The Whispering Echoes (Smoke and Mirrors Book 3)

by Melissa Giorgio

  As sleep was impossible, Leonid sunk down in his seat and eyed Vernen, who was sitting on the bench across from us. “So how did things go last night? With you and the magic and…”

  Even though he didn’t speak it, Emile’s name hung in the air between us.

  Vernen glanced out the window, his pointer finger tapping a rhythm on his knee. I thought he was going to ignore Leonid’s question, but then he smiled softly. “It went well.”

  I leaned forward in anticipation and nearly fell into the bench across from me as the coach chose that exact moment to bounce against the road. Leonid caught me and pulled me back onto the bench next to him. Wrapping an arm around my shoulders to keep me in place, he said to Vernen, “Care to elaborate? We have a few hours to kill.”

  “Leonid,” I chided, knowing the question would make Vernen uncomfortable. Imagine my surprise, then, when he answered.

  “I showed him fireflies.”

  “Fireflies,” Leonid repeated. He was playing with my hair with the hand that was draped across my shoulders, gently winding a curl around a finger before letting it go. The sensation was soothing, and I found myself leaning in to his touch, my eyes half-closed. “There are no fireflies in the winter, Vern.”

  Our friend gave Leonid a look that was so typical of the old Vernen that we were both startled into silence. Expressions like that were so rare we’d been convinced we’d lost the old Vernen forever. And yet…

  “After the two of you went upstairs, we left the inn,” Vernen explained. “I couldn’t exactly practice techniques to control my magic in public.”

  “No, I suppose not,” Leonid said dryly.

  I poked him in the side, silently telling him to stop interrupting.

  “Since Emile’s been to Tyne before, he knew to lead me to the outskirts, where we had little chance of being seen.” Vernen paused, glancing at Leonid.

  “What?”

  “You’re not going to say anything?”

  “No, because I’m afraid Lark will hit me again,” Leonid said. When that resulted in another poke, he swore and said, “See?”

  Vernen grinned and settled back in his seat. “When we arrived, Emile said he’d been to Tyne once when it was summer, and the field we now stood in had glowed with fireflies. Last night, it’d been nothing but brittle grass that crunched under our boots and trees with their limbs bare, but I kept trying to imagine what it’d looked like when Emile was there.

  “Then I remembered what I was actually there for, so I worked on the techniques Jaegger had told me about. Opening yourself up and letting the magic flow through you—and out of you.” Vernen’s blue eyes gleamed. “That’s what my problem was. I wasn’t working with the magic; I was just using it. Jaegger said eventually I’d burn out, or the magic would consume me—control me.”

  I shuddered. Consume him. That was what’d happened with Bantheir.

  “What do you mean by working with the magic?” Leonid asked.

  “Magic wants to be used,” Vernen said. “But it doesn’t want to be abused. That’s what so many of the dark magicians did, before the old wars. It’s what corrupted them in the first place. They chained the magic to them—like a slave—and when the magic fought back, they figured the only solution was to gain more magic. But there’s such a thing as too much and, well…” Vernen spread out his hands. “You know what happened.”

  Fury flooded through me. “What a stupid thing to kill all the dragons for. Why couldn’t they have just used the magic they had, and been happy about it?”

  “Because it wasn’t enough,” Leonid said. “Look at Raynard. He’s a councilor, but all the power and wealth that came with that position wasn’t enough. He wanted to be president, too.” Leonid smirked. “I’m sure he’s having a wonderful time right now with Parnaby.”

  “If he survived,” I said.

  “Oh, he’s alive. It’ll take more than a knife to the gut to kill that bastard.” Leonid gestured to Vernen. “Sorry, I’ve interrupted you again.”

  “I’m used to it by now,” Vernen teased.

  Leonid sucked in a surprised breath, but he didn’t speak. He’s probably afraid if he points out Vernen is acting like his old self, he’ll stop. I placed my hand on Leonid’s knee. For a long time the only sound in the coach was the muffled thump of the horse’s hooves against the road.

