Chapter 7
Heart lurching,I spring upright in bed so quickly that I nearly roll off the mattress.
Tiernan’s already standing at the other side of the bed. His hand hovers over his shoulder as though he intends to draw his sword. As if he’s forgotten that we were both asleep a moment ago. The magelights brighten enough for me to register the panic widening Tiernan’s eyes. Luckily, Taig hasn’t moved, his breathing remains serene and even.
“I felt Carys’s presence,” I sign.
Brows lifted, Tiernan sinks back down onto the bed. “She’s alive?”
Uneasiness threads through me. I’m not sure. “She feels … different,” I admit. “Wounded. I didn’t see her, but I heard her. Shesaidshe’s alive.” Last time I’d dropped into her subconscious, she’d felt more solid, easier to hold on to; I’d been able to communicate with her, even touch her as though she was there in the flesh. This time, she sounded too far away and muddled. Like she was at the top of a mountain shouting down to me.
Despite dreamwalking to her, despite her saying that she’s alive, I cannot ignore the knowledge that the veil between the dream realm and the realm of the dead is thin.
“Her voice sounded less clear than Ellynne’s and Aneirin’s had,” I mention. “Theirs played in my mind like a memory—Carys’s voice sounded distant. More like I just couldn’t fully tap into the dreamscape.”
The pensive look on Tiernan’s face deepens along with the creases between his eyes. “Maybe it’s her state of mind.”
“Maybe we should keep this to ourselves then, until I’m more certain. I’ll keep trying to reach her when I can.”
Tiernan nods in agreement.
Sunlight begins to peek through the curtains. I groan, rubbing my face. The dark circles under Tiernan’s eyes reflect how I feel. Neither of us speaks for a while, then Tiernan says, “I’ll go make us some tea.” He reaches across the bed to give my leg an affectionate squeeze before he hurries out of the room.
Sweat rolls down my neck as the walls covered in hanging herbs seem to close in on me. The announcement from last night still curdles my stomach every time I think about it. Military coup. Carys allegedly dead.
A tap on my shoulder startles me out of my thoughts, and I drop the meadowsweet herbs that I was supposed to be bundling with twine. My gaze shifts to the white-haired woman standing at the counter beside me. Deeper lines carve into her forehead and bracket her downturned lips.
“Focus,” she chides. She has an accent that I’ve not had to lipread before, so I have to concentrate on her words more than usual.
“My apologies,” I say as I wrap the twine around the stems of the herbs, careful not to destroy the fragile white flowers. The room is small enough to fit about four people and is used strictly for drying herbs that reduce inflammation.
Oksana takes the meadowsweet bunch from me and says, “Let’s try shielding again.” She sets the bundle on the wooden surface of the counter and waves her hand over it. Immediately, a small, shimmery dome encircles it. “You must focus your energy on your target. Whether it be yourself, someone else, or an object.” With another wave of her hand, she dismisses her power.
I frown.Maybe my magic doesn’t work the same way yours does, I want to say. She’s a Lightweaver and I’m a Shadow Wielder. Her magic is innately good and mine is … not. An invisible hand squeezes my heart. Sometimes I wish I could go back to before I knew I had these powers. As much as I want to learn to wield them for good—to help bring other Undesirables to the Verge—learning to summon my shadows is difficult.
The older woman waves a pale hand corded with blueish veins. “Try again.”
Incorporating today’s lesson into this occasional job was Oksana’s idea. Something to keep me from overthinking. So far, it doesn’t seem to be working. I heave a sigh. Oksana has the patience of an immortal, which is appreciated. But it also means that she would be fine standing here until night falls if that’s what it would take for me to summon even a fraction of my powers.
Her eyes narrow. “What is hindering you, child?”
What isn’t?I run my finger under the hem of my right sleeve.
“Did you or did you not cast a shield over yourself and Tiernan Kilkenny when you were Outside?”
“I did.”
“And what happened? What did you see?”
I swallow. “The attacker’s sword bounced off my shadows when she tried to strike.”
“And what did you feel at that moment?”
I close my eyes as the pungent odor of blood pierces my awareness. The image of Tiernan on the ground, a dagger hilt-deep in his abdomen, a gash in his thigh profusely bleeding fills my mind. It didn’t matter to me in that moment that we had a Healer with us or thathe,as a Mimic, could’ve healed himself. All I could fathom at the time was losing him.
I’ve lost enough. My parents. My best friend. I’ve even thought that Taig was dead.
“Fear,” I say shakily as my lungs start to falter. My pulse kicks up.Breathe. I clutch my arm to my chest and count my breaths, completely missing what Oksana says.
