Isit by the fire, watching Fox sleep.
He’s lying on his back, his breathing slow and rhythmic, his arm outstretched towards Scout, who stands guard over him like a sentinel. His chest is still streaked with blood, which has dried a dark rust-red. But his wound – those awful ragged gashes – has been reduced to nothing more than a few thin scars to add to his collection.
If it weren’t for the lachrymortis, he could well be dead. It terrified me, seeing him like that – golden skin pale, movements slow and staggering. When he screamed, the sound of it ripped a hole in my own chest, and I just kept thinking,He’s going to die.But then he didn’t, and all that terror was replaced by a wave of relief so strong it threatened to sweep me away. I was drowning, and I needed something to cling to, and he –
He kissed me.
He kissed me, and I kissed him back.
It was as if the whole world crumbled into nothing. All I knew was heat, and him. His lips, his touch, his body moulding itself to mine.
Our skin and clothing are still covered with telltale smears of blood that reveal exactly where our hands have been.
I swallow hard then snatch up a wad of bandages, douse myself with water and scrub myself clean, washing away all trace of the kiss.
It’s not that I regret it. It’s that he knows now. He knows that despite all my protestations, I feel something for him.
I never meant for it to happen. I tried to keep my distance. But the more I learned about Fox, the fewer reasons I found to stay away. He’s not who I thought he was. He’s not cruel, or heartless, or wicked. He’s not exactlygood, either, but then neither am I.
I wrap my arms round my knees as a tremor runs through me.
I killed someone tonight. I took a life.
I suppose I should be used to this feeling. After all, I have thousands of deaths on my conscience. Yet unlike the storm, this was intentional. I knew exactly what I was doing as I plunged my dagger into the Bear’s back. He was a brute, already half-dead, yet he was still a person – a person who, because of me, is now a corpse. But if I’m being entirely honest, I know I would do it again in a heartbeat if it meant saving Fox.
I find myself wondering whether he feels the same about me as I do about him, whether all that shameless flirting and evident protectiveness point to a deeper, more sincere attachment. I think about the way he said my name, his rich,velvety voice laced with the same inexplicable intimacy as his gaze. From the moment I met him, he has looked at me like he knows me. Like I am some riddle only he has the answer to.
And perhaps … perhaps that’s true.
I slip my hand into my pocket and pull out the Eye of the Past.
I still haven’t entirely forgiven Fox for scouring my memories, whether inadvertently or not. I was furious that he eavesdropped on a private moment between his brother and me, even more so to discover that he knew of my anchors. Melding is a secret the Rain Singers protected for centuries – one that, if not for River, could’ve died along with them. River told me once that he had travelled to Brava to see them for himself, and amid my astonishment I recall feeling a pang of envy, followed by wistfulness. Because the Singers are gone. I am all that is left of their legacy.
The last Rain Singer.
The words have always weighed so heavily. It is the weight of solitude, bone-deep and unquantifiable. It is the knowledge that I am an endling. An anomaly. And there is nobody left to offer any kind of explanation to the question that has plagued me all my life:
Why?
Why am I a Rain Singer? How is it possible that I, a Harglade, a daughter of two pureblood Ignitia Houses, was born with the ability to call the rain? And not only the rain but a storm – one so devastating it almost drowned the empire.
I wind the gold chain round my index finger, my mind awash with unanswered questions. When I asked Fox why he had sought the Eye of the Past, he told me, in his infuriatingly cryptic fashion, that he was searching for answers. Yet what of the answers I seek? I have a right to know who I am. And if Fox knows something I don’t, I refuse to be left in the dark any longer. I’ve spent nearly eighteen years believing myself an aberration, and maybe I am. Maybe there is no explanation for my existence beyond some cruel twist of fate. But then again, what if there is? What if I am a mystery I’m yet to unravel?
I look down at the Eye. That night in Fox’s chambers, I remember thinking of all the things I would use it to discover if it were mine. And now it is – at least, until the sun comes up. At this moment I have history at my fingertips. The past spreads out before me like a map of memory. This is my chance to trace my path back to the very beginning. To find the truth, if there is truth to find. To understand who I am, once and for all.
My skin tingles nervously.
I cast a glance at Fox, who’s still fast asleep. I’m struck briefly by a twinge of guilt for going behind his back. Then I shake it off. If there are no answers to be uncovered, he doesn’t have to know I went looking for them. And if there are, I’d bet the Aquatori crown that he knew and hasn’t told me. Because whatever I may feel for him, I still don’t trust him entirely. Not yet. So, let this be the test.
I close my hand into a fist round the Eye, then hesitate, unsure how to proceed. I think back to all the times I’ve seenFox use it. There seems to be no clear method to replicate, no incantation to speak. Perhaps I should just … ask it?
I gnaw on my lip, feeling slightly foolish, the same as I did when asking the Golden Keep to grant me entry. But I’ll never know unless I try.
Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes.
I wish to know the truth about myself.
For a long moment, nothing happens.
