by Lisa McMann
No One to Tell
Rohan lay down, but he couldn’t sleep. The newly revealed truth about his mother swirled around him. She’d been forced by the usurpers to help the pirates abduct Princess Nadia Taveer. She hadn’t been working for them by choice. It changed everything about that image, and Rohan was shaking with eagerness to explain it to Thisbe after feeling so bad about what his mother had done to hers. Beyond that, he’d kept the story of his parents close to his heart and hadn’t shared much about them with anyone before, because his memories were few and unsettling. For the first time, Rohan wanted to tell Thisbe everything but couldn’t. After tossing and turning for an hour, he got up and found some linen blotting paper in the living area of his magical apartment. He sat in a chair and began to write Thisbe a letter.
I have two memories of my childhood before I ended up in the catacombs. They are fuzzy, and they don’t make sense together. I’ve never felt comfortable telling anyone about them—you are well aware of this, I know. And I’m grateful you gave me the space I needed. But I want to talk about them now. If only you were here with me! I will write them to you instead, with the hope that someday I’ll be able to hand you this letter and watch you read it. That’s an image I’m going to affix in my mind to help me through these uncertain days.
The first memory is of my parents and me. I was about four years old. We were together in a house with several other people, but my father only had eyes for my mother. He looked at her like her eyes were a portal to a heavenly place. He stroked her cheek and whispered, “I love you, pria.”
That is where the word originates in my mind. The love between my parents. When I saw the way Sky spoke about Alex, it reminded me of that kind of love. The kind that lasts a lifetime and beyond. I guess you know it means so much to me to use that word for you.
The second memory is jarringly different and has caused me much consternation ever since. It happens not much later than the first. The memory is of my mother. She’s angry. Screaming. At me, I thought, and I was devastated. She kept yelling “Go! Go!” and pointing to some strangers in blue uniforms. “Get out!” She was hysterical, and I kept running back to her, apologizing for whatever it was I’d done. Begging her to stop screaming and let me stay. But she shoved me at the soldiers. They scooped me up and took me away. That was the last time I saw her.
Rohan paused to press his fingers into the inner corners of his eyelids. A wave of emotion washed over him. Then he continued writing.
Why would she do that? Why would she change like that? Had she turned into a different person so suddenly? I couldn’t make sense of anything. When I took the ancestor broth, which made the image appear of her helping the pirates capture your mother, something cold entered my heart. I’d held on to the thought that my mother was good once and had turned bad. But this image shattered that. Perhaps she’d been evil all along and had only had that one tender moment with my father before revealing her true self. It made me sick.
I tell you these memories because I found out more information today about that image. Maiven said that my mother didn’t willingly help the pirates capture your mother and chain her to the ship’s deck. Maiven knew her! My mother was friends with your mother. Reza and Asha have similar images of their parents doing the same thing, but they didn’t know what the images meant. Maiven told us that nearly all of the black-eyed children had been taken away by then—they were our parents, obviously—and were forced by the king and the other usurpers to kidnap their friend Nadia, your mother, and deliver her to the pirates. The usurpers threatened the lives of their parents if they didn’t obey.
I’m not sure why it’s so important for me to tell you this right now. I know you never blamed me or held ill feelings for me because of what we thought had happened. But I still felt strange about it. And I miss you. Writing this makes me feel nearer to you. It makes me want to share more with you—everything with you.
He stopped writing, his pen poised over the last phrase. Was it too much? Should he be telling her just how strongly he felt about her? He wasn’t sure he liked how vulnerable that made him feel. He also wasn’t sure she felt the same. He knew they had a special connection. He knew she liked him. But they were both very young, though based on their experiences, they’d been through more than most adults. Somehow that aged them in his mind. And the torture and death-defying feats they’d performed together were enough to cement them for life. Rohan felt like he could tell Thisbe anything.
