Such A Secret Place (Stolen Tears Book 1)

by Cortney Pearson

  “Of course, of course,” he says with a smile, waving a hand. “I just meant—it’s just odd. That it would happen to her.”

  He digs in his pocket again and throws two small objects at Talon and me. I yelp and duck behind my arms, until I realize they’re two more camping chairs. My fists tighten. He can’t seriously think I’ll sit here with him. Not after what he did to me.

  “Why ban tears at all?” I ask, feeding my temper.

  Talon gapes at me, but I don’t know what he expects, what either of them expects—for me to just go along with this new plan? I’d leave and find Ren now except I have no idea how to get through to him. Talon had one part right at least. Me against thousands of men? Not good odds.

  Solomus’s brow hardens, creating more vertical lines in his skin. “This country was on the verge of something great, and all people could do was cry at what and who was lost.”

  I try to figure out if Solomus is really talking about lots of people in general, or just Craven. According to Nattie, Solomus was the one who made a mistake and accidently cast such a powerful spell. But Solomus doesn’t act like that’s the case.

  “Taking away tears doesn’t mean you took away every single emotion,” says Talon, slouching down in his blue camp chair. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt, and crosses his black-booted ankles. “Some of us still have them. The spell didn’t work on Feihrians.”

  Solomus points a long, bony finger at him as if he’s brought up a Very Good Point. “No, but I curbed emotion, didn’t I? If people don’t feel things as much as they should, tears won’t ever poke through.”

  I don’t get it. He’s speaking as if he jinxed us all on purpose, not by accident. The nerve he has, acting so proud about it. I stiffen and open my mouth, but the wizard goes on.

  “People behave in certain ways because of their emotions, Talon. Fighting, running for your life—all impulsive reactions. Crying is the weakest of them all.”

  “Isn’t it ironic that you banished tears as a result of acting on your emotions?”

  “It was rather hypocritical if you put it like that, Ambry.”

  I meet his fire-lit gaze without faltering. “It was selfish not matter how you put it, sir.”

  “Don’t speak about things you don’t understand,” he says, his voice growing angry. All it does is trigger the already spouting anger in me. “People can still feel. Just not as strongly as they used to.”

  “You might as well have frozen our faces to always look happy. A person can still be angry or sad without shedding a single tear. You blocked people’s hearts, denied them the ability to express themselves. You ought to be ashamed.”

  “Be careful what you say to me,” Solomus says in a deep growl. “I can stop your tongue as well as your tears.”

  “But even that won’t stop me from feeling and thinking what I could no longer say. You have no real power, wizard.”

  “Whoa, chill,” says Talon, holding a hand between Solomus and me. I didn’t realize it at the time, but we’ve both risen from the stupid magical chairs he conjured and we’re now huffing at one another across the spitting campfire.

  “You’re bordering disrespect here, Ambry. Take it easy.”

  What does he mean, bordering—I’m totally disrespecting! It’s exactly what the wizard has done to everyone else! To me. To Ren.

  “Take me back to Valadir,” I demand.

  Solomus sinks back to his seat, apparently calm again, though his hands shake as he smoothes them over his long, graying ponytail. When he speaks, his voice sounds careful. Checked.

  “The point is, people need to learn to control their emotions. That was my aim. I restrained emotions so crying wouldn’t be an issue. I was doing people a favor.”

  “It didn’t work,” I say as evenly as I can.

  “I know.”

  “So take it back.”

  “No,” he says, shooting back up to tower over me. I hold his glare.

  “No, because you can’t, or no because you won’t?” I wonder again if Nattie was wrong about him not knowing how to reverse it. After all, she was wrong about me needing to drink the tears. “You don’t want to admit you were wrong, do you?”

  Talon claws my elbow. His eyes are insistent. “Ambry. We’re his guests. Take it easy.”

  “We’re his guests?” I grind my teeth and shake Talon off. “You think telling me about this plan you’ve had all along that I’ll just go along with it? Stop chiding me like I’m some little kid or something.”

