by Carol A Park
Vaughn pulled her out of the hedge by one hand, and then he wrapped the other around her waist, drawing her close to him again. “Fair enough,” he said. “But, damn, Ivana, if you’re going to keep throwing yourself at me like this, I’m going to start getting ideas.”
Her breath caught in her throat as his eyes slid to her lips. “Ideas?” she said, unconsciously letting her lips part and tilting her head up toward him.
He stared down at her for a moment, the raw longing creeping into his eyes making her entire body ache. And then he took her silent invitation, touching his lips to hers once more, this time more gently, not even a true kiss, just the barest, intoxicating brush.
“Yes,” he whispered, without pulling back, letting his breath tickle her lips. “Ideas like maybe I’m not the only one who still wants this.”
Yes, every part of her body cried. I want this.
Did she? And what would that solve? Would it make her understand what she was supposed to do, who she was supposed to be now? Would it push back the boundaries of encroaching darkness?
His voice was low. Raw. “Do you want to…go back?”
Even with the hesitation, his meaning was clear enough.
Maybe for an hour, the voice whispered. Maybe for a moment, you could let it all go. Not be the woman you once were, not be a dead woman, not be the wreckage left behind—not be anyone or anything. Just be.
And would she be someone who would regret a choice made in an irrational moment of passion, or someone who would relish it?
Her vision blurred. I just want to be, she screamed. Did she always have to make it so complicated?
She didn’t even realize tears had spilled over her cheeks until Vaughn pulled back from her and had cupped her face in his hands, brushing the drops away with his thumbs, his brow furrowed.
“Whoa,” he said. “I-I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”
She raised her hands to clasp his wrists, pushing back his hands, pushing back the tears, pushing back her weakness.
She was a disaster. Not someone who could make rational decisions about such things.
She looked up into Vaughn’s eyes, hoping he would let it be.
He turned his hands to grasp her own in his and held them. And then he spoke words that cut straight through all her pretenses, all her lies. “The loss of Sweetblade has been hard on you, hasn’t it?” he said.
She swallowed. Her inclination was to pull away, to shut him out.
“Are you ever going to let me in and let me stay in?” he had pleaded with her. He didn’t understand what he was asking. But maybe…
She had to swallow twice before she could choke the single word out. “Yes,” she whispered.
He nodded. “Can I do anything to help?”
She blinked, startled. This was not the same man she had met over two years ago. Was it possible for someone to change in so short a time?
Perhaps he had never been as bad as she had thought. Perhaps that had always been her own blindness getting in the way, choosing to see his own defenses and façades as the totality of who he was.
“I don’t know,” she said.
“All right. What do you say we head down to Huiel’s makeshift training area. Have you had any practice yet?”
She shook her head.
“You should. Even if only to make sure you don’t accidentally kill yourself.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’ll tell Huiel to stay out of it unless we need him. Promise.”
She hesitated. She hadn’t even touched the aether that now ran in her blood since those few moments outside the portal—not out of fear of killing herself, but to avoid facing yet another issue she had to deal with at some point.
But he was right. The last thing she wanted was to be caught unaware again.
Maybe it would be a welcome distraction. So at last she nodded. “Maybe that’s a good idea.”
Chapter Forty-Four
Practice
As it turned out, they needed Huiel: try as they might, they couldn’t get Ivana to replicate what she’d done outside the portal.
Huiel stood in front of Ivana and Vaughn down in the large room in the tunnels they had converted to a safe place to train, his arms folded across his chest, a slight frown on his lips. “So you say you froze everything.”
“Everything except myself,” Ivana said. She was beginning to wonder if she had been hallucinating after all.
But she hadn’t hallucinated being in a different location when she had unfrozen everything.
“And your patron is Ziloxchanachi himself? I thought he didn’t do anything.”
“He doesn’t,” Vaughn said. “But that’s by choice, not because he has no powers. But Tani said he’s god of, let me see if I remember this correctly: ‘Everything and nothing and the cycle of death and rebirth.’”
“That’s quite the litany,” Huiel said, one eyebrow raised.
“I can burn the aether from my blood,” Ivana said. “I can feel it, like before.” And it continued to be a strange feeling. “It just doesn’t appear to do anything.”
“Even when you direct it?” Huiel asked.
“I’ve tried thinking about freezing everything again. Nothing happens.”
Huiel tapped his thigh. “What was it you thought moments before everything froze?”
“A bloodwolf was about to tear out my throat. I wasn’t thinking. I was reacting.”
Huiel scratched the side of his neck. “I see.” His eyes flicked down to the dagger at Ivana’s thigh, and then he stepped over to the single weapons rack in the room. He selected a club and walked back over to them.
Then without warning, he swung the club at Ivana’s head.
She didn’t even have time to duck. Just like with the bloodwolf, she threw up her arm and…
Everything froze.
She slowly lowered her arm and backed away from Huiel.
Yes, just like before. Huiel stood as though he were posing for a portrait, club in the grip of an outstretched arm, and Vaughn’s eyes were wide, one hand in the process of being raised. Like before, when she focused on it, she could feel the trajectory of that club, where it would have landed on her had she not stopped him.
