He glances up to see a small red crystal in Gwynn’s palm. She kneels in front of him, clasping it between her thumb and forefinger. A two-inch ruby, faceted, and something he might once have admired.
“Like your prison?” she asks.
“You—you put me in a gemstone?”
“Brilliant, isn’t it?” she says, grinning. She tosses it into the air and catches it again. “This is something inconspicuous. Who would think to suspect jewelry held the citizens soon to go missing?”
“Except that soldiers don’t wear jewelry,” Ren mumbles.
Behind her, Warwick chuckles. Then at receiving a glower from Gwynn, he coughs as if trying to play it off.
“Those of upper ranks are decorated. Why not award them with medals made of precious stones—?”
“That contain people,” Ren says sarcastically.
She shrugs. “How else can we carry everyone with us when we need their magic? Can you imagine the power we’ll have once we have access to everyone’s we’ve taken all at once? Warwick will insert this machine into Stations all across the country. And then we won’t need to worry about the problem of what to do with so many subjugates. We’ll have them with us all the time.” She grips the gem in her hand.
“You’re insane,” says Ren, attempting to push himself up. “You have to let me go.”
Gwynn crouches to his side, guiding her face to meet his. He can’t believe he ever thought her attractive. “Why, so you can go tell your witch sister and her band of misfits all about my little plan? I don’t think so. You’re staying with us, Ren.”
A sudden coldness makes its way behind my sternum and fingers up into my skull. My hand pats the cot as if searching for flaws in the fabric, but even if there were any, my thoughts are so scattered I’d never see them. Ren disappeared. Ren…
“Where is he?” I finally manage.
“Where is he?” Shasa repeats in disbelief. “You did this!” She bares her teeth in frustration and shoves the cot toward me. The bar clotheslines my waist, stealing my breath.
“Hey!” Talon shouts.
“What did you do?” she demands.
Talon intercedes. “Watch it,” he says.
“She fried him with that crystal dollop. She used us to—”
I can’t believe she’s going there. “You think I did something to him?”
“Do you hear yourself?” Talon cuts her off. “Look at Ambry’s face. She didn’t do anything.”
At least Shasa has the decency to look ashamed. She glances around, peering below the table, below the other cot, upending the chairs as though Ren left some kind of hint behind. “Then where is he?”
“Get out,” I tell her.
“Excuse me?”
“I know you hate me. The fact that you think I’d do anything to hurt my brother tells me enough. But he’s my brother, Shasa. How dare you accuse me of anything? Get out of this room.”
Her mouth drops. “I—” She looks to Talon, but he skewers her with his glance.
Pouting her lips, she wheels around and storms out.
I rest a hand against my abdomen where she shoved the cot into me. “I didn’t do that—I didn’t make him disappear.”
“I know,” Talon says, resting a hand on the wall. “I could feel how hard you were trying.”
Then why couldn’t she? I brush away the thought. She hates me. Nothing I do will change that.
Words fail me. My teardrop didn’t work. Not only is Ren gone again, but if I can’t get the teardrop to work with the help of Shasa and Talon, how do I even stand a chance breaking that spell?
Ren touched something inside me in my dream. He looked right at me, and I knew he saw straight into me, my hopes, my fears. He strung out my soul, straight to the core of me, just like we planned. But it was nothing like I anticipated.
In that look it was as though he untangled the gnarled mess of confusion and denial Nattie’s prophecy left me with. He affirmed what I worried I’d never be capable of; he saw something in me that I couldn’t see in myself, and then he held it up for me so I could see it too.
He said I was the people’s hope. That I would fight because they couldn’t. I heard Nattie say something similar, but to hear it from Ren, to feel his belief in me. Goosebumps crawl up my arms just thinking about it. He helped me turn things precise, alert, and personal. And now he’s gone.
“Where do you think he is?” I ask.
“Jomeini must have gone to Gwynn. There’s no other explanation for it. The question is, why?”