  “I’d love to if you’d stop acting like one.”

  The time he slapped me in the face during our first training session didn't hurt as much as that response now does. I turn heel and stomp off. Into the trees, back to the city, who cares? Just as long as I’m away from them both.

  Only I knock right into the wizard, who’d moved behind me when I hadn’t noticed. He steadies me for a moment. “My apologies,” says Solomus. “I believe I interrupted your raging exit.”

  “You interrupted more than that,” I tell him while I dish out the nastiest look I can muster in Talon’s direction.

  Brush teases my calves, and my feet kick through it with definitive chomping noises. My nerves rattle. Make me take it easy? What about that ranxid wizard? What an axrat. All of his talk about teaching people to control their emotions. He probably doesn’t even realize how quick he was to get angry and argue with me. How quick he was to shuffle me through some lame window-door and leave my brother behind.

  Of course, I didn’t do any better at checking my emotions. I’ve never been good at holding them in. Talon is the only one of us who’s good at that.

  I scratch at the base of my skull. Twigs crack to the side of me, too loud and repetitive to be coincidental.

  “Ambry—wait,” says Talon.

  “Just leave me alone, okay?” I say as the discomfort below my skull increases. I stalk through toward the thinning trees and bright patches of moonlight in the distance, but the whining and begging hit my skin like a pickaxe. My hand goes to my empty pocket.

  Talon begins to speak. “I’m sorry—I don’t know what more you want me to—”

  I whirl around. “Where are they?”

  His eyes are hard and confused. I dash past him, back to the hazy campfire, to where the wizard sits in his makeshift camp chair. Sweat mops the old man’s brow, and his face is scrunched as if he’s straining to lift something twice his size.

  I stomp over and hold out a hand. The old man crumples, wincing as though he’s about to be sick.

  “Give them back,” I tell him.

  Talon joins my side. The wizard’s eyes jump between us.

  “Won’t work, Solomus,” Talon says with an edge in his voice. “They’ve chosen her.”

  With a grimace, the old man unfolds his hand and sets the jar back home in mine. The tears sigh, instantly relieving the painful humming their tantrum caused in my head. From the way Solomus goggles at the red burn marks on his hand, I guess his pain has also stopped.

  “I can’t believe after all you’ve done you’d steal them from me like a lousy pickpocket.”

  The wizard inhales and then rises to stand before me. He cradles his burned hand. “You’re right,” he says, nodding. “I owe you an apology, Miss Csille. I should never have presumed to steal them from you, or taken you away from your brother if you truly desired to rescue him.”

  I lift my chin in attempt to maintain my composure. His words soften me more than I’d like.

  “If you wish to return to Valadir, I will assist you,” the wizard finishes.

  “Thank you,” I say, surprised at his ready confession.

  “Come here.” Talon pulls me to him, prying my attention away from the wizard, and I allow myself to soak into his embrace. His chest rises, and his heartbeat taps against mine.

  “I wish you’d told me your plans sooner,” I whisper to his throat.

  “Please stay with me,” he whispers back. I remember his words, his
apology. He sounded sincere. And honestly, I don’t stand a chance of helping Ren as I am. But that doesn’t mean I’m about to give up.

  An idea takes shape. It grows and blossoms in my mind until its leaves become full-fledged, and I stand there for several moments, letting all the details of my idea form.

  “I’m sorry,” Talon adds. “Please believe me.” I cling tighter to him just hearing the words. From retrospect, I can see why he wasn’t completely open with me. It means more than the reward on our heads that he’s deciding to be open with me now. And in this moment the only thing that matters is Talon, the smell of the forest and salt in his skin. His breath as it softly falls against my neck.

  An annoying female voice breaks in from a nearby tree. “I didn’t get her, but I know right where she’s at.”

  Talon jerks away, slicing sideways at my nerves, breaking his spell over me. I goggle at him, but he rams his hands into his pockets, acting very unTalonlike. Almost guilty.

