I opened my mouth to try once more, but before I could speak, Ederra curtly announced, “I don’t have a granddaughter,” and turned her back on me.
It took me a heartbeat to snap my mouth shut and try to erase the devastation surely evident on my face. The sunshine on my cheeks was warm, the light breeze balmy, but I wrapped my arms tightly around my waist, suppressing a sudden shiver.
I don’t have a granddaughter.
It only took two more heartbeats for me to make a decision.
“Zuhra—”
I couldn’t tell if it was Adelric or Raidyn who spoke over the thundering of my heartbeat and the rush of blood in my ears, but I ignored the troubled tone and rushed after my grandmother.
“Wait!” I shouted.
She paused halfway across the field and glanced over her shoulder at me, her eyes wide but her lips downturned.
“You don’t have to want me,” I panted when I finally reached her side. “Just help me get home, please. Help me get back to Inara—to my sister. The rakasa got through and if she’s not dead yet then she will be s—”
“What?” Ederra’s hissed question cut through my pleadings. “What rakasa? What is the meaning of this?” Her voice rose as she looked over my head. If I’d thought my mother had mastered the glare, she had nothing on this woman. I was almost afraid the blue fire glowing in her eyes was about to erupt out and burn us all on the spot.
“I would have told you if you’d given me a second to do so.” Adelric’s reply from directly behind me was much calmer than mine would have been. How was he not shaking in his boots?
“I’m giving you half a second to explain what she’s talking about right now.” My grandmother—could I call her that if she refused to accept me as her granddaughter?—Ederra pointed at me as though I had single-handedly caused the entire catastrophe.
“Her sister has immense Paladin power, just as I suspected,” my father began. “Power that has been suppressed—unused—for fifteen years, ever since the night she was born and I was sucked through the gateway by the surge from her birth. And today, she finally touched the gateway in the citadel.”
A muscle clenched in Ederra’s cheek, her lips pursed into a thin line. My father’s words echoed in my mind: He was sucked through the gateway—by a surge from Inara’s birth? He hadn’t abandoned us at all then … he hadn’t left us willingly. And I already knew he’d spent fifteen years trying to reopen it with no success to come back. Everything my mother had believed … everything she’d tried to ingrain in us … was wrong.
“Please, let them open the gateway so I can get back,” I pleaded. “The rakasa that got through was huge. I have to help my sister and Sam—”
“How is it that you came to be here?” She cut me off again, her voice as cold as ever, brushing away my terror for my sister and everyone else trapped in the citadel with that monster as if it were meaningless.
“Something grabbed my ankle and pulled me through. But my sister—”
“Was it still open?” Ederra addressed Adelric, ignoring my plea yet again.
“No, it closed shortly after Zuhra was pulled through.”
“This girl opened the gateway by herself? Just by touching it?”
I nodded, jumping in before Adelric. “Yes, my sister did. And I have to get back to her as soon as—”
“Your sister is a danger to herself and to both of our worlds. She has already caused irreparable harm.”
“So you’ll help me get back to her?”
Ederra’s eyes burned cold. “No. I won’t.”
“But…”
She turned on her heel and strode away.
This time I stood unmoving, my hands trembling. Hot anger boiled through my veins, but beside it beat a desperate grief that pricked my eyes. Was I stuck here—forever? If Raidyn somehow was right, and Inara hadn’t died yet, every hour that we wasted not rushing straight back to the gateway was another hour closer to the possibility that I wouldn’t ever see her again. Had Halvor survived the attack? Could he have been able to get one of the weapons and stop the beast?
“Don’t worry, I’ll talk to her.” My father hurried past me, following in his mother’s footsteps, heading for the castle that no longer looked as beautiful as it had to me at first. I wasn’t sure how meeting my grandmother and having her be so gruff could change the appearance of a building, but somehow it had. Now the glittering walls and golden turrets seemed as cold and unfeeling as she.
I stood in the center of that field, staring at the massive structure, surrounded by Paladin and gryphons—more living beings near me than I’d ever experienced—and had never felt so alone in my life. All the fear and grief Raidyn’s assurances had managed to assuage for a time came tumbling back up. It didn’t matter how beautiful this place was, or how many unknown family members might live within those walls, or if potential friends could have been standing within talking distance right now … I only wanted my sister. My quiet, secluded citadel. Sami. Halvor. Even my mother.
All I’d wanted to do for so long was to escape, and now all I wanted was to go back.
If only there was some way to return to the moment when I’d left Inara’s door unlocked and redo that brief second of distraction that had led to all of this. The Paladin had unimaginable power, but even I knew none of them possessed the ability to change time.
“Don’t lose hope yet,” a female voice said in my language.
I swiped at my cheeks furiously before turning to face a young woman with deep auburn hair and alabaster skin brightened by a splash of freckles across her narrow nose standing beside Raidyn. “Who said I’ve lost hope?” I snapped. “And why do you all speak my language?” It was irrational to be angry about that, I knew, but I couldn’t help it.
