Kess, Rowan, and Niall followed the hall around the building, as rain splattered the glass, a dark inky stain that reflected the lights of the upper city buildings like many stars all at once.

  Kess tried to tend to the conversation, but found that her attention wandered with every second, her skin hot and flushed and her hands itching to feel the snap of her Fulminancy. She’d been able to keep it at bay, and her symptoms, while uncomfortable, were manageable, but she had the distinct sense that something was crawling inside of her, desperate to escape. A particularly fat droplet hit the window beside her, and she flinched. Fortunately, Rowan and Niall were deep in conversation already. Kess half paid attention, watching the rain outside the window as they walked.

  “The classification of Fulminant powers into their compound, super compound, and complex entities has long been a bit of a passion project for me,” Niall was saying. “So imagine my surprise when I found your research done on that exact thing.”

  Kess watched Rowan run his fingers through his curls from the corner of her eye. “My family tried to talk me out of it,” he said. “They considered it esoteric and out of touch.”

  “Ah, but that’s where the most interesting mysteries lie, my good man,” Niall said, clapping Rowan on the shoulder. Niall was a bit of a flirt, but he seemed friendly enough—as long as she ignored the blue and silver sash, anyway. “What if I told you that my own team of scholars has been at work on that very subject?” Niall asked.

  Rowan blinked, his face neutral. “It wouldn’t surprise me. I doubt you have many limits on what you’re allowed to research at your level,” he said. Niall just shrugged, his blond hair falling into his face.

  “To a certain extent,” he said. “There are still…politics we have to play,” he said, grimacing. “I find that the more I push this subject, the less friendly my colleagues get,” he said, laughing. “But that, I find odd. Don’t you?”

  Rowan nodded, his steps calm as he walked beside Kess, who was still cursing her shoe choice. “I’ve long wondered why it’s so hard to come by any detailed information on the origin of Fulminancy,” Rowan said, eyes on his feet. “There are official accounts, of course, but those suggest that the powers just appeared as they are now. That’s at odds with the accounts of Fulminancy being promised for other tasks, like farming, building, or otherwise constructive activities,” he finished.

  Niall nodded, eyes thoughtful. His footsteps slowed to a stop, and he regarded Kess and Rowan for a moment, eyes discerning. “There’s a reason for that,” he said quietly, then retreated further down the hallway.

  Niall led the two of them into a modest chamber off the side of the windowed hallway—or at least, modest for Uphill standards. For most of those living in the lower city, it would be downright lavish. It was simply furnished, with a desk, a few chairs, and a hearth, but the finishes on each of those surfaces would easily cost dozens of gold minings. Books towered high on the desk and chairs alike, and the room gave the impression of a space well-used by its occupant.

  “Apologies for the mess,” Niall said, clearing off the chairs. “I sometimes rent these study spaces for my personal use, and this is one of my favorites, but unfortunately I must insist on no cleaning people for the sake of my sanity and research. You know how it is.” Rowan nodded. The clutter reminded Kess of her brother, though Niall’s filth was a touch more organized than Oliver’s. Perhaps Kess wasn’t the neatest in the world either, but her hobbies also tended not to involve piles of things.

  Niall sat behind the desk as Rowan pulled Kess’s chair out for her, his face neutral, but his eyes lost in thought. “The last time I tried to look into any of this, I was thrown out of the university library,” Rowan said, sitting. “I can only hope you’ve had better luck than me.” He leaned forward, like he could access Niall’s secrets just by being closer to the man. Niall steepled his fingers, frowning slightly.

  “I wish I could say as much,” he replied. “I’ve had some luck, but as you suggest, most of my efforts are met with a strange amount of resistance. I have, however, uncovered a few pieces of information that might help you if you manage to get into the Archives—provided, of course, that you’re willing to share some of what you learn as well.”

  “Of course,” Rowan said immediately. Kess gave him a sharp look which was ignored, and returned to watching Niall, perched at his desk. She listened to the dull drumbeat of the rain overhead, wondering what this man’s game was. Information was never free, and the promise of an exchange, while plausible, seemed to rely too much on the honor system for Kess’s taste. So either Niall was leading them deliberately down the wrong path, or he had his own advantage to gain from discussing this with them. Neither option was a good one.

  “My scholars have uncovered a bit of a discrepancy,” Niall continued. “A place where records don’t match—where written history and spoken history are misaligned, and where even many written texts do not agree.”

  “It could just be a record keeping issue,” Kess said, folding her burning arms. Niall nodded towards her, raising his brows.

  “Absolutely. But just as Rowan has mentioned, I find that the further that we dig into the discrepancy, the more hostile things become towards my scholars. We are thrown violently out of libraries, or laws are conjured that make the procurement of that information difficult, to say the least.” He sighed. “As it stands, we no longer have full access to the Archives, and I expect that you two will have the same experience if somehow Furion allows you in.”

  “What discrepancy?” Rowan asked, eyes hungry. Niall smiled.

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  “The very one you referred to earlier. The Fulminancy we now wield is nothing like that of the past, and someone has worked very hard to cover that fact up.” He shook his head. “For what purpose, I do not know. But during my limited time in a Seat, I can only assume that it is not a good one.”

  “That isn’t new information,” Kess argued, suddenly impatient. “We’re not going to be able to simply march into the Archives and find what Rowan’s looking for—not without maps, advice, knowledge of someone who’s been in there. Clouds, the place is bigger than the old palace.”

