don't think it was your place to retaliate."

Keegan stirred, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Now you—"

"I agree," Micah interrupted.

Keegan paused abruptly, looking at Micah with disbelief. Slowly, he settled back down, preoccupying himself with securing his plate of food from its near spill over the edge.

"If it was a focused attack on you and your pride, I agree, it wouldn't have been my place to retaliate for you." Micah stared at the Igni boy, noting the obstinate pride. He must have inherited it from his warrior father. "But you and I both know it wasn't a personal humiliation, don't we?"

Aiden's scowl tapered just marginally.

"It was the typical humiliation of the Igni race. I know." He lifted his chin. "But you aren't Igni, are you, Micah?"

Micah was unimpressed.

He felt Keegan's sudden attention as he watched, waited.

"What?" Aiden demanded, reading Keegan's silent unease. "Anyone who thinks differently is blind. You have pale skin for a desert dweller. And really… a blue-eyed Igni?"

Micah scoffed, only because he realized this was what Josiah wanted all along. To spark controversy. The man claimed his eye color would not be a factor, but clearly, it was so much more than a passing conversation piece at the gossiping table.

"I am biracial," he confirmed casually. "That does not mean I can't represent the Igni people. They are a part of me, after all. I had every right to defend my people against the stereotypical dishonor."

Aiden did not seem pleased.

Micah considered him. "Are you upset I took away your vengeance?" he asked quietly. "Or are you upset that I'm half Unda and dared to consider myself as one of you?"

"Aiden," Keegan reprimanded, upset at the mere possibility. "Micah is the only one capable of defending us against the likes of Kai and Nereus Edlen and all the other nobles. Let's try to be supportive instead of tearing him down, yeah?"

Aiden looked down as if to compose himself. "Someday." He clenched his fists at his sides. "Someday, I will be strong enough to defend the Igni people myself." He looked up at Micah, his yellow eyes piercing. "I apologize for appearing ungrateful, Micah."

Micah could not relate to Aiden's plight, though he understood it. After such a humiliating event, Aiden had wanted to conquer Kai and take his own revenge. When Micah defeated Kai in such a way, Aiden felt an equal weight of both satisfaction and jealousy. The jealousy no doubt burned the other boy, consuming him whole and feeding his anger.

"But you should know," Aiden continued, "I've heard things from the nobles after your match. They won't take the defeat lightly. Not only did you win against Kai, but you also insulted him in front of everyone. You took away his honor. His pride. You need to watch yourself."

Micah pressed his lips together and smiled.

Before he could respond, however, Keegan beat him to it. "We will both watch his back, eh, Aiden?"

As much as he wanted to interrupt and reassure them he did not need their protection, Micah held his tongue. He wanted to see Aiden's reaction, more appropriately, his response.

Aiden nodded once. "You'll need people looking out for you."

What kept him silent was purely diplomatic. He wanted Aiden to feel useful. He wanted Keegan to feel useful. Moreover, he wanted to give them purpose and a sense of control. While he would be just fine by himself, he wanted the Igni people to start standing up for themselves and gaining confidence.

"I appreciate your thoughtfulness," Micah said quietly. "Both of you."

He met Keegan's eyes, noticing the curiosity hovering shyly below the sense of duty. The boy wanted to know things. Perhaps he had wanted to know things for quite some time but had remained silent in confidence of Micah. Considering how observant he was, Micah assumed Keegan was merely waiting for his answers.

Unfortunately, Micah had no intentions telling Keegan about his heritage. Not now. It was for the best. For both of them. "I suppose we should head back to the arena?" He threw his plate away in one of the trash bins. "We're finally going to get our teams."

"I'm looking forward to it." There was an obvious sour note in Keegan's tone.

Micah watched as the larger boy brushed by him and into the corridor, his face crafted from solemn stone.

Sharing a look with Aiden, Micah followed Keegan. "Quite frankly, I'm surprised you're still enrolled, Keegan. What, with your performance with the sword?" Micah inquired teasingly, intentionally upsetting the other man further. "But," he started in all seriousness, "there were more than two dozen students eliminated. You've proved to be an upstanding cadet."

