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The Academy of Blood & Shadow

Page 132

by Océanne Rhéaume

He frowns. "You don't think so?"

"I've never had this happen before."

He scratches the back of his neck with his good hand. "That's not reassuring."

"I know."

Rhyven speaks for the first time. "You can refuse." Simple. Direct. No pressure. Aldric looks at him. Then back at me. Finally, he smiles.

"I trust the Academy." He shrugs. "And if Chief Corvell is standing here looking this serious I'm guessing this matters."

He carefully loosens the clean bandage. Near the edge of the healing cut, one tiny crimson bead forms where the skin pulls. Barely enough. He holds out his hand. "Go ahead."

I hesitate. Just for a heartbeat. Then I touch it. The world answers. This time there is something. A rush of embarrassment. Falling. The sound of everyone laughing with him, not at him. The healer complaining about his boots. Warm cider. Music. Cards. The Place. Relief. Alive. Real. Then— Nothing. The thread simply...Ends. Abruptly. As though someone took a blade to a tapestry and severed everything that came before. No childhood. No family. No yesterday morning. No memories of the Trial. Nothing before The Place.

I gasp and pull my hand away. Cassian catches my elbow before I lose my balance. "What did you see?"

I stare at Aldric. He's looking at me with worried confusion. "I..." My voice barely works. "I saw Friday night." I start.

"And?"

I swallow. "Nothing else."

Silence. Aldric frowns. "What does that mean?"

"I don't know." I admit honestly. "But..."

"Your Blood Echo should go back years." Cassian says quietly.

"It stopped."

"Where?" Rhyven asks. I meet his eyes.

"The Place."

He doesn't react outwardly. Only asks, "Nothing before?"

I search my memory. "No. The last clear emotion..." I close my eyes again, trying to catch the fading echo. "Was laughter. Inside the tavern.The rest..." I open my eyes. "Is gone." No one speaks. Not even Aldric. Because somehow all four of us understand the same thing at exactly the same moment.

Whatever happened didn't begin on the mountain path. It happened before any of us ever started walking home.

Chapter Sixteen

Aldric does not ask us to explain further. Perhaps he senses that we cannot. He rewraps the bandage around his arm with slower movements than before, the earlier humor gone from his expression.

The courtyard continues around us. Students cross between lectures. Bells ring from the western tower. Somewhere near the lower field, an instructor shouts for a formation to reset. Nothing has changed. That is becoming the most disturbing part.

Aldric looks at the thin line of healing skin beneath the cloth. "I remember everything." He says.

"I know," I answer.

"My childhood. My family. The Trial."

"I believe you."

"But my blood doesn't?"

The question is quiet. Almost embarrassed. As though his body has betrayed him in a way he should be able to apologize for.