Fulminant wards or not, Kess shortly found herself in a sitting room, where she tried not to scarf down the plate of food in front of her. Perhaps she’d lived Downhill for years, but she didn’t have to act like it.

  It had been hard to reject the very man she’d come to see, and harder still to tell him no when he offered her a plate of fruit tarts, obviously freshly baked from the smell. They couldn’t be that bad if their kitchen produced something that rivaled even the best Bloodring bakeries.

  The man called Rowan sat across the table from her, perched on the very edge of the couch, his hands clasped in front. He didn’t take from the plate, and Kess slowed, belatedly suspicious.

  “I’m not being poisoned, am I?”

  Rowan gave a little half smile that did nothing to settle her stomach, and Kess didn’t take another tart. “If I’d wanted to drug you it would have been much easier when you were with Claire.”

  Kess relaxed a little, though the Fulminant wards crackling outside the window made it distinctly hard to do so. She took another tart, trying not to let it crumble as she bit into a delicate crust. She wasn’t usually so ravenous, but blood loss was apparently nothing to be trifled with. A few tarts in, her headache and dizziness finally cleared, and Kess felt that she could focus on the problem at hand.

  “You don’t seem like one of Oliver’s academic buddies,” Kess pointed out, eyes on his sword. A sword, of all things, in Hillcrest, she thought. He might as well just admit he’s a thug. Thug or not, Kess had to admit that his dark, slightly curled hair and soft hazel eyes were a good set of features— women would have been clamoring over him Uphill, especially with his bright red sash. Kess suddenly wished she’d been able to wear a fake one to her fight with Moreen. Red simply didn’t feel right to wear— it was a color for merchants and businessmen— not for fighters.

  Rowan followed her eyes and shrugged. “People aren’t always what they seem,” he said. “Regardless, I’m afraid my information isn’t as extensive as you’re probably hoping. I worked with your brother briefly on a project that’s a dead end now. It was research on Fulminant insulators, but we found that few materials were sufficient for our needs. We shut it down after a few months and went our separate ways.”

  Kess’s heart sunk as Rowan spoke. “So that letter was months old— years, even.”

  “I’m afraid so,” Rowan said, and he genuinely did sound sorry— whether that was due to his previous experience with Oliver or because of some sort of misguided desire to help her out, Kess wasn’t sure. “Why didn’t you mention you were Fulminant?” Rowan asked after a moment of silence. “You’re not wearing a sash, either.”

  “Because it wasn’t relevant.”

  Rowan snorted, and finally took one of the tarts for himself. “How are hidden magical powers not relevant?”

  Kess stared out past the walls, feeling as if she could see all the way to that dark alleyway in Riverside. Two collapsed buildings, a pile of dead men. Blood, splattered to the wall in places, and bodies twisted in heaps against the walls they’d struck. The charred mark where a man had formerly stood impressed upon her vision like a stain she couldn’t quite be rid of, and she felt the blood drain from her face.

  “Because I don’t want to be associated with something that causes—“ Kess gestured wildly with her hands towards Riverside. “That,” she finished, looking away.

  “They can be controlled, you know.”

  Kess bit back a bitter laugh. Now this sounded like a man who might have worked with her brother.

  “They can’t,” she said. “Maybe the Council thinks they have them figured out, but as far as I can tell, the only way they ‘control’ the powers is to take them away from people who might be likely to let loose.”

  “I’ve known plenty of people who can control them,” Rowan said, dusting off his hands. “Though they had smaller…gifts…than your own.”

  Kess kept her mouth shut. She’d already shown these people too much by showing up at their doorstep not long after her incident at Riverside. Before long they would start asking questions. Kess had spent a very long several years trying to convince people to stop asking questions. She wasn’t about to change that tactic now. She changed the subject.

  “Why would you bother working with them at all?”

  “Them?” Rowan asked, running his hand through thick curls.

  “The Fulminant.” He cocked his head, ruffling his hair again. For a man with a sword, Kess thought he kept his hair excessively long. Maybe he wasn’t a fighter at all.

  “Well I wouldn’t say that it’s how I pick my academic partners or friends, but sure, we do have a few among our number.” He smiled tentatively at her. “You say it like you’re not Fulminant yourself.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Then what do you call your stunt with the arena, and blowing up half of Riverside?”

  Kess shook her head. Had news of that tiny spark with Moreen already traveled throughout the city? It had been so small she hadn’t even been able to use it. “The arena wasn’t real,” she said quietly. “Just hearsay from people with more time than sense.”

  Rowan regarded her with sharp hazel eyes, something akin to appreciation in his gaze. Whoever he is, he seems to have Oliver’s love for Fulminancy, Kess thought as she leaned back on the couch, wincing at her shoulder. Each time she’d brought anything up about her powers, his face lit up. It was enough to put her on edge— was he someone from the Council, looking for her?

  But no— if that was the case, he would have taken her in hours ago when she’d dropped in a dead faint on his front porch.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  “What about Riverside?” he asked.

  For that one, Kess didn’t have an answer. She folded her arms and looked away.

  “I’m not parading about the city lording it over people less fortunate. That’s what the Fulminant do. I’m not Fulminant.”

  “Well, by that definition you’ve eliminated a fairly sizable portion of the city,” he said, getting to his feet. He circled his couch and finally leaned against the back of it, still facing her. He had a warrior’s grace to his steps in spite of his unruly hair. To a certain extent, Kess itched to test his reflexes, but knew it would only end badly for her.

