“You are probably right, but you can give it a shot. Who knows, you might fall in love with it.”
I tried to smile, as did she, but neither smile stuck. They fell off our faces like undercooked pasta on the wall, sliding to the old stone floor in pools of hope that we had lost far too long ago.
I gazed at her as I watched the humor fade, the carefree nature that was so Wyn disappearing from a heartache I had seen before. It was a look I never wanted to see again, yet there it sat, feet from me, ripped and bleeding.
I said nothing, only extended my hand to her in comfort. After all, I didn’t think any words would help. They hadn’t for the past few months, and they wouldn’t now.
Sometimes, words couldn’t heal the way you thought they would. Sometimes, they made you bleed more.
Her hand was cold as it wrapped around mine, the skin slick with a clammy chill. She held on as if she was in danger of floating away, a grip I returned as we stood by his bedside, the vigil so heavy against my soul it was hard to inhale.
“When was the last time you left him?” I regretted asking the question as I watched her shoulders stiffen, her hand tightening around mine slightly as the pain and irritation moved through her in waves. “Left the room, Wyn.” I quickly clarified, even though it didn’t seem to help. The reaction was the same.
“I took a team to the yellow sector last night. We thought we saw a light…” Her voice was stiff, dangerous, and I cringed against it. “I need to leave again in a few hours.”
“Another raid?” I would like to say it wouldn’t happen, given the fight Ilyan had left, but I knew better.
“Grocery run,” she said, her focus still on Thom. “We need more apples. I hope we don’t lose anyone this time.”
I tried to smile, tried to think of something to say, but it was hard. It was hard to think of anything besides how are you? And if I was tired of that question, I knew she would be, too. Why couldn’t people think of anything else to ask? Even discussions on rainstorms would be better or at least something to get your mind off the world.
“I have to go meet up with Ilyan, but do you want to spar later?” I asked hesitantly, knowing I would end up with a broken bone or two. She might be volatile and aggressive sometimes, but it was good practice for me.
“I’d like that.” She looked away from me as she answered, her focus returning to Thom.
I waited for her to turn back, but she stayed still, her hand tight against mine, her heart beat a heavy throb against my palm.
I squeezed her hand, her focus undeviating as she released me, leaving me standing beside her in the darkened room, the stagnant air pressing against me in a painful mass.
Part of me didn’t want to leave, but another part knew I had no choice. I had to walk away from the darkness and back into the hallway. I had to walk away from her, from Thom, and in some strange way, from the hope that Edmund would stop hurting those I loved.
It was a dumb hope, really, and one I had tried to let go of many times.
I knew it was inevitable. No matter how much I tried to push the images of everyone dead in the street, of Ilyan bleeding in the cave, back into the black pit of my mind …
Edmund would still come.
It was a good thing I had learned how to push back. It was a good thing I wanted to win.
And I would.
The hallway was far too bright and active for this early in the morning. Where the building had been half-asleep and empty moments before, now it was slowly filling with people, people who looked at me as they passed, head bowed in respect, hushed reverences on their lips.
You would think I would be used to it by now, but I wasn’t. Besides, I couldn’t ignore the tiny voice in my head that said they were talking about me, and not just mumbling the usual polite formalities.
Sometimes, my brain was too high school for its own good.
I had moved into a wider and much busier hallway when the sound of thunder and drums resounded through the sky. The clamor grew louder as the massive building began to shake, old, lead windows rattling, a fresh layer of dust falling over me like snow and confetti.
My heart clenched, the recall from this morning’s sight coming right to the forefront. The falling of ash, the cave collapsing over me. I knew it wasn’t the same, but I couldn’t stop the reaction.
I couldn’t stop the fear.
After all, I already knew what it was, and it was so much worse.
How many? I asked the question into Ilyan’s mind in a rush, and his focus moved away from Risha as I ran to the windows beside me, looking at all of the black specks that were now circling around the high dome. Like drops to a windowpane, everyone around me followed suit, their eyes to the sky as the gasps and murmurs resounded down the hall.
Ilyan’s fear built as mine did while the building he stood on shifted below his feet.
I closed my eyes as I focused. My magic seeped right to him in a mad attempt to discover the security of the building, despite knowing anything I could do would be worthless. We really didn’t need another one of our tall, lookout buildings to come down. The building, the Young Prince, was already becoming unstable.
In the west. He tensed, the way his magic was flowing through me making it clear he was moving to another building. Looks like there are about twenty today.
Twenty. That was almost double from the last few days. They must be getting desperate … or scared.
Silly, really. The mortals were scared of the cage Edmund had made, the cage that we were trapped in. We were terrified of what would happen if they brought it down.
I’m sure they had some idea of what was inside, but even their imaginations couldn’t predict the horrors they would be unleashing—powerful, dark magic and poisoned Vilỳs that lay sleeping in the streets, their tiny, mutated faces trained to the sky as ours were, waiting, hoping, and praying the barrier would break so they could feast on a new batch of victims lying on the other side of the barrier.
We were just as trapped here with Edmund’s army—no, the war right on the other side.
