"Should I tell him?" I asked.
"Would you want to know if someone dreamed you would die?"
I thought about it. "I don't know. Maybe?"
"It might make him paranoid," Ravel said. "Change how he acts."
"Or save his life."
"Or become self-fulfilling."
I frowned. "How?"
"He acts differently and causes the exact situation you saw."
That possibility chilled me. What if telling Alar about the vision was what led to it coming true? What if my warning created the very circumstances that killed him?
"I hate this," I repeated.
"I believe you." Ravel wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and I welcomed the comfort, resting my head on his arm.
For a long moment, neither of us said anything. We just gazed into the distance, looking over the mountains.
"I won't tell him," I decided. "Not unless the vision repeats and gets clearer. I need to know why it happens, and how I'm supposed to save him."
"That's reasonable."
"Is it? Or am I just being a coward?"
Ravel turned to look at me. "You're trying to protect someone you love while also honoring your abilities. That's not cowardice. That's wisdom."
"It doesn't feel wise."
"It rarely does in the moment."
31
ALAR
"A warrior's greatest weapon is not the blade in their hand, but the instinct that warns them to draw it."
—Commander Ravel, Dragon Force Combat Manual
The words on the page blurred together. I rubbed my eyes and tried to refocus on the tactical analysis assignment Captain Odinah had given us, but my attention kept drifting to Kailin.
She sat cross-legged on our bed, surrounded by a fortress of books and papers, her journal open in her lap. The auroras painted her in shifting greens and purples through the window, and she looked almost ethereal in their light.
Beautiful but fragile.
She'd been doing better already, gaining a pound, the color returning to her face, and she'd had more energy duringtraining, but the last two days had undone much of that progress. The shadows under her eyes had returned, and her good mood seemed to have evaporated.
It was the nightmare about the Citadel falling. I was sure of that even though she denied it. There had been more to the dream than she was sharing.
She couldn't lie, or rather chose not to, but like most Elucians, she was an expert at evasion and deflection. She'd admitted that the dream had been disturbing, and even that there had been carnage, but she hid the impact behind forced smiles and dismissive waves of her hand.
I wasn't fooled. I could see the shadow of fear crossing her eyes every time she thought I wasn't watching her.
What had she seen that she wouldn't tell me?
