Leandros stood outside a simple house in a quiet neighborhood, squinting against the suns that peeked over its roof to silhouette it in shadow. It stood alone on a gentle slope, flowers and foliage spreading from its foundation all the way to the borders of the property, and was very Gallontean in its construction, half-timbered and brownish. For a moment, Leandros wondered if he’d gotten the address wrong. Nervously, he straightened his tie, but before he could start up the drive a quiet voice from behind him asked, “Are you lost?”
He turned to find a short woman with bright red hair – bright red hair that had greyed, slightly, around her temples. Her arms were bare, scarred and muscular; at her hip was a gun, at her back a sword. When Leandros turned to face her, she almost looked surprised, but she hid it quickly behind a cold, polite smile. “Unless you’re Leandros Nochdvor,” she continued, still in that quiet way, “In which case, you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.”
A feather-like texture webbed across her pale skin, and pointed ears peeked out from beneath her long, straight hair. When she spoke, Leandros glimpsed sharp canines on each side. She was a maranet, the longest-lived of the human races, even longer-lived than alfar. Given her graying hair and the faint lines around her eyes and neck, she must have been at least Amos’ age, possibly even older.
“You have the advantage of me. You know my name, but I don’t know yours,” Leandros said.
Something in the tension of the woman’s shoulders eased. “Evelyne Corscia,” she said with a solemn bow, in the Alfheim way. Her gentle voice didn’t match her physique, her scars, or the cold detachment behind her deep-set eyes. “The Magistrates appointed me as the head of security for our trip to Illyon.”
“Pleasure,” Leandros said. “Do you work for Unity, then?”
Evelyne hesitated, considering the question, then simply supplied, “Yes.” Then, “We should head in; Eresh will be wondering where we are.”
“Right…After you, then,” Leandros said, gesturing for her to lead the way. As they headed up the sloped drive, a head suddenly appeared over the railing of the second story balcony. Leandros hadn’t noticed the person up there, at first, the suns partially blocking his view and the dryad’s mossy head of hair blending in with the potted flower beds he was tending. He waved down at them with his entire arm.
“Good morning, Ms. Corscia!” he called. “And you must be Lord Nochdvor! Come inside, let yourselves in! I’ll be right down to meet you!”
When Leandros glanced at Evelyne, she only shrugged and did as the man asked, stepping up to the porch and letting them both inside. While Leandros looked around the simple entryway, the dryad danced down the stairs, stopping in front of his guests in a flurry. “Welcome in! I hope you had no trouble finding the place,” he said as he shepherded them further inside. “I thought the three of us should talk, sooner or later, though I do wish they could’ve accommodated us on the island. I understand why they couldn’t of course, what with the news about the abduction hitting the papers this morning. The island’s bound to be crawling with curious reporters, and I know the Magistrates want to keep this little mission of ours secret for as long as possible. My name’s Eresh Ochoa, by the way, your Unity Coordinator and assistant for the foreseeable future.
He finished by holding his hand out for Leandros to shake; Leandros blinked at the dryad, then down at the proffered hand, and at the last moment, Eresh snatched his hand back. “Oh! You don’t do handshakes in Alfheim, do you? It’s too intimate?” he asked. “I’d completely forgotten! I’m terribly sorry if I’ve caused any offense.”
“You haven’t,” Leandros assured him. “I really don’t mind.”
“Oh, good. Here I thought I’d flubbed it on my first day,” Eresh said with a small, excited smile. He led them to a humid sitting room, plush floor cushions arranged around a low table instead of sofas. The walls, between trailing vines and strange flowers, were covered with portraits of landscapes.
Leandros nodded at the flowers. “You have quite the collection.”
Eresh, who’d hurried over to the coffee table and was now sorting through a crate of thick, labeled folders, followed his gaze. “Kind of you to notice. I was born in Lyryma Forest, you know, though I left when I was only a teenager. Most of what you’ll find in this room is from home; they’re not easy to maintain in this environment, but I can be quite stubborn when I put my mind to it.”