“I doubt she did it with the intention of helping her,” I say. “But right now, we have to get to her. What if Gwynn stole her magic, Talon? What if Gwynn forced her to tell what we were doing?”
“Jomeini left the room of her own accord,” he says. “I was too worried about you to notice, but you’re right. The sooner we get to her—”
“And Ren.”
“And Ren, the better.”
I push past him and thunder down the stairs. Talon’s footfalls join mine, and he stays close as I punch through the front door, ready to run back to Valadir if I have to. Stars speckle the moonless sky above, and a cool breeze sweeps over my agitated skin.
I can’t believe Jomeini would betray us. Something else must have happened.
“You warned me,” I say over my shoulder as I take the walk toward the garage. “You told me dreamwalking was a bad idea.” Solomus tried, too. That whole dream venture was to help Gwynn, and instead it backfired utterly and completely.
Talon opens the garage door. “It’s impossible to know what’s going on inside a person. You can’t have known what would happen,” he says, before drawing me close into his side. “Shh. Did you hear that?”
Croaking frogs stutter the quiet night. A branch to the right crackles. As if on instinct, Talon’s hand slides into mine, and he places himself between me and the sound.
A red-haired woman with pink eyes steps into the dingy yellow light from the bulb above us. She’s wearing a long brown trench coat tied by a sash at the waist, above bare feet. She lifts her chin in a manner I know all too well.
“Estelle?” I ask in amazement.
“Hello, Ambry Csille. Talon Haraway,” Estelle says in greeting. “You’re looking well.”
“You’re—what are you doing here?” I ask. “Where are your wings? And your sisters?” I peer behind her, curious for the sight of other women similarly dressed in trench coats. But she’s alone.
She ruffles her hair. “They are at the mountain, looking after Elodia. I’ve left Mirage in charge,” she adds, as though I should know which one of them that is.
She steps in, still regal and dignified. It’s bizarre to see her here, standing in the yard of a very ordinary house. It’s the last place I ever expected to see her. Talon’s face is wiped of expression, his usual cloak of indifference back into place. After her single greeting, Estelle ignores him, her attention centered on me.
“I’ve done you wrong, Ambry Csille, and I’ve come to make it right, however I can. You were right when you said not all battles needed to be fought alone. I will not leave you alone in this. I will help you stop that tyrant from using the tears.”
Talon presses my hand. I swallow. “Where are your wings?”
She turns to display her back. Her hair cascades down, hiding any signs of lumpy, concealed extensions. “Tucked safely away, out of sight.”
The front door to our left opens, and Solomus hobbles out, following by a sulking Shasa. Her eyes flit to our twined hands, but I don’t let go.
I glance at Solomus’s world-weary expression, at the tiredness rimming his eyes, and a new thought emerges.
“Estelle, would you take Talon and me to Valadir?”
Solomus clears his throat but says nothing.
“If you wish. But I can only carry one of you.”
Only one of us. Talon’s thumb scales across my hand, but he doesn’t argue. “Do what you need to do,” he whispers to me, his breath hittin
g my ear. “But be careful.”
“I will,” I say, meeting his shadowed eyes. “Estelle, you should know we’re going to Gwynn’s.”
A pause. I worry she’ll back out or worse, take off without me. But she doesn’t move.
“I see.”
“I know you’ll want to exact your revenge on her, but she’s my friend. I’m asking you, if you decide to help, to allow her the chance to speak and hear her out. I still think there’s a chance she’s not herself. Can you do that?”
“And if she acted of her own accord?”
My insides shrivel, but I force the words out. “Then do with her as you see fit.”
It’s only fair. But hopefully it won’t come to that.
“I accept your terms,” Estelle says. “I will wait until you say the word.”
“Thank you."
I turn to Solomus, ignoring Shasa as much as possible. No doubt he will want to come, to get Jomeini. “It was stupid to send Ren to the dreamworld. I should have done it myself. And now I can’t be worried about you while we’re there, sir.” I don’t want to say it aloud, but without magic, Solomus may be nothing more than another target.
