CoS26

## Chapter 26

**Chapter 26** of **City of Spells** follows **Saxony**.

## **Full Version**

THE IVY TOWNS WERE BEAUTIFUL and sweeping, with vines dripping from the walls among the fresh lavender buds and dahlia spheres that inked the rooftops like a second shield. The ground was as green as any of the trees in the forest, and though there was something so wild and untethered about this part of the city—where the rich and the righteous resided—it was also refined in its curved architecture and broad streets.

Saxony felt somewhat out of place, hidden among the swells of the city as a soldier readying for war. She longed for the scent of the forest and the echo of its trees, but they couldn’t go back there. Not now that it had been compromised.

“This place is so different from the forest,” Amja said, like she had read Saxony’s mind.”I miss the whispers of the trees already.”

“It doesn’t matter what any of us miss,” Saxony said. “The forest is gone.”

She hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, but Saxony couldn’t seem to keep the edge out of her voice when she spoke to her amja.

“It’s my fault,” Tavia said. “If I hadn’t let Nolan escape, none of this would have happened.”

“I thought you were supposed to apologize when you did kill someone, not when you didn’t,” Wesley said.

“Funny,” Tavia said, but she was looking at Saxony.

Her eyes were almost pleading with Saxony’s for forgiveness, as if there was anything to forgive. Tavia wasn’t to blame for the Uncharted Forest. It wasn’t her job to take responsibility for everything that went wrong in the world.

“It might not have been him,” Saxony said.

She didn’t want to think it, but how could she not? Dante Ashwood knew about the Uncharted Forest and with Zekia by his side, she’d be a fool not to consider that her sister might have told him. Though Tavia seemed sure it was Nolan, Saxony couldn’t quell the doubts in her mind. Her Kin had been hiding there for decades without suspicion and yet their attackers knew the weakest parts of their defenses.

Zekia had betrayed her so many times now. Saxony couldn’t trust that she hadn’t done it again.

It made her wonder whether her sister was truly lost.

“It wasn’t Zekia,” Wesley said.

“How could you possibly know that?” Saxony asked.

“Because she told me.”

“She told you,” Saxony repeated.

Wesley looked reluctant to say more, as if admitting any kind of connection between him and Zekia would be acknowledging the connection that he and Saxony now shared.

“Think of it as using her own tricks against her,” he said. “Mind magic is a two-way street and once a lock’s been broken, it’s not hard to walk through the door.”

If Wesley was suggesting what Saxony thought he was, then that seemed dangerous. He’d only known about his powers for a few weeks, whereas Zekia had been learning to craft since she was a child. If Wesley wanted to try to invade her mind from here, it would take work, and Saxony worried about just how much.

She looked at him, into those black eyes that still unsettled her. It happened sometimes with magic poisoning, or when Intuitcrafters spent too long inside a person’s mind, which was a roundabout way of saying that Zekia had drained all of the color from Wesley’s eyes when she tortured him.

Saxony felt too much shame to know what to say.

She should have done more to stop Zekia from taking him. She should have tried harder to save him and worked with Tavia to bring him home.

But she hadn’t. She’d left her brother to rot.

Saxony already owed Wesley her life and now she had yet another debt to him that she couldn’t repay. Another mistake she couldn’t take back.

“Mind magic is tricky,” Saxony said. “You could hurt yourself.”

Wesley looked insulted at the thought of himself not being invincible. “It’s not tricky with her,” he said.”I don’t even need to try much when it comes to Zekia.”

“Yes,” Amja said. “Your connection is strong, both in your minds and in your blood.”

Wesley shifted a little, probably because of the unblinking way Amja stared at him.

He adjusted his lapels.

“Point being, I can make her see sense. We just need to hold out.”

And by hold out, he meant *hide out* in this safe house with a weakened army and little hope for more recruits. They had lost dozens in the fight, and now that the other underbosses had been killed, there would be no reinforcements from their buskers.

The Kingpin had seen to that. He’d slaughtered their soldiers before they’d even had time to recruit them.

“What we need now are ideas on how to deal with Ashwood,” Wesley said. “Fenna Schulze has agreed to discuss an alliance. Now that Ashwood’s forces are closing in on the government city, she welcomed my bat.”

“So we need to have a plan to present to her,” Tavia said.

Wesley nodded. “Any ideas on a way we could halt the spread of the Loj?”

“You should speak to my amja about that.” Saxony folded her arms across her chest. “She’s the one with all the plans.”

Like the plans to have Saxony kill her own brother.

“And you’re the one who enjoys doing whatever you like with no regard for my wisdom,” Amja said.

“At least I’m not a liar.”

“Well, not right *now*.” Tavia leaned back against the wall with her eyebrows raised. “But your track record is a little shady.”

Saxony turned to glare at her. “Says the girl who runs off to rob buskers by herself without consulting anyone and nearly gets herself killed.”

