CHAPTER NINE: IMPULSE CONTROL
Claire
Claire sat at a table, her lunch finished and her fingers drumming impatiently on the wood. “Mmmk,” she said in a low voice. “What’s the word from Aunt Sylvia?”
Issa was finishing her own lunch and put the last few bites of her hot dog back on the tray, brushing a few strands of blond hair out of her thoughtful, currently scrunched-up face. “Not long for keeping things on the down-low, huh?” she asked.
“Just curious,” Claire sighed, tapping a shoe incessantly on the floor.
“Stop that.”
“Stop what?”
“You’re shaking the table.”
Claire stopped, but not without effort. Ever since she’d overheard Dad talking to Aunt Sylvia it felt like her senses were on high alert. Worry blazed through her in tandem with the tug of rising danger and the thought of frightening things to come, and while staying out of trouble was Heart’s advice, not talking about this was going to drive her absolutely out of her mind. Danielle was being called up. That meant she was going to be going on patrols, protecting higher ranking members of the family, ready to fight, if it came to open conflict between the families.
“Sorry,” Claire finally said. “Look, I don’t want to bother you, I know everything with Danielle is… scary. But not talking about it is worse.”
Issa sighed and put her hands together on the table. “I mean, he voted against the Crackdown, right? Or at least the first round? The Council always votes three times right?” She shook her head. “Mom thinks the Adelins and the other Regnant houses just want to use all this unrest as a pretext to go after the places where the commoners train.
Claire frowned. Officially violence was the sole purview of the six families and their retainers. Commoners didn’t need to fight with their magic except in self-defense, which was why only royals and their retainers carried glassblades. That was part of the Threefold Compact that everyone lived under. It was the law. But even still, that didn’t sound right. If someone was going to protect themselves against rogue spirits or even just other Wielders—or maybe even mortals—they had to train somewhere.
“There’s no harm in those places,” Claire said. “It’s not like most of them are learning to kill people—” she stopped short, remembering Annie’s face, and a small voice in her head remembered. They were planning to hurt my family.
They were desperate.
And why were they desperate?
Claire gulped. Issa didn’t notice. Small mercies.
“Mom says the Regnants don’t like that those places exist at all,” the blond girl said quietly.
“Officially,” Claire said a little louder, “they’re wrong.”
“Officially, the Pierces can pound sand and get fucked,” Issa said.
“Oh yeah?” A new voice cut across the conversation. Claire hadn’t been paying attention to her Sixth Sense, so she hadn’t noticed Lily Pierce approaching. The other girl had pale brown hair. She was taller than both Claire and Issa and a year ahead of them. Her own gray glass bead was worn on a bracelet around her wrist, and right now her gray eyes were furious. “You want to say that about my family again?”
Avoid conflict. Use your wits, not your fist. Heart’s words echoed in Claire’s head, but also the challenge riled something in her chest, setting her nerves tingling. She picked up her carton of chocolate milk and said, “Piss off, Lily.”
A glance across the table followed. Issa was normally the quieter of the two cousins, but to Claire’s surprise, the blond girl was bristling. She slowly stood up. “I said,” she replied, “your family can Pound. Sand. And. Get. Fucked.”
“Sand, huh?” Lily ran her tongue along the inside of her mouth, then she stepped forward and shoved Issa as hard as she could. Issa went down. Her tray clattered to the floor, scattering expensive lunch everywhere. “Oh look,” the taller girl said, hitting Issa’s ribs with a vicious kick, “Sand.”
Claire was on her feet. Heart’s words were forgotten, as was every warning her father had given her. She walked purposefully around the edge of the table. Not too much. Just enough to make a point.
Lily cocked her foot back for another kick. It was the perfect opening. Claire closed the distance, clutching the bead in her left hand and making a fist with her right. Align your arm. Strike straight. Use your hips. Dimly Claire was sure these weren’t the words Heart wanted her to remember. Lily was off-balance and only caught Claire’s movement with a flick of her eyes as the shorter redhead threw a straight jab right into the taller girl’s face. Her left fingers clenched around the bead at the moment of contact, and she put forth the tiniest ounce of Will.
There was a dull thump, and Lily’s head snapped around to the side before she staggered three feet back and crashed into a table.
“Leave my cousin alone, bitch,” Claire said. The fingers of her right hand flexed, and the tiniest hint of blue flames vanished.