“No one who’s known you even five minutes could doubt that, Eresh,” Evelyne said.
Eresh shrugged good-naturedly and laughed it off. “I’ll choose to take that as a compliment, Evelyne,” he said. It didn’t escape Leandros that they referred to each other informally, by their given names. “Mary, if anyone comes to the door, will you show them in?” Eresh called to a passing maid, who curtsied and hurried off in the direction they’d just come from. “Some others might come by to pick up their paperwork, but I don’t expect them to stay long. Wine?”
“No, thank you,” Leandros said. “What ‘others’?”
“Our other teammates, of course! Unity’s already got the team half-filled. Fast, right?”
“Faster than I’d expected,” Leandros admitted. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but after how the Magistrates and the rest of Unity had treated them the day before – diminishing their claims, telling them again and again that “these things take time” – he wondered what had them moving so quickly, now. Maybe the haste was just to keep him out of the selection process, maybe it was something more.
When Eresh took the seat nearest his crate, Leandros hesitated only a moment before settling on the cushion across from him, awkwardly arranging his long legs so his boots didn’t brush against any of the expensive fabric. Evelyne, for her part, stayed standing.
“Comfortable, aren’t they?” Eresh asked Leandros, ignoring Evelyne entirely. “I once had the honor and privilege of being admitted to the Oracle of Damael’s sitting room, and it was full of cushions just like these. I told myself I’d never have anything else, from then on.”
Leandros bit back a smile. “The Oracle of Damael? What an honor.”
“It was quite thrilling,” Eresh confided. When Evelyne crossed her arms, cleared her throat, he sighed and passed Leandros a thick envelope. “But yes, I suppose we should get on to business. My job for the next few weeks, Lord Nochdvor, is to take care of all the boring tasks associated with travel so that you are free to focus on bringing your Uncle home. Leave the supplies, travel arrangements, and any other logistics to me. I’ve already prepared folders for everyone on the team: inside, you’ll find Unity’s code of conduct, safety protocols, budget breakdowns, and information on the team members we’ve settled on thus far,” he explained while Leandros paged through the envelope’s contents. “We’ll be a small team, with five diplomats – including you and I – and a five person security team led by Ms. Corscia.”
Leandros raised an eyebrow at that, the expression stopping Eresh just as he drew in a breath to keep going. “That seems like a rather large security team for what’s supposed to be a diplomatic mission,” Leandros observed.
“You’re a very important person, Lord Nochdvor,” Eresh said. “Your safety on this mission is Unity’s top priority.”
“I would think Unity’s top priority should be rescuing the king that was kidnapped and preventing a war. Relatively speaking, I mean very little, and I’m more than capable of fending for myself.”
“Um,” Eresh said, shooting Evelyne an uncertain look. “Well, we’ll also have the family member of a Unity Magistrate on the team. I can only assume Unity wants to be extra cautious for both your sakes, but I can assure you, Lord Nochdvor, Evelyne and her team are the very best Unity has to offer.”
“I have no doubt of that,” Leandros murmured, looking up at the woman in question. She met his gaze evenly. Speaking up, Leandros asked, “Tell me, Ms. Corscia, how long have you been doing this sort of thing?”
“Longer than you’ve been alive, Captain,” Evelyne said, as pleasantly as Leandros had asked the question.
“Are swords your weapon of choice?”
Evelyne shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Did you train formally? What was the name of the school?”
“It closed over a century ago, I’m afraid.”
Leandros smiled. “That doesn’t mean I haven’t heard of it. Come, what’s the name?”
Eresh looked between the two of them, eyes wide, but before Evelyne could answer they were interrupted by the return of the maid. A nympherai woman followed behind, her short hair slicked back and her skin spotted with opalescent scales.
“Ah!” Eresh said, clearly relieved. “Trinity Smith, I presume?”