“I understand,” he says. “Go. Get them back.”
“And Gwynn,” I add.
Solomus’s lips downturn. “Ambry, I know you think there is redemption for your friend, but you must prepare yourself for the worst.”
I can’t hear that. “Gwynn is my best friend. If anyone can touch who she truly is, it’s me.”
“Very well,” he says, sounding resigned.
I turn back to Estelle. “We need to leave now. If you’ll take me to Valadir, I’d love whatever help you can give me.”
Estelle inclines her head, graceful as ever. She loosens the belt at her waist and drapes the coat from her shoulders, revealing a dark, silky tunic below.
She passes the coat to Shasa, and her wings fluff out like freshly dried hair. With a breath, Estelle spreads them to their full span. Moonlight pricks the gossamer strands like painted glass.
Estelle extends a hand, indicating I should accompany her to the open drive.
“Ambry.” Shasa steps forward. She grimaces. The unspoken apology ranges between us.
“I’ll get them back,” I promise her.
I join Estelle in the center of the broken concrete drive. Her arms encircle my waist, and after a final glance at the others, she leaps into the air.
Her wings pump, giving height and raising us deeper into the darkness. My stomach flops. Wind lashes my hair, plugging my nostrils so I have to open my mouth to breathe.
Her wings flatten, and we coast through clouds and starlight long enough that I begin to feel the discomfort of her arms digging into my sides. Finally, I notice a familiar sight. Her wings push against the wind, projecting us over the guards, over the gate, the crumbling city and toward the palace at the shore.
“Do you know which balcony is hers?” she asks.
I stare out at the ocean; it expands farther than I ever noticed from the ground. The tears pulse in response to the question, my own internal compass.
“There,” I say, taking their lead. “The third balcony to the left.”
Estelle lands on the stone parapet and smooths a hand over her dark tunic the minute I step away. I take a moment myself to crack my neck, brush hair from my face, and adjust my shirt before heading straight for the double doors.
Curtains drape around a decadent bed across the large room. Matching curtains mark the window beside a long table where Ren and another man I don’t recognize gape at us.
“Ambry?” Ren says.
Relief washes over me at the sight of him. I glance around for a sign of Jomeini, but the petite girl is nowhere to be seen. “Where’s Jomeini?” I ask. “Is she here with you?”
Ren’s neck cords as though he’s fighting himself. “You have to leave,” he says. “Now!”
“Enough.” Gwynn emerges from behind a painted screen, carrying the lid of a small, decorated chest. She places it near a machine on the table beside Ren. The machine’s boxy design and exposed wiring make it look like it belongs in a shop instead of a prissy girl’s bedchamber.
“Ambry,” Gwynn says. “And Estelle. So nice of you to join us.” I expect her tone to scorn and contradict the statement, or for her to reveal even a flicker of fear at the sight of Estelle, but to my surprise she sounds genuinely pleased that a siren and I have appeared in her bedchamber.
The tears hammer at my spine, chiming their excitement at my presence. “They’re here,” I mutter to Estelle. “Please, help me find the tears.”
Though she slices a glare in Gwynn’s direction, she inclines her head. “As you wish.”
“Get out of here!” Ren shouts. His shoulders are taut, like he’s standing too near a stalking bear and is warning me not to come any closer.
“Silence!” Gwynn commands, twisting to fist the air. At the motion, Ren quiets. My mouth slackens. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to get to me or attack her.
She didn’t. Not again.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask. “You took his magic? Again?”
With a smirk, Gwynn digs through what looks like jewels in the open chest. She settles on a stunning sapphire, displaying it in her palm. “You seem so surprised. But it wouldn’t have happened at all without your help.”
My help? “I would never do that.”
“But you did. You sent that foolish girl to convince me of the ‘error of my ways.’” She fans out her hand at the last few words.
