She didn’t get the chance.
Aoife, her foul mood inflaming her impatience, leaped further into Nessa’s mind, her presence overpowering Nessa’s, pushing her to the very back of her own mind. Nessa had no control as her head turned, as her hand rose to pluck at her dress, pulling at the slashed and bloody fabric. Nessa had no control, but Aoife did. She was looking through Nessa’s eyes, controlling Nessa’s limbs.
Nessa had been possessed by her dragon.
Stop it, Nessa commanded.
What… Aoife was mystified as she peered at the chalk lines, inspecting them closely, much to Nessa’s dread. What is all of this? Why are you covered in blood? And…and is that a summoning circle? Why are you sitting in a summoning circle?
There’s a perfectly good explanation.
Oh, I bet there is.
I was just—
Redecorating? Doing some art? Dabbling in something you shouldn't be?
Well…
By all the known and unknown gods and devils, Aoife growled, you had better not have been trying to call upon the Atheals.
Ah…
WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?! Aoife screeched. DON’T YOU REALISE HOW DANGEROUS THAT IS?! YOU COULD HAVE DIED! Aoife’s words choked off with emotion. You could have died, she whispered, and if you die, then—
I’m fine, Nessa rushed to say. I’m okay. Nothing happened.
But why? Why chance it? The risks are too great, too many. Why would you even think about attempting something like this?
I was just copying a spell out of the grimoire, Nessa knew her explanation was a weak one, but it was the best she could muster. I just wanted to see how these things work.
And you thought you’d try it on your own, Aoife said with disbelief, without even telling me?
I didn’t think you’d approve.
Of course I wouldn’t bloody well have approved. Aoife withdrew a little from Nessa’s mind, allowing her to regain control over her body. Of all the stupid things you could have done, why this? Why such a large spell? So many things could have gone wrong.
I made an error of judgement. I won’t do it again. I can safely say that I have learned my lesson.
Well, at least something good came out of this stupidity-induced fiasco, Aoife grumbled, anger slowly fading. I worry enough as it is with Hunter and Orm’s antics. I don’t need you adding to it.
I won’t do it again, Nessa promised, still shaken by the whole experience. No more trying to call upon the Atheals and spirits. I’m done. I don’t want anything further to do with that world. It’s nothing but trouble.
Aoife sensed the sincerity in her words, and Nessa could feel Aoife’s relief almost as her own. Nessa meant every word of her promise. She was done with the Atheals, with Pharawynn and dabbling with forces she couldn’t control. If she ever felt the need to learn more about that side of magic, it would be purely from books and in the company of Aoife.
You’re nothing but trouble, my little Rider, Aoife murmured with fondness. But I’m glad that you are safe, and that you seem to have come through unscathed. Well, relatively unscathed. You do seem to have ruined that dress of yours.
Nessa looked down at herself. At least I didn’t wear my favourite one. That would have been upsetting.
Mmm, Aoife was thoughtful. I’m going to presume that that was something to do with your payment to the spirits? A blood sacrifice.
I believe so.
And what spell were you performing to require such a payment?
I…um…I was trying to…to…
Spit it out.
Nessa sighed. She needed more time to wrap her head around what had happened during the spellcasting. She needed more time to understand. Then, then, she would tell Aoife everything. Just another day or two. Then she would come clean entirely.
I was attempting to access my powers. I thought…ah… I guess I thought that if I asked nicely, then they’d help me.
Did asking them nicely work?
No. I don’t think it did. Nessa didn’t feel any different. Not in any way that mattered. There was no newfound rush of power. No magic coursed through her veins, ready to be harnessed, only disappointment. Worse yet, beyond the failure to gain her powers, the mental block was still there, as strong and as impenetrable as ever. Not only were her powers still walled off, but so were her memories. Her spell hadn’t worked in the slightest.
Well, that’s a pity.
Nessa was bemused. That wasn’t what I thought you would say…
What’s done is done, Aoife said in a tone that suggested a shrug of her shoulders. I’m still miffed that you tried to keep something like this from me. Make no mistake of that. But I’m glad that you’re alright, and that you’ve learned from it. Would have been handy, though, if it had worked a little bit. Then, at least I would have an excuse to get you out of that wretched city and back by my side. Makes my scales itch knowing that you’re so close to King Kaenar and his underlings.