Once those walls came down, everything would be unleashed. The barrier was a ticking time bomb, one the mortals were trying to detonate.
Everything shook further, the sound of broken thunder rumbling with a high groan that made it sound like we were trapped in a bass drum.
That one was big. Maybe too big.
It looked like a nuke, but it couldn’t be… Ilyan provided, and my heart sunk. It didn’t work.
They had never used one of those before. I hadn’t assumed they ever would. But when all their other weaponry had failed, I guessed they had put it on the table.
Nevertheless, even man’s most powerful weapon of destruction wasn’t enough to conquer the magic Edmund had concealed us within. The bombs held little more destructive power than a child banging pots together.
If a nuclear bomb wasn’t enough to break Edmund’s barrier, to break his magic, it made me wonder how much power was inside of me, if everything they said about me was correct. It must be more than the lightning that still flowed through me. More than flame. If I was the one to break the barrier, as the sights had said, then I would have to be pretty powerful.
The thought was both terrifying and exhilarating.
One after another, they came, lines of little, black planes dropping bombs against the barrier and erupting into spirals of color that blossomed and fanned over the surface like oil on water.
Purple, blue, gold—a rainbow of color, a mesmerizing dance of movement. It was beautiful, or at least, it would be if it wasn’t for the massive destructive power behind it.
I watched the colors blossom, my head spinning and pulsing as dust continued to fall over my head.
I could feel it tickle my neck. I could feel it fall on my nose. I barely cared. I barely even saw the colorful paroxysms anymore. I barely felt the fear.
All I could feel was the comfortable weight of my magic, the warmth as it pulsed through me in waves,
as it forced the broken imagery of a recall into the black lines of my eyes.
I gasped at the image, the overlay of sight so perfect that, for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I was tapped in to my magic or not. Nonetheless, I couldn’t deny the way it felt, the way my magic moved through me with a powerful reliance, exactly like it used to.
Do you feel that? I asked Ilyan as the recall faded away, leaving me staring at a reality so similar I was momentarily lost between two worlds.
Feel what? he asked, concerned. He was so focused on the planes and the bombs they were dropping on us that he hadn’t even noticed.
Before I had a chance to explain, my eyes widened at the sight of the rings of color that rippled over us, and then my magic swelled again, the same recall returning. The same sight replayed.
Thunder rattled my bones with the powerful crash of the explosion, fire and smoke breaking free of the barrier as the dome popped like a soap bubble. The barricade of color faded away, dropping to the ground as though it had never been, the bright blue sky that had been so missed shimmering to life.
I gasped as I saw it, my eyes widening as a new terror gripped me. I had barely caught a peek of the blue of the sky before it was swarmed by hordes of black wings that took off from the ground, millions of the screaming things swirling through the now active air, leaving their cage and ready to attack, ready to create a new army.
No! I screamed, my hands a tight fist around the windowsill.
Ilyan’s dread heightened at my shout, his fear running right into me in a wave more violent than my own.
Joclyn?
The planes were above us like large, black birds with their bellies bare and open, witnessing the same thing I was and, I was sure, ready to drop another deadly weapon in order to stop whatever they had unveiled. Only, this time, it would hit. This time, it would destroy us all.
Ilyan, I gasped, knowing what came next, knowing I wasn’t fully ready. This wasn’t what I had seen before. Yet, it was. They did it. You need to get back …
What are you—
“It’s time!” I yelled over him, the words more a gasp than a command I was sure a queen was supposed to give at a time like this. “They’ve done it. We need to move!”
Joclyn! What? I heard Ilyan’s voice, felt his mounting confusion, but I couldn’t think through the panic, through the Vilỳs screams that were ringing through the open window.
The light was dazzling, the sound ravaging, my magic a violent spiral through me. It was hard to think, but it didn’t matter.
I turned from the window, ready to face the fear and panic of my people, ready to take control. But they merely stood there, staring at me in confusion.
“We need to move,” I said, the dread growing from seeing them remaining motionless. We weren’t that ill prepared, were we? We had trained for this. They had all trained for this. “The barrier is down. We need to move.”
I tried to put the forceful power into my voice, but I could already feel it wavering. What little confidence I had ebbed as everyone looked at me in confusion, their eyes downcast as they whispered to each other, a fear I had never seen moving into their eyes.
Seeing them, watching them whisper, watching their eyes, an anger mixed with the disorientation the screams of the Vilỳs had given me, the emotion clashing with the way my magic was swollen and painful inside of me.
Mi Lasko …
“What are you waiting for? We need to move!” I practically yelled, my hands spreading out from me in a frantic plea. Still, no one moved, the fear and confusion growing as they looked at each other and at me.
“Perhaps we are waiting for the barrier to break.”
I knew that voice, that slow, snide, and overly calm voice. I knew the falseness of it and the hateful man it was attached to.
Turning toward Sain, my eyes widened at seeing him before me, surrounded by people, a look of confusion and worry plastered on his brow. He stood there like some distorted holy man: his clothes baggy, his hair unkempt, his beard untrimmed, looking as out of place as I felt. Yet, he fit. People swarmed around him while taking a step away from me.
