“It's all right,” she said. “They are going to let me call Eliza and ask for the army to attend to me. I am a Baroness.”
Nathaniel's eye brows shot up through his forehead
“Right, of course,” he said. Prada took a step forward then, turning to her Maestro.
Jeffro's army will mean more death, she said.
Jeffro's army will even the playing field. With that kind of firepower, it's possible they will back off.
Maestro, they want recognition. They want peace. They want to serve.
“Prada!” he spoke out loud, snapping at her. Her eyes widened, and she quieted down in her mind.
Sienna was led away, and the three of them were left alone, inside the small room. It was sort of a private lounge, but looking around, anyone could see that it was heavily armored. They wouldn't be able to escape by any sort of force, and there was no doubt that there were several guards outside the door.
“Jeffro's army can only get there an hour beforehand at the most,” Nathaniel said, doing the calculation to Desmond. “And that's if they are half ready.”
“It's a good plan,” he said. “But it may not be enough. What did you two get up to?”
“We were treated to quite the tests and tour,” Nathaniel said. “ It was eerie, but they told us they just wanted to serve. The wrong way.”
Not the wrong way, a different way, Prada's voice came through and Nathaniel turned to her.
A different way, he said with his mind at last. Is that better?
Everyone is acting like this is the end of the world, Prada said. I think it could be a wonderful opportunity.
Because they all blast through the wall at a moment's notice? Nathaniel teased her. But Prada was serious.
Maybe.
That unsettled him, and they fell into silent, waiting. A couple of checks at the wall told him it would take more power than all of the ship combined to blow open the door, and even if they did, where would they go?
Sienna returned about an ten minutes later, and Nathaniel could see there was something wrong right away. She looked paler than when she left, and her feet were unsteady. Before she even made it through the threshold of the door, she stumbled.
He moved forward quickly, grabbing her. Her arm was bleeding, and he recognized the mark at once.
“They've taken the Cimeraon right out of her,” he said, as he wrapped his arms around her, sinking to the floor. “Sienna, did they access your magic?”
She half blinked and he knew what was coming.
“Desmond,” Nathaniel said with a warning tone in his voice. It had been years since they dealt with one of her seizures, but it came back to them like an old enemy. This is what happened when she used her magic. Taking the magic blocking drugs out of her and forcing her magic through her veins at the strength it was when she was sick was cruel. But it meant that they intended her to fight, that much was clear.
They would be used as weapons, without a doubt.
“Just flip her here,” Desmond said, as he sank to the floor beside him, grabbing her shoulders to stabilize her. “There, you've got it. You remember.”
“Bastards,” Nathaniel said, as it began. “Bastards to do this to her.”
Prada said nothing, standing behind them. If either of them had turned around, they could see that she looked absolutely terrified, standing there. She had never seen the full extent of what happened to Sienna when she used magic. Now, in front of her face, she understood the full scale.
If Sienna was going to fight, on either side, she would die. If she saved her boyfriend, she would die.
No doubt Sienna knew this, and she wanted to do it, anyways. She wanted to do it to save any of them, including Prada.
It made the younger girl feel guilty for what she was considering. She would have thought that Sienna would want to fight with this new crowd of witches who were once as powerful as she was. Prada didn't really understand before why Sienna had banished her magic, why they had chosen to no longer train her. All she knew was their whole lives had been taken up with Sienna. She hadn't understood why, until now.
Now, she saw how much they tried.
Eventually, the tremors stopped, and Desmond's shoulders relaxed. Nathaniel winced and Prada suddenly felt a sharp pain through their bond.
Maestro? she asked, stepping forward. Are you all right?
Another notch on the belt, Nathaniel winced, looking down at his hand. Whenever she seized, her mouth fell open and it was more than once that her teeth used to take out a chunk of his hand, which he tried to make sure she wasn't choking. There was a small amount of blood on his knuckles, surrounded by old scars. But then, despite the fact that Sienna was on the floor, limp, he tuned to Prada. Are you all right, Tiro? he asked, putting his hand out to her. It's okay I know it looks scary, but it happens all the time.
Maestro, she can't possibly use magic, Prada said. She can't be alone.
It's okay, Prada, he thought. It's okay
Prada couldn't stand there helpless, it wasn't in her nature. She turned on her heel and bolted from the room.
“Prada!” Desmond called out, but Nathaniel put a hand out to him instead.
“It's all right,” he said. “It's all right. That's the way she deals with things sometimes. She's all right, she'll be back.”
“On this ship?”
Nathaniel had been tuned in to her thoughts, though, and let out a sigh.
“I have a strange feeling that she will be more all right here than she's ever been,” he said, looking up at Desmond. “She almost spoke when we were out there with them. I could see her mouth open, she didn't even think of it. She was comfortable. That's never happened before.”
“We all find our paths in life,” Desmond said, softly, and Nathaniel sighed.
“I know,” he said, looking down at Sienna. “That's what the worse part of this is. We had found our own paths, but everything went wrong. With Devon. With…”
“With Eliza. With the Jurors giving you Prada.”