  “It’s hard to describe the magic.” Vernen rubbed at his chest, where his heart lay. “Sometimes it feels warm and bright, but other times, like when Parnaby was hurting Irina, it was cold and cruel. It wanted me to hurt him, and that scared me. But I couldn’t resist it.” He looked ashamed as he admitted that. “I wanted to hurt him, too.”

  “Vern, we all wanted to hurt him that day,” Leonid said. “I was two seconds from running him through with my sword for what he did to both you and Lark. That doesn’t make you evil, all right? It just makes you human. You wanted to protect her. That’s only natural.”

  I leaned forward in my seat, feeling the intense need to speak. “Thank you, Vernen. If you hadn’t helped me that day, I don’t know what would have happened to any of us. Quinn might have been killed, or the stone…” I remembered touching it and the resulting burn I’d received. West had removed the bandages this morning, declaring me healed, but my fingers were still tinged pink. A forever reminder of what’d almost been, I thought grimly. “I don’t know what the stone would have done to me if you weren’t there.”

  “The whispers,” Vernen said grimly. “I’m glad I couldn’t understand them. Jaegger said the stronger I get, the easier it’ll be for me to hear them. When we get the stone back, you need to keep it away from me.”

  “All right,” Leonid said easily. But was it that simple? If the stone burned me, that meant it would burn the others, didn’t it? What if Vernen was the only one who could carry it back to Dusk? And what if it tried to corrupt him on the way back home?

  I rubbed my temple with my fingers. There were always so many questions, so many obstacles we had to face. I didn’t expect any of this to be easy, but I also didn’t think it was going to be this dangerous, too.

  But, I thought to myself, he’d said when. Not if, but when. If Vernen thought we’d be able to retrieve the stone, then I resolved to be optimistic about it as well.

  “Jaegger told me a little bit about letting the magic flow out of me and back to nature, where it originated from,” Vernen said. “He said he had more to teach me, but then he…” Glancing at me, he apologized, but I waved it away. “So I don’t know if what I did last night was enough, but at least it was something.”

  “What did you do?” Leonid asked. Despite his earlier fears at his best friend’s newfound magic, he was now genuinely interested in what Vernen had to say. I was glad I’d encouraged Leonid to speak with Vernen, to let his friend know that despite the magic, he still believed Vernen was the same person. That was what Vernen needed to hear. What he still needed to hear, apparently. When Vernen had told Emile he thought of himself as a monster? My heart had broken in two.

  “I kneeled in the field and let the magic flow,” Vernen answered. “Jaegger said to imagine the power dripping from my fingers, like rain falling from the sky. With that image in mind, that’s exactly what I did. The magic appreciated my efforts and when it flowed back into me, it was light and good.” Now he seemed embarrassed. “I was still thinking about the fireflies, so I decided to see if I could recreate that moment for Emile. I asked the magic to light up around me in tiny little spheres, and it did.”

  I imagined little balls of light floating around the two men and sighed wistfully. “That must have been beautiful.”

  “It was,” he agreed. “Emile was astonished at first, and then he couldn’t stop smiling.” Vernen ducked his head, but we could see he was smiling as well.

  “You like him,” Leonid said matter-of-factly.

  “Leonid!” I was ready to yell at him, but Vernen laughed sheepishly.

  “I think I do.” Then he frowned. “I hate th
at Aeonia predicted our future together—”

  “Forget her,” I said, harshly. My anger wasn’t directed at Vernen, though, and I implored him to understand that. “Forget her absurd prediction and just live your life, Vernen. If you like Emile because you like him, then do something about it.”

  “Have you kissed him yet?” Leonid asked.

  My face burning, this time I did holler at Leonid. Across from us, Vernen buried his face in his hands.

  “What?” Leonid seemed honestly confused by our reactions. “I’m just curious. And I’m agreeing with you, Lark, so you can stop yelling at me.” He turned to Vernen, who peeked at Leonid through his fingers. “Life, as we all know, is too short. If you like Emile, then do something about it and kiss him.”

  “Says the person who waited how long to kiss Irina?” Vernen shot back. “In fact, didn’t I have to die before you finally mustered the courage to do it?”