They exchanged a glance, a look that spoke far more than their words, and revealed a closeness that only served to remind me how alone I was here.
“She can be very intimidating,” the girl said.
“Sharmaine is right. It would be difficult to find someone who isn’t at least a little bit afraid of your grandmother. But that doesn’t mean things can’t change.”
I exhaled and added, with a bit more control, “I just have to get back there—as soon as possible.”
“General Adelric is doing what he can, I’m sure of it. And though she is the leader of the council, Ederra isn’t the only say. Perhaps the rest of the council will side with him—with you,” Raidyn offered. “My mother used to say ‘as long as you’re breathing, there’s always hope.’”
Sharmaine put one hand on Raidyn’s arm, a gesture that was so instinctive she almost didn’t seem to realize she’d done it. A strange flare of heat went through me to see her touch him, to witness the softness in her gaze when she glanced up at him. I swatted it down, baffled and disconcerted at my immediate reaction that I had no right to feel.
“I still think it’s true,” she said, almost too low for me to hear, and then turned to me. “Zuhra, I know you’re worried about your sister, but what’s done is done, and—”
“It is not done!”
Sharmaine startled at the vehemence in my tone and I hurried to continue.
“It can’t be done … because that would mean we can’t change anything. And that might mean she’s dead and she can’t be. She can’t be! Because … b-because…” That would mean it’s my fault. The words stuck in my throat, serrating my last strands of control. I buried my face in my hands, the only thing I could think to do to at least try and hide the sobs that unexpectedly overwhelmed me. I’d seen the monster diving toward Halvor. Surely he was gone. No one could have survived that. He’d only been a part of my life a short while, but I’d come to care for him—even though he hadn’t reciprocated the depth of my feelings. The thought of his death ripped through me. And Inara would have been next. Raidyn was wrong about knowing. He was wrong.
There was no way my sister would have been able to fight off that rakasa by herself, trapped in the Hall of Miracles.
Not unless a true miracle had occurred. Unless …
Unless her power to heal herself was strong enough to keep her from dying.
I inhaled sharply and let my hands drop. Raidyn had folded his arms across his chest, watching me with hooded eyes, but Sharmaine had stepped closer. Her hand hung in the air as though I’d caught her mid-attempt to pat me on the shoulder.
“As long as you’re breathing, there’s always hope,” I repeated with a hesitant smile, despite my tear-streaked face.
Raidyn lifted one eyebrow, baffled at my sudden change of countenance.
“I have to talk to the council right away. Can you help me do that?”
“Um…” Sharmaine glanced over her shoulder to Raidyn.
“We can try,” he offered. “But”—he continued before I could thank him—“even if we are able to get them to convene, though you will surely find some allies there, you had best be prepared for the fact that some of them won’t be thrilled that you’re here.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can convince them. I’m sure of it. I have to.”
Because Raidyn and his mother were right—there was always hope. There had to be. It was the only way I could continue on—the only way I could find the courage and strength to face a grandmother who didn’t want me, a council of Paladin who held my future in their hands, and a world full of monsters and men with more power in their eyes than my entire body.
If my sister had enough power to open a gateway my father hadn’t been able to get back through for fifteen years just by touching it, surely she had the power to heal herself from a rakasa attack.
And I wouldn’t stop until I made it back to her.
TWENTY-FIVE
INARA
The tiny jail cell was dank, musty, and smelled of feces, urine, and worse—the decay of things long dead. I sat in the center of the cell, my arms wrapped around my knees, reciting the few nursery rhymes I could remember that Zuhra used to sing to me at night to help me get to sleep. I knew she thought I couldn’t hear her through the roar, and usually that was true. But sometimes, especially at night when I was close to sleep, her voice would burrow through the constant growl of power in my mind.
Rest your eyes and rest your tiny toes,
Go to sleep, and I’ll bring you a rose.
Silly, nonsensical rhymes but they’d brought me comfort then. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to summon the memory of her voice to sooth me now … and found only silence. The absence of my sister, the absence of the only home I’d ever known, and the absence of the power that had always consumed me. For so long I had wished for it to go, had longed for the rare moments of silence when I could actually communicate with Zuhra to last … but now they were both gone, and all I wanted was for them to come back. I wanted the numb, oblivious peace the roar allowed me. I’d never recognized it as such before now—but being alert for this long had finally made me realize there were times being unaware of what was happening around you was more of a gift than a curse.
At least when what was happening around you was being trapped in a jail cell smaller than your closet at home, all alone, awaiting your execution.
And as much as I tried to convince myself otherwise, my deepest fear—even more than my own death looming over me—was that I had lost Zuhra forever. That she had been sucked through that doorway to her death.
Halvor had tried to protect me, but Javan and the villagers knew the truth and their demand for justice was … well, justified. I had brought death to my family, and to theirs. I’d touched the door, my power had summoned the monster somehow.
My power.
A groan came from the cell next to me, as it had occasionally all night. “The town drunkard,” Sami had whispered before she left. Whoever it was sounded miserable. And the smell coming from his cell was even worse than mine.