The other kids were out of their chairs in an ocean of startled noises and blue school uniforms. Lily scrambled to her feet. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. Her hand went to the bead on the opposite wrist and instantly Claire knew she’d made a mistake. The other girl was about to retaliate, and Claire would have to use grown-up magic again to protect herself. Fuck, fuck, fuck they were gonna have to call the retainers and take the memories of every mortal in this room. Claire kept her left hand on her bead in a threatening gesture only the other Wielder kids around them would recognize. Her other hand stretched out on front of her. “More where that came from,” she said. “So maybe think before you get stupid.”
Lily screamed and launched herself forward. Claire braced her feet.
An arm caught Lily midair as one of the teachers—in the blur Claire couldn’t make out which one—physically stopped the other girl from closing the distance. She breathed out a quick, quiet breath as the other girl was pulled back. Two other girls were helping Issa to her feet. Claire’s cousin looked dazed. One hand was over her ribs, but it didn’t look like she was seriously injured. The momentary relief ended as another teacher—Mr. Davis, it sounded like—snapped “Claire, office, now.”
Lily, still blocked off by the other teacher’s arm, was staring at Claire with daggers in her eyes. “I know what you did,” she spit. “I know what you just did, and you’re going to end up the same way as your Mom.”
The reaming Claire received was less of a burden at the end of her day than what Lily had said. She tried not to let it eat her alive through the remainder of her classes, knowing her Dad was gonna be pissed and Mr. Heart was going to be disappointed. This was the reason, after all, why Wielder royalty weren’t taught advanced combat magic until they formally came of age: they walked through a world of violence, and kids walking around with weapons couldn’t break or kill or maim each other if they didn’t know how to use those weapons.
Then she got a text that Danielle was going to be driving her home instead of her usual tutor, and her spirits perked up a bit. For one, she’d been worried about her cousin since hearing that Issa’s older sister was being called up for duty, but also, Danielle was cool as hell. The older girl was blooded and bladed, new to the family’s service, and had the shine of a capable duelist to her. Danielle was everything Claire wanted to be. The only difference between them was that Danielle was a Mender, rather than a Physic like Claire was sure she was. In a way that only made her cooler, though, as she was proof that someone could be a healer and a badass at the same time.
She waited on the curb with Issa, occasionally scanning the crowd of other kids leaving the school to see if Lily or any of the other Wielders were snooping around. The number of kids from the other families who attended Annie Wright wasn’t all-encompassing, plenty of the Houses sent their kids to other expensive private schools instead—some were even in wealthier public school districts like Stadium, she’d heard—but there were enough that she knew, and was known to, that she wasn’t totally sure if Lily had friends who might be willing to try for a bit of payback.
I know what you just did.
Claire involuntarily shuddered. It didn’t matter. Nobody else had recognized that she’d used an advanced technique on Lily. No retainers had shown up to lecture her. It was her word against the other girls, which meant it was likely to be seen as a wash.
Right?
Right.
Glancing over at Issa, Claire asked “Hey, you doing okay?”
“Ribs still hurt,” the blonde girl answered. “But it’s nothing Danielle can’t fix when she shows up. Really, I just wanna be home.”
“Hey,” Claire said, putting a hand on her cousin’s shoulder. “You kicked ass today. You know that, right? You stood up. That took guts.”
Issa managed a half smile before she sighed and looked down. “Yeah, but I couldn’t back it up. Sure, that doesn’t matter when we’re, y’know, kids… but when I’m older, if I’m blooded and bladed and I fold to a couple kicks? That’s not great.”
“She got the drop on you,” Claire said.
“Yeah,” Issa murmured. “Maybe.”
Further conversation was cut off as a familiar blue Land Rover came around the corner and pulled up to the curb. The girl behind the wheel was a head or so taller than Claire, and as far as the fourteen-year-old was concerned, she was the absolute definition of cool. Danielle Vallais wore her red hair in a ponytail, the single blonde streak loose and hanging down in front of her sunglasses. She flashed a half-smile at the girls as she put the car in park and rolled down the front passenger’s side window. “Hey troublemakers, I got few seats for cool girls who get into fights with assholes.”
Word travels fast. Claire knew her dad had been called, and she thoroughly expected a lecture, but she also knew that he’d likely gotten her out of detention and that was something. What she didn’t know was whether Lily’s word would be taken seriously. Burying that fear, Claire grinned and opened the front door. “C’mon Issa, in.”
“I’ll take the back,” Issa said. “Kinda want to lie down.”
“Shotgun for the punch-thrower it is,” Danielle laughed. “Let’s go already!”
Claire tossed her backpack in front of the seat and slid in as Issa got in the back. Doors closed and then they were off. As the school vanished behind them, Claire felt her worries ease. It was a gray day, with the threat of rain unable to dampen her lightening mood. Cliff House was only about ten minutes from the school and five minutes into the drive Danielle was still a ball of energy.