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who—”

“Enough!”

Wesley slammed his hands down on the table.

“We need to present a plan to the Doyen, and right now the only thing I have to show her is a bunch of people feeling sorry for themselves.”

He rubbed his temples like they were giving him a headache.

Saxony had rarely felt so chastened, even by her amja, who made a sport out of guilting her.

“I just meant that my amja is the Liege,” she said. “So you should speak to her.”

“I’m speaking to you.”

“My amja is—”

“Not you,” Wesley finished.

He looked over to Saxony’s amja, who was watching the whole affair with still eyes and a look on her face that Saxony rarely saw: curiosity. Interest.

As a child, Amja was the person who Saxony saw as most certain in her life, most unwavering and, if she was being honest, unwilling to compromise, but now her grandmother looked at Wesley like he might just stand a chance at being heard.

“I’m not trying to offend you,” he said. “But Saxony has great power and she led the Crafters back when we first went against Ashwood. It’s because of her that the other Lieges from Kins across the realms have joined with us. She can unite people in a way that I don’t think you’re capable of.”

“You think I’m not capable of leading my people?” Amja asked.

“I think you’re too scarred by the past to see the future clearly,” Wesley said.

Amja blinked and her eyebrows furrowed together ever so slightly, and for some reason that made a sudden panic shoot through Saxony.

He’d offended her.

“Wesley,” Saxony said.

It was one thing for her to insult her amja, but another thing entirely to hear someone else do it.

“You need to respect how things work,” Saxony said.”You’re way out of line.”

“No.” Amja’s voice was soft as the breeze. “He isn’t. He has wisdom.”

“Wisdom,” Saxony repeated.

“I can see what he has seen in you,” Amja said. “I have seen your bravery and your determination, Saxony. And most of all, your ability to look past what others want and see what is needed for the realms.”

“You just said you were angry that I went behind your back and summoned the other Lieges,” Saxony said.

Amja shook her head and stepped toward Saxony, taking her hands in hers. “I’m not angry with you,” she said. “I’m angry with myself for refusing to listen.”

She stroked Saxony’s cheek.

“My dear child,” she said. “This is your path. Your judgment gave us an army of Crafters and Lieges who helped protect us in the forest. And your power, your fierceness, helped quell the tornado and the magic that tried to attack us.”

Saxony’s heart drummed fiercely against her chest, but she tried to stifle it, not daring to let her hopes get too high.

“Are you saying that you want me to be Liege?” Saxony asked.

She had to be certain.

She had to make sure she was hearing right.

Amja smiled, squeezing Saxony’s hands. “I’m saying that you already are. You have been acting as one since you arrived in the forest and I have stupidly been getting in the way of that.”

When Saxony breathed next, it was like all of the tension in her relaxed.

This felt *right*, like it had felt when she spun spells by Wesley’s side to take down that tornado. Becoming Liege was Malik’s destiny, and then they thought it was Zekia’s, but maybe it was nobody’s fate at all. Maybe it was something you had to earn, or something you discovered inside of yourself.

Maybe that was why their Kin had been cursed for so many years; they weren’t waiting for Zekia to fulfil her destiny. They were waiting for the right person to decide their destiny for themselves.

And Saxony had decided a long time ago that this was what she wanted. She just hadn’t expected everyone else to want it too.

THE WALLS of the garden trees cast shadows on the winter-dulled grass as they gathered their army in the large courtyard at the back of the estate. One hundred and fifty Crafters and nearly a hundred buskers all crowded around Saxony, Tavia, and Wesley.

They waited for the news.

It hadn’t been Saxony’s idea to round them up, but Wesley thought it would boost morale to let them know about her new position as Liege. *The Crafters already trust you*, he’d said. *And the buskers know you well, so it could help to unite them.*

“We’ve called you here to let you know about a change of leadership,” Saxony said. “I’ll be taking over as Liege of the Rishiyat Kin and will be in charge of overseeing all the Crafters in our army from now on.”

She waited for anyone to protest, but the Crafters seemed pleased by the decision, most looking like it hadn’t made much of an impact at all. As though Saxony was just confirming what they already knew and wanted.

“How does that affect us?” a busker called from the crowd. “Just another Crafter asserting her authority while we all get picked off one by one.”

“Nobody is getting picked off,” Saxony said.

“Says you!” he yelled. “The Crafters attacked us back in the forest and we lost some good people.”

“Good people is a bit of a stretch,” Lionus—the Liege from Gila who had attacked Tavia—said. “And let’s not forget that there were buskers in that raid too. None of you can be trusted to stay loyal.”

“Bite me,” the busker said.

The crowd around him cheered.

Saxony could feel their anger growing.

“We’ve lost so much more than any of the Crafters,” another busker chimed in. “Our underbosses were all slaughtered. If they’re electing new leaders, then we should too.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Tavia muttered.

