Ch 19

Necessary Risks (Part 1)

LILIA HELSTEA

Where are they? I asked myself for what must have been the tenth time.

I was standing in the shadows outside of the Helstea Auction House, watching the streets impatiently. Had I been wrong to trust them to make it to me? Suddenly my plan seemed unnecessarily risky.

This all would have been a lot easier if their parents had been willing to go along with it.

I heard light, running footsteps from down the road and tucked myself more deeply into the shadows. Two children, both blonde and about the same height, came into view, and I let out a sigh of relief.

Then three more children appeared behind them.

I leaned out into the street and waved to them. The blonde twins, one boy and one girl, whispered something to the others, and the five children ran—much too loudly—in my direction.

I had the door open and was waving them in by the time they got there. With one last look around, I closed the door and turned to face my latest group of refugees.

The twins burst into an explanation before I could even ask.

"Miss Helstea, we're so sorry—"

"—friends were being treated horribly at the academy—"

"—worried they wouldn't be okay without us—"

"—parents have been standing up against—"

I held up my hands in a gesture of surrender. "Okay, okay, I get it!"

The three newcomers were all slightly younger than the twins, with the oldest looking to be around ten, while the youngest was only six or seven at the most. "Names?"

The youngest, a dark-haired, dark-eyed little girl, hid behind her older brother. It was the middle child who spoke. "I'm Miah. My little sister's name is Mara, and this is Holden."

I bent down so I was eye to eye with Mara. "And what house are you from, Mara?" She turned and hid her face in Holden's back.

"We're members of House Havenhurst," Miah, a taller version of her little sister, said haltingly.

Taking a deep breath to steady my nerves, I turned back to the twins.

Clara and Cleo Ravenpoor had come to my attention almost entirely by chance. Their parents had been quick enough to support the Alacryans after Xyrus was taken, and so the twins had avoided the worst that the Testers had to offer at Xyrus Academy. It was hardly surprising, considering that their older brother, Charles, had been a part of the attack on the academy back in my second year.

What did surprise me was finding the two twelve-year-olds standing in front of the gates leading into Xyrus Academy and arguing about running away.

After scolding them for having their conversation out in the open where anyone could overhear, I walked the twins to their class and bid them farewell, but their words stayed with me the rest of that day and the next.

After that, I invented reasons to run across them at the Academy, to spend time with them and speak to them. In just a few days, I managed to foster some kinship between us, something encouraged by the Testers, as it helped to indoctrinate the younger students.

They say desperation breeds trust, and I think it was this more than anything that drove the twins to finally tell me that they hated what they were being asked to do at the academy. They wanted to run away, to escape their family and their house, but they were afraid.

And so I repaid their trust with my own, and told them I could help. Not the specifics, just that I could get them to safety, and a time and a place to meet.

I guess I should have been a little more specific, especially about not bringing anyone else along, but it was too late for that now.

Clara wrung her hands as she waited for me to say something. "They were being tortured…" she said finally.

I gave the young girl's shoulder a faint squeeze. "I understand. I've only made preparations for you two, but…I'm sure I can figure something out, okay? For now, we need to—"

Three sharp knocks at the same side door we'd entered through made all six of us jump.

Breath held, I stared at the door. After a few seconds, whoever it was knocked again, louder.

I waved to get the children's attention and held one finger to my lips, then led them quickly through the warehouse to a huge mound of crates fronted by a rolling display of magical artifacts. When the rack was moved, it revealed a small empty space within, complete with a thick floor of blankets and pillows, a simple lighting artifact, a couple of adventure stories, and a few snacks.

It would be cramped with all five of them in there, but I couldn't help that.

The wide-eyed children all shuffled into the hideaway and sat on the blankets, shoulder to shoulder.

"Don't make a sound," I ordered before moving the display back into place. "And keep that light doused!"

Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang bang.

I examined the hidden alcove to make sure I had reset the display properly, then, at the last second, remembered to lock both sets of wheels. When I was comfortable that the children were properly hidden, I dashed across the warehouse to the door. Before I opened it, I took a second to muss up my hair and rub hard at my eyes, adopting a slightly bleary, I-just-woke-up sort of expression.

Bang.

Bang.

Bang.

On the third knock, I jerked the door open on a soldier in the uniform of an Alacryan battlemage.

The man had muddy brown eyes that glared down his stumpy nose at me. He did not look pleased. "Took you long enough," he snarled. "Sleeping on the job, were you?"

I ran my fingers through my hair and tried to look startled—which wasn't too difficult under the circumstances.

"I don't imagine the master of this auction house is in, is he?" He watched me closely as I shook my head. "I've heard of this Victor Helstea. I'm surprised he can't find better help, considering the allowances he's been given."

I didn't dare inform this Alacryan that my father's name was Vincent Helstea, or that there would normally be a pair of night guards stationed at the Helstea Auction House to protect the artifacts. Father had "accidentally" left an opening in the schedule, which was easier than explaining to his guards why I would be spending the night there with a pair of runaway noble children.

"Can I—"

"I am Sanborn Troel, and I'm going to need you to step aside so I can take a look around."

"And why is that, exactly?" I asked, keeping my voice steady despite my racing heart.

His eyes narrowed. "I do not need to explain myself to you, Dicathian scum. Suffice it to say that I am an emblem-bearing Sentry in service to the Vritra, and as such have all the authority I need to move you by force if necessary."

I swallowed heavily, but kept my chin up and didn't break eye contact with the man. "And I am Lilia Helstea, daughter of Vincent Helstea, owner of this establishment. My family has received authorization to continue the operation of this auction house—catering largely to the Alacryans now residing in this city, I might add—as well as expanding our trading network.

"We have done everything that has been asked of us by your leadership, so perhaps you should not speak so boldly about Dicathian scum."

My jaw was set, my stance firm, and my gaze unblinking. Inside, though, it suddenly felt like my guts had turned into eels and my blood to ice water.

Perhaps demure supplication would have been wiser, but from what I had seen, these Alacryans ruled with a firm hand, and my hope was that standing up for myself and my family would draw the man's attention away from whatever business he had here.