Sami and Halvor had both pleaded with Javan, begging him to release me, claiming they’d take me back to the citadel, that no more harm would come—that it had been a fluke and wouldn’t happen again. But he’d refused and eventually they’d both been forced to leave.
My mother had never come.
Not that I truly had expected her to, but I couldn’t keep from hoping that perhaps word would have reached her—that my impending death would be enough to induce her to perhaps try to help me. Or, at the very least, come speak to me before my “trial” the next day. The meeting where I was to be judged and then executed.
Sami had cried when Javan dragged her away from my cell.
Halvor had merely stared at me for several long moments, then left without a word.
And my mother never came.
And Zuhra was gone.
For the third time since I’d been left there in the cold, damp dark, Sami’s robe got soaked from the tears I tried to press back by digging my knees into my eyes.
Zuhra, if you’re already gone, will you help me be brave for the trial and execution? Will you be there when I die?
“Inara!” The low whisper made me jump and I scrambled to my feet, almost expecting to see her ghost.
Except the voice had been distinctly male.
“Halvor?” I whispered back, when I realized he was crouching on the ground outside my door, dressed entirely in black; only his dusty brown hair revealed his identity. That, and his familiar voice. “What are you doing?”
“I’m helping you escape.”
There was an odd jangling sound.
“Escape?” I repeated, baffled.
“They’re going to kill you, Inara. But if we can get you back to the citadel, the hedge will protect you. They won’t be able to hurt you.”
“What about the trial? Where’s Javan?”
“Shh!” He glanced over his shoulder and after a moment of silence resumed his work. It was hard to tell in the darkness, but his hands seemed to be trembling. The lock rattled against the metal bars of the door. “You have to be quiet or they’ll catch us.”
“What you’re doing … It’s wrong. Isn’t it?”
He was silent for a long moment and then with a snick the lock popped open. “What’s wrong is to murder an innocent young girl for a mistake she had no control over.” He stood and swung the door open, triumph lighting his eyes.
Young girl. For some reason those two words rang in my ears, making me flush, though I wasn’t sure why.
“Let’s go—hurry. Before we get—”
Halvor turned right into the man who had emerged from the shadows behind him.
“Beat me to it, boy.”
I didn’t recognize the man’s voice, but Halvor must have because instead of reacting in anger or fear, he threw his arms around the man. I recognized him as the one who had stared at me in the crowd—but not with anger or fear. With something akin to … awe.
“Barloc, we have to get her to the citadel. The hedge will protect her—it will—”
“No,” Barloc answered, his voice similarly pitched low and quiet. “There is a family that came to me and asked if it was true that Paladin can heal. Their son was injured in the attack and has taken a turn for the worse. They wish for her to come before the trial.”
“And then what? Thank her for saving their child’s life and wave as the executioner takes her to the town square to be strung up?”
“Halvor.” Barloc’s gaze snapped to mine then back again. “Watch your mouth.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t see how sneaking her into one family’s home to heal their child is a good idea. We need to get her away from here, as soon as possible. She already offered to help heal their wounded and they imprisoned her!”
I stared at the two men as they discussed my fate, wondering if I should speak up or allow them to choose for me. I knew so little, and by healing Halvor somehow I’d come to know him intimately—his mind, his heart. Even now, I could sense his emotions—anxious but earnest. I could trust him. And if he trusted Barloc, then I did too. So I stood still and waited as they argued over my fate.
“If she heals the
ir child, they have agreed to testify on her behalf—to argue for her release. Having someone on her side from within this town could only help her cause.” Barloc paused and then added, “If what you’ve claimed her capable of is true, that is.”
Halvor looked to me this time; our eyes met and a flash of memory rose within me at the look in his gaze. The feel of his body beneath my hand, the flicker of life within him almost gone, the beautiful light of his soul returning in full force as my power infiltrated his wounds and made him whole once more. “She can” was all he said.
“I want to help,” I offered quietly. “I don’t want anyone else to die because of me.”
“It was never because of you,” Halvor protested, “and you need to stop saying that!”
“But I—”
“This is not the time to argue about this,” Barloc interjected, glancing over his tense shoulder to the shadows that swam through the mostly empty building. The prisoner next to me had begun snoring sometime during the whispered conversation. “She said she wants to do it, so let’s go.”
Halvor sighed—a sound heavy with displeasure—but gestured for me to follow after Barloc. I stepped out of the cell silently, the stone floor cold on the pads of my feet as I hurried after the older man, Halvor close behind. I wished he’d thought to get Sami. Her presence would have gone a long way to soothe the sudden trembling in my knees as we rushed past other dark cells and then out into the cool night.
The sky was a rich canvas of velvet black dotted with silver pinpricks of starlight above us. No moon had risen, offering us the cover of darkness, and the stars’ light was too distant to do much more than flicker as they watched us rush between a handful of cottages. The ever-present breeze was gentle that night, caressing my face, tangling its wild fingers in my hair and sweetly lifting the lightest strands from my neck and cheeks.
Sisters of Shadow and Light Page 20