  “What?” Leonid started sputtering. “W-Why are we talking about me? And don’t joke about your death, you idiot!”

  My mouth was open, but all that came out was an embarrassingly little squeak.

  “I think I’m allowed to.” Vernen folded his arms over his chest, looking highly pleased at himself for rattling Leonid—and me. “Considering I was the one who experienced it.” Sobering a little, he said, “You’re right, though. About life being short.”

  “Of course I’m right. I’m always right,” Leonid declared. “When are you going to realize that?” He puffed out his chest importantly.

  I rolled my eyes, which caused Vernen to smirk. “Whatever you say, Leon.”

  “Why are you smirking? And you,” he said to me, “stop rolling your eyes! I can see you, you know!”

  “I know. I wasn’t trying to hide it from you,” I said, rolling them again for extra measure.

  He scowled at me. “If you keep doing that, they’re going to get stuck that way.”

  “They are not!”

  “Yes, they are, and I’ll spend the rest of my life saying I told you so,” he declared. “Because I’m always right, remember?”

  “Leon,” Vernen said very calmly. “Stop being a jerk.”

  It was such a Vernen thing to say that we stared at him in shock for two seconds before everyone in the coach burst out laughing.

  Lightness filled my heart as I snuggled against Leonid and reached out to Vernen. He took my hand, his blue eyes dancing with mirth. These two, and my friends in the other coach—I loved them so much. After a lifetime with only Bantheir for company, I finally had a life I’d only dared dream about. People to laugh with. People to cry with. People to share an adventure with.

  Maybe we were venturing into the unknown, about to face a terrible fate as we confronted Aeonia, but I wouldn’t trade this moment, this laughter, this happiness, for anything in the world.

  WHEN THE STAGECOACH CAME TO a stop, it felt as if we’d been bumping along the road for days, not hours. Leonid threw open the door and the three of us sighed in relief as we stepped out of the coach. I still felt the vibrations of the coach shaking through my body and I wondered if my stomach would settle down enough for me to eat something.

  Claudette and Emile were already standing outside the small inn, their horses tethered to a post as they waited for our arrival. Emile’s face brightened upon seeing us and he made his way over at once. “How was the ride?” He was addressing all of us, but his eyes were on Vernen.

  Leonid and I exchanged a look. His lips were twitching, and I knew he was moments from saying something inappropriate, so I discreetly stepped on his foot. Hard. Swearing under his breath, he scowled at me.

  “Behave,” I mouthed.

  “It was bumpy,” Vernen said, his voice trailing off as he gazed anywhere but at Emile’s face.

  Emile’s smile started to slip.

  “How was your ride?” I asked, desperate to keep the conversation going.

  “It was good. The road is crowded; everyone wants to see the carnival,” Emile answered.

  Claudette joined us. “It was always popular when it came to Ayres. We went every night and we still didn’t see everything it had to offer.”

  “Did they use magic in their shows?” Leonid asked, troubled.

  “They did. We didn’t realize it at first,” Claudette said, “but once Aeonia showed us what she could do, she pointed out who used magic and who didn’t. The dog trainer, for example, would compel the dogs to do tricks.”

  “I was so disappointed by that,” Emile sighed. “The things they did were amazing. I thought…” He shook his head, looking embarrassed. “I thought it was real.”

  Vernen softly asked, “Do you like dogs?”

  Emile seized on this question. “I do! Do you?” At Vernen’s nod, he grew even more excited. “I’ve always wanted one, but it’s not practical when I’m always traveling. Maybe someday, when I settle down, I’ll get one. Or more than one.”

  “We are not getting a pack of dogs,” Claudette stated evenly. It sounded like this wasn’t the first or even second time she’d said that.

  Emile ignored her as he asked Vernen more questions. Did Vernen have a favorite type of dog? Were dogs popular in Dusk? What other animals did he like? Before long they were caught up in their own private conversation, ignoring the rest of us as they walked away.

