“The Word? You mean that ancient follower religion?”
“No, I mean the Word Himself. He controls my power, because I let Him.”
Rory picked up his helmet from the table and held it beneath his arm. “Then let us hope this Word continues to guard you.”
She nodded, but inside she stood at the edge of a cliff overlooking a black abyss. One false step and she would fail. And if she failed . . .
“Thank you for sharing.”
She looked back at Rory. He wore a guarded look now. It was better than the terror and hate she usually saw on people when they discovered her secret, but it still pierced her to the core.
Alone, always alone.
“Here.” She picked up the loaf of bread, not wanting to reveal her hurt. “You can have this.” He looked at it, surprised. “You need to eat. And Valin will give me more.”
He tentatively reached for it. “Thank you.”
“Now you should go.” Rowen glanced at the doorway. Any minute Valin would be here. “Hide, do something, before Valin arrives.”
“I will.” Rory took the bread. “I plan on making my way back to Cragsmoor today. I want to know why I was there, and if there are more people like me.”
Rowen nodded, her eyes still on the doorway.
“Farewell, then. I will be careful. And I will return tonight.”
“Farwell, Rory.” She looked back, but he was already gone, having disappeared through the kitchen door. She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep him hidden from Valin. But if he could help her rescue more people, it was worth the risk.
Rain began to fall outside.
Valin brought Rowen to the senate tower later that morning. The stairs no longer winded her. Walking around the city had brought back some of her former physical strength.
They reached the top and entered. Malchus stood in the middle of the room, behind one of the throne chairs, his hands resting along its back. Valin joined him and spoke to him for a moment.
Rowen stopped, struck by the image of the two men standing there. Malchus and Valin were two sides of the same coin. Valin was dark, Malchus pale, and both as cold as ice.
Valin looked back and motioned toward one of the chairs. “Please, take a seat.”
Rowen took a seat opposite Malchus.
He watched her with an intense, fevered stare.
Valin sat between them. “Yesterday I said I would show you who you really are.”
Rowen lifted her chin. “I already know who I am.”
He leaned back in the chair. “You only know what you’ve been told. You are an Eldaran, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And a Truthsayer.”
“Yes.” Where was Valin going with this?
“And who told you that?”
Rowen frowned. Balint, the chief healer of the White City, had been the first one to tell her she was an Eldaran, and a Truthsayer. “A man from the White City.”
“Oh really. And how would he know?”
“He was an Eldaran too. An Oathmaker.”
His eyes widened. “Interesting. How powerful was he?”
Rowen remembered the faded Mark of the Word on Balint’s hand. “He could only bind. He said his blood had been diluted.”
Valin smiled, that not-so-kind smile. “So a man, excuse me, an Eldaran who barely possessed the power of his people, told you what you were. And you believe him?”
“Why not?” Rowen sat at the edge of her seat. “The Word Himself confirmed what Balint said.”
“I doubt either of them told you what you really are, what you are capable of.” Valin leaned forward. “I said I would show you who you are. I will not hide those parts they don’t want you to know. Your power is not a trigger mechanism. It is under your control. You can do whatever you want with it. I told you humans are beneath you, that you are a god. And now it is time to show you.”
Rowen crossed her arms. “Why should I believe anything you say?”
Malchus watched the proceedings with a curve of his lips and a glimmer in his eyes.
Valin shrugged. “You don’t need to. I’m not going to say anymore. Instead, I’m going to show you. Regessus!”
The herald walked through the doorway. Her heart slowed. Another human Valin had twisted. Was that his plan? To force her to twist a person? Then he was mistaken. Even if she could, she would never do such a thing.
Valin motioned toward Regessus. “Bring in the prisoner.”
Regessus bowed and left.
Rowen gripped the arms of her chair. “I refuse to hurt anyone.”
Valin smirked. “You won’t.”
She narrowed her eyes.
A minute later Regessus came back, dragging a man in chains along with him. The man’s face was gaunt, his skin stretched across his face until his cheekbones protruded. His beard and hair converged into one stringy mass reaching to the middle of his chest. A rancid odor trailed him and spread throughout the room. His clothes were half decayed and hung across him in threads.
The prisoner looked up. At first, he did not seem to realize Rowen was there. Then he saw her and a spark of life came back into his eyes.
Something moved inside her, and her throat grew tight. “What are you going to do to him?”
Valin didn’t answer.
The man moved his lips, but she couldn’t hear what he said, just a string of heavy breaths and murmured words.
She leaned forward. “Valin, why is he here?”
“Please.” The man’s voice cracked. A tear trickled down his cheek, leaving a muddy path across his face. “Please, milady, help me.”
A chill swept over her, followed by fear. His fear. She could feel him. “Valin, don’t hurt him.” She held up her hand as if to stop him, although Valin hadn’t moved. “Let him go. Please. There is no need for any lesson today—”
“Bring him here, Regessus.”
Regessus brought the man inside the circle of chairs. As he passed, his rancid smell forced her to turn away and breathe through her mouth.
“You’ve touched a human before, right?”
