Bastion of Sun

CHAPTER NINE

Truth Versus Lies

Lord Nolan pulled back his hood to show his features in full. His brown hair, with a touch of silver at the temples, was combed back and lightly oiled. His brows, also showing age, were silver eaves for his eyes—a deep, contemplative blue. His robes weren't just white, she realized, threads of silver were woven in seamlessly to the cloth making them shine in the light of her orb. A leather belt with a silver buckle and the symbol of sun etched into its center cinched his narrow waist.

Ayva couldn't hold onto her power anymore and the orb in her palm winked out. As it did, Lord Nolan touched a glass sphere sitting on a pillar near the center of the room. As he slid his finger, the sphere went from black to white and the room brightened. Ayva looked up in surprise as mirrors above them moved on silent hinges. At the same time, the windows in a circle around the room went from cloudy to clear. The mirrors caught the incoming light from outside and spread it about the chamber evenly, turning the room from night to brilliant day.

Lord Nolan stood straight, his hands clasped calmly before him. His face was smooth, but there was deep sorrow in his eyes. If not for the tears in his eyes from before, Lord Nolan could have been a statue—an artist's rendition of the perfect Vasterian. Ayva found herself having difficulty meeting his gaze for some reason. He didn't radiate power like some men, or even authority necessarily, but there was a sense of patience and perfect order about him. It were as if Lord Nolan were a pillar set into a deep foundation and nothing could unearth him. The rest of his ensemble was equally impressive. Large gold pauldrons sat on Lord Nolan's shoulders. Ayva reveled at the craftsmanship, as the pauldrons, a single mass of plate, had been shaped into the likeness of phoenixes bursting into flight. Silver vambraces adorned his forearms with a sunburst on each. Despite her distaste for him at that moment, he looked like a king. A Steward, she corrected herself.

She shook her head and found her anger again. "Lord Nolan, I presume? The puppeteer behind this little charade? I wonder, my lord. Do you always greet your guests by the tip of your Lightguard's swords? Or are we just lucky exceptions?"

Lord Nolan inclined his head humbly, genuinely. "I deserve that. I would hope that you're exceptions to the case. Though whether you're lucky or not, I'll leave that up to you." His mouth twisted as if he tasted something bitter. "As for my actions, I hope you'll forgive me. Integrity and honesty are what I hold dearest—not shadows and deception."

"Your actions don't match your words," Ayva said.

This time Nolan didn't bow his head, but gave a small, sad smile. "Sometimes necessity can break the codes of even honest men. And that necessity paid off. For here I am," he said. "Greeting the Ronin in person."

Ronin. Ayva's throat grew tight and her mouth went dry.

"Charade?" Evangeline asked. "What's going on?"

Lord Nolan turned to his daughter. "My apologies, Eva. What I did, I had to do, believe me. You're the last person I'd ever want to deceive. If I'd told you, however, they'd have seen through the ploy all the more swiftly and perhaps not used their powers as I hoped they would. They would not have revealed their true nature."

"True nature? You mean us being Ronin."

Lord Nolan nodded.

"You're not evil, I can sense that much. But that doesn't make you good. Not yet. So tell me—why?" Ayva asked. She still felt suspicious to her bones, but something in Lord Nolan, in his face and posture, made her want to trust him. She noticed he looked tired, as if Vaster itself sat upon his shoulders. "Why go through all the trouble? You could have hurt us or been hurt yourself. Not to mention if you're seeking something from us, attacking us is not the way to go about it. It often tends to make a person a tad more wary."