Quin had told Lucian to meet him in the commons when he was ready for his tour. That was where Lucian headed now, his strides long and sure despite his restless night. Before Lucian reached the archway that signified the official separation of the guest quarters and the public areas, he was flanked by two men in scarlet robes.
Lucian ignored them. Or he tried to.
“Guardian.”
“We require a word with you.”
“It will have to wait.”
“Lucian.”
His name, so filled with exasperation, in the Triumvirate’s serpentine hiss brought him up short. As a rule, the Triumvirate unerringly relied on the formality of titles; never names. At least not when they were acting in their official capacity. It added to the mystique of their position, but in reality, it was just another link in the chain of duty that bound them. If their robes were donned, they were slaves to a law older than even them. But no one ever saw that. They only saw power. Feared it, even as they craved it for their own.
As if any knew what they really asked for . . .
“What?” he demanded, turning to finally face them. Not that there was anything to see, hooded as they were.
“We’ve come to join you this morning.”
“We wish to witness this weave you spoke of.”
Centuries of experience told Lucian there would be no talking them out of it. Stubborn bastards. It didn’t stop him from trying. He was just as stubborn. “We don’t even know if there’s anything to find.”
“That’s not what you indicated in your report last night.”
“You said they hold the key.”
“Might,” Lucian immediately corrected. “I said they might hold the key.”
The figure on the right—Effie’s Mirror Two—shrugged. “For a Guardian it is one and the same. You would not have mentioned it otherwise.”
Lucian’s teeth clenched and an angry breath hissed out between his teeth. “Why are you really here?”
Mirror One tilted his head as if the answer should be obvious. “Is the potential solution to the corruption that plagues us not enough?”
“When it comes to you, it is never that simple. Or altruistic,” Lucian added, his voice bitter and tight.
They were here to play nursemaid. To ensure that Lucian didn’t rush off to attempt something on his own. They didn’t trust him. Nor should they. If he did, in fact, find the answer he needed during his tour of Val’don, he’d be down in the cell with Effie before anyone drew their next breath.
“Can you blame us?”
“You would risk much for something that could spectacularly backfire.”
Lucian took a step forward, his face all but pressing into the shadowed depth of the other man’s hood as the words poured from him. “Can you blame me? You know. You know what she is to me. What that means. Would you really try to stop me from saving her?”
“No, Lucian. You know we would never stand between you and your true purpose.”
“Then why?” he asked, his voice tortured.
“We need to be sure it will work before we can let you try.”
Lucian let out a low growl. “We won’t know if it will work until we try.”
“And we cannot risk you becoming corrupted for the sliver of a chance.”
“You are too powerful, Guardian. Under that kind of influence there’s no telling—”
“Trust me,” Lucian said, his voice menacing, “if she dies because we did nothing, I can tell you exactly what will happen.”
The silence stretched between them as Lucian’s heart raced and the sound of blood filled his ears.
“Consider us warned.”
“But it does not change anything. We will come, and if we feel that the magic is sound, then you may attempt it.”
Lucian laughed, but there was no humor in it. It was a dark, manic sound. “I am not asking permission. She is my responsibility. I will take whatever risk I deem necessary. No one, not even the Triumvirate, will stand in my way.” He was practically vibrating with his fury. “You don’t want to find out what happens if you try.”
He was a hairsbreadth away from losing control entirely. Lucian forced himself to turn around, before the violence within him snapped free from its tether. He’d meant what he said. He would slay anyone that tried to keep him from her. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t regret it later, once sanity returned to him—if it ever did. He was already teetering on the brink of madness.
There was nothing left to say. They were at an impasse. The Triumvirate were determined to try to wrangle him, and Lucian had no intention of being restrained.
He stalked toward the meeting place, the whisper of robes brushing against the floor trailing his every step.
“Guardian, I was just wondering when you’d make an appearance.” Quin greeted him with a broad smile.
Still on edge from his confrontation in the hall, Lucian could only manage a tight-lipped smile.
Quin’s eyes widened slightly when he saw the two members of the Triumvirate step into place beside him. “I didn’t realize this would be a group tour.”
“Neither did I,” Lucian said, not bothering to hide his annoyance.
Rubbing his hands together, Quin pushed himself up from the desk he was seated behind. “Well, the more the merrier. Shall we be off?”
Lucian answered by stepping away from the door.
“I thought it best if I show you the hub”—he turned to look over his shoulder—“that’s what we call the center of the city. It’s where all the action is. It’s also the best example of what you were asking about yesterday.”
“Your atmospheric . . .”
“Replication,” Quin supplied with a nod. “Exactly.”
“You’ve found a way to recreate the atmosphere from the surface.”
Quin’s back stiffened at the intrusion in his mind, but he forced an answering smile. “Yes.”
“How?”
“Well, that’s what I wanted to show you. I think it’s easier to understand if you can see it.”
Lucian’s brows dipped, but he followed the man further into the city. Val’don was coming to life around him. With each step, the sounds of people going about their day grew louder. The simple gray interior gave way to architectural marvels that would have been impressive above ground. Down here, they were miracles.
The city was sprawling, stretching far past what Lucian’s eye could see. He’d been to Val’don before, but never this deep into its heart. He had no idea what the people of the Vale had been hiding.
“Welcome to the real Val’don,” Quin murmured, pride shining in his eyes as he watched them take in all his city had to offer.
The earth had been excavated, towering buildings scattered along its surface, with more shops and offshoots dug into the walls that encircled the whole of the city. In its center, shooting all the way from the ground up to the . . . sky. Lucian blinked, shocked at what he was seeing. A massive structure, its numerous archways illuminated the same brilliant blue of a midday. Its details were beyond intricate, the delicate domes and spires seemingly made from glass.
“How?” Lucian breathed, echoing the Triumvirates’ earlier question.