Now that she was gone and he didn’t know where she was or if she was safe, he threw his fear of vulnerability out the window and decided to be reckless. He wasn’t going to hold back. What if he never saw her again? He continued writing, pouring his feelings into it.
I’m scared, Thisbe. I don’t know where you are or what you’re doing. Florence and Simber are convincing me to trust what Fifer wrote, but I’m so conflicted about it. I’m tempted to write you a send spell every day. I don’t want to put you in danger, but why aren’t you letting us know what’s happening? Are you trapped? Did the Revinir take your components away? Are you even… alive? I can’t dwell on that thought. I wish I had some answers. I wish you could reassure me that you’re okay—I think that would help me cope with this. Everyone here is being wonderful—that’s not the problem. But right now I feel stuck in a strange land, waiting in limbo for something terrible to happen. Not having a home to go to. And hoping my whole life isn’t about to get upended because something terrible has happened to you.
I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You’re gone… and I’m hollow.
Ever yours,
Rohan
Rohan put the pen down. He’d look at the letter again later; tweak a few things, maybe. Or rip it up and throw it away. He knew he’d needed to write it, but now that he’d gotten it all out, he wasn’t sure if he wanted Thisbe to read it. What kind of pressure would baring his soul put on her, especially if she didn’t feel the same way about him as he felt about her? Maybe he’d hold on to it. Read some of it to her later—the part about their mothers. And let the love part come naturally if it was meant to be. When he saw her again. That felt better.
He yawned and went back to bed. This time sleep came.
Another Story
While Thisbe, Fifer, and Dev bided their time in Ashguard’s palace, the Grimere group gathered again in the dining room in Artimé’s mansion, joined by Henry and Thatcher and their family. Rohan had been thinking about Asha’s revelation about how she and Reza both had an image similar to Rohan’s flashing through their minds. He’d meant to call everyone together so they could describe their images and talk through them, but he hadn’t had a chance before now. With all of them together tonight, he brought up the idea.
They’d all been thinking similarly and were eager to discuss it. Asha began, briefly describing the image that a number of them had seen of Nadia being forced onto the ship. She went on to describe an image of an old gray-haired man with a beard, whom she declared to be Ashguard the curmudgeon. She was one of the few who knew for a fact that Ashguard was her grandfather.
“How do you know so certainly?” Rohan asked her.
“Because my mother told me so. She was Ashguard’s daughter.”
“And… you remember your mother well?” asked Prindi, leaning forward. Like many of the others, she had no memory of her parents, so it was fascinating to hear from someone who did.
“I was seven when the Revinir bought me at auction,” said Asha. “I remember my mother well. She was in the crowd, at the back. My father had already been killed. She was in danger.”
“Was it your mother who sold you?” asked Reza, incredulous.
“No, of course not,” said Asha. “I was free for my early years—no one knew about me. We lived in hiding near the foothills that separate Ashguard’s village and property from the cavelands, though we visited him sometimes at the palace when it was safe. One day, dragon hunters strayed off their path when I was collecting sticks for the fire
. They startled me and noticed my eyes. They came at me, and I barely had a chance to scream. My father came running and attacked them. And then… they killed him.”
“Oh, Asha,” Clementi murmured. “That must have been horrible.”
Asha didn’t answer at first and kept her head down. “We have all seen a lot of things we wish we hadn’t.” Then she lifted her chin, glanced at her new friend, and tried to smile. “It has been years. I don’t dwell on it. It’s too hard.” She reached out her hand and took Clementi’s. “It’s better to think on what can be done, rather than what can’t.”
Clementi nodded. “And your mother?”
“I assume she’s dead too.”
Maiven Taveer looked up. “In the image you see of Nadia’s capture—was it your mother at the scene?” The memory of that scene was burned into her mind. Watching her daughter’s friends being forced to do something horrible hurt Maiven, too—she knew they would never get over it.
“Yes. My father didn’t have black eyes.” She paused. “They killed him anyway to keep him from coming after me.”
