Another turn, and a gray woman, eyes preternaturally wide, smile twisted and bitter, gazed down on me as she floated above the ruins of a city.
Another turn, and now the face of a boy, still as snow on a distant mountain peak, staring up from a bed. Phantoms moved in a haze around him, but he didn’t seem to notice. He had eyes for nothing but what he saw above. I felt I must lay next to him, and as I did, I lifted my gaze to see what he saw.
The great maw, an endless abyss lined with long, sharp teeth, descended. It didn’t come quickly, yet I couldn’t move to escape. I grasped the boy’s hand as slowly, inexorably, the jaws closed over us—
I sat up, gasping. Darkness blinded me. For a moment, still caught halfway in the dream, I thought myself in the terrible beast’s mouth. Then I felt a bed beneath me, and the thick covers that had fallen away as I sat up. My skin, sticky with sweat, grew rough with chills as the cool air washed over me.
Night. I was in a bed, unclothed, and it was night. No beast had hold of me. I was safe. Wasn’t I?
“Airene?” An accented voice, drowsy with sleep, spoke from the darkness next to me.
I flinched, as much from recognition as surprise. “Corin?”
In the darkness, barely lifted by faint light from the windows across the room, I more heard her movements than saw them: the rustling of clothes, the creaking of a chair. “Yes,” she said. “I am here.”
“Here?”
“The Laurel Palace.”
I clutched the blankets closer. Memories from what seemed a long time ago assaulted me, one after another. Despite the covers, the chill seeped in deeper, and my teeth began to chatter.
“Are you well?” Another creak of the chair as she rose.
“Yes,” I said quickly. “Yes, I’m fine. Just caught a chill, nothing more.”
Corin made a sound that might have been agreement or doubt, then the chair creaked as she sat. I stared at her outlined figure until I was sure she was settled, then eased myself back down.
“What happened?” I asked quietly.
Another protest from the chair as she shifted, but she gave no answer.
My heart thumped harder at her silence. “Did you… see me? See what I did?”
“Yes.”
I thought it must have been a dream. What I thought I remembered was impossible. Or if not impossible, then so unlikely and rare that it could be called that.
“Are you sure? Perhaps a candle spilled. Perhaps it was something that Eazal did—”
“No. It was you, Airene. I saw.”
I shrank away from her words. The cold struck deep through me once again. It couldn’t be, I told myself again. It couldn’t be true.
I couldn’t have channeled.
But I didn’t challenge Corin. Though the events afterward were hazy, I recalled all too clearly the moment it had happened. It had felt like a completion, a sating of a desire I’d never known I had. A warming of cold parts of me I hadn’t known were frozen. I remember the opening to it, the drawing of it, and the expulsion, all happening so naturally that it had seemed impossible for it to be the first time.
But I recalled, too, the fire burning and scorching as it swept over me. Yet as I ran my hands over myself, I didn’t feel raw flesh or angry boils but smooth, unbroken skin. I sat back again. If I’d imagined that part, how much of the rest did I misremember?
“The Archon visited you,” Corin spoke again. “While you slept.”
I couldn’t think about Jaxas at the moment. Not with everything else I had on my mind. “What about Xaron and Nomusa? And Talan?”
“Yes. They have come often, though the Guilder only once.”
I took a steadying breath. If my memories didn’t lie, and if I were found out, everything I had worked for, everything I strived to do, would be compromised. My very life could be forfeit.
So why did I feel giddy with anticipation?
I’m a warden.
I held the words in my mind. It was too strange a thought to believe. For Xaron and Talan, it was natural to call them wardens — it was just who they were. But me? It couldn’t possibly apply to me.
I’m a warden.
I’d channeled fire and force. Radiance and kinesis. I’d nearly burned a building down. Unless it was the most vivid dream I’d yet had, it was true. And Corin claimed to have seen it as well. Burns or no, it was true.
I was a warden.
A sudden vertigo swept over me. I felt as if I couldn’t take a proper breath. But with Corin was present, I fought back for control. With each breath, I slowed my pulse. Yet other memories from before I’d channeled intruded, quickening it again.