  Shasa’s dark head breaks from the tree. Her smiling, stupid big eyes dart between the two of us. To be honest, I’d completely forgotten about her. And from the look on Talon’s face, I suspect I’m not the only one.

  “Interrupting something here?”

  “Guess we’d better get to bed,” Talon says, ignoring her.

  She juts out her pimple hip and drills her gaze in Talon’s direction. “Just wanted to pop in and say I’ll need some backup tomorrow.”

  Solomus fiddles with something in his pocket, silent as a screen on mute, avidly ignoring the three of us. I fold my arms, stomach sinking, waiting for Talon to prove his earlier claim. That I’m his girl.

  He clears his throat. The backs of his ears flush red.

  Scoffing, I head toward the wizard. I wish Shasa hadn’t come back. Things were patching up fine without her here.

  “Mind if I join you?” I ask the wizard.

  “Not at all, child,” Solomus says, wobbling in his hunched way over to me. He leads me to his red chair, which has somehow elongated to make room for two people.

  “I should have held my thoughts inside,” I tell him. “Before, I mean. I’m sorry. I was just upset about my brother.”

  Shasa’s giggle grates my skin. She’s sitting close to Talon, caressing his arm. Flint combines with steel in my chest, smashing away the penitence I felt moments before. And his mouth—he’s smiling too, just like that. I’m dying to know what they’re talking about.

  The wizard’s chuckle reels me back. “I admire your strong-willed tenacity, though I can’t say what you said was appropriate or unhurtful. But thank you for the apology. I’m really not as bad as they all say.”

  I take a minute to drag my thoughts away from Talon and let this comment register. “Why, sir? Why do you think people have been able to cry even now, even after you banned it?”

  “They are complicated things, emotions. Some of them occur over a period of seconds. Like surprise.” His mouth gawps and he surrenders his hands as if demonstrating the sentiment. “You are surprised at seeing something, and then it is gone. And then other emotions can last for years.”

  “Like love,” I say without thinking. Talon simultaneously lifts his eyes to me. My cheeks heat, and I ignore Shasa’s gaze dodging back and forth between us, her mouth downturned.

  A surge of exhilaration courses through every part of me. It’s intermingled with jealousy, with longing, with hatred, but those extras don’t alter what it actually is.

  Exactly love.

  Since I met Talon, it’s been brewing in my bones every time I breathe. Solomus’s explanation of his spell rings through my ears. I don’t see how it’s possible that this isn’t as strong as it could be. How I could feel it any more than I already do.

  “Yes, child. It is the lasting emotions, the most powerful ones—usually brought on by human’s and creature’s subconscious in their dreams—that have managed to break through my spell.”

  “Then do you know why your spell only worked halfway on me? I can’t cry, but I can feel just about everything else.”

  Solomus strokes his chin in thought. “That is a conundrum, though you aren’t the first to experience it.”

  “There are others who are unaffected, like me? I thought it was just the dreams allowing people’s emotions to break through.” And if there are others, why isn’t anyone fighting against the Arcs?

  “I’ll have to do a bit more research,” says the wizard, “especially in your case, because you do seem to feel more than most. But take the renegades behind Black Vault, for example. How do you suppose they were able to feel enough to have started their little rebellion, hmm?”

  Black Vault. I can’t believe I’ve never thought of it before now. “You mean it’s not just their wares that get people to feel? What if we found Black Vault? Spoke with its members?” Yet another reason I need to get to Ren.

  Solomus considers this. “It’s possible they could help. Assuming you could find their base. I can also help you, once we get my Jomeini.”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Of course. It is the least I can do after twice robbing you this evening.”

  I stare at the old man, at his elongated face, easy smile, and kind eyes. Minutes ago I hated him. Now I realize how hasty that misjudgment was.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  ***

  The ground bites into my knees. I sneak my sleek, compact sleeping bag as close to the fire as I dare. Talon’s now sitting in my place by the wizard, and Shasa stands behind him, one hand on his shoulder. They exchange more laughter, but the sound only curls me up inside.

