“I have to try.”
I tried not to think about Davik. That he’d known this entire time and said nothing.
The dimensions of the dreams shifted, narrowing and then widening. In my mind, I felt Lokkaru’s presence, both disturbing and comforting. I had never felt another in my mind but I knew this was what Davik must have felt.
“I will show you,cossa.”
Relief pricked me like a knife.
In my mind, she guided me east, the landscape passing before me, though parts of it seemed washed out and blurry, as if this was from her own memory and it was hazy. It went faster and faster but I remembered it all, as if it were a map stamped into my own mind.
The memory centered on one area. The ancient groves, I knew. The place Davik had told me about in his story about the heartstone.
Then Lokkaru showed me what I’d been seeking.
There was a beautiful, old tree. Weathered but strong. At the end of a stream, deep in the ancient groves, its black trunk stood proudly, its branches glimmering in sunlight. Its leaves seemed like they were painted in gold.
“My father,” Lokkaru said in my mind, unseen.
Tears pricked my eyes at the love I heard in Lokkaru’s voice.
“My mother buried him with the heartstone and this tree grew from him. It was nourished from him and his love. The heartstone is within. Somewhere, with him.”
My breath hitched. When I’d first met her, Lokkaru had told me, “She told me love grows and it grows true, as long as it is nourished. Like my father.”
She’d been speaking of her mother.
This tree was beautiful. The tree was Lokkaru’s father’s grave. His final place of rest. A shrine. A testament of his sacrifice for his family, of his love for them. He’d died so that his unborn daughter and wife could live.
And in order to savemyfamily, I would have to desecrate it. I would have to destroy it, this place of love and beauty, in order to find the heartstone, in order to fulfill my agreement with the Ghertun king.
Lokkaru, still in my mind, said softly, “You will have the strength,cossa. You will do what needs to be done.”
* * *
I woke from the dream.A sense of calm had settled over me, though it was brittle.
Just as Lokkaru said in the dream, we were still riding towards the horde. It was late, the moon high overhead. The darkness of the plains settled over Dakkar like a heavy blanket.
I was on Nillima’s back and I felt Davik’s arms around me. The back of my head rested against his chest and the gentle sway of hispyrokibeneath us threatened to lull me back to sleep. Because I was so tired. I felt so damned tired. Another symptom of thevovic, a warning of what would come in the next few days.
I heard dozens and dozens ofpyrokibehind us, as theirVorakkarled them home. TheVorakkarwho I’d begun to trust.
TheVorakkarI’d begun to love, I thought, my heart pricking. It felt like my chest had been cracked and a little bit of me was leaking out.
“You’ve known,” I whispered, that sense of calm still swallowing me. Maybe it wasn’t calmness at all. Maybe it wasnumbness.
“Neffar, leikavi?” he rasped in my ear. He dipped his head, nudging the tip of my ear with his nose, an affectionate gesture.
But I didn’t feel anything.
“You’ve known this entire time.”
Davik stilled. Then he was turning my face towards him, his brow furrowed, his mouth downturned as he studied my features in the moonlight. Trying to read me.
“Neffar?” he said, his tone darker, more serious this time.
I realized he couldn’t know. Because if he knew, he might figure out what I planned next. And he might try to stop me, especially since he was so damned determined to have me as hisMorakkari.
