Soul of Ice

Chapter Thirty-One

"Some personal suspicions," he answered. "If you must know, I work as part of my country's security force. I have reason to believe that Riviera poses a risk to not only Aeris, but other countries as well, including Auxerre. I saw you talking to her earlier, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind sharing some information."

This wasn't entirely news to her—she'd known from the beginning Riviera wasn't exactly the type to sit by quietly. She asked, "What are you planning to do with the information? What do I get out of it?"

The darkness made it hard to see how Olan was reacting, but Astra imagined his smiling as he said, "If your information is good, I can get you out of this cell. Maybe even out of the country, if that is what you want."

Astra laughed, although her thoughts were already turning. "How qualified are you? I can imagine you trying, and failing, to help me."

"I'm more qualified than you may think." This, made Astra imagine Olan with a smirk. Confident, huh? Two could play at that game. "You might know that Aeris has built up a bit of a reputation over the past few years as a city for refugees. We have a knack for getting people out of tight places without an traces, and this is no different."

"I think you meant to say that you have a knack for getting people out of tight places without any traces."

"So what if I do?"

Astra reached to her head to pull out the pins resting there, letting her tangled hair tumble down again. "I don't think your talents would be wasted on just simple diplomatic affairs. Who are you, really?"

"Maybe I'm awfully talented at playing diplomat," Olan suggested. "Or... maybe the Aerisian government relies on me to play spy."

"Maybe so," Astra agreed, going along with the charade. "But I've had bad experiences with spies. How can you expect me to trust that you'll uphold your end of the bargain?"

"You'll have to take my word for it."

She eyed his shadowy figure skeptically. If he said he was who he said he was, well, an Aerisian can't be that bad. Much better than a Varalian, or gods forbid, a Pelosian.

She sighed, quietly enough he couldn't hear. What was one more wager? Surely, if this confident young man was to be trusted, it would be the best offer she'd gotten in a while. "Getting out would be nice, although I can do that myself," Astra heard herself saying. "However... there is one thing you can do for me, in exchange for my information."

"And that is?"

"Do you know the prince of Solasia, Ambassador?" She imagined the ambassador cocking his head.

"Prince Dalen Avrlove, of course." He paused. "I hope it's not something violent you wish for me to do."

Astra laughed again. "I want you to take him to Aeris and hide him there until it's all over."

He didn't question why she would want the prince to be safe. "Until what is all over?" he asked instead.

"The war that is already coming."

  •  

Spy, rebellion leader, wind wraith, Astra was starting to realize Riviera had quite a bit going for her as she explained to Olan everything she knew about the female.

"She gets angry really quickly," Astra explained to Olan, "and when she does, her actions tend to be rash and dangerous."

The shadowy figure that was the Aerisian Ambassador bobbed. "That sounds like her."

Astra raised her eyebrows in surprise. That was the first time he'd made any indication that he already knew her. She gave voice to this.

"I knew her when she was younger," Olan explained. "She went off the grid a few years ago, a short while after the end of the war."

"To be a spy," Astra noted.

"Perhaps, or perhaps not. I don't know when exactly she became a spy, or what she was doing before that, or how she'd managed to secure the position." The silence between them was punctuated only by the sound of nasally snores echoing around the dungeon from a distant cell. "Let's move on," Olan said, clearly not quite comfortable to be talking about what he knew of Riviera's past. "You said the rebellion is scheduled to occur tonight; do you know when?"

Astra shook her head before realizing Olan probably couldn't see her. "No. But you should leave soon and make sure it hasn't happened yet. It'll be a mess."

"It hasn't happened yet," Olan said with conviction.

Astra raised an eyebrow even though it was too dark for him to see it. "You've been gone for at least fifteen minutes. You have no idea what could be happening."

"It hasn't happened yet," Olan repeated, assured in his knowledge, but didn't bother explaining how he had come by that conclusion.

Against her better judgement, Astra let the topic drop. Instead, she voiced what she'd already been suspecting, "You don't think this will just be a rebellion and freedom for the wraiths."

"No. Definitely not. I support the rebellion, but I doubt Riviera has the wraiths' best interests in mind. There's an ulterior motive to all this, one that I'm not seeing."

"Fuck," Olan randomly swore, and Astra saw him jump up from the squat he had maintained the past ten minutes or so.

"What?" she asked. "What is it?"

"They're attacking. I have to go."

"Wait, how do you know?"

Olan ignored her question. "I'll try and keep the prince safe for you."

"Wait—" but the ambassador was already gone.

Astra groaned and slammed her face into her hands. Nothing to do, but wait. She peeked at her cell bars through the slits between her fingers. It would be so easy to shatter them.

She considered the consequences. If the wraiths were rebelling now, Xernes wouldn't stick around to be caught in the crossfire. He would have left already. Risking his life to make a detour to grab Astra, or even the Solasian prince, wasn't in his self-preservation interests. He'd return for them later.

And besides, what was the point of guaranteeing the prince's future safety if his safety was already jeopardized?

Before she could lose her nerve, she flicked her wrist and smashed her hand into a fist. A burst of magic blew swept through her, and one of her cell bars exploded in a smattering of ice shards and metal.

"Wha's happening down there?" one of the prisoners shouted, sounding disoriented.

She ignored him and sent more bolts of magic flying. Control, she reminded herself when the second bar didn't blast as cleanly, a huge piece of metal flying out and nearly impaling her through her side. Control. So important, and so difficult. Her hands were already shaking—she hadn't messed with this much magic in a long time.

The third bar, then. The fourth. The jagged sides of the bars made it a bit dangerous, but four bars of open space were enough.

Before she left, she summoned a sharp knife of ice and sliced through her skirts above the knees. The silky material ran past her fingers, dropping to the ground. Then, she reached behind her and, as carefully as she could, sliced the ties of her corset. Her chest immediately expanded; it felt like someone had been pushing down on her chest for the past few hours, and now it was finally being relieved.

The dress probably looked horrible, ripped and dirty, the back part sliced open and the corset snapped. Never had she wished more for the form-fitting black suit she had always worn as an agent for Varaly.

Astra tied the ice knife she'd summoned to her dress with a loose piece of fabric and crept outside. The tiny candles on the walls cast eerie shadows against the walls. Other inmates called out to her as she made her way to the dungeon doors at the end of the hall.

She ran her hand up the freezing cold metal of the doors until she found the handle and pulled. Locked. No matter. Astra's lip curled as swung her arms open. At the same time, she felt her ice briskly creeping and expanding along the seam of the doors, so fast that the creaks and protests of the metal blended together into one loud keening. Before she could lose her nerve, Astra slammed her hands together. The cast iron door exploded into a shower of silver and gray shards.