“Asha,” said Maiven, leaning forward, “I believe I know who your mother was. We called her Adhi—was that her name? Adhira? Ashguard’s second daughter?”
Asha stared at Maiven. “Yes,” she whispered. “You knew her?”
Maiven smiled warmly. “What a charming girl. She spent nights at the castle. She and Nadia were very good friends from the time they were barely able to walk.” She hesitated, seeing Asha’s face. “That image in your mind—that was the last time I saw Adhi. The usurpers captured me soon after and threw me into the dungeon. I am glad to hear she survived long enough to find love and have you. Though I am so sorry for the life you were forced to live.”
Asha smiled. “It makes me so happy that you knew her, Queen Maiven,” she said. “And that you thought she was a good person.”
“Did you…,” Maiven began, then seemed to think the better of it. She shook her head. “Never mind.”
Asha gazed at the queen. “You may ask me anything. I don’t mind. What were you about to say?”
“I wondered if you had any… siblings?”
Asha sat back. Her face turned gray. “I…”
“Oh dear,” Maiven fretted. “I shouldn’t have asked! My humblest apologies. Please forgive me.”
“No,” said Asha. “It’s all right. If you had asked me before I took the ancestor broth, I would have said no.”
Clementi narrowed her eyes. “So you’ve seen another image? One you haven’t mentioned?”
Asha shifted. “I… Yes. There is one more image. It’s… confusing.” She brought her hand to her mouth, fingers trembling, and went silent.
Rohan’s face filled with concern. “You don’t have to talk anymore if you don’t want to,” he said. “No one among us from this point forward will be forced to do anything against their will ever again.” He said it almost angrily, defying everything he and the others had experienced for most of their lives.
Clementi, who still held Asha’s hand, gave it a gentle squeeze. “Shall we take a walk? Get an orange cream or a cup of tea? Or some fresh air?”
Asha nodded. “I’m sorry, everyone,” she whispered. “I thought I was fine until I started talking. And then I realized just how ill we all must be after what we’ve been through.” She looked at Henry. “If only there were a doctor who could fix this kind of pain.”
Henry, who’d witnessed his own mother’s death when he was ten, agreed. “If only,” he said, his eyes misting over. “Perhaps we could all use a break.”
Just a Little Bit
Asha and Clementi slipped past Simber—he noticed, of course, but didn’t let on—and went outside. The stars were out, and light from the mansion reflected on the sea. The two new friends started walking along the shore together. After a minute, Simber went outside to keep an eye on them. He wasn’t about to have another black-eyed person abducted by the Revinir and her dragons.
The girls didn’t go far and soon found a spot on the lawn to sit. They talked quietly about everything except the image Asha had seen—they steered clear of that topic for now. But they had plenty of other questions to ask. Asha, who’d had little exposure to the arts in her lifetime, wanted to know everything about Clementi’s talents and what it was like to live in a place like this when war wasn’t on everybody’s mind.
In turn, Clementi wanted to know more about what Grimere and Dragonsmarche looked like. She’d heard so much about those places but hadn’t actually seen them because Drock had urged Aaron and her and the others to turn around and go back.
Asha had little to tell her. She’d only been free for a couple of days in Grimere before they’d boarded a ghost dragon and left to come here. And she didn’t have any memory of the other times she was outside of the catacombs, because she’d been under the Revinir’s mind control. But she filled in what she could, using a mixture of both languages. Friends in Artimé were learning the common language at the same time as the black-eyed people were learning theirs. Between Asha and Clementi, they could communicate fairly well by now.
After a while they grew tired but didn’t want to go inside. “I love being outside,” Asha said. She lay back in the grass and spread her hair out. “I missed it so much in the catacombs.”
“I can’t imagine,” said Clementi. She lay back too, next to Asha, and their elbows touched. “You lived outside for seven years and inside for seven years.”