“So, I won’t jerk you around,” Danielle said to Claire, “your dad’s pissed, so brace for that… but also don’t take criticism he gives too deeply. He’s gotta front with official disapproval, but he’s probably pretty proud. I know I am.” She looked over her shoulder. “You too, Melissa—” Danielle had never used Issa’s nickname “—you both stuck up for the family and that’s worth celebrating in my book. It’s not like we aren’t on garbage terms with the Pierces anyway.”
“I got knocked down and kicked in the ribs,” Issa sighed. “Gonna need you to look at that by the way,” she’d buckled herself into the middle seat and was stretched across the back. “I should just stick to singing.”
“Yeah, we’ll give that a look as soon as we’re home,” Danielle answered. “Cliff House first, then—JESUS CHRIST!”
Danielle slammed on the brakes. The tires of the Land Rover shrieked. Claire’s stomach did a flip and Issa screamed as they stopped abruptly. It took a second for Claire to get her bearings, but when she glanced at Danielle her older cousin was staring straight ahead with a look of determination and alarm on her face. “Stay in the car,” she said, and opened her door.
“But—”
“I said stay in the car.”
Following her stare, Claire saw that another car—black and sleek—had cut them off, turning fully sideways and blocking the road. The driver’s side door opened and closed and a girl Claire only knew in passing stepped out. Autumn Pierce was a few years older than Danielle, her brown hair cut short and her left hand flexing its fingers just past the end of the sleeve of her expensive jacket. She glanced at Danielle, but her eyes were searching the Land Rover until they landed on Claire.
“Autumn what the fuck are you doing?” Danielle demanded. “You could’ve killed us, and I’ve got two kids in the car. What is wrong with you?”
“I’m here for Claire,” Autumn’s words were knives. “She made Lily bleed, and I believe blood calls for blood.”
Danielle straightened and Claire watched her eyes go cold. Her heart raced in her chest and a spike of terror was rising, making her neck prickle.
“Laws of Honor don’t apply to children,” Danielle stepped around the front of the car, putting herself physically in Autumn’s way.
“Normally you’d be right,” Autumn snapped back, “but Lily told me what happened: this bitch used magic off limits to anyone other than adults trained in combat, and she made my sister bleed. Blood for blood counts.” Her eyes switched to Danielle. “Now step aside. I’m just gonna cut her a little.”
“Not fucking happening,” Danielle’s hand started to shift across her body. Claire reflexively clutched her bead. Issa was gripping both seats, her head between them. “Oh shit,” she breathed. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”
“Piss off, Mender,” Autumn said.
“You’re not touching my cousin,” Danielle’s voice was iron.
“Fine,” Autumn said. Her hand flashed to her hip, faster than Danielle could respond, and there was a flash and a crack as a bright orange glassblade blazed into existence. Claire’s fingers clenched around the bead and she put forth her will, shouting with effort.
A shimmering barrier of bright blue light flashed into existence between the two older girls, just in time for a shrieking noise to echo across the street as the sword left a cut across the shield. Claire felt the impact, her fingers straining to maintain the barrier. A Shield was the first bit of combative magic Heart had taught her, and she’d practiced it as often as she could without Dad noticing. Autumn stumbled back a few feet, and her eyes glowed the same orange as her sword. “I fucking told you,” she said, and pointed at the car with her blade. Danielle’s yellow sword was in her hand now.
“Listen, cunt, your fight’s with me.”
Autumn raised her off hand, and her sword flashed before a bloom of bright orange Wielder’s Fire roared towards the shield. Claire’s fingers ached as she struggled to maintain the barrier under the violent assault. Her heart raced and sweat stood out on her forehead and dampened her neck.
“Claire, drop the shield,” Danielle said calmly. “Get your phone out and call your Dad.”
“She’s gonna kill y—”
“Do it now!”
“No!”
The sound of squealing tires filled her ears, and Autumn staunched her flames, looking over her shoulder as a familiar pale white Mercedes roared to a stop. The driver’s side door opened and Claire’s heart surged with relief as Mr. Heart got out.
“I remind both of you,” he said, his calm voice somehow carrying across the space, “that unsanctioned duels between the Houses are strictly forbidden by Council Law, my Royals.”
Another car was pulling up, this one from behind the land rover. A Pierce retainer got out, the Lance and shattered shield pin shining on his lapel. He hesitated for one second, and Claire realized this was how wars started.
“What in the hell is going on here?” the Pierce retainer said. He was on Claire’s side of the barrier, behind Danielle, and heart racing, Claire realized she couldn’t summon a second shield, nor could she afford to drop the one she was struggling to maintain.