Corin had betrayed me. She’d lied to lure me into a house in Sandglass. She’d served me up to the whims of the Valemish. True, she’d confessed at the last moment, and warned me of what waited within. But it didn’t change that I’d been forced to enter and face down my would-be assassin. Even with her warning, even with Eazal’s obvious reluctance for his task, I’d have died if my attunement hadn’t manifested at that moment.
Caustic words burned on my tongue, but I held them back. She’d done it for her sister. Even if she’d been a daemon-struck fool to put her sister’s life in the hands of the Valemish, I understood why Corin had done as she had. But understanding didn’t fix what had broken. Trust couldn’t mend in a day. If it ever could.
I broke the long silence. “Where are they now, Xaron and Nomusa?”
“Xaron is Hilarion.” Corin shrugged, barely visible in the darkness. “He follows the Archon and the Despoina.”
“I’m sure he’s pleased about that.” I smiled at the thought of Xaron in the jester’s sackcloth clothes. It didn’t seem every Hilarion wore them, but I hoped Xaron would be forced to put them on. His sensibilities of fashion would be driven mad. But more importantly, Xaron being Hilarion meant he was safe from the Shepherds. Though I wasn’t sure how many Shepherds remained within Tribunal control now.
“And Nomusa?”
“We… do not speak.”
A wry grin found my lips. At least that much hadn’t changed. “She’s visited though?”
“Everyday.”
Everyday. I realized I’d overlooked something. “This isn’t the same night as Despoina Asileia’s trial.”
“No. It’s the third night.”
I lay still. Three days. I’d lost three days. Who knew what changes had come over Oedija, and how much Vusu had recovered his strength, and Famine gained in power.
I sat up again. “I need clothes.”
“Why?” Corin sounded alarmed. “It is night. Time for rest.”
“There’s no more time to lie around. Where are my clothes, Corin?”
“Airene.” Corin had stood, but hadn’t moved toward me. “You’ve lain as if dead for three days. You’ve had little more than broth. You need rest.”
Ignoring her, I swung my legs out from under the covers. A fire had lit inside me, and weakness wasn’t going to put me off, nor any shame of nakedness. “If you won’t get me clothes, I’ll get them myself.”
I stood, or tried to, but the ground lurched, sending me tumbling. I fell hard on my hands and knees. As I tried to rise, something wrenched in my gut, and I heaved. Little more than a dribble came up.
Corin was helping me up a moment later, and I didn’t resist as she settled me back into the bed. “You need to rest,” she said again, reprimand clear in her voice.
I was suddenly too weary to respond. My seizing gut had woken a terrible ache in my stomach that made me want to curl up into myself. “Is there more broth? I’m starving.”
“I’ll see if there is some in the kitchens. But only if you stay here.”
I nodded against the pillow. “Yes. I will.”
Corin paused a moment longer, as if not trusting me to keep my word, then left the room. The door creaked as she pulled it closed, then there was a small clatter as she turned a key. I pressed my lips together, considering. Whether she’d locked it to ensure th
at I kept my word or to protect me from those without, I couldn’t say.
The thoughts that had wracked me now seemed too vast to consider. Sleep crept up at the edges of my mind, and I didn’t resist. Before Corin had returned, I’d fallen back into unawareness.
I woke to sunlight creeping in through the windows. Groaning and stretching, I gazed blearily around the room. Corin didn’t stir from the chair where she sat, head lolling against the wall. She couldn’t be comfortable, yet I saw no signs that she’d sought to make it more bearable. On a table beside the bed sat a bowl of broth, fat congealed over the surface.
Hunger suddenly assaulted me so that my hands shook as I seized the bowl and began to quickly spoon the cool broth down.
My noisy eating woke Corin. She said nothing as she cracked open an eye and saw me bent over the bowl. A faint smile crossed her face. “You’re awake.”
“Mhm.” I didn’t pause eating but carved out the fat by the spoonful.
