I stared out the window, and my mind wandered. I was no oracle, but I couldn’t stop the recurring dream of me and Elyon, the great god. I had it again the night prior. The residual mystery usually lasted days before I moved on from it. Until it happened again.
He came as he always did—a study in contrasts. He loomed tall and formidable with an air of violence, but his voice boomed with gentleness and care that loosened my defenses. His dark hair blew in phantom winds making the strands shift into multicolored hues as if it couldn’t decide which color to commit to. His light eyes swirled and an indigo eagle flew overhead. His skin pulsed as if lightning flashed in his blood.
It was he who named me the Liberation’s leader. The night after my first dream, my adoptive mother, Ilayah, had come to me with a vision of my future. It was from that moment on that I began training for my current role.
As with all of these dreams, this one held remnants of grief for a family I never knew. My interactions with Elyon left a residue of longing I couldn’t place. The dreams solidified my purpose as the final Liberator. Too bad he couldn’t just tell me how I was supposed to accomplish that. At least I woke with a sense of rightness for the path before me. Before I awakened, he drew his line of protection across my brow. I could feel the ghostly impression of his touch even now.
My heart skipped a beat causing me to cough. I had waited too long. I hastily moved maps and communications and tankards around, searching for one of my vials. A pen fell to the floor, rolling in a lonely arc toward the wall.
My eyes landed on a thin glass bottle, corked and full of my tonic. I popped it open and drank the liquid. It coursed thickly down my throat, leaving a familiar tingling in its wake, as if infused with too much spice.
My head fell back against the chair while I waited for the elixir to fill my blood. The effects from these tonics were steadily decreasing. My body slowly demanded more. I glanced down at my arms. My mouth went dry. Gray veins had formed darkened trails down to my wrists, now slowly disappearing thanks to my tonic—a new symptom I’d have to tell Sieren about.
Our timeline just moved up. I dropped my arms in my lap, my shadows gliding around them. I had no desire to see the truth beneath my skin.
The veil was deepening, and Nolan was creating more drekis than ever before. The Liberation needed an alliance with Queen Thaleia to give us a true chance. I just had to figure out how to get into her realm and secure her support before time ran out.
Chapter Fourteen
THE SPY
He sneered at the tear rolling down my cheek, his voice mocking my misery. The stone walls surrounded me, closing in. Somehow there was still space enough for him to pace, a leashed predator. A multitude of weapons cast threatening glares. Each whip, spike, and point hanging menacingly along the wall. He slowed his pacing to graze his fingers across each one, intentionally accentuating each sharpened point. They swayed on their hooks at his touch.
He peered down at me, gripping my knees to my chest, trying to disappear. Sweat dampened my clothes. My feet turned numb as they settled on to the frozen, unforgiving stone floor. The waiting. That was perhaps the worst part. The psychological manipulations almost worse than the beatings. Almost.
I closed my eyes, trying to imagine my mom. Willing my eyes to suck up all moisture so no more evidence of my fear expressed itself. I imagined her comfort, her soft touch, her firm hugs. She always smelled of lavender tea, a mug of the steaming brew her constant companion. I jolted back to the present, unclenching my fists, eyes popping open, at thesnapping sound of his chosen instrument. The small whip with splintered metal chunks embedded in the leathers that extended like vicious tentacles. One hit and he would drag it down my back, creating four jagged slices at a time.
I would likely pass out. I would need to find a healer when this was over. When he got his anger out of his system, I knew I would be left behind to figure it all out. If only I could disappear. My fear blanketed my thoughts. My rage fueled my resolve. There was no way out of this. One day, I would kill this man.
Bars slammed around me.
Caged.
Trapped.
Hate bloomed.
His violent gaze found mine, and I screamed.
My thrashing body pulled me from the nightmare. The soreness in my throat told me I probably alerted anyone in a five mile radius of my location. My blanket lay bunched at the end of my makeshift bed. Gradually, my breathing calmed as I reoriented myself to the current place and time, my body unwilling or unable to cease its trembling. I sat up slowly, rubbing my arms in self-comfort. I pulled a cherry candy out of my satchel, mechanically tasting its fruity sweetness.
I searched for my cloak, restless with the desire to move. I wouldn’t be falling back asleep anytime soon. I reached for the woolen garment, a deep burgundy with no embellishments, securing it around my shoulders. I shoved on my leather boots and raised the hood over my braided hair.
The man in my nightmare, the ghost of my father, continued to claw at me. The vivid helplessness and inability to flee left the unnerving residue of paralysis. Anger, old and deep, festered. My military training drilled a calculated control over my rage.
Anger was a tightrope.
My hands clenched and unclenched. My body shook as I inhaled ragged breaths. Anger wasn’t all violence. It could provide momentum where I’d otherwise be stagnant. But it also bared lethal fangs in an effort to protect tender parts.
I preferred my weak spots to remain divested from the light of day. Old pain tended to bubble up, making its inconvenient presence known, in the black of the night, the time when the demons roam, when my guard dropped.
I focused on a collection of leaves, admiring their many colors piled one upon the other in a mosaic blanket. In another life, I might have imagined they had the power to heal. A fool’s thought.
I sat down, leaning my back against a tree, and closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the rising sun spilled downward in dazzling streams of oranges and pinks. I shifted and the crinkling of paper sounded. Delah’snote. I pulled it from my pocket.
Rue,
Destroy this once you read it.