“Call me Trin,” the nympherai said, stepping forward while the maid excused herself. He stood with her shoulders squared, her hands clasped behind her back, which showed off the well-tailored lines of her neat suit. Unlike Evelyne, who made Leandros’ skin crawl in ways he couldn’t quite identify, Trin had a calming, assured presence.
“I’m Eresh, and this is Leandros Nochdvor. Trin will be our lead negotiator,” Eresh explained. “She has decades of experience and has handled nearly a hundred hostage negotiations.”
“Mostly petty kidnappings, though, isn’t that right, Trin?” Evelyne interrupted. “Nothing of this magnitude.”
Trin smiled at her, wry. “How lucky I am to have you as part of my tactical team again, Ms. Corscia. Of course I haven’t negotiated anything of this magnitude, but that doesn’t mean I’m not suited for it. Besides, if Kings were frequently getting kidnapped, that would be more of a failing on your part than mine, don’t you think?”
Evelyne only scowled in reply.
“You two know each other, then?” Leandros asked. “Do you also work for Unity, Ms. Smith?”
“Only occasionally. When two hikers went missing in Lyryma last year, they brought me on to negotiate with the oanai. I had the privilege, then, of working with Ms. Corscia and her team,” Trin said. “I hope you won’t be so eager for blood this time, Evelyne.”
“What is a tactical team, exactly?” Leandros asked.
“A specialized team, usually trained in combat, that’s called in to handle high-risk, high-stakes situations. In this case, Lord Nochdvor, Evelyne’s team might step up if negotiations with your uncle’s kidnappers fail and we need another way to extract him. Hopefully, however, it won’t reach that stage. The first step is always to listen, the second to persuade. Hostile tactics are always a last resort.”
“I’m not the only one here getting ahead of myself,” Evelyne said. “We don’t even know who the kidnappers are yet, or if they even have any demands to negotiate. All we have are two flawed accounts from the sole survivors – we’ll need to launch a full investigation in Illyon before we can even make contact with Orean.”
Leandros nearly winced at the word flawed. He wished he and Rhea had never told the Magistrates what they’d really seen; he’d regretted it since. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who noticed the word choice – Trin tipped her head to one side, curious. “Flawed? What makes it flawed?”
“Ask him,” Evelyne said, jutting her thumb at Leandros.
“I know it may be difficult to recount, Lord Nochdvor, but if you could,” Trin prompted.
“It’s not difficult,” Leandros said. He didn’t look Evelyne’s way. “We were all assembled at Hampstead Hall when an orinian woman broke in and used some sort of explosive device. In the chaos, she escaped with my uncle.”
“And how did one orinian woman carry off a grown alfar without anyone noticing?” Evelyne asked.
Leandros bit the inside of his cheek. “I’m only telling you what I saw, and I saw her lift him without any trouble. If there are any flaws in my account, they’re only in my inability to tell you what happened afterward. I was, at the time, preoccupied with keeping myself and my cousin alive.”
The noise Evelyne made in response was doubtful at best. Trin, at least, was gentler. “I’m sorry for your loss,” she said. “Were you and your uncle close?”
The question, though, wasn’t asked with sympathy, nor with curiosity – it was more analytical than that. Leandros was quickly getting the sense that Trin, like Evelyne, viewed him as a liability; she was just better at hiding it. He’d just have to prove them both wrong. “As close as Alfheim royalty is allowed to get,” he answered carefully.
“You can trust me, Captain Nochdvor,” Trin said, and the condescension in it was like twisting the knife before pulling it out. “I’m here for you and your uncle – we all are. What can you tell me about him that might affect the way we approach Orean? Do you think he would try to escape? Is he the type to try to reason with his hostage taker?”
Leandros bit back his irritation, but it came out on a sigh. “Yes to the latter, no to the former. He’d know people were coming to help and would be careful not to make things more difficult for them.”