Heart looked across the space and addressed the other man. “I’ll collect mine if you collect yours, Jack. There’s no need for further violence.”
The Pierce Retainer paused, looking warily at Heart for reasons Claire didn’t totally understand, then after a moment said “Lady Autumn, now is not the time.”
“This is a matter of honor,” Autumn said. “My sister’s, specifically.”
“And the Council exists to settle this sort of thing,” Jack replied. “I cannot command you, but there will be consequences for far more than just you if you insist on doing this.”
Claire had a death-grip on the bead. It was so much less than a proper focus like a glassblade. The effort was straining her fingers and making her arm shake. Then, a half-second before it would’ve fallen on its own, Autumn nodded at Jack. “Fine.” And with a swift crack she void-sheathed her sword, the weapon vanishing at her hip. Claire’s barrier fell, dissipating into a thousand motes of blue light, and she collapsed back into her seat, forehead damp with sweat and fingers uncurling from around her necklace.
Autumn stopped at the door to her car. Danielle hadn’t moved, still watching the other girl warily. “I still demand satisfaction,” Autumn said in high speech before either of the men who had diffused the immediate situation could say anything. “Danielle Vallais, you will meet me on field or in salle, and answer for this affront, or else I shall hold your name and the names of your family disgraced and cowardly in the eyes of Guides and Men. Do you accept?”
Before either Heart or Jack could interrupt, Danielle sheathed her yellow blade with a swift gesture and said “Believe me. I do.”
Claire stared open-mouthed at a situation that had just gone from bad to worse.
Fuck.
“I forbid it.” Jacob Vallais’s voice echoed through the ballroom of Cliff House, resounding across the walls despite the fact that he had not raised it. Danielle stood before him, her jaw tight and her stance straight, every inch the soldier of her house at attention. The Prince was dressed like he’d just been for a jog, his sweatshirt stained and the gray in his red hair more pronounced with the sweat that marred his face. Claire stood behind him and off to the side, incensed to be out of the way and simultaneously relieved to not be the focus of her father’s ire.
“My Lord Prince,” Danielle started, her high speech respectful, courtly, and formal. “With all respect, a member of House Pierce has attacked and threatened your daughter. If there is a justification on earth that at all merits swords at dawn, it absolutely has to be that. It needn’t be to the death. First Blood would more than sufficient—”
“I said I forbid it!”
Jacob’s voice cracked like a whip, and everyone in the room jumped. Claire had never seen her father so angry, to say nothing of raising his voice. His gray eyes were focused on Danielle, a look of something between rage and grief etched on his features. “Do you truly think I do not know the severity of what they have done?” He said, after taking a moment to settle himself. “The stupidity of this whole day galls me, the foolishness of it, the idiot risks being taken by everyone. We are already on the edge of war with the Pierces and the Adelins, and I have kept that war from happening for thirteen years. You want a duel because you do not know what happens when one is lost. We’re teetering on the edge of war, and I will not have my own family be the ones to start it. Especially not over a lunchroom fight between children.”
“My Lord Prince,” Danielle was barely keeping her own anger in check. Her formality slipped. “Autumn started this. She attacked us. Had I not been there, what do you think would’ve happened to Claire—”
“But you were there,” Claire’s father said, calmer now. “You were exactly where I needed you to be, when I needed you to be there, and for that I am grateful.” He looked at the eighteen-year-old earnestly. “Now continue to serve this family in the capacity that is needed: stand down.”
Danielle stiffened, then let a breath out, closing her eyes. “And what about Autumn? Do you think she will be as obedient?”
“I have already spoken to Alexandra Pierce about this matter,” Jacob said. “We are not friends, but neither of us wants open war or bloodshed between our families, and especially over something so foolish. Autumn will listen to her Sovereign.” He fixed his quiet gaze on Danielle. “Now you listen to yours. Go home and be ready for whatever orders may come. We’re done.”
“My Lord Prince—”
“We are done.”
Danielle stiffened again, then gave a slow nod and bowed before turning back towards the door. “I will see you out,” Heart said quietly, falling into step alongside her. As Jacob walked some distance away, Claire hurried over to her cousin. “I didn’t say thank you,” she started.
Danielle reached out and squeezed her shoulder, her tone no longer formal. “You’ll never have to, kiddo.”
“Claire,” her father’s voice echoed from the other end of the room.
“Go on,” Danielle said with a pained smile. “I’m a Mender like your Dad, remember? There’s no bruised ego a few minutes meditation can’t fix. Don’t worry about me.”
Claire turned as her cousin left, and slowly approached her father where he stood, looking out a window with a view out onto the gardens. She stopped beside him. He didn’t look at her.
