Silas steps forward, spreading his shadows across the wooden stage like deadly black wings. “Quiet!” His voice vibrates around the square. “Speaking ill of Briar won’t bring about the fairness I’ve been discussing.”
I tighten my grip on his arm, feeling the connection between us grow stronger.
“Damnit, calm down. That won’t help,” I think, and Silas shoots me a look. “Don’t fucking threaten them.”
“See?” a man shouts. “There are his true colors. Willing to hurt us for speaking ill of Kalix’s bitch.”
The words hit me harder than a blow to the face, and I stagger backward on the platform. Silas quakes with rage. He steps forward, causing the crowd to pause. Shadows rise behind him like a tidal wave of darkness, and I immediately forget the man’s words, focusing instead on Silas. He will kill these people—his people—and someone has to stop this. I quickly move back in front of him, ignoring the raging crowd at my back, and place both hands on his arms to hold them down, gazing into his nearly glowing green eyes.
“Breathe,” I snap. “His words can’t hurt us, but you can hurt them. Everything will be for nothing if you lose control.”
His eyes slowly meet mine, and instead of the piercing, steady gaze I’ve grown accustomed to, they are ablaze with anger—green flames swirling chaotically. His eyes almost look as if they are vertical slits.
“You need to calm down,” I whisper. “Don’t let them see you like this. Fear isn’t going to make them come together. It will only pit them against us.”
His chest rises and falls rapidly, and darkness seeps from him like I’ve never witnessed before. Not even in the depthsof Daramveer Castle did I encounter such anger and darkness emanating from Silas, but I know it isn’t solely anger; he’s as panicked as I am, and that’s fueling his magic. I’m taken aback, yet I remain steady, knowing that the recent events—the fear, the death, the betrayals—are drowning him.
The crowd’s shouts become muffled as I pull him in, our chests pressed together, tugging on the connection between us with everything I have. In this moment, I have to be the one to keep him grounded.
A woman from the crowd steps forward, the unruly people around her allowing her to advance. Her long white hair—a result of her Lumor abilities and age—shines against the overcast sky above us, catching our attention through the corners of our eyes. The woman moves closer to the platform—as near as she can get without climbing up—and turns to face the crowd. She is the only person in Andorwood who has looked familiar thus far, and it’s because she bears the same face as someone I once knew.
My hand slides down Silas’s arm, and I grip it harder than before, driven by shock and the need to remain upright. The woman gracefully waits for the crowd to simmer down, and I stare at her. I know she feels my gaze burning into the back of her head, but I can’t stop. My heart rages like an animal in a cage, and I suck in a breath.
Everyone, including the sea breeze, seems to pause, and my heart drops.
I am sure that this woman will either make or break our desperate pleas for unity. She holds an envelope in her hand, and I glance at the familiar writing on the paper stained with ink.
I know the writing; I had a similar note.
My heart sinks, and my hands shake against Silas’s.
Yara’s mother steps forward and prepares to address the crowd.
Chapter 40
The woman stands tall and firm, not concerned with facing us, but focused solely on the raging crowd before her. I glance over the edge of the platform as the woman slowly opens the letter. The paper shakes in her grip, and she clears her throat to speak. My mouth slightly parts, and I look toward Larkin. His eyes are as wide as mine.
“Malachi killed my daughter.”
The crowd grows quiet, giving the woman the chance to speak.
“Oh Gods,” I hear Aerona whisper from behind me, and the color leaves her face.
“Yara was an amazing young woman with so much life ahead of her, but she was not perfect—none of us are. Yara made decisions that put her in impossible situations, many of which you will never experience, and I hope it stays that way.” She clears her throat once more, fighting back the tears that are desperate to escape her grieving heart.
The crowd remains deathly quiet, also grieving her loss.
“When news of Yara’s passing reached me, I was angry, confused, and desperate for answers. Warrick Pierce arrived at my house carrying Yara’s body and explained to me whathappened. He detailed how Malachi was to blame, and how Silas Nastronde, Briar Blackbyrne, and Larkin Spiridon risked their lives to save her, and when they were unsuccessful, they risked their lives to give her the final respects she deserved.”
The crowd gasps, and I cut my eyes toward the cloaked figure I know shields Warrick. He defended us. Even when he was hurting, he made sure our names were cleared, and for that, I’m forever grateful.
“I didn’t believe him. In fact, I kicked him out of my house and refused to listen to anything else the man had to say. I regretted that decision when this showed up.”
The aged woman extends her hand, showing the crowd the trembling letter. Yara prepped for this, just like she did by leaving my note. She knew Malachi was going to kill her, so she did everything she could in the time she had left to warn and take care of the ones around her.
“Mother,
If you are reading this, please know that I love you.