She rose and stretched with a yawn. “Your visitors will likely come soon. You wish to dress?”
I nodded and set the bowl aside as I finished. “And maybe have some more food,” I said hopefully. “Something solid. I think I can hold it down.”
Corin complied, moving lethargically across the room to bring me a chiton and underwraps from the dressing closet. As I took the clothes, she turned to the door and unlocked it.
“Corin,” I said to her back. “Thanks.”
She turned back and gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. I returned it as best I could. Perhaps things between us couldn’t be the same. But I hoped they would. Corin had always been the steady rock in Canopy. I felt slightly unmoored without being able to rely on her.
Corin left, and I stood to dress. My body still felt tired and trembling, but when I eased onto my legs, they held. I marveled at the weakness that made standing an accomplishment.
Corin hadn’t returned by the time I finished dressing, nor anyone else arrived. My mind began to wander. I checked my skin for burns and confirmed what I’d suspected: not a blemish marked my body. I shook my head in disbelief and resolved to ask Corin if I’d had any wounds when she’d taken me from the house.
I lowered myself back onto the bed and examined my fingertips. The skin seemed as it had before. No matter how I searched, I didn’t see any sign of movement on the prints there.
Lowering them, I tried to keep the panic at bay. Perhaps one’s shifts didn’t appear immediately. Perhaps it took channeling at least twice before they appeared. But now, I couldn’t help but wonder if Corin and I hadn’t both imagined it. Maybe I wasn’t really attuned. Maybe I wasn’t a warden.
No. I wouldn’t accept that. I would prove to myself that I was a warden. Because, though I’d rarely allowed myself to admit it, I’d always wished to understand what Xaron and Talan felt when they channeled. I wanted the power of the Pyrthae at my fingertips.
I closed my eyes and willed myself to channel. I tried to dredge up the vague memories of that first occasion four days before, and even dimmer remembrances from how Xaron and wardens in my books had described the experience. The locus, located at the center of the body around the navel, was where the link was supposed to form. But no matter how I concentrated on the spot, no matter how I clenched my gut or gritted my teeth, I couldn’t open it.
Relaxing my muscles, I sagged forward. When I’d channeled the first time, the energy had pushed out without any effort on my part. Why were things different now?
I left off the attempts and lay back down on my bed. My head hurt, and the queasiness had returned with a vengeance. I sighed and let myself go limp. Sleep edged against my awareness.
Three soft knocks came at the door.
I bolted back upright and stared at the door. My heart thundered in my chest, and fear made chicken-flesh of my skin. I hadn’t realized how badly events had shaken me. In that moment of mute terror, I’d expected that knock to signal Shepherds calling at the door.
The knock came again. “Airene?” a muffled voice spoke through. “Corin said you were awake. We thought we’d come to check on you.”
Xaron. I smiled in relief as I recognized his voice. “Come in,” I called, hating the way my voice warbled.
A key turned in the lock and the door swung slowly open. Xaron entered first, tiptoeing as if fearing to intrude. He looked much the same as before, with sharp, handsome features and thin, brown eyes that darted about nervously. But there was one significant change: gone were the colorful coats and trousers he’d always worn, replaced now by a long, drab tunic of coarse sackcloth, belted together by a short length of rope. His sandals, too, were lashed to his feet with rope that must chafe, and his dark, silken hair was bound back by a piece of twine thread with dried corn husk, a crown fit for a jester. He donned a grin at my smile, though he no doubt knew what made me laugh.
“It’s good to see you up,” he said as he approached.
Before I could answer, another familiar figure entered behind him. Jaxas Wreath was as thin as before, his face hollowed, his dark eyes nearly lost in shadows. The Archon’s spare frame shrunk into the opulent robes and heavy stoles that hung about his neck. Of the two of us, he looked the likelier candidate to have barely eaten in the last three days. Yet I knew that hidden within him was a strength of mind as I’d never seen before.
“First Verifier Airene.” A ghost of a smile lightened the formal words. “Are you feeling better?”