The other boy flashed him a look. "I'll be grouped together with other, low-ranking students. When it comes to trials out in the real world—"

"You won't be sent on missions unless your team is ready," Aiden interrupted. "The academy is going to teach us how to wield the sword properly. It's not as if we're going to war tomorrow."

Keegan flashed a semblance of a smile, though it came out as a grimace. He looked at Micah. "We won't be on the same team."

Micah turned his cheek. "You're being awfully sentimental, Keegan."

The trio of students lapsed into silence as they made their way back to the arena. As Micah mulled over Keegan's behavior, he realized he could not blame the boy. Instructor Candace frightened the students to try their best, least they end up with a bad team during real life missions.

However, Aiden was correct. The academy would not send students on missions if they were not prepared. Keegan and his team had more than enough time to improve themselves.

As they entered the arena, the stands were empty and most of the cadets lingered near the high dueling platform where Councilman Sachiel stood proudly. To the side, across the arena, the instructors gathered and quietly conversed amongst each other.

Micah's eyes flittered across Josiah, touching on him briefly before looking away.

The Igni king would make the whole 'nonchalant act' far more convincing if he didn't always look as if he wanted to consume Micah whole.

As he approached the group of students, he received an array of greetings. From hostility to admiration, Micah soaked it in with a certain level of detachment.

Sachiel smiled slyly at Micah, his expression rather greedy. "This year, we will arrange teams by a method we've tried only once in the past." He lifted a hand and encompassed the empty space next to him. "If Mr. Egan and Mr. Edlen could join me up here, please."

As Micah walked up the platform, the arena grew silent. The students were nervous, he noted with an observing eye. As he and Kai settled on either side of Sachiel, the students' necks craned back to look at them with veiled trepidation.

A hand clasped Micah on the shoulder and the fingers tightened possessively. "Mr. Egan won this year's top-ranking cadet, but only by a very slim margin," Sachiel informed coolly. "Because Mr. Edlen was especially close to the lead, the instructors and I have decided to assign them captain of two separate teams. They will get to choose the members of their team."

Whispering and futile glances started.

Micah wasn't sure what to think of the turn of events. From what he remembered hearing, the instructors usually assigned teams based on ranking and skill level. This year, it seemed as if the instructors expected the captains to build a strong team with capable members of varying skillsets.

In itself, this was a test just as well.

"Each team will have eight members. The instructors will assign teams to the remaining students who are not selected by either Micah or Kai." Sachiel tightened his hand on Micah's shoulder before he dropped it at his side. "Why don't you start, Mr. Edlen? Pick one and Mr. Egan will go next."

Kai lifted his chin. "Viktor."

Surprisingly, he hadn't picked Nereus, but rather the Unda student with short hair who'd returned after voluntarily quitting trials last year. The young aristocrat joined the stage next to Kai, his small frame dwarfed by the tall noble.

Sachiel nodded to Micah, indicating him to pick a student.

All expectant eyes turned to him.

Well, he didn't have much of a choice, did he? "Keegan."

Keegan perked up and hastily climbed the stage to stand next to Micah.

"This isn't about picking friends," Kai hissed out, unexpectedly upset. Why, Micah could not fathom. "You want a strong team, not a band of followers!"

Micah simply lifted an eyebrow. "I believe this is my team. I make the decisions."

Kai exhaled through his nose and turned stiffly to the crowd of students. "Wayde."

Micah blinked, startled when Kai bypassed his cousin yet again. Nereus Edlen stood amongst the other students, his expression hard and uncaring as another cadet joined the stage with his blood relative.

Bypassing Nereus, Micah considered the students.

"Aiden."

That particular pick was not out of friendly comradeship, but rather of intrigue. The boy was both prideful and determined. For an Igni scholarship student, the boy was also good with the sword. Good enough, at least, to make it to the final rounds.

"Cain," Kai said firmly. Another Unda student joined the stage. He appeared older than all the other first-year cadets in attendance. His stature was tall, taller than both Kai and Keegan, and impressively bulky. His face, however, appeared to possess a gentle-sort of glow.

Micah hardly had to consider the students to know his next pick. "Talia."

There were noises of disbelief and protest. Just as Micah predicted, Talia's back was straight with pride as she ignored those around her. Perhaps her shoulders were a bit too stiff and her face too pinched, for Micah could see she wasn't as unaffected as the part she played.

