“Why couldn’t he have said a bit more!” Eden growled.
Even Master Clarke was scowling. “That’s just pointless. That doesn’t help anyone.”
Hayes dropped the book back in my lap, and I felt exhaustion settle into my bones.
Yanric poofed through the door then, flying low and landing on my shoulder.
‘It’s late,’he announced, and as if on cue, I let out a yawn that traveled around the room.
“Let’s meet here again tomorrow night,” I told our little crew. “We made more progress today than we have all week.”
Master Clarke nodded. “I’ll meet you here again. Make sure you disgruntled youth don’t steal any old books.”
We all chuckled at that and packed up. I slipped the book Avis had given me back into my bag and promised myself I’d stay up late reading it until I’d weeded out any more Maven healing stories.
When we left the room, it was not lost on me that Master Clarke was the one who still had a book in his bag—the one that said I could possibly one day control others against their will.
For a split second, I wondered if he was going to show it to Queen Solana, but then I scolded myself. Master Clarke was always trying to protect and help me. He wouldn’t turn on me.
Right?
SEVEN
ARIYON
I’d always wondered how the people in the House of Ash and Shadow actually went dark. Was the magic like an evil spirit that possessed them? Or was it more of a sickness that leached in until it ate away at their mind? Now that I held such magic, I thought it was the latter.
After using Fallon’s awesome and terrible powers a few times now, I realized I was willingly feeding a beast. There was an enraged monster inside me, Fallon’s dark magic, who, if rewarded with enough anger, would do what I wanted. And it was making me sick. Mentally speaking. My thoughts had started to turn dark. I wanted to go home, but I feared Fallon and everyone else had given up on me. Maybe they’d never figure out how to come back, and in order to stay alive, I’d have to keep ashing people or lighting them on fire, and my prize would be my worst nightmare: to be a Nightling.
Marissa hadn’t been back since that day she watched my fight, but everyone was treating me with a lot more respect, and it was revolting. I was among a pack of rabid wolves with no option but to become a wolf myself to survive.
“Fallon,” I whispered to the dark room as I lay on the cot in my cell. “Yanric.”
Maybe the bird might reach me. He’d traveled through dimensions before. I’d just won another fight. I was bruised, bloody, and exhausted and felt like the edges of my mind were fraying. How long had I been here? Seven nights? Eight? Two weeks? There were up to three fights a day now. I was losing track. So much death. All at my hands. I was good with a sword back home and had no problem defending myself or those I loved, but to be pitted against others for sport…it made me sick. And yet I was doing it. I was doing whatever they wanted, just to stay alive.
“Grim,” I whimpered. “Help.”
I was a healer. This went against everything I believed in. Killing people. Burning people. Ashing people. Sleep pulled at my limbs, and I welcomed it. At this point, I wanted to enter the blackness of slumber and never wake up.
I was immediately pulled into a dream.
I sat in a large room, on a pillow with my legs crossed underneath me. Before me sat an old fae with white hair and a kind smile.
“Hello, son,” he said.
I frowned, looking around the room to try to figure out where I was, but it was bare.
“Who are you?”
He placed his hand over his chest and dipped his head in respect. “I’m Emmeric, an Ealdor Fae.”
Whoa. Ealdor Fae were badass.
“Why am I here?” I was lucid dreaming, so I had control over what I said. I’d never done it before, and it was pretty cool.
The man sighed. “You need help out of your situation, do you not?”
Chills ran the length of my arms, even in the dream. How did he know about my situation?