He looked at me for a moment before whispering something to the girl next to him. Her eyes widened as he took a step toward me, a look of worry hitting his face, even if it didn’t hit his eyes.
“But the barrier is down!” I snapped at him. Having to deal with him never did anything good for my temper.
Joclyn, I need you to calm down. Ilyan was pleading with me, his voice worried, concerned, and at any other time, it would have snapped me right out of it, but not when I faced my father.
“Child,” Sain cooed, the ever-present sound of irritation in his voice rattling me further. “Daughter, my child, can’t you see…? The barrier…” He gestured toward the window, his eyes sad.
Right as he said it, the screams of the Vilỳs stopped, silence resonating for the briefest of moments before the television static erupted inside of me, the grinding, electrical noise that had taken over my sights invading my reality. The sound moved through me, loud, abrasive, and painful.
I shook my head to rid myself of it, freezing in place with the knowledge of what had happened.
Sain looked at me with that same false concern, the whispers of those around him increasing.
I didn’t want to turn around. I didn’t want to see what lay outside the window, even though I already knew. I didn’t have another choice.
Joclyn, I need you to talk to me. Snap out of it, Silnỳ. Everything’s okay. He was scared, concerned.
I didn’t care.
“What did you do, Sain?” I growled, the anger in my voice causing several around me to flinch.
It should have been my cue to calm down, to just go to Ilyan as he had asked, to forget all of this, but I couldn’t. Not with the way my anger pulsed, not with the way my muscles seized. Not with the way he was looking at me.
“What do you mean?” His feigned innocence ground against me. “I didn’t—”
“I know you did something!” It was a scream, followed by a lunge, my magic trying to fly out of me to attack him, even if that meant clawing his eyes out, all of which would have succeeded if it wasn’t for the strong arm that wrapped around my stomach, pulling me into a hard chest that I knew all too well.
Apparently, rugby muscles didn’t fade into nothing after spending a year going crazy and being tortured.
“Let me go, Ry,” I growled as I fought against his hold, fully aware that was the most I had spoken to him since the night in the cave on our way to Prague, since the day I had healed Jaromir, the little boy Ilyan had pulled from his mother’s arms.
“Not going to happen, Jos.” His grip was tight yet even. I could tell by the tension in his voice that he was having a hard time keeping a good hold on me. “You’re making a fool of yourself, Your Highness.”
Two words and, just like that, the reality of what I had been about to do, of what I had done, came crashing down on me. The faces of everyone came into sharp focus, the fear in their expressions increasing as they looked from me to Ryland to Sain. But mostly at me, the queen who had, for all they knew, hallucinated the fall of the barrier then turned and attacked her father.
Great.
Joclyn, Ilyan’s voice rushed into my mind, his magic moving into me so fast I was certain I had been blocking it until that moment. You are okay. Everything is all right.
I began to calm, my breath heavy as I stopped pushing against the wall that Ryland had captured me in.
He didn’t let go, and I didn’t blame him. I still felt dangerous. At least skin contact with him wasn’t violently painful anymore.
“What did you do?” I asked my father again, the same volatile anger grinding through my tone.
Sain looked at me, his eyes pushed open wide, his mouth agape as he shook his head, looking to those around him in loss and confusion. “I didn’t do anything, darling.”
Darling? That was a new addition to his repertoire.
> It boiled my blood.
“Are you okay?” For the first time, Sain seemed genuinely concerned, but I knew better. “What can I do?”
Stay calm, Jos. I am right here. I am with you. You can face him. Be who you are. Handle him like the queen you are.
“You can tell me what you did.” I tried to keep my voice calm, tried to sound diplomatic. I wasn’t sure either worked. “With the sights. First the Vilỳs, that attack last month, and now this. What did you do?”
I was getting angry again, and Ryland sensed it, his hold increasing. Meanwhile, Ilyan’s magic picked up, trying frantically to help.
“I did nothing. The sight was broken with the choices you made, dear child. It is one of the Zlomený now. I have explained this all before.” There it was, the same excuse he had used for months—my sight was broken. I was seeing things that could never be. My lack of ability had somehow infected his perfect sight. It was how he had gotten away with everything: lying about the Vilỳ attack, with every broken sight since. “Perhaps, if you cannot control your power, you are not fit to be a Drak.”
I lost it.
Lightning shot from my fingers as I jutted toward the old man, a scream breaking from my lips. Ryland clung to me as he pulled me back, the force of his action calming me as everyone took a step back, several ready to turn and run.
“The power is too much for you,” he continued, standing still before me as though nothing had happened. “I am worried of the risk you are putting us all in.”
“I am not—”
“Even your behavior is not fit for what you are. I stand by what I said before: ‘You are going to kill us all.’ You must learn to control yourself.”
“Sain!” I yelled, but he said nothing more before turning and walking away. More than half the people surrounding him followed him like sheep. The other half lagged behind for barely a moment before they, too, turned away.
I tried one last time to escape Ryland’s hold, but he held on, his hands clasped one over the other like he was going to wrestle me to the floor, something I was sure he had very seriously considered. He had done it plenty of times before, after all.
Dawn of Ash Page 3