"Eight to a team, correct?" Kai inquired.

Sachiel merely nodded, watching the proceedings with great amusement.

Kai clasped his hands behind his back and stood tall. His chest puffed out as if he were readying himself for a confrontation. "Then my next pick is Egan."

Silence and confusion ensued.

Micah merely lifted an eyebrow.

"Oh?" Sachiel inquired, his tone pitching high with unbridled humor. "I'm afraid Micah is already on a team, Mr. Edlen. Perhaps you can pick another hopeful student?"

Kai appeared determined. "I pick Egan and his group of… misfits." He stubbornly avoided looking at Micah. "I want a strong team. He is the strongest and I want only the best." He challenged Sachiel. "That makes eight members. Well within the guidelines."

Sachiel turned to the other instructors. "Give me a moment."

He then walked off the platform and joined with the others.

Micah watched their short, quiet exchange. He didn't have a particularly strong opinion about Kai's decision, though he was incredulous. Kai demanded Micah on his team with a spoilt tenor and a possessive sense of ownership.

Despite all that, he hadn't picked his cousin to be on his team. Had Kai planned this as soon as he heard he would not be on Micah's team? If that were the case, he intentionally slighted his cousin. After all, Nereus and Micah did not get along, and apparently, he'd rather have Micah on his team. Which would explain why Kai felt perturbed when Micah picked Keegan, a member who would undoubtedly bring down the team.

Sachiel walked back to the platform, a certain spring to his step.

"As long as Mr. Egan is accepting of the proposal, it will be allowed. You two would be co-captains."

Co-captains.

Micah actually sneered. "No."

Kai's eyes were on him like glue. "Afraid of a little partnership and collaborating?" He smiled darkly. "And here I thought you were good at everything, Micah."

"I have no qualms about partnership and collaborating, all depending on who said partner is." Micah inhaled evenly and looked at Keegan, Aiden, and Talia. "Thoughts?"

Talia and Keegan both expressed their consent with a subtle nod. Aiden, however, had a sour look on his face over the prospect of teaming up with Kai Edlen. The boy simply shrugged, looking anything but pleased at the turn of events. They were a helpful lot. Micah looked back out at the students, coming up short on who he would pick for the remainder of his team. A few students he recognized as having skill, but otherwise, he did not know their names, nor their character.

"Mr. Egan."

He turned his attention to Sachiel, watching as the man inclined his head in a gesture of polite impatience. Just over his shoulder, Edlen stood stiffly, his expression closed off.

"We are awaiting your decision."

They were, weren't they? Micah contemplated the situation, trying to put himself in Kai's shoes in order to determine an ulterior motive. This could certainly be a ruse in order to destroy him further down the line. But at what ends? Kai was asking to start a team with Micah. Said team was just as vital to Kai as it was to Micah.

Clasping his arms behind his back, Micah readjusted his footing and nodded once. "Co-captains it is."

He didn't trust the boy. Judging by the slow, unimpressed glance he received in return, Kai did not like him nor trust him either. In fact, the other boy's expression was so incredibly strained, Micah wondered what had crawled up his nose and died.

"Well." Sachiel clapped Micah on the shoulder again, a branding-sort of gesture. "Why don't the members of your team get accommodated in your new room? Get to know one another. Henceforth, you will be the gold team."

The gold team.

Concordia Military Academy clearly didn't strive for originality, did they?

Micah was the first one off the platform, having no interest in staying behind to watch the instructors assign the remaining students their teams. As he glanced over his shoulder, he noticed Kai had stayed behind with the three students he selected. Talia, Keegan, and Aiden filed behind him, causing further segregation.

Micah was never one to believe in hasty foresight, nor give his ambiences any sort of weight, but if he were that kind of person, he would assume the gold team was going to experience a very cruel wakeup call in terms of collaboration.

* * * *

All grade levels were dwelling within the academy now, but the corridors were utterly silent at this time of night. Micah supposed there were curfews in place, yet the instructors did not communicate anything to the first-year cadets. The rest of his teammates were in bed, sleeping stubbornly. Kai and his three followers hadn't joined them until much later that night. By the time they made an appearance, the others were already half-asleep in preparation for tomorrow's classes.