  Seeing her with him like that only strengthens my resolve to follow through on the idea I had earlier. I’m not sure when I should leave, or how I’m going to tell him. I don’t even know if the sirens will accept what I’m planning.

  A low hoot blows through the canopy of woody coverage above me. A gentle, almost unnoticeable wind drafts gently through the leafy branches, carrying the scent of fresh spice and lemon. I wish I still had my pack. I could use my sweatshirt right about now.

  A lot of good it would do, though, since Talon’s rumbly laugh hovers nearer, shooting prickles into me that have nothing to do with the chilly night air. I almost don’t want to look at him, on the off chance that Shasa is tailing him again. Something is up. Something he’s not telling me.

  “He’s not so bad,” Talon says, squatting by my newly unrolled sleeping bag. “He’s pretty cool, actually.”

  I fiddle with a twig on the ground, obstinately not looking at him. “Yeah.” Cool. What about Shasa? “What were you guys talking about?”

  “Our plans for tomorrow,” Talon says.

  I hate questioning him, but I can’t help it. I want to know if he’s being honest with me.

  “You know,” he goes on. “Rescuing Jomeini.”

  “That’s good,” I say without feeling. For some reason I don’t want to talk to him. Clearly, he assumes I’ll tag along with him. Maybe now is a good time to tell him what my plans are.

  I heard every point of his argument. How even if we found Ren we’d never be able to get away from all those soldiers. That may be enough to deter Talon, but I still have to try.

  Kneeling, he leans in, puts a hand on my neck, and whispers, “I’m ready to use the tears, Ambry. For tomorrow.”

  His touch doesn’t have its usual effect, and his words put me more on edge than ever. The tears shiver in my pocket. I look into his shadowed eyes, but the connection I usually feel with him is gone.

  “Why?”

  His brows harden. “What?”

  I blink. No smile. “You’ve never told me why you want them.”

  He gives a shaky laugh. “To stop the war,” he says too quickly, his irises darting around. His words are a blade straight to my heart, and I nearly gasp. He just lied to me.

  But for the first time, I’m not angry.

  I stand and stare up at the moon peeking through the weave of branches. Cool air slips through
the cracks in my clothes.

  “You act like I’m just going to hand them over to you.”

  “Aren’t you?” His confusion sounds genuine.

  I open my mouth, but another voice creeps in first.

  “Talon?” It sounds like Tah-lon. The forest reels, and my lungs fight just to breathe. To make matters worse, he turns away from me. Toward her.

  “Talon,” I say, grabbing his arm. “Whatever you do, don’t tell her. You might trust her, but I don’t.”

  “But she could help us.” It’s that domineering, persuasive tone. The tone I hate.

  “I don’t care. They’re not yours to share.”

  His face forms into the controlled mask, a look I haven’t seen him wear in weeks.

  I don’t get why I’m not angry. Stuff like this always sets me off. Instead, my heart feels like it’s being stripped to pieces and forced to keep beating.

  With one last look, Talon’s tall, lean form leaves me to join her. I’m alone and vulnerable. Sadness fizzles toward the corners of my eyes, but the only weeping comes from inside me.

  A gentle nudge comes from the direction of my pocket. My tiny nape hairs stand on end like a cat with hackles rising. The tears know my plan. It’s time, they say. But I follow Talon and Shasa into the forest instead.

  I tail close behind through the labyrinth of trunks, skulking, willing myself to be lighter so the brush won’t snap under my footfalls. It’s chilly away from the fire, but not as cold as last night. Just when I start to think I’ve lost them, I freeze in my tracks, recognizing Shasa’s lower, antagonizing voice.

  “She doesn’t belong with you. With us. What were you thinking traveling with her?”

  I drop beside a tree and wait, quivering, hope hammering from my chest. Any minute he’ll defend me. He has to.

  Time ticks, and small noises chime as I claw at the bark’s bumpy surface. Talon’s familiar, smooth voice follows, coiling through to the pit of my stomach.

  “There are some things you don’t understand,” he says. I want to stomp my foot. Don’t take her reprimand, stick up for yourself! For me.