  Claudette watched her brother, a smile tugging at her lips. “When I first heard Aeonia’s prediction, I was so mad. First, because I thought she meant my brother was going to die. Then, because I thought it meant the person he was meant to be with was already dead, and Emile was going to spend his life alone. And then,” she said, her voice lowering, “when I was older and thought back to what she’d said, I realized it meant he would leave me one day. That’s when I was the angriest. But…” She watched as Emile and Vernen laughed at something. “How can I be angry about this?”

  Leonid’s fingers intertwined around mine. “Everyone deserves happiness,” he said. “Especially Vernen.”

  “And especially my brother,” Claudette said.

  “What about you?” I asked. The hardships that Emile had faced, Claudette had dealt with, too.

  She frowned. “What about me?”

  “You were asking about West last night,” I began.

  “No.” Claudette held up her hands, her cheeks turning pink. “Stop right there, Irina. No. Absolutely not.”

  I decided to drop the subject. It was just in time, too, as the second stagecoach rolled up to the inn. As our friends departed the coach, Leonid started laughing at the sorry state they were in. Aden slumped to his knees, his face green, and West, too, was unsteady on his feet. Claudette put her hands on her hips and snorted. “Amateurs.”

  Elyse and Quinn seemed unaffected by the bumpy travels as they joined us. “Are we going to eat lunch?” Quinn asked me.

  “We should place our orders for food,” Claudette said as more stagecoaches appeared on the horizon. “The inn is only going to get busier, and you’re going to end up boarding your coach on an empty stomach.” She cupped her hands to her mouth. “Come on boys, it’s time to eat!”

  At the mention of food, West groaned and slumped down next to Aden, a hand over his mouth. “I’m never eating anything again.”

  “Suit yourself!” Linking arms with Quinn, Claudette and the younger girl led the way to the inn, with the rest of us—minus Aden and West—following.

  JUST AS CLAUDETTE HAD PREDICTED, by the time we were served our food, the inn was bursting with people. We squished through the crowds and went back outside, finding two empty tables for all of us. Emile and Vernen took one, still deep in conversation, while Claudette sat on the same side of the table as me and Leonid. Elyse and Quinn took seats across from us, Quinn gazing at Aden once before digging into her food.

  My stomach had settled by then, so I was able to enjoy the meal. Chicken, roasted long enough the meat practically fell off the bone, was served with string beans, asparagus, and carrots. Simple inn food, but finer th
an anything I’d ever eaten when I’d lived with Bantheir. We were also given goblets of spiced wine, which Leonid drank happily. I almost gave him mine, but a few sips warmed my belly, and I decided I wanted it all for myself.

  With the sun shining steadily and no breeze, it was an altogether pleasant meal. I dreaded returning to the stagecoach. The company and the conversation were fine, but the rocking was the stuff of nightmares. As if reading my mind, Leonid propped his head up on his fist and stared moodily at the stagecoach. “Let’s not go back.”

  “We have to,” Claudette said, only paying half-attention. She was watching West, who still hadn’t moved from where he’d fallen to his knees earlier. Aden, at least, had gotten to his feet and entered the inn to order some food, leaving West to suffer alone. “That fool is going to be starving.” She glanced at her dish, which, to my surprise, still contained some food. With a groan, Claudette slid off the bench, picked up the plate, and went over to West.

  Kneeling by his side, they argued for a half a minute before West reluctantly picked up a carrot with his fingers and bit down on it.

  “What’s going on with those two?” Elyse asked, watching over her shoulder.

  Leonid twirled a hand in the air. “Who knows?”

  “As long as she stays away from my Aden, who cares,” Quinn said. Everyone but Leonid smiled at that. I fully expected him to make a snide comment about Aden, and when he didn’t, I wondered if he was tired of Quinn kicking him.

  All too soon it was time to board the stagecoaches. We said our goodbyes, Vernen and Emile both looking disappointed when they parted.

  “If I could buy Vernen a horse—and teach him how to ride it instantly—I would,” Leonid said to me.

  “It’s only for a few more hours. We’ll be at Fairfield before we know it,” I pointed out.

  Leonid climbed the steps into the coach, shaking his head. “A few more hours of this stagecoach bumping over every rock in the land will feel like an eternity.”