“Outside is better,” Asha said. She turned to look at Clementi’s profile. Her dark brown skin was splashed with starlight. “I like being here with you.”
Clementi’s face grew warm. She liked being there with Asha, too. A lot. She turned her head and saw Asha looking at her with her long eyelashes half lowered and a lazy smile on her lips. It gave Clementi butterflies. “Me too,” she said. “I’ve never had a friend like you before.”
Asha held Clementi’s gaze for a long moment, then squelched a playful grin and turned back to study the stars. “Being in this magical world with you makes me not want to leave.”
On the lawn near the front door, Simber rested his head on his paws, feeling a distinct melancholy longing inside him. He was a sucker for a sentimental moment, and moments like this had been too scarce lately. Simber would never tire of seeing people find a little bit of comfort in others.
Now all he wished was that he could experience the comfort of having his head mage safe and sound at home. But he feared that moment would be a long way off, and there would be many troubles along the way before that time came… if it ever did.
Moments of Normalcy
A few weeks passed and Thisbe’s ankle was healed, but her dread was building. She felt a little nervous to take on the Revinir, but worse was thinking about the other part of the plan—the part that would make her look like a terrible person to everyone she cared about, especially Rohan. And Maiven. And Aaron… ugh. Aaron. He’d be more disappointed than Alex would be if he were alive. And Sky… Thisbe closed her eyes wearily. “Stop,” she said under her breath. She couldn’t stand it.
As she and Fifer and Dev talked about options, went through various scenarios, and imagined questions the Revinir might have, they continued to make improvements to the enormous palace. Cleaning up debris, patching holes with whatever they could find to make the place a bit safer and easier to navigate. They talked about what might happen to Fifer—would the Revinir want to leave her in the palace with the dragons? Or do something else? That was something Fifer would have to play along with, whatever happened. And Dev would be forced to deal with it too. If the Revinir came after Fifer, Dev would need a foolproof place to hide. They assumed he could go to the village, but they weren’t sure what the dragons would do. So they explored other options too, just in case.
The twins divvied up their remaining components: four send spells, seventeen scatterclips, twelve heart attack components, three blinding highlighters, and a backward bobbly-head. And Thisbe had her oblit
erate spells—all three had stayed safely inside her inner pocket. They had no invisibility paintbrushes. No clay shackles. No magic carpets.
Fifer could call her birds once they needed them. And she could use her voice to shatter glass if that became necessary. Thisbe had her eyes and fingertips to send bolts of fire and sparks, and her fiery dragon breath. They both could cast unlimited freeze spells and could throw glass barriers and invisible hooks.
There was one more thing the twins had. Their new mental ability to send thoughts to one another. It wasn’t consistent, at least not yet. They confirmed that if they weren’t fully in sync—if they were cross or frustrated with each other—they wouldn’t be able to connect. They spent hours each day working on it, sending messages and figuring out the range and length of the phrases that worked best.
Whenever they ran out of things to say to each other in their mind messages, Thisbe would relay stories she’d read in the Revinir’s journal. In one session she told Fifer all about young Emma standing on rocks watching her siblings and their friends practice elemental magic in a stream on Warbler Island. Emma had written about not being invited to join them that time… and not really wanting to anyway. Thisbe told Fifer that this story stuck out to her because it seemed inconsistent with the rest of her journal, in which she was always wanting to be with her siblings. The twins speculated about why she’d felt that way on this particular day, but neither had answers.
When they weren’t sending mind messages, Thisbe and Fifer taught Dev a few basic spells. He spent the rest of his time by the fire, carving wooden weapons from thick branches. He meticulously shaved the end of a sword into a sharp point, then twisted and knotted some of his old clothing into a belt that would hold the sword at his side. On the handle he carved the symbol of the Suresh family, which he’d found on the steins in the alcove. Then he started making daggers. Thisbe and Fifer hadn’t been carrying weapons when they’d been abducted, so Dev wanted to make sure they each had one as well.