Micah had his suspicions about Edlen. He just needed someone to either confirm or rectify his assumptions. Hence his slow gait towards the one office he promised himself he would never approach out of his own, free will.

The Chairman's office.

Josiah.

At the mere thought of seeing the other man, Micah's pulse raced unevenly. He wondered at his body's reaction and then hastily pushed his uncertainties away. It was a simple conversation with the man. Nothing else.

He'd promised himself he'd embrace his attraction to the other man, but that didn't mean he had to act on it.

As Micah neared the corridor for faculty staff, he overheard hushed voices. Slowing, he peered around the corner, watching as a handful of students entered Josiah's quarters. Judging by the lines on their school uniforms, they were older cadets who all harbored the swagger of someone with self-proclaimed importance.

Something ugly twisted in Micah's chest as they walked into Josiah's office with a sense of entitlement and belonging. This wasn't their first evening entering those rooms.

"Royal guards in training," a voice whispered behind him.

Micah turned, ducking away from the corridor leading to Josiah's room and finding himself facing Sachiel.

The councilman stood half-cast in shadow, his expression rather sinister and pleased at the same time. "Lord Josiah finds them young and trains them to be loyal, though he doesn't need to train them very hard in that regard." Sachiel smiled. "His aura is intoxicating, don't you think? It is contagious and euphoric. It leaves one yearning for more and more."

The crimson-clad guards.

Of course.

Micah figured Josiah selected most of his guards when they attended the academy, yet something still sat wrong with him. He didn't understand its origins, nor the anger directed at Josiah.

Jealousy?

"The military is Josiah's hunting grounds for followers," Sachiel continued. "However, that's not to say King Calder doesn't have an influence at the academy. Just as Josiah, Calder has his own crop of younglings ready to salivate at his heels."

Micah pushed away his petty emotions and honed his attention. Interacting with Sachiel while he was distracted would certainly spell disaster. "You think they're still plotting against each other. Calder and Josiah."

Sachiel seemed content at Micah's remark. "They have never stopped." He raised a pale hand and motioned down the corridor. "Let's take a walk." Pausing, he looked at Micah's motionless form. "Shall we, Your Highness?" The man then bowed lowly.

Micah lifted a lip. "Do not mock me."

"I am sincere." Sachiel straightened and regarded Micah through lowered lids. "It is…" he trailed off for a moment of contemplation. "Good to see you again, Prince Ezra." With a graceful tilt of his head, the blond-haired man gestured once again down a dark corridor.

Despite his better judgement, Micah followed the man.

As they walked in silence, he considered the nobleman at his side.

In so many words, Josiah did not want Micah around this man, which was more than reason to seek Sachiel's company. It enticed him. Interacting with someone who knew him. Someone who knew the real Calder, the real Josiah, and the real Ezra. Relying on Josiah alone to feed Micah's thirst for unmasked conversation grew restraining.

Perhaps that was why the man did not want Micah interacting with Sachiel. It took Micah's attention away from him.

Sachiel led him outside and Micah inhaled the brisk evening. He hesitated briefly as the older man led him down a set of stairs that curled around the back of the academy.

"I believe our conversation should be conducted in total seclusion, don't you?"

It was a challenge if Micah ever heard one. He bounded down the steps, the heels of his boots slapping the cracked pavement. They twisted past the academy and towards a secluded garden. Stopping just at the opening of a gnarly maze, Micah noted the uncut hedges and the withering vegetation. Evidently, the foliage noted the change of season and refused to flourish in such undesirable conditions.

Sachiel raised a hand, ensnaring Micah's instant attention. "May I?"

The hand hovered over his face, ever so near. Micah gestured dubiously with his head, something between a nod and a shake. No one had ever asked to touch him as if he were some sort of exotic animal.

Sachiel took his reluctance as invitation.

His fingertips grazed Micah's cheekbone before curling across his jawline. The man's pupils expanded largely, leaving little to no blue iris. As the hand grew bolder, Sachiel's breathing turned shallow and short. "You are a perfect blend of your mother and father," he spoke hoarsely. "Very beautiful. Very aristocratically unique."

Micah stepped back as the thumb brushed underneath his eye. He wasn't uncomfortable with Sachiel's focused attention, nor his obvious excitement, he was simply eager to get his own questions answered.