It was…insane.
To see if she could change something other than herself, she moved around to the side of Huiel, pried the club out of his hand, and put it back in the weapons rack. Then she turned to look at Huiel again. Her feeling about what would happen changed. He would stumble forward without the weight in his hand.
And then, like before—and with no difficulty—she directed everything to start again.
Huiel stumbled forward.
Vaughn shouted.
She stood to one side, her arms folded and her mind whirling.
Huiel spun and stared at her for a moment. Then he nodded. “It worked?”
“It worked.”
“You’re used to reacting quickly with whatever’s at your disposal,” Huiel stated.
She couldn’t deny that. “Yes.”
“There’s got to be a way for her to use it at times other than when someone is about to clobber her,” Vaughn said.
“Unless that’s some sort of specific characteristic of Ziloxchanachi’s magic, I agree,” Huiel said. He looked at Ivana thoughtfully, and then pointed at her dagger. “A tool,” he said. Then he tapped her on the side of the head. “A tool.” He touched the vein in her wrist. “One more tool in your arsenal. I’m guessing that it’s not a power that can be accessed just for the fun of it.” By demonstration, he made a tiny whirlwind spin around on his hand for a moment and then clapped it out. “Rather, when you need it for something.”
A tool. She frowned. “All right. I suppose that might make sense.” She hesitated. “There’s one other thing that happens. I thought maybe the first time it was a fluke, but I was able to replicate it. If I focus on something, I can tell what would have happened if I hadn’t frozen everything. This time, I did something that would change that, and then I knew wh
at the change would make happen. And sure enough, it did.”
Vaughn clapped a hand to his forehead. “Burning skies.”
“What?” Ivana said.
“Zily isn’t only god of everything and nothing, death and rebirth. He’s the god of time. Remember Tani’s theory about why you were able to go through the portal?”
“Yes. It made no sense to me.”
“Me either, but it had something to do with you being Zily’s Banebringer”—he cast a quick look at Huiel—“er, Gifted, in the future, which somehow affected the present…I don’t know, but either way, again, time.”
Ivana digested that. “So, I’m not freezing everything. I’m…stopping time?”
Huiel’s eyes widened. “And seeing and changing the future by what you do.”
They both turned to look at her. “Wow,” Vaughn said. “That’s pretty intense. I mean…”
Huiel shook his head and held his hand up. “Before we get carried away, let’s remember that most of us can only burn the smallest amount of aether for a few hours at a time before becoming fatigued. I’m sure this power will have uses that will become more apparent with practice, but I’m guessing they’ll be fairly limited in scope.” He turned to Ivana. “You should train more—see what you can and can’t do. The only way we learn those sorts of things is by practicing and experimenting.”
Here it went. Huiel would want to drag her into some sort of training regime…
“We’re leaving in a day or two on a task for Yaotel,” Vaughn said. “So that’ll have to wait.”
Ivana flicked her eyes his direction and gave a tiny tilt of the head, which she hoped he would interpret as gratitude.
Huiel pursed his lips. “All right. Well, some parting advice then. Since you’ve already been burning aether externally for some time, I doubt control or efficiency will be an issue for you. However, stamina is a different matter. I’d practice burning that low level of aether, even if it doesn’t do anything. That’s what I’ve had Dal Driskell doing, and it’s—”
Vaughn cut in. “So, he is a Bane—Gifted!”
Huiel paused. “I…figured Yaotel would have told you that since you’ve been in on a lot of the meetings…”
“I haven’t talked to him in a few days,” Vaughn said.
“Anyway,” Huiel continued, “that’s what I’ve had Driskell doing, and it’s considerably lengthened the amount of time he can burn his aether before tiring.” He hesitated and then said hopefully, “I don’t suppose you’d give it one more try before you go, though?”
Ivana could appreciate his thirst for knowledge, so she nodded.
A tool. What else could she use it for? What was something she needed? Something that having a little more time might help her accomplish?
She glanced around, and her eyes lit on a book that lay open on top of a small table shoved into the corner. She walked over to it and put her hand on top of it. Time to study, she thought, and then she burned aether.
The flame in the lantern on the wall froze. She glanced behind her. Vaughn and Huiel had also frozen, both looking in her direction curiously.
She perused the book, which looked like a manual someone had put together for the various types of Banebringers. She stopped at the moonblood chapter, curious, and read all about Vaughn’s powers of invisibility, dark vision, and water manipulation. About the best way to train a new moonblood. Even a summary of the myth where Chati lost her head.
She did this until she began to feel dizzy, and then she let go. “Do all Gifted have a passive ability, like moonbloods and dark vision?” she asked without turning, as if nothing had happened.
There was a moment of silence, and then, “No,” Huiel said, “but some do. Beastbloods, for instance, have especially strong constitutions. Don’t get sick and are harder to kill.” A pause. “Did you read that whole thing?”
“No, just looked at some of it.”
“See the future at all?” Vaughn asked.
She turned and raised an eyebrow at him. “What, in a book? No. Nothing stood out to me.”
He rubbed his jaw. “All right. Thanks for your help, Huiel.”
