The Skylighter (The Keepers' Chronicles Book 2) by Becky Wallace Page A

again.
    He’d put his father’s defense plans into action—clearing the land, digging an eight-by-eight foot trench around the wall, and filling that trench with sharpened stakes. It formed an impossible obstacle for both men and horses to cross.
    Stonemasons sealed all but the estate’s main gate, and craftsmen built shutters for all the windows. Blacksmiths filled barrels and boxes with pike points, mace heads, and arrows.
    A steady stream of carts delivered foodstuffs that had been held in warehouses nearer the wharf.
    All the underlords had been apprised, and their various townships put similar plans into place. The townspeople and farmers were given points for escape if Belem attacked.
    If, Dom assured himself as he wiped a droplet of sweat off his brow. Not when.
    His mother was using all her diplomatic channels, friends on either side of the border, to encourage Belem to recall his threats and reopen trade. A few of her more clandestine contacts reported that the duke was preparing for action, but it appeared he was alone in his exploits.
    Inimigo hadn’t outwardly picked a side in this argument, reportedly too busy crushing the rebellion that had risen in Maringa during his visit to Santiago.
    And at the estate rumors blazed. Everyone, from soldiers to washerwomen, speculated as to the reasons behind Belem’s actions. Lady DeSilva issued a message to be read in every town square, hoping to squash the conjecture: “We are uncertain of Duke Belem’s motivations and the reasons for his actions. We are working to achieve a quick and peaceful resolution to this situation.”
    The words were true to a point. Belem wanted Johanna. A fact Lady DeSilva chose to keep secret from her people, because no matter the duke’s intentions—whether he wanted to kill her or control the throne through her—they didn’t have Johanna. Even if they did, they would never use her as a bargaining chip, so they prepared for war.
    Dom wasn’t sure if defense was enough. He’d studied his father’s notes, maps of Santiago, its hills, valleys, and marshes. With the walled city of Camaçari and its powerful garrison guarding the state’s northern border, Dom worried only about Belem making a direct attack from the west.
    And he had a few ideas that would make that difficult.
    The dinner cart rolled past, and Dom’s empty stomach reminded him that he’d missed lunch, but he was much too filthy to eat. He’d take a quick break to wash, then grab a meal and get back to work.
    The road between the estate and the township was littered with age-old walnut trees, too wide and rooted to be chopped down easily. The shade from the trees was a welcome reprieve from the sun that baked the now-barren land around the trenches. A few birds flitted through the canopy, adding flecks of color to the rich gray-green leaves that shivered overhead.
    Tucked off the road and hidden by the trees was the Keeper’s Fountain. It was one of his favorite places to visit—not because it was sacred, but because it was usually forgotten.
    A stark white pillar, humanoid in shape, rose from the center of an onyx pool. Time had worn down the statue’s features, rubbing away the sharp lines where its arms had broken off and flattening the nose into a small lump at the center of the head. Water lapped quietly around the figure’s pockmarked feet.
    Dom eyed his filthy shirt and dirt-encrusted fingernails, and the cool, clear water beckoned. He whipped his shirt over his head and dropped it into the pool. Leaning over the edge, he scooped handfuls of liquid onto his dusty hair before dragging the sodden linen out of the water and using it to wipe off his face.
    “Hello, Dominic.”
    He groaned at the voice before opening his eyes.
    Maribelle stood with one hip against the onyx and eyed Dom’s torso with undisguised approval.
    He straightened, and snapped his shirt, spraying water droplets in her direction. “Why are you here?”
    “You’ve been busy, and I