“How is he under pressure? Does he have a temper?”
“If he does, I’ve never seen it. He’s the most patient man I’ve ever known.”
“And do you, Captain? Have a temper?” Trin asked with a small, knowing smile. Before Leandros could answer, she said, to everyone, “This mission will only be a success if we all work together. It won’t be a quick thing. We’ll need to be patient, build trust and rapport with the hostage taker – once we identify them, as Ms. Corscia pointed out. It can be a difficult process, especially when emotions are involved. We’ll need to be transparent with each other throughout. And Lord Nochdvor, if you remember anything else about what you saw that day, please tell us. We’re here to support you.”
“I will,” Leandros said, ignoring the feel of Evelyne’s eyes on him.
“Well, if it isn’t Trin! It’s been too long,” said a new voice. It was followed by the appearance of a tall, thin man that draped an arm lazily over Trin’s shoulder. He had the long, pointed ears of the alfar, but no Alfheim accent to match. A patch covered one eye, the other sleep and half-lidded. Despite his casual posture, he was well muscled, sharp and lean — as was the stern sapien man that came in behind him, standing near the doorway with his arms crossed.
Leandros knew from the sharp calculation behind their eyes who they belonged to before she even spoke up — he saw that same cold whirl of emotion whenever he met Evelyne’s gaze.
“Ivor Linde and Aaror Thomason, both part of my team,” Evelyne supplied while Trin gracefully shrugged off Ivor’s arm.
“Oh!” Eresh said, digging through his box again. “I have paperwork for you both. You too, Trin.”
“Love to hear it,” Ivor said with an exaggerated eye roll. Still, he took the folders from Eresh when Eresh held them out. “Aaror and I can’t stay. We just came to get the folders and go.”
“Grab ones for Will and Chia, too,” Evelyne said. To Trin and Leandros, she explained, “Will can’t make it today, and Chia is out of town. She’s expected back on Thursday; we can leave for Orean then.”
“That’s three days from now. Do we really have time to wait?” Leandros asked.
“It’s not ideal,” Trin said, “But the reality is, it’ll take another day or two for Eresh to ready us for departure. At that point, if the kidnappers have kept Amos alive for that long they’ll keep him alive longer – as long as they need for their demands to be heard. And in this case, Eftychia would be uniquely useful to have.”
“I’ll defer to your expertise on the matter, then,” Leandros said, feeling like the only stranger who’d wandered into a party full of old friends. He shifted uneasily on his overpriced cushion. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to get some air. I’d like a moment to read up on the rest of our teammates before they arrive.”
As he stood, the bruises from his fall out Hampstead Hall’s window ached and the scratches from its shattered window panes tugged. No one tried to stop him from leaving, but he felt curious eyes on his back all the way to the door. Remembering the private second floor balcony, he glanced around and made sure no one was watching before hurrying up the stairs. He hadn’t realized how suffocated he’d been starting to feel until he was out in open air, breathing it in in deep lungfuls.
He felt a little light-headed, actually, his heart beating fast in his chest, and so he sat, cross-legged, right in the middle of the balcony. Behind his eyes, all he saw was Evelyne’s cold stare, Trin’s gentle pity. He was beginning to wonder what he’d gotten himself into — what he’d gotten Orean into. He liked to think he had good instincts, and every instinct in his body warned him away from that security team.
Eager for blood, Trin had called them. Leandros didn’t doubt it.
It should be a comfort that they were on his side. It should be a comfort that they wanted to help his uncle. But it wasn’t, and for some reason, Leandros couldn’t shake the suspicion that they didn’t.
A few minutes later – or perhaps longer – his sharp ears picked up the sound of the front door opening.
“Oh. He’s not here,” said a quiet voice. Evelyne.
“With any luck, he ran home to Alfheim,” came a second – Ivor’s. There was a soft thump, then, “Ow! What? He’s a joke, Ev. Just a spoiled—”
“Quiet,” Evelyne snapped. “Don’t underestimate him. He knows more than you think, and he’s already onto us. Just keep your head down and do your job.”
