away with it.
By the time we landed at the private Lyondale airfield, everyone was in a crappy mood.
Julian stormed off as soon as he disembarked. Two Royal Gardinels from the Governing House waited beside their SUVs.
Ewan Vellucar approached, brown tufts of hair standing straight up and amber eyes gleaming with affection.
Some of my bad mood dissipated at the sight of him. I actually missed my neurotic gardinel more than I wanted to admit.
"So I brought something," he said casually.
The sweet, decadent smell hit me and I almost tackled him in a hug.
"You are the best!"
I grabbed the paper bag out of his hand and eagerly opened it.
A pitiful morsel of eclair rested on the bottom.
I blinked. "It's bite-sized."
"Sorry." He had enough grace to blush. "Couldn't resist the rest of it on the drive over. I didn't realize how good Rivière eclairs were."
Before I could thank him for the odd welcome home gift, Tristan tersely ordered him to take Fujio, Renee, Catrin, and Urian to the Governing House.
Since Helene was bunking in a spare room at Lumière, she followed Tristan and me to his waiting black BMW.
Lyondale's bland urban environment lacked the vitality of Manhattan. Bare branches, grey sky, and ugly concrete draped Haverleau's weight like a mantle on my shoulders again.
"It's empty," Helene said from behind me.
I twisted around in the front seat. "What?"
"Lyondale." She touched the glass window. "It's so quiet."
Tristan glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "Most cities are spread wider than Manhattan's narrow grid system so it can feel empty when you first see it. Is this your first time away from New York?"
She nodded, camera tracking the passing cityscape.
Tension crept up my spine as familiar surroundings came into view. I kept my mind focused and breathing even just as I practiced in Manhattan.
Over the next twenty minutes we drove through the wreckage of the factory explosion in the north, the beginning of the Trident's winding streets, and the industrial west side.
Nothing happened.
No rush of hatred, tightness of breath, or crushing need to kill.
Only a lingering sadness and acceptance of things that had happened and could not be changed.
Lyondale Hospital's sterile corridor greeted us with the acrid scent of antiseptic.
"How long has your aunt been here?"
Helene hurried beside me and attempted to hold her camera steady at the same time. She was going to trip if she didn't watch it.
"Since December."
Steps echoed through the air.
"Do you ever worry you'll forget her?" She sidestepped a janitor's cleaning bucket. "Forget what she was like when she wasn't here?"
"I don't see how I could."
"You will eventually, though. Everyone does."
Her quiet voice made me wonder if she'd forgotten what her father was like.
Other than a few faint impressions, I didn't remember anything about my dad. Memories of my mother and Ryder also faded by the day.
The thought she may be right made me uncomfortable.
Shelves and cabinets took up most of the space in the Chief of Staff's office. Tristan pushed the right side of a tall bookcase behind the desk and it swung back.
A set of narrow steps led to an underground concrete corridor connecting the main hospital to the elemental wing. Located at the back of the hospital's neighboring building, the wing was an impressive bunker-like medical facility hiding in plain sight.
Corridor ended at another set of stairs that took us directly into the wing's waiting area.
" Sondaleur ." A warm voice said. "Your Highness."
Dr. Daniel Clavet's warm brown eyes twinkled behind a pair of wire-frame glasses awkwardly sliding down his small nose.
"Good to see you again, Daniel." Tristan shook his hand. "This is Helene, Marquisa Bessette's daughter."
Camera darted, taking in every last detail of the place.
"Yes, Oriel told me about you. Renee's sister."
"Yeah," she mumbled, more absorbed in filming than talking.
He didn't take offense. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet
By the time we landed at the private Lyondale airfield, everyone was in a crappy mood.
Julian stormed off as soon as he disembarked. Two Royal Gardinels from the Governing House waited beside their SUVs.
Ewan Vellucar approached, brown tufts of hair standing straight up and amber eyes gleaming with affection.
Some of my bad mood dissipated at the sight of him. I actually missed my neurotic gardinel more than I wanted to admit.
"So I brought something," he said casually.
The sweet, decadent smell hit me and I almost tackled him in a hug.
"You are the best!"
I grabbed the paper bag out of his hand and eagerly opened it.
A pitiful morsel of eclair rested on the bottom.
I blinked. "It's bite-sized."
"Sorry." He had enough grace to blush. "Couldn't resist the rest of it on the drive over. I didn't realize how good Rivière eclairs were."
Before I could thank him for the odd welcome home gift, Tristan tersely ordered him to take Fujio, Renee, Catrin, and Urian to the Governing House.
Since Helene was bunking in a spare room at Lumière, she followed Tristan and me to his waiting black BMW.
Lyondale's bland urban environment lacked the vitality of Manhattan. Bare branches, grey sky, and ugly concrete draped Haverleau's weight like a mantle on my shoulders again.
"It's empty," Helene said from behind me.
I twisted around in the front seat. "What?"
"Lyondale." She touched the glass window. "It's so quiet."
Tristan glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "Most cities are spread wider than Manhattan's narrow grid system so it can feel empty when you first see it. Is this your first time away from New York?"
She nodded, camera tracking the passing cityscape.
Tension crept up my spine as familiar surroundings came into view. I kept my mind focused and breathing even just as I practiced in Manhattan.
Over the next twenty minutes we drove through the wreckage of the factory explosion in the north, the beginning of the Trident's winding streets, and the industrial west side.
Nothing happened.
No rush of hatred, tightness of breath, or crushing need to kill.
Only a lingering sadness and acceptance of things that had happened and could not be changed.
Lyondale Hospital's sterile corridor greeted us with the acrid scent of antiseptic.
"How long has your aunt been here?"
Helene hurried beside me and attempted to hold her camera steady at the same time. She was going to trip if she didn't watch it.
"Since December."
Steps echoed through the air.
"Do you ever worry you'll forget her?" She sidestepped a janitor's cleaning bucket. "Forget what she was like when she wasn't here?"
"I don't see how I could."
"You will eventually, though. Everyone does."
Her quiet voice made me wonder if she'd forgotten what her father was like.
Other than a few faint impressions, I didn't remember anything about my dad. Memories of my mother and Ryder also faded by the day.
The thought she may be right made me uncomfortable.
Shelves and cabinets took up most of the space in the Chief of Staff's office. Tristan pushed the right side of a tall bookcase behind the desk and it swung back.
A set of narrow steps led to an underground concrete corridor connecting the main hospital to the elemental wing. Located at the back of the hospital's neighboring building, the wing was an impressive bunker-like medical facility hiding in plain sight.
Corridor ended at another set of stairs that took us directly into the wing's waiting area.
" Sondaleur ." A warm voice said. "Your Highness."
Dr. Daniel Clavet's warm brown eyes twinkled behind a pair of wire-frame glasses awkwardly sliding down his small nose.
"Good to see you again, Daniel." Tristan shook his hand. "This is Helene, Marquisa Bessette's daughter."
Camera darted, taking in every last detail of the place.
"Yes, Oriel told me about you. Renee's sister."
"Yeah," she mumbled, more absorbed in filming than talking.
He didn't take offense. "Well, it's a pleasure to meet
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