“I assume you learned to make shields from watching Danielle train?” His voice hovered between courtly and casual. The razor’s edge between Father and Prince.
Caught off guard, Claire paused. She couldn’t tell him that Heart had been teaching her advanced magic since she was a child. That would end his career, and likely her tutelage until her coming of age, or longer if it was deemed that she’d done something really wrong. Like almost started a war.
“Yes,” Claire lied. She didn’t sense an attempt to discern the truth through magic, which meant she still had his trust. The mingled relief and guilt pulled her heart in opposite, equally painful directions. “A-And Mom. A long time ago.”
“I can’t say I approve,” he said with a sigh. “But if you’re going to do something illegal, doing it to save your cousin’s life is better than most alternatives.” She watched his shoulders sag slightly, and he turned to look at her. “I’ve gotten you out of detention,” he said. “Please repay me by refraining from getting into more fights at school. Can you do that?”
Inwardly, Claire bristled. Issa said something dumb, sure, but all I did was protect her. I was defending blood and kin, like you taught me.
The same as Danielle had done. And even if what Issa said had started everything, why was it always on them to hold their tongues so families like the Adelins and Pierces didn’t have an excuse to fly off the handle, something they clearly wanted to do nearly all the time. Why do I have to hold my mouth just because their kids were never taught to control themselves?
“I’ll do my best,” Claire said. She hated it.
She found Heart in his borrowed office a little while later. The Seer was poring over the same binder he’d had earlier that day, and this time he seemed to sense her before she came in. She took a deep breath and sat in the chair, waiting to be chastised.
“I… appreciate,” he said quietly, “that you didn’t throw me under the bus. And I understand, at this point, that you had no choice today…” he turned to look at her. “… But I would appreciate if you would unpack for me exactly what happened at school.”
Claire sighed, and for the first time today she told the exact story of what had happened, down to the finest detail. When she was done, she shuddered, then felt her eyes sting. “People almost died,” she whispered. “And it’s my fault.”
Or was it? A little voice asked. The grownups put you in this position.
Heart watched her for a long time, then sat down. He pushed his glasses back on his nose and then said, “when bad things befall you, I have found that looking for places to pin blame is just a way of avoiding the hard work of looking at what has actually happened, and why.”
The tears were leaking down Claire’s face anyway, and she took deep breaths, some of them shaking, to calm herself down. “I’m just so angry,” she said. “I’m angry at myself and at Issa and at the Pierces and the everything that brought us here.”
It was probably unfair of her, when he was off-balance, but the words suddenly blurted out of Claire’s mouth. “Why is this happening?” She demanded. “The Pierces and Adelins have been making war noises and empty threats for what feels like my whole life! What changed? Why do they suddenly want to burn the world down? Why is my family suddenly in danger from what feels like every direction?”
Heart watched her—unlike so many other adults in her life—refusing to look away from how she was feeling. Then he said, “They’re afraid.”
She remembered the story about the plotted kidnapping of members of her family, and for a moment, there was, if not sympathy, at least understanding. But it very quickly vanished under an avalanche of simple realities that spelled out how ridiculous it was in neon letters. “Of what?”
“Of the Commoners,” Heart answered. “Of mortality. Of the precarious balance of the pedestal they sit on. Of each other.” He sighed. “You may not believe it, but it has been this way your whole life. There have been so many near-misses since you were a child, and there were just as many before the Schwans died, when the Dawnward bloc still stood. Royal politics is a dimly lit room, Claire, where everyone has a knife, and fears what will happen when the lights go out.”
“But why now?”
Heart paused, then said “I don’t know.”
Claire smelled the hesitation. She watched him for what felt like a long moment, then she said, “Don’t lie to me.”
“I am not,” Heart said. “I am not sharing what I am not certain of. There is a difference. Sometimes no information is better than incomplete information. What I’m working on is need-to-know. Telling you the details wouldn’t help your situation, and it could endanger mine.” He paused, then he said, “what will help you is refining your training.”
Claire’s eyes widened. After everything that had happened today, the last thing she’d expected was for Heart to offer more instruction in the advanced facets of her Aspect. “Wait, really?”
“Dangerous times are here,” Heart said with a nod. “And while in an ideal world you would not face these perils yourself, everything in the past twenty-four hours tells me that it’s more than likely that you will.”
Mr. Heart slowly got to his feet. Claire stood as well, fingers tingling with the thought of more magic to be learned. Steps closer to being able to fight for herself, to decide for herself. “Your father wants you protected,” Heart said. “I believe the best way to ensure that is to guarantee that you are prepared.”