"How did you know who I was?"

"You don't remember me, which is understandable. You were so young." Sachiel raised his eyebrows, his hand falling down at his side as if sulking. "As a child, your father hired me to be your tutor in both swimming and fencing."

Swimming.

Micah laughed once at the irony.

"I was around you often," Sachiel confirmed further. "Not many were allowed the honor. You had a distinct appearance as a boy, it has only enhanced since then." He paused. "During the banquet, Lord Josiah's reaction to my inquisitiveness only confirmed my suspicions."

"Oh?" Micah inquired cynically. "I hardly doubt he gave much away."

"When you have been around him as long as I have, you will notice subtle signs. Subtle warnings. Clearly, he feels an extreme sense of ownership over you." He smiled maliciously. "You are, after all, his Chosen. Tread carefully, Ezra. He may seem casual in his observance of you, but I am certain he has eyes everywhere."

Micah tried not to let the man's warning get under his skin. Yet it exasperated him anyway.

"You've told Kai Edlen who I was," he accused, changing the topic.

Sachiel took a step back, his smile only widening. "On the contrary, my words to Kai after the duel were very ambiguous and confidential."

"Nevertheless, you told him something about me."

There was no reason why Edlen would swallow his pride so quickly and ask to be on the same team as Micah. It was the reason he sought out Josiah tonight. Aside from inquiring after the lessons Josiah mentioned earlier, Micah had wanted to know if the Igni king had any notion of Sachiel opening his mouth about sensitive information. However, now that he thought about his methods, what better way to get his answer than confronting the individual in question?

It made Micah realize he needed to find his answers. He could not, should not, rely on Josiah for all his inquires.

After all, Josiah had a way of twisting things to his favor.

"After the duel, I told Kai to keep close to you. That you would be a force to be reckoned with one day." Sachiel lifted his palms in a gesture of surrender. "He's a smart boy. Both his cousin and father negatively influence him, yet he came to his own decision to join teams with you. That was entirely his idea."

"You're fond of him."

"Very much so."

Micah regarded Sachiel closely. "And you overestimate me." He glanced away and considered the thorny brush of a once, thriving vegetation. "You have high expectations."

"The game you are playing with Josiah leaves me perplexed," Sachiel confessed. "Why hide who you are? I realized your mother wished to hide from Calder's wrath, but you are clearly away from her wrongdoings now."

"I am not ready to face Calder just yet." Micah could feel Sachiel's renowned focus. The man's close observation burned into the side of his cheek, shredding him away layer by layer.

"Are those your words or Lord Josiah's words?"

He tore his eyes away from the thorny mess and refocused on Sachiel.

How could he explain that his mother shaped him for a specific mission since childhood? A mission that turned out to be a whimsical smokescreen, conjured by an unbalanced and wronged individual. Ember built Micah with intentions of carefully destroying both Josiah and Calder with fine detail and political maneuvering. She, however, did not prepare him for actually loving and hating Josiah's company. She did not prepare him for finding his own identity, his own footing.

Here at the capital, he was gradually finding himself. His own identity.

And it was fun.

Moreover, with Josiah's revelation… that his mother was responsible for that fire so many years ago… that she had tried to kill him… It was enough to reset Micah's outlook, even if it wasn't entirely true.

"I am uncertain what role I wish to play," he worded carefully. "Until I decide what I want, without Calder's influence, I will continue the charade." He knew what he'd like to fix in terms of the corrupt and segregated capital, but the very idea of actually taking the crown… of facing Calder right now…

He didn't want it.

As much as he hated to admit it, he was… fearful of the prospect.

Sachiel was quiet for a moment. "You have so much power at the tips of your fingers and you don't even realize it." He shook his head. "Calder and Josiah are brewing their own schemes. Someday soon, it will detonate. You are the tipping point."

"I don't know what I want yet," Micah repeated with finality.

"Josiah sunk his claws into you first," the older man continued fervently. "Realize this, Ezra. His views are not exclusive, nor accurate. Before you adopt his beliefs, see the other side. See Calder. Moreover, before you renounce it, see the other half of your heritage."

Everything the man said irked Micah, simply because he knew it to be true.