Doesn’t make me feel all warm and fuzzy on the inside knowing they’re so close either, Nessa agreed. Hunter and Orm seem to like it here, though. I guess that should count for something, right?
Bah! Running around searching for sinister spirits one day and then transporting illegal cargo the next does not constitute a good time, in my opinion.
We need the money, and they do seem to be making some interesting contacts within the smuggling and gambling rings. Remember the saying “it’s not what you know, but who you know”. Maybe that should be applied here.
Maybe. Maybe not. I suppose it’s too early to tell if their efforts will be beneficial and pay off.
I guess. But I do like some of the people we’ve met here, whether they come in useful later on or not.
Like Heimaey, Bo and Luca?
Them? Sometimes. Mostly when they aren't whacking me with wooden implements claiming it’s some kind of “training”. Jerome, too. Nessa went to mention Astrid but swiftly remembered that Aoife wouldn’t know who she was, and may feel inclined to ask more questions. Nessa couldn’t handle any more questions. Not when she was so tired and confused.
Aoife must have sensed Nessa’s turmoil. Into bed with you, my little Rider. You need some rest.
Nessa did as she was told, seeing as she was struggling to keep her eyes open. She stood, leaving the summoning circle as it was—she’d clean it up in the morning—and slipped out of her dress, discarding it on the floor. She was tempted to snuggle into bed as she was, but the residual smears of blood on her chest made her pause. Knowing that she couldn’t go to bed covered in sticky blood, she stumbled over to her chest of draws, half-blinded by exhaustion.
Reaching for the cloth beside the washbasin, Nessa swiftly scrubbed away the dried blood, goosebumps rising as near-freezing droplets of water ran down to her navel. Since she was right by her dresser, she took a moment to find herself a nightdress, shivering from the cold as she did so.
You do realise that you are as naked as a newborn babe, right? Aoife murmured, amused. And that your window is wide open?
I’m on one of the top floors, and it’s dark. I doubt any lookie-loos would be able to see much. Besides, Nessa looked down at herself as she tugged the nightgown into place, it’s not like there’s that much for anyone to look at.
Bed. Now.
All right. All right, Nessa grumbled, taking a second to shut the window and pull the curtains closed before slipping beneath the bed’s blankets. Pray tell, O Impatient One, why are you so determined to have me well rested all of a sudden?
I am merely concerned about my Rider’s health.
Nessa’s eyes were closed before her head hit the pillow. Is that so?
Oh yes. Aoife withdrew to the very edge of Nessa’s mind, the level of contact through the bond minimal; they were almost separate from one another. Almost, but not quite. It seemed that Aoife wasn’t willing to part from Nessa quite so soon. I want you at your very best tomorrow.
Nessa burrowed under the heavy blankets, seeking
warmth and comfort. Why is that?
Because you’ll be paying me a jolly old visit, and I’ll be giving you a mighty fine talking to. I might even have Hunter and Orm join us.
Oh no.
Oh yes, Aoife said quietly with fiendish delight. I might just tell them what you’ve been up to.
You wouldn’t.
I might.
Meanie.
Shh, little Rider. Sleep.
With a small smile gracing her face, and with her bonded partner hovering protectively at the edge of her mind, sleep claimed Nessa in its dark embrace, even as her hand clutched at the changed lamen resting upon her chest.
Chapter 39
Dreams besieged Nessa. Dark and strange. Lonely and bleak. They wrapped around her like a smothering blanket, like the eye of a wild storm. She was trapped in their centre, unable to fight her way free, unable to see a way out. There were echoes of anguished screams and sinister laughter, glimpses of cruel, green eyes and of tormented blue ones. They came in bits and pieces, a jumble of images and sounds, of memories and fantasies, of truths and lies.
