Page 29 of Drawn into Oblivion

“It is the will of the Divine One that she does this,” Vallen said with a strained edge to his voice. Someone was weeping, probably Kyoko. Mai desperately wanted to see whatever was happening, but she couldn’t even open her eyes now. Her magic spun so fast and hot that she worried she’d either melt or burst into flame.

“In the fields too. Look,” Oka exclaimed.

“Mai, pull your magic back,” Rosuke yelled. “Pull it back!”

She would have done so if she could. However, even her magic struggled against the circle, jerking inside her with agitation. Had she drawn it too large?

Shumei said something, then Oka, but they all sounded so far away and she couldn’t quite hear them. Only the rolling thunder and her breaths. Even the green glow pressed against her eyelids was fading.

Pain pierced her brain, and now it felt hot, as if being boiled. She sagged to one side. She was going to fall over. Her hands and feet throbbed. Her lungs burned.

Then she felt nothing.

⁂

“Well done, Mai,” a deep, familiar voice said. His words echoed like the ring of an enormous bell, and she couldn’t tell which direction he was in.

“Who…?” she croaked.

“You know me,” he said. And the second he spoke, she did. The Divine One. “You saved my champion and restored the land for my children—your people. I am very proud. You must continue looking after the empress. You shall be important.”

“Can, can you see the future?” she asked, wondering if he might tell her of her own. He had foreseen the assassination attempt, among other things.

“You need not ask me of your future. You shall see how much the empress will need you.”

“Why not the high general?” she asked, feeling weak and completely unable to protect anyone. “Or Shumei’s bodyguards? Why me?”

“They are not of me.”

“What?” She didn’t understand.

“I shall give you a gift, Mai, for all you’ve done. Although perhaps it’s more of a gift for your suitor,” he said, only adding to her confusion. Her consciousness was starting to slip away, and she was helpless to stop it. “Rest, Mai of the Cherry Tree. Sweet Mai.”

The gentle grip of the Divine One loosened. Her thoughts drifted, turning into whispers, and she felt it the second the Divine One released her into the silent, dark pond of sleep. The water was as thick as cream, soft and warm. Upon sinking below the surface, she remembered no more.

Chapter Ten

Mai woke to an excruciating headache. For a moment that lasted much too long, all she could feel, see, or hear was white-hot pain and the sound of blood pounding through her veins, jabbing at her skull with every thump of her heart. She made the only sound she could—a pitiful moan.

Soft pillows propped her up. Cool hands touched her face. They were rough, which was somehow comforting. A soft word was spoken by a deep, tender voice, and the pain receded immediately. Sighing with relief, she let go of the tension in her neck and back. She tried to swallow, but a scratchy lump caught in her throat and she coughed.

Something touched her mouth, and water lapped at her parched lips. She promptly opened them and drank deeply, gulping as much air as she did water. When she might have choked, the water was taken away, and she settled against the bed, content for the moment.

Her eyes slid open. She could tell it was midafternoon, but her drapes were shut against the light. Someone with broad shoulders and a long ponytail was sitting next to her. She blinked to clear her vision, and her visitor set the cup of water on a nearby tray. He looked at her with both concern and relief.

“Rosuke,” she whispered. Her voice sounded terrible. She tried clearing her throat.

“How do you feel? Any pain?”

She shook her head. “But I failed, didn’t I?” she asked, though it wasn’t a question.

The state she was in meant something had backfired, and she dreaded finding out what her magic had wrought. She could imagine all sorts of terrible things—a new, yawning canyon through the center of the capitol, or perhaps fires had broken out once again, destroying what was left of the city. She prayed no one had been injured.

Rosuke turned his eyebrows up in sympathy. “No, not at all. It was a resounding success. You worked a miracle.”

She let out a shaky sigh and shut her eyes. She had been so ready for everyone to finally realize she wasn’t cut out for all this—had practically counted on it. Even though and especially because so many people had put their faith in her, she had felt doomed to failure. For the moment, she felt liberated, but tomorrow the doubt would creep in again, she was sure.

He stroked her cheek, his touch cool, gentle, and comforting. “I never doubted you’d complete the spell perfectly,” he said, wiping away the lone tear that escaped. “I was only afraid of what the spell would do to you after the coma the empress put herself in a few months ago.” Mai gave in to temptation and nuzzled his palm.