He didn't want another situation that mirrored his blind upbringing with Ember. Yes, he had an odd fascination with Josiah, and he was especially partial to the man's beliefs because Micah lived those suppositions firsthand. Nevertheless, Sachiel was right. Before he made any sort of vital decision, he needed to see the other side. See the nobles.

The very idea made him sick with abhorrence.

"I am not a marionette, Councilman Sachiel," Micah informed coldly. "I'd like to believe I know when the strings tie around my limbs in an attempt to influence. That includes both you and Josiah."

A snake-like smile graced Sachiel's lips. "We will see, won't we?"

Sachiel may have identified potential within Micah, but the man clearly thought he was naïve as well. The last image Micah wanted to portray to others was nativity. As a royal heir, as someone who may once take a position at a throne, he did have power others wanted to maneuver for themselves.

He couldn't really trust anyone fully, could he?

The idea washed him cold with isolation, although he willingly embraced it. Delighted in it, even.

Sachiel cupped his hands behind his back and took a few steps to the left. "While you are contemplating what you want in terms of a future, there is nothing wrong with making yourself stronger, is there?"

"That's what I'm anticipating," Micah responded with a clipped tone.

"Then my offer still stands with teaching you the Unda form." Sachiel inspected a dry, wilted rose with rapt fascination. "You are a child of both races. You possess Calder's unmatched grace, yet you fight just like your uncle. It's a mirror image, really."

Micah twitched at the comparison. "And how does Josiah fight? Like an Igni?"

The man laughed at Micah's instant suspicion. "You are both merciless and cruel. You play cat and mouse with your opponent." Sachiel sighed dramatically and reached for the dead rose. "If you are such an obvious mix of both races, why not learn both techniques and create something new?"

Sachiel clearly wanted an excuse to be close to Micah.

Yet, who said Micah couldn't take advantage of Sachiel just as well?

The idea of learning both forms and intermixing it into something new tempted him very much. Meanwhile, he would have possession of Sachiel. Micah did not know just yet, but Sachiel would pose as either a valuable ally or a noteworthy opponent. No matter the outcome, it was vital to keep the man close.

"Okay," he agreed, watching as the man stiffened marginally with unmasked surprise. "After all, I'd like to see what makes your teachings to be in such high demand."

Sachiel closed his fingers around the rose and abruptly plucked it from the vine. "What are you insinuating?"

"You were unavailable to tutor Kai Edlen for years. I heard you were busy instructing Prince Ladon." Micah watched the man carefully. "You must be good if the crown employs you to teach their heirs."

Sachiel slowly turned and observed Micah. "You are either trying to stroke my ego or gain information on Ladon. A pity, as I would enjoy a good ego stroking, yet I'm certain it's the latter."

"You're correct."

The older man considered Micah's confident stance before stepping closer. Using the same hand he clutched the dead rose, Sachiel cupped Micah's jaw. He leaned in close, his eyes drifting low before locking eyes with Micah's unblinking gaze.

Did the man intend to shake him with his immediacy? Seduce him?

No matter the intentions, Micah remained unflinching. He wasn't so easily rattled.

A pleased smile crossed Sachiel's mouth at Micah's detachment. "Ladon is a conversation for next time," he murmured pleasantly. "I look forward to our training. I will touch base regarding a time and place, yes?"

Micah was unbothered with the contact and the obsession. Both elements were nothing new to him, yet he never considered appeasing the other party as he did now. Sachiel was attractive. He was influential in his own right. Moreover, Micah was not overwhelmed with him as he was with Josiah. He felt comfortable taking control of Sachiel.

Testing his limits, Micah closed the gap further, nearly touching Sachiel's lips with his own. He kept his eyes on the other man, sensing the other's excitement, his arousal.

"That's acceptable," Micah whispered.

He fed off the other man's heat, acknowledging the hold he had over him, over others. It was a certain power Micah never took for granted, though he realized how effective it was. He wasn't an overtly sexual person, but there was something intoxicating about this. This sense of control and domination. He could get dangerously accustomed to this.

Before he could act on it, Micah stepped back and turned his heel.

Micah may be unfamiliar with certain events, people, and aspects, but that did not mean he was naïve and acquiescent. He didn't want Sachiel—or anyone—to underestimate him and take him lightly.

He was strong enough to stand alone.