She was back in Pharawynn’s spell room, back to the day when she had begun to doubt Pharawynn’s motives for helping her. Back to the day after the night-time attack by the shadow monster. Raised voices reached her ears, an argument that drifted down the stairs from the shop above. Loud and heated, something about it pulled Nessa upstairs. Perhaps it was concern. Not so much for Pharawynn but for the other person. Pharawynn was a force to be reckoned with even in the best of moods. Nessa had seen her slap Sissy a few times for the smallest of infractions, and once just for the sake of it. For reasons beyond Nessa’s understanding, Sissy never left, never shouted back or cried. She’d just continue with her tasks like nothing had happened, like there wasn’t a red handprint on her cheek.
Nessa dashed upstairs and into the creepy room behind the shop front. The voices dropped down low, hushed, just as she reached the heavy drape that divided the rooms. She paused beside it, unable to resist the allure of eavesdropping.
“You can’t just ignore this,” a woman unknown to Nessa said through gritted teeth. “You can’t just turn your back on us. Someone is turning spirits dark. You can’t just turn your back on that. Things are going to get worst. Much worse.”
“Can I not?” Pharawynn hissed. “I think you’ll find that I can. With ease, I might add. I’ll enjoy seeing how the other half fares now that the tides are turning.”
“This isn’t just about the Old Bloods. It will affect everyone.”
“Not everyone,” Pharawynn said smugly. “Some of us will prevail. I have nothing to fear. I have been faithful to the old ways. Perhaps if you join us, you might live to see how wrong you and your kind were to abandon your ancestry, your legacy.”
“Can’t you see the bigger picture? Can’t you look beyond petty grievances?”
“Petty grievances!” Pharawynn barked. “How dare you. How dare you call my people’s suffering nothing more than petty grievances.”
“That’s not what I meant,” the other person said, their tone softening. “And you know it. Both sides have suffered in this lifetime of warring. Perhaps it’s time to put aside past differences and finally work together again.”
Pharawynn snorted. “Yes, because the last time was so successful, wasn’t it? No one got stabbed in the back or discarded if they weren’t useful enough.”
“The funny thing about you mortals,” the other person said conversationally, “is that you have this strange ability to hold onto grudges for things that happened long before your time.”
Nessa inched closer to the drape-covered archway, the mention of Old Bloods and mortals drawing her forwards like a moth to a flame.
“Before my time?” Pharawynn hissed. “The arrogance and the ignorance of your kind truly astounds me. It really does.”
“Your self-serving bitchiness is the only astounding thing here.”
Nessa's eyes went wide. One didn’t insult Pharawynn under her own roof, not if one wanted to leave the place uninjured and uncursed. She moved to peer through the gap between the drape and the archway. She was able to see the figures of two people standing by the counter, facing each other over it: Pharawynn and a woman Nessa hadn’t seen before.
Such was the layout of the room, the woman was standing with her side to Nessa, her hands braced on the countertop. Her bearing spoke of barely constrained anger. Her shoulders were tense beneath her black dress, and wisps of dark hair escaped from her long braid, framing her youthful face. Pharawynn, Nessa saw with surprise, stood with her back pressed up against the wall, her arms crossed protectively over her chest, trying to put as much space between herself and the woman as possible. It was unusual, seeing as Pharawynn was never one to back down in any disagreement or fight. Nessa wondered who the woman was to make Pharawynn so cautious. Fearful, even.
Nessa wondered what exactly the woman was.
“Bitch, I may be,” Pharawynn said stiffly, her cheeks flushing pink. “But at least I stand by my promises.”
“And what promises would those be?”
“To remember what happened before. To remember all those who were failed. To remember who my enemies are.”
“We are not your enemies.”
“I wouldn’t say you are my allies. And if you aren’t with me, then you’re against me.”
“That’s a very narrow way of seeing things. Very black and white.”
“Perhaps. But it keeps me focused. It keeps me on my chosen path.”
“A path which makes you turn away from the suffering of my kind? A path that allows you to turn away from the chance to help, to make a real difference in what is to come?”