But the buskers didn’t look like they were backing down. They looked incensed.

“The other eight cities need leaders now more than ever,” he said. “And we’ve got some real good men here who can take the reins.”

“Did he just say *men*?” Tavia asked.

She looked at Saxony and Wesley in turn.

“I heard that, didn’t I? He said *men*.”

Saxony let out a sharp breath.

“No offense,” the busker said. “But the Kingpin is conquering Uskhanya while a woman is in charge, so that clearly shows—”

“If he finishes that sentence, can I kill him?” Tavia asked.

“No,” Saxony said, at the same time as Wesley said, “Sure.”

“Look,” Saxony said to them all. “In case you didn’t notice, I’m a Crafter and your business exploits my people. So let’s just focus on one problem at a time. The biggest one being, killing Ashwood.”

“Walcott,” another of the buskers said. “You’re on our side, aren’t you?”

“I’m on my side,” Wesley said. “Which is the winning side.”

“We need to be ready to fight the Crafters, not share a camp with them,” the busker said. “Tavia, surely you see it? You haven’t trusted Saxony from the start.”

Saxony felt like she had been slapped upon hearing those words. Sure, she and Tavia hadn’t been best pals these past few weeks, but that didn’t erase years of having each other’s backs.

Tavia’s nose wrinkled.”Don’t lump me into the same category as you. I might be a busker, but you and I aren’t the same.”

The busker scoffed. “You’re cozying up to them because you’re scared,” he said. “Creije’s best busker is a Crafter-lover now? After everything they’ve done to us?”

For the first time Saxony saw the bored expression lift from Wesley’s face. His back straightened.

Tavia took in a deep breath, like she was trying hard not to reach for her own knives. “I think I missed that last part,” she said. “Could you repeat it? Something about calling me a coward, which couldn’t be true unless you had a death wish.”

“Look,” the busker said. “I just think—”

Wesley tutted loudly from beside Tavia.

“Who told you that you could think?” he said.

He righted his suit, sleeves pulled down and cuff links perfectly perpendicular.

Wesley did many things well, but looking like he was about to kill someone without getting a speck of blood on himself was up there with the best.

“We’re not picking out underbosses and we’re done turning on each other,” Wesley said.”The Doyen will meet us here in a couple of days and if all goes well, then we’ll have her forces from Uskhanya’s armies to tag-team with. Their numbers, their weapons, our smarts and our magic. Once that happens, Ashwood is dead.”

Saxony looked at Wesley, and he stiffened like he could sense her gaze and thought maybe it was judgment.

It wasn’t. If anything, she was proud.

Wesley had changed from an underboss into a real leader. “We’re a team now,” Saxony said, backing him up.”We need to stop thinking of ourselves as Crafters and buskers and start seeing ourselves as one force.”

“I’ll start braiding the friendship bracelets,” Wesley said.

“Good,” Saxony told him. “I like purple.”

Wesley smirked in place of laughing.

This was the feeling she had been craving: the feeling of being a team again. Wesley had a way of uniting people, but it wasn’t just that. Saxony had begun this mission to avenge her people and unite her family. With Wesley by her side, leading one army while she led another, Saxony was doing just that.

All that was missing was Karam. Saxony pushed down the pain that threatened to spill from her and out into the world. She tried to forget, for just a second, about the danger Karam and the others could be in, but it was getting harder every day.

“Does this make me the new future Kingpin?” Wesley asked. “Because the last time I went for that gig, I got kidnapped and tortured.”

“You’re not a Kingpin,” Saxony said. “You’re a true leader and you have a reputation they can trust.”

“My reputation is built on the fact that people *can’t* trust me.”

“I trust you,” Saxony told him.

Even Wesley, master of lies, couldn’t hide the surprise from his face at the thought of that.

Thing was, it was never truly Wesley that Saxony didn’t trust, but the thing that lived inside of him. The demon she knew clawed at his mind for control. There were two sides to Wesley Thornton Walcott, and Saxony’s problem was that she never knew which side she was going to get. The uncertainty was what had always scared her, but times changed. Wesley wasn’t just an underboss, he was her brother, and he had earned her trust so many times over.

“Did we miss the meeting?” someone called from behind her.

Saxony’s lips parted at the familiar lilt of those words. She almost didn’t want to turn around, in case she was wrong and her mind was playing tricks on her, but she couldn’t help herself.

*Please*, Saxony thought. *Many Gods, let it be true.*

And when she finally turned, Saxony saw exactly what she’d wished for: Karam stood with Arjun by her side, alive.

“It was a little hard to find, but I do like the new house,” Karam said.

“Karam!”

Saxony’s heart almost broke free from her chest as she ran toward Karam. She didn’t want to waste a second and she didn’t care who was watching as she dove into her warrior’s arms.

All that mattered was Karam.

All that mattered was that she was finally back.