They walked away from Huiel, silent until they reentered the tunnel leading out. “Do you want to practice more, or…?” Vaughn asked.
“I think I’ve had enough for one day.” It had served the purpose of distracting her from her whirlwind of emotions. “I have a few garments to pick up from a dressmaker.” And prepare for yet another long journey.
The sedentary year she had spent in Fuilyn had been nice in some respects.
Vaughn studied her for a moment and then nodded. “I’ll let you know when and where we’re meeting to leave,” he said. He grimaced. “It’ll be soon.”
“As always,” she said. “I’ll be ready.”
Chapter Forty-Five
A Pretentious Chamber
There was a yawning and rather pretentious chamber in the civic hall where the Ri, at one point in time, had held audience with his nobles, heard grievances, and received foreign dignitaries.
It had sat empty for decades.
The Ri of Donia no longer received foreign dignitaries, grievances were handled much more efficiently than a long line of would-be petitioners out the civic hall doors, and they met with their nobles—their advisors—in the conference room, not an echoing stone hall meant to intimidate and cow.
It had been used, on occasion, for balls, but Ri Tanuac, being a rather practical man, wasn’t given to elaborate parties.
Now, the layers of dust had been wiped from the chandeliers; the drapes laundered, rehung, and pulled back to let in the sun; and the stone floor, which was inlaid with tiles in a large diamond mosaic, mopped and polished.
Guards stood at regular intervals down the long carpet leading to the front, where Ri Tanuac stood in front of an ornate chair that wasn’t quite a throne, flanked by Nahua on his right and Yaotel on the left. Further, the four Gan stood at the front as well, two on each side, and behind the chair, looking rather grim, were all three of Tanuac’s personal bodyguards. General Gyano stood at the ready nearby.
Driskell, on the other hand, stood in the back, having just arrived—and feeling rather overwhelmed by his first sight of the chamber in all its glory.
Nahua caught his eye and nodded to him.
Driskell straightened and smoothed his formal tunic and focused on his destination, rather than the dozens of minor nobles and other persons of status gathered in the hall, whom he was certain were watching his lone procession up the carpet to the front.
They probably weren’t, considering there was a low buzz in the room as everyone waited for the dignitary who was the reason for the overhaul of the chamber and the theatrics.
Driskell took his place behind Nahua, notebook ready.
None too soon.
Dal Bherg swept into the chamber, accompanied by four other priests—making their number five, considered to be a holy number in the Conclave’s religion.
A trickle of sweat ran down Driskell’s temple, and he flicked it off.
“Steady, Driskell,” Lady Nahua whispered.
I can’t do this, he wanted to plead. It had been a mere eighteen days since the sky-fire, sixteen since he’d told Danton his secret, and thirteen since he had started training with Huiel. He had only the barest idea of what he was doing and what he was capable of.
But he had already agreed to do his best; therefore, he would.
He burned his trickle of aether, the kind that projected “love-beams,” as Thrax called them. That, at least, he had been practicing constantly.
Bherg didn’t waste words on pleasantries. He halted in front of the platform and surveyed the group there before his eyes settled on Tanuac.
“Ri Tanuac,” he said, the emphasis on “Ri” a bit sardonic. “We meet at last.”
“Holiness Bherg,” Tanuac said. “Be welcome.”
“Welcome? As my representative was welcome when you barred him from the government
tier four days ago and subsequently ejected him from Marakyn itself?”
“He was causing trouble, Holiness,” Tanuac said, at complete ease. “Stirring up discontent and spreading dangerous rumors. I cannot allow that—which you would have known had you not in turn refused to receive my message explaining myself.”
Driskell expanded his bubble toward Bherg and his priests. Rather than any particular suggestion, which Huiel informed him was more advanced—Driskell projected into the space contained by the bubble a general feeling of calm.
“Dangerous rumors, indeed,” Bherg said. “Dangerous, and true. Is it not true that you have held multiple closed councils with your Gan, as well as other officials—such as General Gyano—without the presence of my representative?”
Tanuac said nothing.
“Is it not true that in these councils, you plot against the Setanan Empire?”
There was a murmur in the room.
Bherg was calm enough. As calm as a frozen lake. Not exactly what Driskell had been aiming for. He changed from calm to contentment. It was a fine distinction, and he didn’t know if he was skilled enough to make it, but he tried anyway.
“Is it not true that in your plots, you collude with none other than demonspawn?”
Driskell was so shocked that his bubble popped. Bherg…knew? Oh, no. He struggled to school his face.
Tanuac still seemed completely at ease. Perhaps Driskell’s love-beams were affecting the wrong person. Not that Tanuac being calm was necessarily a bad thing…
“Holiness,” Tanuac said. “What evidence have you for any of these outlandish accusations?”
“I have my sources,” Bherg said.
All right, not contentment. Happiness? No, far too radical of a change. Back to calm.
“Would one of those sources be Dal Dax, who less than two months ago attempted to assassinate one of my new advisors and his friends?” Tanuac asked.
A triumphant smile spread over Bherg’s lips. “Dal Dax. Yes. Yes, it would. And he had some interesting stories to tell us, believe me.”
“He’s a traitor with his own motivations, and therefore unreliable.”
