I sit up straighter as I take in the concern on her face, and I’m struck with warring hurt and relief. On one hand, Alys is someone I’ve come to trust, but on the other hand, she’s been lying to me. She knew—or at least suspected it—all along. Perhaps her motives behind it were valid, but it still aches.
“I understand if you are angry with me,” she motions. “I didn’t know how to bring up such a thing. There seemed to have been no good way.”
“Perhaps there wasn’t,” I admit. Glancing to Tiernan and then back to Alys, I sign, “Is Dayfyd here?”
Curiosity lifts Alys’s brows. “He is. Do you want to speak with him?”
“Yes.” I shift to get off the bed, but the movement is dizzying. Tiernan offers me an arm to lean on, and I hold on to him for support.
We relocate downstairs to the kitchen, where Dayfyd looks up from a book on the table. He gets to his feet so quickly that his legs bump the table. As I sit, he slowly takes his own seat again. Alys and Tiernan stand aside, moving out of the way.
Dayfyd’s eyes are wide. His lips part as if he intends to say something, but he just closes them again. He lifts his hands … only to do the same thing.
“May I ask you some questions?” I ask. “About Morwenna and my bloodline?”
Dayfyd nods, his movements hurried. “Yes, of course.”
I try to keep my leg from bouncing beneath the table and take to fidgeting with my sleeve instead. It doesn’t help. “Did you say Morwenna had foresight?”
Dayfyd nods again. “She was plagued by prophetic dreams. Of the world ending. Of the doom of … her own children.”
My chest tightens, forcing the air out of my lungs. My leg continues bouncing up and down.
“Are youhaving prophetic dreams?”
I swallow, my gaze wandering over to Alys as she leans against the counter, Tiernan next to her, looking like the guard he used to be. “I think so,” I tell Dayfyd. “How did Morwenna know for sure?”
He exhales heavily. “Sometimes she didn’t. But often her recurrent dreams were. Sometimes they came to her in song or poetry.” He smiles as if struck with a pleasant memory in the midst of his words. With slow precision, he closes the book he’d been reading and slides it across the table.Dreams and Symbolism.“Oracles and Dreamwalkers aren’t the same, and this book is heavily geared toward Oracles. But perhaps it can be of some use to you.”
I smooth my hand over the leather cover. “Thank you.”
“Again, I’m sorry for lying to you. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
I don’t know how to feel about it, so I only nod. I bid him and Alys farewell before leaving with Tiernan.
As we walk away from the O’Hara household, Tiernan turns to me and signs, “So, it seems you have a mission proposal for Ava.”
“It seems so,” I reply. “Now I just need to get more information about Siad Nahar.”
“Indeed,” he says. “Where do you want to start?”
Chapter 19
To my dismay,the library doesn’t have any information about Siad Nahar, and neither does Dayfyd nor Alys. The librarian mentions that Siad Nahar is a myth—which is far from comforting—but my gut tells me otherwise. Perhaps the Purist isn’t entirely in her right mind, but I don’t believe she’s lying about this.
After the library, I head straight to training with Oksana. As I dismiss a small wall of shadows from in front of me, Oksana beams and applauds. “Well done, Durvla,” she tells me.
I smile and take a few breaths. “Thank you.” We’ve been practicing in her garden for a while now. It’s filled with flourishing plants and small fruit trees. “Oksana, do you know anything about Siad Nahar?” I ask.
The broad smile falls from her face.
She gestures to a wooden bench not far from where we stand and we sit beneath the shade of a tree. “I do,” she responds once seated. “When I was just a child, many Mages spoke of seeking the truth through Siad Nahar. Once upon a time, it was almost like a spiritual retreat—a place to replenish one’s soul and therefore one’s magic. Some people believe magic is tied to thesoul, while others believe it comes from a more external source such as”—she waves her arms around—“nature, for example.”
I’d never thought of it that way. I hold my hand up, watching faint swirls of shadows gather in my palm. “I feel like I draw my shadows from within rather than from around me—perhaps that’s why people consider it from the soul?”
I look up at Oksana again, and she says, “Perhaps, but more importantly, might I congratulate you on such excellent control. You’ve come a long way.”
“Thank you.” I smile at her. “I was afraid I’d never be able to control them well enough to go Outside.”