“I’ll do unto you and your kind just as they did unto me and mine,” Pharawynn snarled. “Do you think that it all stopped after you cowards ran off into hiding? The slaughter and the executions, the persecution? It didn’t. It carried on regardless of whether summoners were allied with the Old Bloods or not. It carried on whether we were allied or not. My kind tried to help you and yours. In the end, it mattered not. The Old Bloods chose to hide where King Kaenar couldn’t find them. Unable to get them, his wrath turned upon those he could find. We were punished. If we are not careful, we are still punished. We might not have a lifespan as far-reaching as halflings and Old Bloods, but that doesn't mean we don’t remember. The legacy of those days runs through our blood. It’s in our bones. We don’t forget, Maud. We won’t forgive.”
“Not all Old Bloods left,” Maud said heatedly. “There were those who stayed. Those who tried to aid their allies in any way they could.”
“A handful,” Pharawynn snipped. “A few good deeds don’t undo the damage that was done. Old Bloods are and always will be my enemies. I will never help any of you.”
Nessa frowned. That couldn’t be true. She was an Old Blood. Pharawynn knew it and was helping her. Pharawynn had never treated Nessa like an enemy.
“We believed that we were doing the right thing,” Maud insisted. “There needed to be enough of us left to aid and protect—”
“Your fabled chosen one,” Pharawynn laughed, red lips twisting into a cruel smile. “The one who is to save us all.”
Maud’s back straightened, her shoulder’s stiffening.
“Where is this chosen one? We’ve all been waiting. What, five hundred years? I think it’s time for them to finally make an appearance, don’t you? In fact, it’s been so long, some of us think that your chosen one is nothing but a lie, a story to be used as an excuse by the likes of you.”
“And what do you think?
“I think that I don’t need to be saved by anyone.”
“Fine then,” Maud bit out. “I see that there’s no changing your mind. I’ll relay your thoughts to the others.”
Maud turned on her heel, her black skirts twirling around her ankles like a fan, and strode to the front door, one hand rising to grasp at something on her chest. Nessa caught a glimpse of a gleaming pendant, on
e which bore a striking similarity to another Nessa had seen before.
The memory of Eliza resurfaced.
Filling Nessa’s mind was the earnest look in her cat-like eyes as she had shown a medallion to her. Eliza’s accompanying words whispered and echoed in Nessa’s ears like a haunting spell.
You need to be wary around others who do not bear this seal. They are your enemies...
Those words were a catalyst, a summoning that called forth a maelstrom of fact and fiction. They twined together, merging everything into a confusing torrent. There were ravens and dragons, blood and fire, fighting and dancing. Nessa called for calm. She called to awaken from the dreams, the nightmares. But the maelstrom held her in its clutches, driving her deeper and deeper into darkness, into disorientating dizziness.
Then, with a sickening jolt, Nessa came back to herself. Her eyes snapped open as the darkness slowly receded, drawing back like theatre curtains. She stumbled, alarmed to discover that she was no longer lying in her bed but instead standing in the middle of a room.
A very large, very unfamiliar room.
Rounded like it belonged to a tower, the walls were smooth, black stone, shot through with fine threads of gold creating delicate patterns, glinting softly in the low light. Nessa gazed around, a growing sense of misgiving creeping up her spine like spiders, ticklish and unnerving. She could only think of one place that had such unusual and distinct stonework. But that would be impossible. Surely, she couldn’t be there. She was dreaming.
Only, it didn’t feel like a dream. It felt real. Too real.
The floor, smooth and threaded with gold like the walls, was cool and solid beneath her bare feet, and the air was warm and welcoming. Her eyes went to the fireplace, flames crackling in the open hearth, and then to the pair of armchairs that sat facing it. Made from elegantly carved wood and dark-blue velvet, they beckoned with the promise of comfort. The fire was the only source of light in the room save for the moon’s pale rays which filtered through a great archway to Nessa’s left, open to the night’s sky. Gossamer curtains, coloured blue to match the chairs, covered the entrance in a fine veil. Beyond them, Nessa could see the shapes of other towers and spires in the near distance, gleaming black-gold in the moonlight. Whether the archway opened up onto a wide balcony or something else, Nessa couldn’t be sure. Maybe she’ll explore that later.
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