by K. A. Linde
Birdie tilted her head. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes. I want to stop Malysa from accessing him. Otherwise, he’s a liability.”
“Two different things,” Birdie said. “But it will do.”
She shook the bag and then dumped the bones onto a flat bowl. Cyrene could discern nothing from what she saw. She had no idea how bones were supposed to tell her anything. Matilde and Vera had said that mystics were quacks. But, if Birdie believed it, then who was Cyrene to disagree with her? Belief was half the battle.
Birdie’s hand hovered over the spattering of small bones. She concentrated as her hand began to tremble. Then her arm. Then her entire body.
One moment, Birdie was hunched over the table. The next, her back bowed at an unnatural angle. Her arms spread wide. Her face tilted upward. Her mouth was moving as if speaking to somebody.
Orden pushed his chair back. “What’s wrong with her?”
Cyrene jumped up, too. “I have no idea. How do we stop it?”
“You see, but don’t see,” Birdie gasped out.
“What?” Cyrene asked in confusion.
“You see, but you don’t see. I’m…blind, and yet I see. You can see, yet you are blind.”
Blood began to run down her nose.
Cyrene shot Orden a look. “What is she talking about? How do we stop her?”
“Birdie!” Orden barked. “Let go! We don’t need to know.”
“You need to know,” Birdie forced out. Blood was running freely from her nose now. “She’s strong.”
“Creator! Malysa!” Cyrene gasped.
Cyrene ignited her magic and tried to push back against Malysa attacking the mystic. Something so small. Something she had never anticipated, and here was her influence all over again.
“She’s so strong. She doesn’t want me to tell you.”
Blood came from her ears now. Cyrene pushed into Birdie. She knew it was reckless to take Malysa on this way. But there was no other way. She was burning Birdie up from the inside out. Cyrene dove into Birdie’s conscious and felt Malysa’s presence on her like an oily fingerprint.
“Let her go!” Cyrene barked at the darkness that was choking her.
“Domina,” Birdie gasped. “You’ve done…what you need to do. You’ve done it…done it before.”
Cyrene concentrated on dispelling Malysa. It was a fight of wills. Her five elements versus her pure, raw energy and darkness. Cyrene fought bit by bit, pushing Malysa out of Birdie’s body.
Blood ran from Birdie’s eyes. Malysa was winning.
“No, no, no,” she gasped.
She had to fight harder. She had to win. Malysa could not have this victory. Not this innocent.
She could practically hear Malysa cackling.
“Use what you have. Use your past. Guide your…future.”
“Please, no,” Cyrene said, burning through her reserves to keep Malysa at bay.
Then suddenly, Birdie collapsed forward. Her body was still. Blood coated her face and arms and chest. It was soaking through the bones and across the table.
“No!” Cyrene gasped.
Orden was already there, rolling Birdie over and gently placing her on the floor. “Stay with us, Birdie,” Orden commanded.
But Cyrene could sense it before he felt for a pulse. Whatever little magic had been in her veins that connected her to the spiritual plane and allowed her to see auras…it was gone. Snuffed out.
Cyrene sank to her knees, and tears wet her lashes. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t know Malysa could get to her. I didn’t know.”
Orden pressed on her chest and tried to breathe life back into her. He kept working, determined to fix what had been so whole only moments earlier.
Cyrene finally had to put her hand out. “Stop, Orden.” She wrapped her arms around him. “Stop. She’s gone.”
And, for the first time, she saw tears glimmering in his eyes.
“She made it this far,” he said as the tears rolled tracks down his cheeks. “She made it.”
“I know,” Cyrene said. “I know.”
She rocked him back and forth, and they both cried into the night.
40
The Seeing
The storm didn’t abate for three straight days. And on the fourth day, they performed the Biencan rites of burning. Once the full burning was completed, they put the ashes in an urn and left Birdie’s house with it in tow.
Cyrene had used the bond with Sarielle to let them know that they were stuck in Bienco and that they were returning. Neither she nor Orden spoke the entire way back to the portal. Cyrene didn’t ask whose house the portal was now in. Or what he’d gone through in Bienco while she was gone. It hadn’t gone well. They were leaving without allies and with ashes in a bag. That was answer enough.
Their mood was somber. Cyrene’s dreams had been worse.
She didn’t know how Malysa had gotten to Birdie like that. She had been using such trace amounts of magic. It didn’t even make sense.
It just meant that whatever Birdie had been trying to tell them was important. Not that Cyrene could make heads or tails of it through her grief. Through Orden’s grief.
She could see the way he held the urn. The look in his eyes that said he would have to break the news to Gwynora and after Gwyn already lost her father. It was going to be horrible.
They stepped through the portal and into the Black Mountain, closing off the disaster of Bienco.
Dean rushed into the cavernous room. His face fell when he saw them. “What happened?”
Cyrene swallowed. “We lost Birdie. Malysa got to her.”
“Creator,” he breathed. “Was Malysa there? Did you two have to fight her?”