“You know I have.”
“And what did you see or experience?”
Rowen clenched and unclenched her hands. “I see inside of them.”
“Correct. But that’s not all that happens when you touch someone. What else?”
What else? That was her power. She was a Truthsay— Oh. “I can also heal.” Did Valin want a demonstration of that? She glanced at the man. Yes, she would be willing to heal him. “Is that what you want?”
Valin studied her, his finger tapping his chin.
She tried to feel Valin, but couldn’t sense anything, not even the dark aura he usually wore. Well, if he did try and do something, she could still use her healing power on the prisoner. “All right. I’ll do it.”
Valin dropped his hand. “Good.” He drew a key out from beneath his tunic and stood. “Hold out your glove.”
Rowen lifted her hand.
He walked over and gripped her wrist, turned her hand over, and placed the key inside the keyhole located within the metal bracer. Click. The bracer loosened. He pulled the glove off and placed it on a chair nearby.
Rowen rotated her wrist, the air cool on her exposed skin. She held up her hand. The mark glowed with soft light.
The prisoner watched her. He took a jerky step back, but was stopped by Regessus. “Are you one of them? Are you going to kill me, like the others?”
She dropped her hand. “No. I’m not here to kill you. I want to—”
Valin grabbed her hand and the man’s wrist.
She pulled back. “What are you—?” Her voice left her throat and her eyes went dark.
Falling.
Her stomach rose to her throat and wind rushed throu
gh her hair and clothing. A hand still held her, but she could see nothing.
Her body jerked to a stop and the air left her lungs. The vibration ricocheted through her arm and down her back.
The hand still held her, gripping her by the wrist. The only thing holding her. Her legs swung useless beneath her.
She twisted and moved, but there was nothing. Just empty air and darkness. If the hand above her let go, she would fall.
Rowen screamed.
Chapter
20
Her scream cut short. A fire erupted within her mark, the same hand gripped by another in the darkness. Her power was triggering, but it was different. It centered inside her palm rather than her chest.
Rowen glanced up. She could see nothing, only inky blackness. A scream filled her throat again, but it stayed there, stuck behind her teeth. Instead of her power rushing out, another power entered her through her palm.
The fire spread, past her wrist and down her arm, leaving a trail of warmth across her limbs. Her breath stalled.
The foreign power reached her chest and spread, stretching toward her legs and up to her face. The moment it reached her neck, she gasped. Thousands of tiny tendrils raced across her throat, pricks of pain, then pleasure.
Rowen sighed and her head slumped to her chest. She was still suspended in the darkness, but she didn’t care. A laugh escaped her lips. She didn’t care about anything except the fire now coursing through her body. Her healings never felt like this. They always hurt. Each and every one.
But this?
This was incredible.
Her truthsaying power flared to life. She lifted her head and her heart beat faster. This . . . this wasn’t right. But why? It felt so good.
No. There was something wrong.
Rowen began to squirm. She twisted and turned, her hand still held tight above her by the unseen hand. Wait. She stopped and focused on her own power. Eyes closed, she willed the heat inside her chest to move toward her hand.
It moved.
Her eyes flew open and she pushed again. Always her power had been reactionary. But not this time.
She pushed her power through her arm and up to her palm. Far away she heard a gasp and a cry. She pushed harder until her palm exploded in a blaze of light.
Another light appeared above her, like the opening of a well. She shot up toward the light, palm first. Up, up . . .
The connection broke and Rowen fell to the floor. The darkness was gone and she was no longer suspended in the air.
She sucked her breath and hunched over. Slowly her hearing came back. Someone panted nearby. She looked up.
Valin knelt on the floor a couple feet away, his head bowed, his hand cradled to his chest.
Near Valin lay the prisoner on his back, limbs spread wide across the marble. He stared at the ceiling, his eyes unmoving, his skin pale.
Rowen sat up and rubbed her face. What just happened?
She glanced at Valin, then at the prisoner again. The prisoner’s chest did not move. And his lips were blue.
She clutched her throat. Valin had grabbed her wrist. Then the darkness appeared, and the other power. That heady, blissful power. He said he wanted to show her another use of her abilities . . .
“Wha-what did you make me do?” Her voice cracked.
Valin looked at her. He did not smile this time. Instead, he grimaced and hunched back over.
She trembled. “Did I—did I kill that man? Did I kill him?”
“No.” Valin’s voice came out weak. “We siphoned his life.”
The room was spinning out of control. “We—what?”
The color seeped back into Valin’s face and he slowly sat up. “I reversed my own healing. Instead of pouring my life into him, I drew his life out and transferred it to you.”
Rowen scooted back. “No, I couldn’t have . . .” That fiery warmth, had that been the prisoner’s life entering her?
She curled up next to one of the chairs, her stomach so tight it hurt. She had laughed and reveled in the exhilarating power. Bile filled her mouth. How could she? How could she have enjoyed takin—
She turned over and retched, but nothing came up. Oh Word. Help me! She heaved again. If only she could vomit those memories and feelings! I didn’t know!