Leandros missed the murmured reply, but it was impossible to miss the crunch of three sets of feet passing onto gravel. Not wanting to be seen, Leandros did the only thing he could think to do: he laid down, flat on his back, knowing the flower pots would block any view of him from the ground. He even held his breath, not daring to make any noise, then counted to twenty before letting himself slowly sit up and peer over the balcony railing.
The security team was gone, off down the street, and yet another person was picking his way up the drive – another teammate, another unknown stranger. But looking again, Leandros was surprised to find he actually recognized this one. Quietly, he pushed to his feet. “Mr. Ranulf, wasn’t it?” he called down.
Gareth Ranulf froze, looking left and right before finally looking up, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. Leandros had to bite his tongue to keep from making any indelicate comments about the state of it: it was covered in vibrant bruises, centered around Gareth’s eye, though it looked like there had been an attempt to hide them behind makeup – an attempt that was quickly given up on.
“Lord Nochdvor! Yes, I’m surprised you remembered.”
“After only a day? Nonsense,” Leandros said. He leaned over the railing, resting his elbows on the painted wood. “Thank you again for the book. It helped me take my mind off things, if only for a little while. But don’t tell me you’re going to be joining me in Illyon?”
At that, Gareth grimaced. “I will, though I’m not sure how much help I’ll be.”
“Hold on,” Leandros said, pushing away from the railing. “Let me join you downstairs.”
“Pleasure to see you again, sir,” Gareth said when Leandros rejoined him. Up close, his bruises looked even worse. Curiosity gnawed at Leandros, but he held his silence — he had no right to ask, and anyway, he doubted Gareth wanted to talk about it. But when Gareth held his hand out, Leandros shook it with relish.
“Likewise. Though I must admit, I’m surprised to see you here — surprised your sister would even put you in this position, that is,” Leandros said.
“She’s assured me it’ll be safe enough,” Gareth said. “I’m sure I could have refused, but I…Ah, well, never mind.”
“No, tell me,” Leandros pushed. “If you have reservations, Mr. Ranulf, I’d like to hear them.”
Gareth eyed Leandros like he wasn’t sure he believed him but relented after only a moment. “I’m just not so sure about this whole thing, to be honest with you. I was all set to say no, but…there are three orinians staying in the same hotel as me, and I saw them again last night. They’re so young, and they have no idea what’s happening. It just made me worry…well, I’d like someone to be there to make sure Orean is treated fairly, that’s all,” Gareth said. At Leandros’ thoughtful silence, he continued, “And that’s not to say you won’t, but I know you and Unity have your reasons to dislike Orean. I don’t mean to lecture you so soon after your tragedy, I just don’t feel it’s fair to punish many for the crimes of one, and—”
“You don’t need to convince me, Mr. Ranulf,” Leandros interrupted. “I understand.”
Gareth nodded and rocked back on his heels. “Good, good,” he said. Like a peace offering, he pulled out his cigarette case and held it out to Leandros. “Would you like one?”
“Please,” Leandros said. Anything to steady his nerves, at this point. When Gareth pulled out a lighter, he leaned in and let Gareth light it for him, then took a long drag before finally saying, “Mr. Ranulf…if they haven’t read about it in the papers already, you might want to warn your orinian neighbors about what’s happening. If I know this city, things will get hard for them here, and soon.”
Gareth stared as if the thought hadn’t even occurred to him. “They’re just tourists. You don’t think Unity would do anything to them, do you?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time. There’s historical precedence — it happened during the Great War, then again with Egil. When Egi led a revolution, Unity didn’t punish only him — they punished anyone even associated with his with his name, even Lords, even the revered Oracle. Your orinian friends, to Unity, are even less than that. They could be spies, assassins. We have no way of knowing.”
“They’re not!”