“That's not what I meant,” Nathaniel said, but Desmond gave him a look.
“But it's what you are feeling. And there's nothing wrong with that,” Desmond said. “You've done a good job.”
“You're talking like all of this is over,” Nathaniel said. “Like everything is coming to an end. Do you sense something in the magic?”
“I sense a change in the magic,” Desmond said and Nathaniel’s heart sank. The last time they had this conversation, it was about leaving Sienna. Now, it felt just as serious.
Chapter 12
Prada had left as quickly as her legs could carry her, moving through the hallways. No one stopped her, no one even so much as looked at her, until she found herself outside the bridge.
Her heart was pounding, and her mouth was dry. She had seen so much in combat, and nothing had frightened her as much as the sight she had just seen.
It was because everything in her life suddenly made sense, and it was the most frightening thing she had even realized
Life had started off as incredibly cruel to her, frightening and activating her fight mode. The academy had rescued her, and Nathaniel had showed her kindness for the first time. He had given her years of acceptance and kindness, and she thought she would never be able to separate from her Maestro.
But seeing Sienna fighting against such a different set of circumstances, made her realize that she was strong and she was capable.
Prada wanted to fight, to serve the magic. Death happened to be a part of that, but she didn't have to purposely contribute to that. And witches like her deserved to serve just as much as peacekeepers, and diplomats.
If Sienna had truly gotten a hold of Jeffro, Prada knew what they would do. It was a well-known battle tactic, to take one side and switch at the last moment. Jeffro's forces would align with the Academy and threaten to blow this new witch coven to Kingdom Come if they didn't hand over Sienna. Nathaniel, Desmond and herself would be forced to fight against t
hose they had grown up with, or they would die.
It would be a stand-off, until everyone was facing almost certain death.
She had to convince them to recognize this coven, to accept them, she knew that.
How she would do that baffled her. Speaking wasn't her strong suit, and diplomacy was her weakest skill?
She had felt like the entire world was on her shoulders before, but this was the true definition of the phrase. How was she going to do this?
She felt like she had aged twenty years.
She couldn't talk to them?
Or could she?
She pressed the button to let herself onto the bridge, where she felt the Dramoonian leader that had spoken to them before.
She was frozen, staring at him. He looked to her, and then reached for the universal translator.
Prada couldn't do it. She couldn't speak. She turned around and ran back to her safety, back to her Maestro.
She wanted to be brave, but she couldn't do it, not yet.
They had hours until they landed at the Academy She told herself it would be all right.
She knew that it wouldn't be.
Back in the lounge that they had been sentenced to, Sienna had been moved to one of the cots, curled up on her side. Her eyes were open, and teary, and Prada could feel her pain from the door, as she was let back in to the room. She didn't register anything as she moved forward toward her Maestro.
“You're back,” Nathaniel said, from his seat at the edge of the cot. “It's all right, Prada, she's fine. This is normal for what they did to her.”
Prada said nothing, drawing her knees up as she thought. She met Nathaniel's eyes to let him know that she was all right, but that was all.
“They did more than push magic,” Desmond said, looking at her arms. “Have you seen this?”
“Creator,” Nathaniel swore. “They fully activated her. Look at those marks. Ten minutes and they destroyed years of work.”
Sienna rolled over them, meeting Nathaniel's eyes and the whole room could hear her thoughts.
I can save Devon now.
“Little one,” Nathaniel said. “Don't think about anything else right now.”
“But Eliza will take me back,” Sienna said.
“Did you get through to Eliza?” Nathaniel answered in surprise “You were only gone ten minutes.”
“I got through to Eliza,” Sienna said softly. “And it won't just be the Jeffro forces.”
“Sorry?” Nathaniel asked confused. “She'll bring the rest of the systems?”
“She'll bring everyone.”
“Everyone?” Nathaniel asked in confusion. “Who’s everyone?”
“Ah!” She winced in pain, and gripped his hand, closing her eyes. They had been through this before, but it seemed to be getting worse. Nathaniel had feared this would happen when all of her abilities came back at once.
Can she die? Prada suddenly pushed into his brain.
Yes, Nathaniel said in no uncertain terms. She can.
Prada leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes.
She had never wanted to save this girl before. She hated her, hated her for taking up Nathaniel's time and life.
Nathaniel came to sit with her a few moments later, cautious as he always was.
“What are you thinking, Prada?” he asked. “I know that look on your face.”
Who is everyone? she asked, referring to Sienna's earlier statement. Nathaniel shrugged.
I have no idea. Eliza controls a number of systems but nothing beyond there. Who else she would bring is beyond me. Although if Sienna dies tonight, Eliza will stop at nothing to…
Death, the word rung in Prada's brain. She will bring death.
Nathaniel paused for a moment and then his jaw fell open as he realized what Prada was suggesting.
“Desmond,” he stood up, startling his Maestro. “I know why she's getting worse. She's resurrected someone, she's opened a portal.”
“What?” Desmond asked, in alarm. He had been sitting off to the side, idly watching Sienna's vitals. “What are you talking about?”