  “You’re suggesting that people in charge don’t take advantage of those they have power over?”

  “I’m suggesting that not all people want something bad for those under them,” he said, voice careful. Kess just snorted. In her experience, it was a very rare man or woman who wouldn’t immediately seize on any shred of power and use it to destroy the lives of anyone unfortunate enough to be underfoot.

  “Well,” Kess said, trying to keep her face straight as she stood. She wobbled a bit, but managed to mostly disguise it. “It appears that I’ve limped across the city for nothing, Lord Rowan. I’ll be on my way before someone in your manor decides they’d rather turn me in for an improper sash, rather than work for a pittance, so—“

  Rowan intercepted her at the door, his movements quick and nearly silent. Kess frowned at that. She’d seen movements that practiced only in the very skilled— in men and women Downhill who made careers out of fighting. Who was this man?

  “Not so fast,” he said. “I did say that we could help each other—“

  “And you were no help at all—“

  “No help yet,” he amended. “But I might know of another place you can find information on your brother. If he was working for the university, then he should have ties Uphill. I’m not certain what he was working on at the time of his disappearance, but something isn’t right about all of this.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’d thought nothing of it before you showed up, asking questions, but Fulminant insulators were a key aspect of new parlor designs. They failed, so we left them as is, and…”

  “And one of them exploded,” Kess whispered.

  “Exactly,” Rowan said, voice suddenly excited. “Your brother’s disappearance would imply that there was some sort of foul play involved. Tell me— where did you find this envelope?”

  “On top of a green notebook,” Kess said, taking the envelope from his hands. “Gold leafing, a red bookmark. Why?”

  “That’s the one,” Rowan whispered. He nodded towards the envelope. “Maybe I was wrong about its age, then. Go on, open it.”

  “I thought it was—“ Kess froze, looking at the bloodied envelope in her hands. It was addressed to this Rowan, but she realized with a start that it had never been opened. She’d been in a rush that afternoon, and after the fight with Moreen she hadn’t even thought to check the envelope. The blood, of course, had not helped matters.

  She ripped it open and pulled out a succinct letter written in her brother’s distinctive, flowing handwriting:

  Lord Northmont,

  I’ve been looking into some old research the two of us have done, and some of my newer findings would suggest that perhaps we haven’t reached a dead end after all. There very well might be an insulator for Fulminancy— a way of stopping it, so to speak. I’d like to discuss this, as well as the older research with you and see if we can’t come to a more satisfactory conclusion this time.

  Her brother had signed his name. Seeing as it was addressed to Rowan, Kess handed it over to him.

  “Northmont,” she said, a sudden memory striking her. “The Dud son? The eldest? That’s why you’re so fascinated with Fulminancy.”

  Rowan’s face fell a bit at her words, then further after he started the letter, though Kess couldn’t figure out why. This particular Northmont son was widely known in Uphill circles for the stunt he’d pulled with his father, which somehow involved cutting off his Fulminancy. Kess didn’t remember the specifics, nor did she understand how he’d done it, but after that, his very presence was not just spurned, but actively avoided at any and all social gatherings. Of course, not long after that, Kess had made herself scarce as well; she’d never been allowed to attend the galas in the first place.

  “It wasn’t a failure after all,” Rowan whispered, his gaze distant. Kess pulled the letter from his hands and scanned it again. She couldn’t find the awe or magic in the letter that Rowan did. She finally handed it back, disappointed. Some of the dizziness from earlier was returning, and with it, her short temper. She covered a sudden burst of it by leaning against the nearby door frame and crossing her arms.

  “That’s great for you, but how does this help me find him?” she asked. Rowan seemed to see through her cover, because his eyes softened slightly.

  “Because this means that your brother’s disappearance wasn’t random— and that I might have the contacts you need to find out more.”

  “What is this ‘might’ business, Rowan?” Kess asked. “If you’ve got the contacts, then write them— tell them a respected university member is missing and watch them leap. The Uphill loves protecting their own.” She couldn’t quite hide the bitterness in her own voice as the words left her mouth.

  “I gather that hasn’t been your experience,” Rowan said quietly.

  “No more than yours, Northmont.”

  They stood there in silence for a few moments as Kess felt the building rattle from the Drystorm outside. The wind was stronger now, spurred on by a desire to blow out before Lightstorm season arrived.

  Finally, Rowan sighed and pocketed the envelope.

  “My contacts might not be willing to deal with me,” he said quietly. “I’ve had some recent success, but it’s hard to shake the specter of what happened all those years ago.” Kess nodded. She understood that much better than he might imagine. “I might be able to make some headway at court, but I’ll need a distraction.”

  Kess wasn’t sure she liked the direction the conversation was going. “An excuse to be there,” Kess realized, her fingers going cold at the notion. “You need someone else to distract from the scandal.” She bit her lip, thinking. “I don’t think I’m the person you need to—“

  “I’ve never seen you at court, and my father dragged me to every last one of those events before he realized he had a Dud for a son,” Rowan said, his words fast. “You’re unknown, a new entity. You’ll be the excuse we need to get in and find the people who might know something more about your brother’s disappearance.”

  “And what do you get in return?” Kess asked, suddenly suspicious. Rowan smiled in a disarming way. Kess was certain she’d seen the exact expression before— in trainers right before they laid you out with a perfect punch.

  “I get to teach you to use Fulminancy, of course.”

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