Leandros shook his head. “It’s what Unity will say. A justifiable reason for locking them up, for keeping an eye on them. Do you really think Unity cares if it’s true? If the police, whose salaries are paid by Unity, care? And then, if negotiations for my uncle go wrong, they’ll have hostages of their own.”
“Ah,” Gareth said, looking pale. “Yes. Yes, I’ll warn them.”
“Good. If they catch the train south to Adriat today, they may beat the news. It’s the best chance they’ll have.”
“Thank you,” Gareth said, earnestly. “I wouldn’t have even thought of that. I’ll warn them as soon as I’m back — you may have saved their lives.”
Leandros shrugged, biting back the guilt that rose on his tongue like bile – it was the least he could do, he thought, when he was the one leading Unity to their home, when he was the one seeking retribution and the return of his uncle at any cost. He had good intentions, peaceful intentions, but what use were those in matters like these?
He swallowed the guilt down, for now.
“Is there anyone else here?” Gareth was asking. “I passed three people on my way up – were they part of the team?”
“Yes, that was Evelyne Corscia, the head of security, and part of her team,” Leandros said, glad for the change of subject. “I must say, I’m relieved you don’t already know them; I was beginning to worry I was the only one who doesn’t already know everyone else.”
“Hm,” Gareth said, a heavy sound. His sister, also, had no problems making her disapproval known — with Gareth, at least, it seemed better intentioned.
“What is it?” Leandros asked.
“Well,” Gareth hedged. “I’m not one to make snap judgments, but there was something off about those three. Something in their eyes. They reminded me of my father in some ways, I think.”
“Interesting,” Leandros said. “And what sort of man was your father?”
Gareth stomped out his cigarette and didn’t look at Leandros. “A cruel one.”
It was no comfort to hear, but it at least echoed the thoughts Leandros was already having. He considered giving voice to the identical feeling of unease they all gave him, or the cold apathy he saw behind all of their eyes, but then he remembered that Gareth was the son of a Magistrate, the brother of a Magistrate. Most likely, he already knew all about them. Most likely, he was in on it just as much as Eresh and Trin were, maybe more.
Leandros would have to remember to watch his tongue around Gareth; Gareth was too easy to speak to — just like Eresh, Trin, and even Evelyne, in her way. They all worked for Unity; they all were Unity. Leandros had known from the moment he made his risky move with the Magistrates, asking to lead the team, that he’d be alone in this, but he hadn’t been ready for this strange sense of alienation, the ache of loneliness amidst his mourning.
“We should get back inside. Eresh has paperwork for you,” Leandros said, before he could wallow any further.
Later that day, on his way back to his hotel, Leandros was approached by a young man with scruffy brown hair and a trendy suit. Thinking him a salesman, Leandros opened his mouth to turn him away, but then the young man asked, “Are you Leandros Nochdvor?”
Leandros stilled his step, eyeing the young man curiously. He couldn’t be more than twenty. A reporter, perhaps? “Who are you?”
“Name’s Aleksir Bardon. I was asked to bring you a message from the Oracle.”
Leandros’ eyes widened. “From Devikra? I haven’t heard from her since…” Since Histrios. Leandros cleared his throat. “Walk with me. We can discuss it somewhere more private.”
Thanks for reading! Evelyne is always such a delight to write, but Trin and her big personality are actually new to this version of Fractured Magic! If you enjoyed their dynamic, or any other part of this chapter, let me know in the comments!
This email is a part of Fractured Magic, a gothic fantasy webserial. At emrowene.com, you can find a character guide and gallery, a full list of content warnings, and other works by the author. Supporting the story on Patreon will give you early access to chapters plus character art and exclusive content.
I like Trin. This was the part that sold me on her: "Of course I haven’t negotiated anything of this magnitude, but that doesn’t mean I’m not suited for it. Besides, if Kings were frequently getting kidnapped, that would be more of a failing on your part than mine, don’t you think?”"