Rowen curled her hands and turned toward Valin. “You, you monster! You lied to me. You said I wouldn’t hurt the man!”
Valin shrugged and pushed up off the floor. Color seeped back into his cheeks. “What I said was true. He isn’t in pain now. And you weren’t the one who hurt him. Besides, his life healed you. Isn’t it about time someone did that for you?”
Rowen froze. “What do you mean?”
Valin pointed at her. “Touch your neck.”
Hesitantly, she reached up beneath the scarf and felt the skin along her throat. No leathery texture, no ridges. Just smooth and cool. No, no . . . She ran her hand up and down a couple more times. It can’t be.
She spotted one of the windows and stood. Her legs shook as she staggered across the floor, past the chairs, toward the window. She gripped the windowpane and stared at her reflection. Past the scarf, the red skin was gone. She jerked the scarf down and touched her skin again.
Rowen turned. “How did this happen?”
Valin pulled his glove back on. “Like I said, you used his life force to repair your body. That nasty scar is gone.”
Her eyes widened. “No, it can’t be.” She turned back toward the window and rubbed her throat. “I can’t do that. I can’t take someone’s life for my own.”
“Too late. He’s dead and you’re healed.”
Rowen spun around. “You vile . . . !” She screamed and rushed Valin, her hands outstretched. She would use her mark and end him! Now!
A force hit her from behind. She stumbled forward. A hand grabbed her shoulder, another seized her right wrist.
Rowen snarled and tried to yank away, but the grip held.
“I don’t think so.” Malchus stood behind her, his fingers like claws in her shoulder, his hand tight around her wrist.
She twisted around and scratched his face with her other hand.
Malchus grabbed her other wrist, pinning her in place. He stared at her with an icy look. “I told you this wouldn’t work, Valin.”
Rowen pulled and twisted, but Malchus had an iron grip.
Valin came up beside her. “She cannot deny her power now. She has tasted it.” He lifted up her metal glove.
Rowen pulled back. “No, no!”
Malchus held her hand in place while Valin tugged on the metal contraption.
The metal was cold against her skin. Tears streamed down her face.
Valin gripped her chin and turned her face toward his. “We will leave you to think about things.” He ran a thumb along her jaw and wiped away a tear. “I am patient, but eventually you will need to choose.”
“Choose what? To join you? I’ll never join you!”
He dropped his hand. “Just think about it.” He turned and headed toward the door.
Malchus squeezed her wrists and leaned until he was only a couple inches away from her face.
Rowen looked away.
“Valin might desire you, but I do not. You are just like your mother. She did not fool me, and I will not be fooled by you. I will be watching. And if you try to run . . .” He squeezed again, digging his nails between the tendons in her wrist until she cried out. “I will enjoy hunting you.”
He let go and crossed to the door. Valin was already gone. The door shut with a hard thud, leaving her inside the empty senate room. Rain pounded against the windows, drumming across the glass and echoing inside the room.
The prisoner lay where he had fallen, in the middle of the circle of chairs. Shadows danced across his pale face, his eyes void of life.
I said I would heal him. I would help him.
A tear fell across her cheek.
Instead, I took from him the one thing he had left. His life.
Rowen spun toward the door. She couldn’t stay here.
She raced across the floor, past the chairs and the dead prisoner. With a hard pull, she opened the door and rushed down the stairs. She had no idea where Valin and Malchus had gone. She didn’t care. At the bottom of the tower she pulled the door open and raced out into the rain.
It fell in sheets, ice cold and hard. She ran across the arena and slipped on the stairs as she made her way to the street. Water flowed along the sides of the buildings and down the columns. Turning left, she followed the street all the way back to her house.
The scarf around her neck began to slip. She tore it off and dropped it to the ground. Nausea filled her stomach and she brought a hand across her middle.
Fifteen minutes later she reached the house and flung open the door. Her eyes were drawn to the bust of Regessus that stood to the left. That soulless shell of a man who served Valin. The same man who had once called this house his home.
Rowen stepped into the foyer and doubled over. Even now she was using people—their homes, their lives.
Get dry first, then figure out what to do next.
She staggered back up, shut the door, and made her way down the hallway toward the staircase. Don’t let Rory be here. I don’t want him to see me.
He might see the truth on her face. That she had become like Valin and Malchus.
That’s not true! She reached the second floor and made her way up to the third. Valin tricked me. I didn’t touch the man. Rowen slowed as she made her way down the hall to her room. So how did Valin do it?
He had held her marked hand, but instead of her power flowing out, his had somehow flowed in. Until she pushed back.
Rowen stumbled into her room. At least she’d fought back. Still, the prisoner was dead because of her.
The mirror in the corner caught her eye. She stared at it, then walked toward it. Her reflection expanded across the silver glass until she stood full length in the mirror. Tears still clung to her lashes. Her cheeks and nose were tinted red from the cold. Her wrap covered her neck. Hesitantly, she pulled her wrap down away from her skin.
Heir of Hope (Follower of the Word Book 3) Page 17