  Niall held her gaze for a moment, smile still plastered in place, though it had fallen a bit. “You are, unfortunately, correct, my dear girl.” He leaned back in his chair and planted an ankle over his knee. “However, I was led to believe that Rowan here simply wanted to further his research from the university. That is an interesting subject, given that we suspect Fulminancy might have a tendency to be influenced by the elements—I’m sure that could do wonders for your lights. That information could be readily found deep in the Archives, but not so deep you’d have to go much further than the Fulminant Security Division. But…” He trailed off, his eyes keen. “That’s not why you’re here, is it?”

  Rowan and Kess exchanged a glance, and Kess sunk further into her chair, regretting her words. Rowan hesitated for a moment, then spoke.

  “No,” he admitted. “While certainly I would love to find confirmation of my work from university, I didn’t feel safe putting what I was actually looking for into that letter.” He paused, then looked at Niall. “What do you know about Fulminancy transfer?”

  Niall sat up slowly, smile gone. “Well, that certainly makes things more interesting,” he murmured. He poured himself a glass of wine and sat back again, watching them thoughtfully. “I know about as much as anyone in Hillcrest—which is very little, I might add. It’s more than the fairy tales that people tell about it, though. At some point in our history, it was very much real. But I hear that the process itself was a messy business, prone to accidents on all sides. If anything, I imagine that’s why it was purged from history books so long ago.”

  “Regardless of whether it’s safe or not, I need any information I can find on it,” Rowan said, voice urgent. “Is there anything in the Archives?”

  “Not that I know of,” Niall said, and Kess watched the hope fall from Rowan’s face. Still, Niall’s face remained thoughtful. “But the Archives as we know them are simply the tip of a mountain emerging through the clouds—there’s much more beneath the surface. When I took my position in this Seat, I always supposed I’d have full access to the Archives—it was one of the main reasons I pushed for it, I suppose, given that I have no mind for politics.”

  “But?” Kess prompted when Niall simply stared at the wall for a few moments. His eyes refocused on her for much too long.

  “But there were certain sections…out of my reach, I suppose,” he finally said. “When I asked the scholars working in the Archives, they claimed those sections were off limits due to temperature and humidity control, which is probably partially true. But as I continued my research in areas available to Seats only, I found certain subjects missing entirely from the shelves.”

  “What subjects?” Rowan asked.

  “Well, for one, the very subject you’re asking about,” Niall said, sipping his wine. His face had taken on a pale cast, his eyes distracted. “Others included anything about Fulminancy’s history, Hillcrest’s founding, and oddly, anything to do with ancient elemental magic. Weather patterns are strangely missing as well, which seems foolish given our area’s vulnerability to certain types of storms.”

  “And you’re suggesting that we’ll find all of that just buried in the mountains underneath the Archives,” Kess said flatly.

  “I’m not a betting man,” Niall said, holding her gaze, “but if I were, it’s a bet I’d be willing to take. I keep most of my research in a humidity controlled room, as so much of it is delicate. The very papers and tomes that were later confiscated from my team tripped the sensors throughout the room. Even accounting for rain from a careless aid fetching the materials, those papers came from a much more humid environment, far underground.”

  “That seems a bit of a stretch, Niall,” Rowan said, rubbing his stubble in thought. “Still, it’s a start.”

  “It is,” Niall agreed. “And besides that, I did a bit of my own snooping around and found a set of odd glyphs deep underground near the Fulminant Security Division. My ability to read those glyphs isn’t what it used to be, but I believe they point to an entrance of some sort. I couldn’t tell you how to get in, as they didn’t react to my Fulminancy, but perhaps those same glyphs will be more amenable to yours.”

  Kess met Niall’s eyes and found some sort of knowledge there that made her blood run cold. Somehow, this man knew who she was. She was almost sure of it. But who would have told him? And was he trustworthy? Kess watched Niall for further reactions, but his face was carefully smooth. It would have been difficult for a man with poor social skills to ascend to a Seat so early, even if he was wildly gifted with Fulminancy.

  “Regardless,” Niall said, finally breaking eye contact with Kess, “that’s all I have to go on for now. I’m afraid I’m just as in the dark as you are with all this. But the Archives shouldn’t disappoint—given that you can get underground.” He polished off his glass of wine and leaned over his desk, clasping his hands. “I certainly wish I could do more, given my connections, but I fear that Seats since Mariel’s departure are too focused on power and not focused enough on research, discovery, and helping the people as was originally intended.”

  Kess stared at the man, watching carefully for signs of dishonesty. She found none. How could this man—a man who had ascended to a Seat at such a young age, to a position of power, authority, and influence—really be so genuine? The Seats Kess had had the misfortune of interacting with had been everything Reina had complained about at several galas now—selfish, egotistical, set in their ways, and determined to pursue their own gains.

  Perhaps Fulminancers were not all bad, but the Seats were something else. The Council was designed, by its very nature, to keep a populace of weaker citizens in check, regardless of how it had been founded. It had been that way for centuries, and Kess saw no reason for it to change anytime soon. But here was this silly blond man in front of her, suggesting that maybe there was another way. She found it particularly hard to believe.

  “And when did you come to this conclusion?” Kess asked quietly. Niall held her gaze, something too keen still there.

  “During a time in my life of careful observation,” he said. His eyes bored clean through her. “You’ll find, Lady Kess, that Founder Mariel’s traditional doctrine—that of Seats for the people—is still very much alive this day, in spite of what the current Seat of Mariel would have you believe, wherever she is.”

  “Mariel is dead,” Kess said. Niall just cocked his head at her, his light eyes assessing.

  “Is she?”

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