“No,” she whispered. “She got in through her spirit magic. It was just a small amount, but apparently, it was enough.”
Orden strode past Dean without a word.
“He’s taking it hard,” she whispered. “Truth be told, we both are. It happened right before our eyes.”
Dean wrapped his arms around her. “I hate this for you.”
She let herself soak in his warmth and comfort for a few minutes. Then she took a deep breath and stepped back. “I can’t afford to be broken by one death. I will have many more before this is all over. We’re walking into war.”
“Yes, but you were not walking into war when this death occurred, Cyrene. It’s okay to mourn her.”
“I mourned for three days. Now, I have to use her dying words to figure out how to fix Ahlvie. Because that’s what she was trying to tell us.” She glanced up at him. “I’m guessing you had no luck.”
“No. Everything I tried had no bearing on him. But he hasn’t shifted. So, I call that a win.”
Cyrene shook her head. “That’s buying us time. We need a solution.”
She walked out of the portaling chamber and back into the main area of the mountain. Ahlvie was lying on a cot with his arm propped under his head. Sarielle and Halcyon were just stretching as they came awake. Orden was nowhere to be seen.
“Hey,” Ahlvie said, jumping to his feet. “I heard what happened in Bienco. Orden is pretty messed up.”
“Yeah. It was…awful. She told me before she died that I needed to use something from my past to help fix you. That I had done it before and that I could see, but I was blinded.”
Ahlvie arched an eyebrow. “Is there ever a time when people are not cryptic about important matters?”
“I really don’t think so,” Cyrene said with a sigh.
“When in your past did you separate a human and an Indres?”
Cyrene shrugged. “Never.”
“Yeah. So, what are you blind to? Maybe she meant it literally?”
“These things are never literal.”
“True.”
“Or it could be see, like with the physical eyes, and you need to use the other senses,” Dean offered.
“But I don’t know what I’ve done in my past that didn’t use my physical eyes t
o see. Other than the spiritual plane, which I already tried and failed at.”
“We could try again,” Ahlvie offered.
She shook her head. “I’m not in the right mindset. I need to think. I don’t know.”
She paced relentlessly, trying to see the solution that Birdie had died for. But it just wasn’t there. She was tired and worn down, and Creator, she wanted a bath. She was emotionally exhausted from what had happened with Birdie. She just couldn’t let it slow her down. It couldn’t break her like Maelia’s death had. Like so many deaths before this one. All dead because of her.
She closed her eyes and tried to shake out that old, familiar tune. She had thought she had escaped the guilt from what had happened. But it crept up on her. Her blood magic creeping out of its corner with it. That gnawing at her stomach that she tried to ignore but never fully got rid of. It had made her something else. The only survivor of blood magic. All the good that had done her.
Perhaps I might suggest a solution, Sarielle said.
Cyrene stopped pacing and faced her dragon. “What do you have in mind?”
Let’s go fly.
“Now?”
Yes, now. It will clear your head.
“That’s a good idea,” Dean said. “Go meditate in the air.”
Ahlvie snorted. “It’s your favorite.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m doing this for you, you know?”
He sobered. “I know. I’m just…you know…I haven’t had humor. It’s good to have a trace of it back.”
“You’re right.” She sighed. “I guess I do need to clear my head. I’m snapping at everyone.”
Come, soul sister. Take to the skies with me.
“You’ll check on Orden?” she asked Dean.
He nodded. “Go.”
Cyrene crossed the mountain and climbed onto Sarielle’s back. She leaned forward as Sarielle maneuvered through the open doorway that led to a sheer cliff below. Cyrene’s eyes widened in alarm. She hadn’t realized how high up they were. The path up hadn’t made it seem so…dangerous.
Ready yourself, Sarielle said with a laugh in her voice.
Then she dove. Down, down, down the cliffside. Cyrene shrieked with terror and then abandon as they plummeted like a rock toward the ground beyond. Then Sarielle opened her wings and effortlessly pulled them up. As if the flying maneuver wasn’t top-notch and they couldn’t have landed, splattered on the rocks below.
Cyrene flung her arms wide and rested back. She stared up at the clouds above them. Then she laughed softly as Sarielle flew up into the cloud cover. She was regretting not bringing a cloak with her for the flight. It was one of the first things she had been taught when flying. But the brisk weather high up in the mountains kept her alert.
I did not want to give false hope within the mountain. But I do have an idea about how we can discover what the mystic woman meant.
“You do?” she asked, sitting up in surprise.
Lie back again and let your mind wander. Don’t enter the spiritual plane, but just remain clear with a soft focus. I am going to bring forth your memories to the surface with my own powers. And it’s best to be away from distractions to accomplish this.
“You’ve done this before?”
I have attempted such feats with other dragons as well as Dragon Blessed. We worked together in the Draco Mountain back home. As you and I will work together now.
“Do you think this will work? That it will shake loose what I’m supposed to know?”
If nothing else, it will bring you the clarity that you desperately need. And perhaps, with that, you will discover the answer on your own.
