The automobile was so quiet it hurt. The leather seats were too clean, the windows too clear. Emmett and Briar sat side by side, not touching.
Briar broke the quiet first. Her voice was small and wobbly.
"Why didn't you do anything?"
Emmett didn't look at her.
"Do what?"
he said. His voice was flat.
"Help him!"
she yelled. Her voice cracked.
"He tried to help me! He tried to stop them
and you just watched!"
She was shaking.
Emmett could feel the anger coming off her like heat. He finally turned his head. His eyes were dark and still.
"He was stupid."
Just as Briar opened her mouth to yell again, a loud, jarring ring cut through the air. One of the men in the front pulled a large, clunky box from beneath his seat. He flipped open the top, revealing a small speaker and a microphone. A buzz of static filled the car, and a voice, tinny and distant, spoke from the box.
"We got them, sir. Two children, just as you requested. One boy and... the other one. She has the Mark."
"The Mark?"
the voice on the phone responded, its tone shifting to a sharp, eager note.
"Are you certain?"
"Absolutely, Baron. Right on her collarbone, just like the files said."
"Excellent. Bring them straight here. And be quiet about it. I don't want a single leak."
The man in the car nodded and slammed the top of the box shut. The sudden silence was a shock.
Emmett stared at the back of the man's head, his mind replaying the words.
The Mark. The God's Mark.
It was the same thing the family's mother had cried about. He had seen the strange symbol beneath Briar's collarbone. The men wanted her for it. The Baron wanted her for it. It was what made them valuable. What did it mean? What did it do?
He turned to Briar. Her face was pale, but her eyes were wide and filled with a new, fresh terror.
"What is it?"
he asked, his voice low.
Briar flinched, as if she had forgotten he was there.
"What?"
"The Mark,"
Emmett said.
"What is it?"
She shook her head, her gaze fixed on her lap.
"I don't know,"
she whispered.
"My parents just said it was... rare. That's all."
The car came to a stop.
Miles away, in the royal palace's great hall, a different kind of conversation was just beginning.
The hall was a cavernous space of polished marble and stark, brass fixtures. High above, rows of fluorescent bulbs cast a blinding white, sterile light across a long, mahogany table.
At the head of the table sat King Regis Fontaine and Queen Lilian Fontaine, their ornate crowns and robes a jarring contrast to their silent, vacant expressions.
Around the table sat the five Barons, their postures a mix of casual arrogance and coiled tension.
A Baron with a thin, almost humming voice broke the silence, tapping a manicured finger on the table's surface.
"My sources in Reed have confirmed a rumor. A commoner has been located with the God's Mark."
The Barons' casual postures straightened. The air in the hall grew colder.
"A pauper?"
another Baron, his voice a low grumble, retorted.
"In your territory, Baron Calvin?"
Calvin leaned back in his chair, a thin, satisfied smile on his face.
"My territory is vast. I am not privy to every birthmark on every child."
"This is not a birthmark,"
the humming voice insisted.
"This is the Mark. God's Mark. A girl, eight years old, named Briar Hayes possesses this mark."
The Baron's eyes, sharp and calculating, locked onto Calvin.
"And my sources tell me that they lost contact with her just days after your... regrettable but necessary conflict with the late Baron Thorne."
Calvin's smile didn't waver.
"As I said, my territory is vast. A number of families lost contact with their children in the riots. I am a Baron, not a nanny."
A third Baron, his voice smooth and cold, interjected,
"Do you have the girl, Calvin? A marked commoner is a powerful asset. Her existence, if left unchecked, can be a threat to the stability of the Barons."
His eyes flickered to the King and Queen, who sat motionless.
Calvin let out a soft, amused chuckle.
"My dear colleagues, do you truly believe I would hide such a thing? I am an honorable man. I have no need for secrets."
The humming-voiced Baron leaned forward, his hands flat on the table.
"Perhaps not. But we have all agreed that any such asset would be brought to the collective. To the Barons. We must work together to control the kingdom. It is what our subjects expect, and it is what our monarchs demand."
He gestured dismissively toward the King and Queen.
The Barons all nodded in agreement.
"So what now?"
the second Baron grumbled.
"We don't know if she has disappeared or if she is dead."
A tense silence fell over the room. The only sound was the high-pitched whine of the lights and the ticking of a large grandfather clock in the corner. All eyes were on Calvin.
"I say we do nothing,"
the humming voice finally stated.
"We will let the matter lie. If Calvin does have the girl, his ambition will eventually make him show his hand. It always does. Until then, we can only watch."
"Until then. I'll take my leave"
Calvin says as he gets up and walks to the door with steady, unhurried steps.
The other Barons watch quietly, and the fourth, the one with the hollow voice, upon seeing that Calvin was out of earshot, finally leaned forward, his shadow falling across the table.
"Yes,"
he whispered,
"But if he does have the girl, then we won't just be facing another baron, but the terrifying power of the mark of the divine. God's Mark!"