I bowed my head, the most respectful acknowledgment I could manage. “I can stand for a minute or two and am hungry enough for a feast.” I cocked a smile. “I’d say I’m on the mend.”
The Archon smiled wanly as he entered further into the room, though he kept his distance. “The hunger is to be expected. You’ve been unconscious for several days.”
I met Jaxas’ sharp gaze and wondered uncomfortably how much he knew about my bout of illness. All too well did I remember how he’d turned Talan aside for being a warden. Xaron had to be made the new Hilarion to be allowed to stay around. If I were in the same situation, I doubted he could devise a similar arrangement. I certainly couldn’t be kept as First Verifier.
Xaron, who had knelt by my bedside, took my hands in his. “I would have been here,” he said gravely. “But a certain taskmaster has kept me very busy.”
“I’ve asked you to tumble once,” Jaxas said with an amused twist to his lips. “But I’m afraid I must ask you another favor. If you could give us the room for a moment, I would have a private word with Airene.”
Xaron’s expression spasmed, but he nodded sharply and rose. “Of course. I’ll be right outside.”
With a perfunctory bow to the Archon, he turned out of the door and closed it behind.
Jaxas moved no closer. “It must be quite the malady to have rendered you unconscious for nearly three full days. Do you remember what happened?”
I studied his face, which had creased with seeming concern. Did he honestly believe me sick? Or was he giving me a convenient excuse? Or was it the terrible third possibility: that he knew the truth, and handed me the rope to hang myself? Why I felt Jaxas might wish to trap me, I couldn’t say. I had plotted with him to take down Vusu. But even so, I’d only known the man for a handful of days. Anything might have happened in the three days I’d lain unconscious.
But as long as he didn’t speak of my channeling, I had no intentions to.
“Not much,” I said. “Everything is a bit blurry. But Corin has been able to help fill things in.”
One thin eyebrow raised high. “Indeed. And yet she was so forgetful when I asked her of it.”
I repressed the need to swallow. This wasn’t what I wanted to be doing right now while my stomach practically ate itself in hunger. Had he come to interrogate me now because he knew I was vulnerable? No matter how I wished to see the best of Jaxas, ruthlessness was bred into him. He was a Wreath, through and through.
“It was a confusing time for us all,” I said carefully. “And she didn�
��t have the complete picture.”
Jaxas inclined his head. “Of course. Perhaps you can fill in the gaps for me as well.”
I considered refusing. After all, even though he boarded me in the Laurel Palace, I didn’t have to report to him anymore. It was to the Conclave that Nomusa and I now owed our allegiance, so long as they reinstated the Order of Verifiers. But Jaxas had given us Finches a chance when few others would. Even if it had been Vusu’s machinations that first brought us to his employ, I owed Jaxas much.
So I spoke what I could, though the best I could give was a lie laced with truth. I said that Corin had brought me to help Maesos, who had been robbed and injured. I said that Maesos wasn’t there when I arrived, that instead, someone who meant to kill me lay waiting. Of Corin’s betrayal, I said nothing, nor of what happened after the encounter with Eazal.
Jaxas barely blinked throughout the telling. “I see. And what of the fire?”
My mouth had gone dry. “Fire?”
“It must have been a deep slumber you fell into. For you had burns up and down your body not three days ago.”
It had become hard to breathe. I wondered if I should admit the truth now. But a convenient idea came to mind, and I jumped at it, no matter how unbelievable it seemed.
“Yes, I’ve been puzzled by that since Corin told me. The only thing I can think of was my trip into the Pyrthae. With so few people having gone there, it makes sense we wouldn’t know what happens when they do visit. Maybe it healed me.”
“Ah.” His even tone betrayed no sign of what he thought of my theory.
“But if something strange had to happen to me,” I hurried on, “I’m glad it was healing. I have a feeling that a lot of work lies ahead.”
“Yes. I think the Council will keep you busy.”
Something in his tone struck me as curious. But before I could speculate, Jaxas suddenly slumped into a chair. I watched in surprise as the Archon put his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes.
Realm of Ashes Page 2