“You mean Jomeini? I never sent her to you.”
“No?” Gwynn examines the sapphire and then lowers her palm to look directly at me, fire in her gaze. “She told me you still saw good in me.”
“There is good in you, Gwynn,” I insist.
I’ve got to get closer. If there’s any chance for this to work, I have to be able to look into her eyes, like Ren did with mine. She has to feel it. To sense what’s truly in her heart.
“You always were slower than everyone else to grasp things.” Sarcasm edges into her voice now. She selects another gem and slams the chest closed. “I just never thought it meant you were stupid too.”
Estelle tilts her head. “You do not have to endure such words from her, sister,” she says. Considering how their last meeting went, it means a lot that the siren isn’t charging Gwynn down here and now. But she said she was here to help me. I ignore the stab of Gwynn’s words.
“Sister?” Gwynn laughs at this. “Oh, that’s fresh. Looks like you’ve made a new friend, Ambry. You need one,” she adds with a lifted brow.
I move away from Estelle, closer to Gwynn. The tears hum at me near the balcony. They’re close—so close. “You were my friend, Gwynn. We can be friends again.”
“Funny you should mention friends, because I have a new one too.” She flicks her hand, and the handsome man with the beard tugs on his shirt as if preparing for his entrance into the conversation. “This is Warwick. He’s been designing something for me. That’s what friends should be like. They should do things for each other.”
“What didn’t I do for you?” I ask, stunned. “I helped you, all those times with Clarke. I waited for you at school, I sat with you, I don’t—” I pick for the words like trying to catch fireflies. “I don’t understand why you hate me.”
“Those tears showed me who I really was, and who you really are. I got exactly what I wanted. Something you could never grasp, something you don’t have a clue how to handle.”
“And what’s that?”
Her lip twitches. “Power.”
“That’s what you’re after? I have magic now, Gwynn. I can help you.”
She makes a noise in her throat. “You went from being this utter weakling, and you think now that you have magic you can somehow reach me? Did you ever think that maybe I don’t want to be reached?”
My brain feels sloped and covered with loose rocks. Try as I might, my thoughts can’t keep their balance.
“I don’t believe that,” I say. “I came here for you.”
“No, you came for your tears and your brother. Both of which I have.”
“I care about you!”
Her eyes narrow. “Don’t kid yourself. You’ve been against me every step of the way. You even had your whole crew ready to fight me at Mt. Rhine.”
“That was for the tears, Gwynn. I thought you would be Tyrus.”
“That didn’t stop you, did it?”
Tentatively, Estelle steps forward. Tension springs around her like a trap. “You were trespassing with malcontent. And what you’ve done to Elodia will not go unanswered,” the siren says.
Gwynn’s eyes roll. “Spare me the reprimand.” Then she turns back to me. “Trust me, if I wanted to be with you, I already would be. But I intend to be as powerful as I can, and you’re just a block in my path.”
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You hate me because you think I’ll hold you back?”
Gwynn folds her arms, her lips in an arrogant pucker.
“Every time I see you, I remember my old life. I see Clarke. I see bandages and pity. I see a weak girl, too weak to stand up for herself, and even that image holds me back. I intend to stay as far away from that as possible, and if that means turning against my own people to do it, I will. I will be the kind of person no one can ever rule over again. It means I can’t be around you, because the memories you bring hold me back. You weaken me.”
I planned to speak from the heart. I planned to touch the core of her, to find some common ground, something that could reconnect us. But there is no common ground here.
“Now,” she says, recomposing herself. “Warwick has been designing something for me. Would you like to see what it does?”
“I thought Tyrus was controlling you,” I say, fighting the rift in my heart.
She shrugs, slipping on a strange glove with metal protrusions on the back of its leather. “You thought wrong.”
“Ambry, I’m serious,” Ren says through gritted teeth. “Get out of here.”
Such a Daring Endeavor Page 30