“That's the everyone she meant. If they flowed that much power into her, she'd have resurrection at the tip of her fingers. She didn't tell us because she knew that it would do to her, but I'm willing to bet she pushed a life out and brought it back. A portal will be open…”
“An army of the dead,” Desmond said. “Which Eliza would bring.”
“Our enemies don't stand a chance,” Nathaniel said, his chest heaving as he realized what had been done. “This is going to turn into a mass slaughter.”
“And it may start here.” Desmond glanced down to Sienna, who was clearly in distress. “What would make her think that this was a good idea?”
“I don't think she was thinking…” Nathaniel answered. “At least…not about herself. I think she was trying to help Devon…”
“It’s a shot in the dark, to assume one resurrection will open that far of portal,” Desmond replied.
“But any of us would take that shot in the dark,” Nathaniel said. “If it were…one that we cared about this much.”
Maestro, Prada stood up. We have to warn them.
It's unlikely that they will listen to us, Prada, Nathaniel thought softly. They just want us to fight for them, to get them Reconstruction
Why can't we? she asked, with such strength that he thought she might have actually spoke. She stared him down, and he was reminded how different she was from Sienna, how strong she could be. Why can't we plead their case?
Prada, they are killers.
“THEY AREN'T!” The words came rolling out of her mouth, thundering through the room. Desmond raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing, knowing that acknowledging might be enough to send her back into her shell.
Nathaniel straightened his shoulders, watching her.
“Why aren't they, Prada?” he asked carefully. She opened and closed her mouth like a fish, and he waited patiently
In his patience, Desmond felt so proud of him. He had taught his Tiro patience, and calm, even in the stormy world they lived in.
“You're safe,” Nathaniel said. “You're safe here.”
“They are witches too, Nathaniel,” Prada said. “You have influence with the Jurors. We have a chance to plead their case rather than it ending in a slaughter. If we enter this war, everyone loses.”
“Will you fight with me?” he asked her. “At my side, with the Jurors? Will you help plead this case, then, to end this battle?”
She paused, and then nodded.
“Good,” he said. “I'm proud of you, Tiro.”
“Mm,” the amount of words she had said seemed to have been enough, and she clammed up, her palms shaking.
It was the first time in years she had spoken in front of someone beside Nathaniel, and it made her feel sick.
But it wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. She had nightmares about speaking in public, about instant death the moment she made a sound.
But to her surprise, she didn't die. She was also surprised that she wanted to defend them as much as she did.
Prada had heard of Stockholm Syndrome, but this was entirely different.
It was as if her entire world was different. And she had never wanted anything to be different until she saw the power these witches had. Suddenly, her perception on everything and everyone was different than what she was brought up with.
She had been jealous of Sienna, and she didn't have to be. She was strong, and she could be stronger than her. She had always felt out of place and she thought her place was with Nathaniel. But now she realized he was only the key to where she might actually belong.
He had always discouraged her power, they all had. She was encouraged to control her power, to look at other avenues besides fighting.
She was built to fight, some people were.
They didn't talk much on Dramoon. They didn't communicate with words, or emotions. They used their magic, exactly wher
e she was comfortable.
She hadn't realized she ever wanted to be away from this place, until she saw another door.
“We might have another worry on our hands.” Desmond bent down to check Sienna's vitals. “She needs a proper med bay, and no doubt they will keep us here.”
Unless we offer a trade, Prada thought. Offer them me, that I will join them if they save her.
“Prada,” Nathaniel looked up in shock. “That's dangerous.”
“Not if I mean it,” she responded, meeting his eyes.
There was a long silence in the room. Nathaniel reached out to grab her hand.
“Are you sure?” he asked, knowing what it meant to be asking. She was suggesting leaving him, of fighting for a side that they thought was evil up until a day ago. “Because if we put you in that situation, we may not be able to remove you from it.”
“I know,” she grasped her hands shut so they wouldn't shake. “I know.”
Nathaniel glanced at Desmond, who gave him the slightest nod.
Nathaniel expected to feel shock, anger, and pain at her announcement.
But he felt relieved, like this was the correct path.
Different path, the words rang in his mind. He had never walked the same path as anyone else, not from the moment Desmond started training him.
There was nothing wrong with walking a different path. But now, they had to walk it.
“All right,” he said carefully. “Go ask for a medic. You can do it, Prada, you can talk to them.”
She nodded, although five minutes ago, she wasn't sure she could.
But every step toward the door filled her with a bit more courage, and a bit more strength.
Chapter 13
It only took her a few moments to find a Dramoonian guard. Prada knew that they wouldn't understand her, but she decided to push her magic and see if she could reach into their minds instead. It was high magic, and normally Tiros could only talk to their Maestros.
But Prada knew she wasn't a normal Tiro.
We need medical help, or Sienna will die, she thought. Please, she will be useless to you otherwise.
Sienna is no longer of interest to us, the guard answered, shaking his head.
If she dies…I will not assist you. Prada thought, trying not go into a full blown panic attack. This caught the guards attention. And I would like to assist you, always.
Hunting the Rogues (Shadow Claw Book 8) Page 73
