I feel it, then. I feel something snap.
‘I can’t do this,’ I say, pulling the Eye out from under my dress. ‘I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know whatany of it means – the Eyes, the story, the sisters, and you know what? I’m beginning to think I don’t want to.’
I curse as drizzle begins to fall above our heads. My hands shake as ice fills my veins.
Fox takes a step forward. ‘Storm Weaver.’
‘I mean it. I want no part in it.’
‘What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying … I’m saying I’m out. You want it?’ I pull the chain over my head and dangle it in front of him. ‘Then take it.’
I hurl the Eye at his feet. It bounces twice on the grass, coming to rest by the tip of his boot.
‘Storm Weaver –’
‘And stop calling me that,’ I snap. ‘It’snotmy name.’
‘You’re not thinking clearly. Calm down and we’ll talk.’
‘No.’ I didn’t realize how good that word felt to say. I say it again. ‘No.I don’t want to talk. I’m done talking. Just leave mealone.’
I turn away and storm back towards the party.
Everything I said was true. I don’t want the Eye. I never asked for it. But now that I am without it, I don’t feel lighter. If anything, I feel weighed down by its absence. For days I have kept it close to me, this strange, ancient talisman. I have puzzled over the story, searched the library for the old man, risked being caught and brought before the emperor, all for nothing. The Eye is lifeless. Dead, just like Syla. I can’t even be sure that the surge of power I felt in my dream wasn’t just that – a dream. Besides, I have enough to think about. My lessons with Queen Hydra. The third trial. Hal.
I skirt the perimeter of the crowd, sifting through the mass of colours until I catch sight of Elaith. I plunge through the throng and grab her shoulder.
‘Elaith. Have you seen the prince?’
‘Blaze! We all wondered where you were. Nice dress. And no, I’ve not seen him. He doesn’t seem to be here at all, which is slightly odd given they just announced hisbetrothal.Are you all right? Did you know?’
But I just turn and race away through the grounds and into the palace. By the time I reach my chambers, I’m ready to slump on my bed and sleep for a week.
Darkness.
That’s what greets me when I open the door. Thick, impenetrable darkness, swarming around me, coating me in shadows. Even my brandmark can’t make a dent in it.
Then, a voice, a familiar voice, stretched tight and stricken. ‘Shut the door.’
An orb of light appears and floats up towards the ceiling, illuminating the scene before me. The floor is strewn with golden roses. Elva is lying on her back, eyes closed, seemingly unconscious. And clutching her protectively to his chest, burying his face in her hair as he pleads with her, as hebegsher to wake up, is Hal.
40
Ihave never heard anything louder than the silence that fills my head.
It burrows into my ears, pours into my mouth. I drown in it. Because there is no mistaking the way Hal is looking at Elva. The desperation with which he clings to her. The terror in his voice as he tries and fails to rouse her.
Words dart through my mind, echoes of a conversation.
I know you dislike attention.
Is that why you come to my rooms to see me?
I remember Hal had looked down at our joined hands then, looked down and not at me, because he couldn’t meet my eyes.
Why else?