* * * *

Dressed in nondescript clothes, he blended in remarkably well with the public.

Clarence hadn't felt so invisible in ages. Drowning another ale, he wiped his face with his sleeve, not caring if he looked like a barbarian. He'd experienced enough humility over the past few weeks. He didn't give a damn about pride, about honor. Like-minded company surrounded him anyway. Like-minded scum.

"I've had enough of your explanations and stories," he murmured bitterly. "I really don't want to hear anymore. Just give me the damn powder. I'll do it."

The woman, who sat directly to his left, appeared amused. Why shouldn't she be amused? She'd just disclosed the fact that his whole life was a grandiose joke. From the very start, he'd been played, his movements dictated.

"Clarence," she chastised playfully. "You seem upset."

Clarence gestured to the bartender for another ale, avoiding the woman next to him as if she were the plague. "Upset? You just informed me my fiancé is your daughter and ally whom you instructed to stay close to me."

"The Igni Lord kept a close eye on you. There was no other way to keep in contact but plant her at your side."

"But now he isn't?" he growled. He squinted, trying to form a more coherent inquiry. "He's no longer keeping a close eye on me?"

"He's been distracted."

Upon the mention of Lord Josiah's distraction, Clarence grabbed hold of the refilled ale and nursed it greedily.

"Considering your parentage, he had to keep a close watch over you." She paused. "Understandable. He did well twisting you into his prized warrior. You forgot your ties to your family and renounced them without any sort of evidence he was telling the truth."

"It's not as if my father or mother ever tried to reach out to me."

"As if they could," she argued. "Your mother and father were lost. Besides, Lord Josiah made you feel important. His attention made you feel invincible. You were very young when he took you in. I can't imagine how tightly wrung you were. Now he has discarded you and revealed his true colors."

"I'm still in a high-ranking position."

She smiled at his petulant tone. Leaning further against the bar, she shifted to face him fully. "For how long will you occupy this… high-ranking position before a younger, more complete man comes along?" Her eyes dropped to his hand, or there lack of.

Clarence curled his remaining hand around the cold mug.

"There are other ways to be powerful," she whispered seductively, her tone musically enchanted. "It doesn't require a sword or two hands."

For a moment, he lost himself in her eyes, feeling the compelling pull. The invisible draw ensnared him with greedy whispers of temptations and promises of unlocked power. Hurriedly, he shook his head, knowing better than to look her in the eye. He'd fallen for the same trick with her daughter—his fiancé. "Yes, and look at where that power got my parents."

"Mother," she corrected, earning Clarence's sharp regard. "You father is a good man, but very simple. He was displeased with the path your mother took, but decided to stand by her doubtless of his reservations. I'd say he's much like you. Shuffled around by all the big players of the game. Used until he is no longer required, like most simple game pieces."

Clarence shifted irritably.

"A very sad existence. But you can avoid his miserable fate."

"That's my father you're talking about—"

"A father you always cursed without even hearing the truth," she interrupted his angry tirade. "Fortunately, he's still around. You can reconcile."

"I said I would do what you asked of me," Clarence spat bitterly. "You can stop playing around in my head." He glowered at the array of bottles behind the bar. "Why do you want me to administer that to the kid anyway?"

"To cause an even larger distraction. What better way to distract him than endangering his distraction?" She appeared elated. "Be sure you only administer the amount I suggested. No more. We do not want him dead. Do you understand me?"

"Clearly."

Pressing the appropriate amount of gold coins on the bar, he stood. He accepted the pouch she placed on his vacant stool and turned to go.

"Clarence," she called melodically.

He stopped, clenching his jaw.

"Your father may be simple and disposable, but at least he's bold enough to seek retribution. I appreciate you doing the same." She approached his turned back. "While you may not reconcile with your mother as you will undoubtedly do with your father, at least you can hold a part of her with you."

He looked down at the small, leather-bound journal in her hand.

"Your mother," she woman started sorrowfully, "Was a wonderful student. Perhaps you can follow in her footsteps, no?"

As Clarence accepted the journal, the woman brushed by and left the tavern.

Holding the book that once belonged to his mother, he submerged in the feelings of gutted betrayal and loss. Closing his eyes, he inhaled the warm leather, cursing the king he'd willingly given his life and limb to.