Cyrene carefully lay back on Sarielle’s back. She did as she had been instructed, keeping her focus soft and unconcerned. She pushed away all the thoughts that she had about what was coming next and the death of Birdie. Her mind was open and receptive. Not the focused meditations that she’d done in the past that she so failed at. Not removing anything, but just letting it all pass by, leaving room for Sarielle. It felt…smooth.
Then she felt Sarielle brush against her.
Flashes of her past appeared before her closed eyes. Memories that she had seen recently and some she hadn’t even known were there.
* * *
She sat at Reeve’s Presenting ceremony. Her family was in the front row. She could see the young queen and king. How charming they were. Their advisors stood off to the side. Her father had been one for a time, too.
Then the announcement came from King Edric.
High Order.
Cyrene jumped to her feet and cheered for her brother.
Still, her eyes slid back to the king…and the presence of the prince nearby.
Her cheeks flushed when the prince returned her gaze.
* * *
Rhea giggled at her side. “You’re not going to do it!”
Cyrene raised her chin. “Of course I am. I’m not afraid. I’m not afraid of anything.”
“But it’s a boy,” she gushed.
Cyrene ignored her friend and walked straight out of the party that her parents had thrown for her older sister, Aralyn. She and Rhea had been left up to their own devices. Elea had been following them along, like she always did.
Cyrene ducked into the covered gazebo. The trellises were covered in Byern climbing vines, blocking much of the enclosure from view of the other party guests.
The boy stood there. He was older than her by a year or two with ginger hair and a freckled face. Cute if not a bit of a snot-nosed jerk.
Still, a dare was a dare.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” he teased.
She walked right up to him, grabbed him by the front of his jacket, and planted a kiss on his mouth.
* * *
Snow fell on the city for the Eos Holiday. Cyrene tilted her head up to the sky and let it kiss her lashes and fall on her tongue.
“This will be our last year,” Elea said.
Aralyn had gone already. By June, Cyrene would be, too. She didn’t want to think if she’d make Affiliate. She felt a tug to the castle, but what girl didn’t have dreams of it?
“But then you’ll follow! We’ll be in the castle together.” Cyrene took her sister’s hand, and they swung each other around in a circle. Burgundy and forest-green cloaks flowing wide. “We’ll have the run of the place. I’ll impress the queen, and you’ll meet a handsome suitor!”
Elea giggled. “Maybe even the prince. He needs a bride after all.”
Cyrene laughed. “Maybe even the prince.”
* * *
Cyrene sat with Maelia in the Eleysian royal gardens.
“Am I being foolish?”
“For falling for a prince?” Maelia asked with a soft laugh.
“A foreign prince.”
Maelia gripped her hand. “You are never foolish for falling in love.”
* * *
Kael thrust fire at her face again. Cyrene ducked it and rolled instead of forcing the water to put it out. Creator, this was horrible.
“Again! Use your powers. Use your anger.” He strode toward her.
He offered her his hand. She brushed it aside and stood on her own.
“I am trying.”
“Don’t try,” he growled, getting into her face. “Just do it. Just beat me. You aren’t letting go.”
She glared at him. “I can beat you.”
“I don’t think that you can.”
“This isn’t how we train, Kael. I’m starving. And I feel exhausted. I could sleep for days.”
“There’s another way.”
She turned her face away from his. Ignored the pull at the pit of her stomach that linked them. She felt his palm press against hers.
“Let’s do this together.”
* * *
Malysa stood over her.
She was nothing but spirit clad in a black cloak.
She pressed a gold coin into Cyrene’s hand.
“Come to me.”
*
* *
Her body convulsed on the table.
Bled dry.
Nothing but pain and pain and pain.
Her bones cracking. Her magic empty. Her heart racing away ahead of her.
“Hold her down!”
“I am holding her down. She has inhuman strength.”
“Give her another dose.”
Magic infused her bones.
It disappeared like water in a leaky bottom boat.
Burning.
More, more, more.
Sweet oblivion.
* * *
Cyrene awoke from her own memories with a gasp.
“Sarielle.”
Blood magic, the dragon responded.
“Get me back to the mountain.”
41
The Blood Magic
Cyrene strode back into the Black Mountain with the weight of the last couple of weeks falling off of her shoulders. Seeing her past life had surprisingly been a balm. How young and carefree she’d been. How reckless. How very much she had grown and changed since then. She was stronger. She could handle this.
Orden was the only one awake when they got back. He was guarding Ahlvie so that Dean could sleep. Though she didn’t know what he would do if Ahlvie shifted. “You look…better.”
“I feel better.”
“You figured something out?”
“I think so.” She put her hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry about Birdie.”
Orden nodded. “There was nothing we could have done. And…she must have known the danger she was in and did it anyway. She’d been saying for weeks that her time was up. But I’d just thought she was being eccentric.”
Cyrene considered that. “Then, she is a martyr, and I want to ensure her death was not for nothing.”
“Thank you.”
“Go get Dean for me. And then, we’ll begin.”
Orden loped off toward the room Dean had commandeered in the days that he had been here.
