Bastian laughed from where he had been thrown, propping himself up on the railing. Shaye could hear the crackling of his bones popping back into place; he was using his magic to heal himself. The act of healing himself so easily told Shaye just how much power he had. It was uncommon for Magi to heal by sheer willpower, without the help of positions and incantations.
He groaned and then said, “It feels good, doesn’t it? The power coursing through your veins. How easily it answers your call, Shaye Wistari.”
Shaye backed away, shaking her head in denial, but he was right. It had felt too easy, she had not called on the magic; instead, it had come to her, offering its power in response to the fear and anger she had felt at the thought of Bastian hurting Brina.
Bastian approached her with a slight limp. “It lives inside of you now. Just as the Druid magic lives in your blood. Each time will become easier, until you no longer feel the weight and guilt of it.”
“I am nothing like you, Bastian. I am not so weak as to let darkness taint my soul.” She pushed Brina behind her, determined to protect her friend at all costs.
“I know of your nightmares. You think I haven’t felt them, too? Sorin’s father took everything from us that night at the Winter Solstice ball—our wealth, our power...” He trailed off as he closed the gap between them. Brina pulled on Shaye’s sleeve, trying to get her to step away from him, but Shaye could not move. She was locked in on his eyes, on the words that rang true. “I know it was easy for you to let Sorin into your heart, to believe that he was different from that bastard father of his. But you know deep down, that the only way to set things right is to take what is ours.”
“You know nothing of my nightmares.” Shaye sounded more confident than she felt. The black magic was still strumming through her veins, and she hated to admit it, but it felt good.
A storm brewed over them, dark and powerful, just like the dark magic that was calling to her. Bastian did not stop advancing on her as he said, “You do not owe them your forgiveness, nor your mercy. I know you have dreamt of revenge. You know that vengeance is the only cure to the nightmares that have plagued you for so long.”
Shaye’s heart was racing, but the impulse to run from him was no longer there. Heat flooded her cheeks as he touched her hair and spoke, “Harness your nightmares, Shaye. Take control and make others feel the fear that you have endured all these years.”
She touched his hand as it caressed her cheek, and pulled it from her face, but did not let go of it. Power beckoned to her—the power within herself, the power that was coming from his touch, and the power of the Sword radiating from his side. It was like a beacon, impossible to turn from. She felt like one of Mavka’s moths, unable to resist the call of a lantern light.
She followed Bastian’s gaze to his hand in hers, the black mark of dark magic had crept further down her fingers toward her palm, only now it was accompanied by the faint glistening of the power that was radiating from her, between her and Bastian. Brina faded into the background, along with the crew and the very ship on which they stood.
She could think of nothing else but the powerlessness she had felt all her life. She thought of the Master Mages who had punished her for not being strong enough, of her aunt and uncle who had looked down on her because of her weakened bloodline. She sneered at the thought of the men who had slaughtered her people, and the poor treatment of Magi she had witnessed since then.
Bastian was right: with the Stave and the Sword, she could harness power beyond anyone's wildest dreams. She could set things the way she saw fit, she could protect the ones that she cared about. Even if it meant working alongside the Nefari for the time being. She was done feeling like that scared little girl in the palace with dirt on her new dress, waiting for someone to rescue her and lead her to safety. She was finished with the nightmares that had haunted her for so long.
She removed her hand from Bastian’s. She felt cold and distant as she decided at that moment that she would no longer take orders from the honeyed tongues of men. Bastian had the good sense to look surprised as she raised a hand to his face and tore at him with her nails. The deep marks dripped with blood, and she swore she saw fear in his eyes as she made her decision. “You are right, Bastian. I am done being haunted by nightmares—so I will become one, instead.”
Chapter Eight
Shaye
When they returned, the Nefari camp was buzzing with the news that Bastian had succeeded in his quest to capture the second brother’s relic. With it, Shaye would be able to power their army with enough magic to cut down anything in their path. Now it was a matter of waiting for Sorin’s army to arrive in the valley below. The Nefari had the upper hand in every way: in weapons, in numbers, and in holding the high ground.
Shaye had been stuck in the generals’ tent for hours listening to them gloat about their predetermined victory. She sat silently at Bastian’s side, lighting small fires at her fingertips. She watched the flames dance along her fingers, obeying her every command. She was bored with these men, these Nefari who talked too much. She desperately wanted to leave the stuffy air of the tent and she craved a strong drink of ale.
She noticed the sudden pause in conversation and looked up to see all eyes on her. Bastian looked at her expectantly. He tapped his fingers on the table impatiently. “Shaye. Are you listening?”
“No, not really.” She looked around in boredom, still allowing the fire to dance on her fingers as she sat slumped in the hard wooden chair. The high-ranking officers in the tent shifted their gaze between Shaye and Bastian, waiting to see what would happen as a result of her blatant disobedience.
Bastian shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Duke Brayham was asking if you would be ready to activate the Sword's power under the blood moon. Sorin’s army has been spotted a few days’ ride from the valley.”
“I’ll be ready. Will you?” She sat forward giving the traitorous duke a pointed look.
The ruddy man puffed up his chest at her insinuation. “Listen here, girl—”
He did not have a chance to finish his sentence before Shaye blew at her fingertips, sending the flames onto the man’s expensive waistcoat. He shouted as he patted out the fire that was now trying to engulf his clothes. The smell of burned hair and fabric filled the tent.
No one moved to help him as Bastian let out a roar of laughter. Duke Brayham threw the coat from himself and onto the ground, stomping out the rapidly growing flames. The Nefari in the room bowed their heads in obedience to Shaye. That sort of show of power was well respected within their ranks.
Shaye sat, still as a statue with her head cocked to the side. There was no amusement in her eyes when she stood. The generals parted in her wake, allowing her to pass by them, leaving the tent and the shocked duke behind.
As she left the tent, the sunlight was beating down. Shaye put a hand up to shield her eyes, her black fingers bare for all the camp to see. She no longer hid what she had become under gloves. There was no point. She wanted them to fear her, to know what she was capable of.
She strolled confidently through the camp, accepting the presence of the twin brothers who still guarded her movements throughout the encampment. She didn’t mind anymore; if she really wanted to escape them, she could.
Gorm was looking up at the murder of crows in the sky and stumbled into her. She shoved him back and kept walking. The crows had been following her relentlessly lately, and she had grown used to their presence.
Gorm, however, appeared nervous as he asked, “What’s with them?”
“They’re friends of mine,” Shaye replied, picking up her pace so that the guards were forced to fall in line behind her.
Though she hadn't tested the true strength of her new power, she had often wondered if she could call on the crows to do her bidding if she so chose. She smiled at the thought of the Nefari guards’ smug, scarred faces being pecked from their skulls.
An Orc paused at her passing, laying the axe he was sharpening down so th
at he could bow to her. She stopped to admire the beast in all its brute strength. She wondered if she was powerful enough to crush its skull with the wave of her hand. Before she could test her theory, Brina appeared. She looked as if she had not slept in days, since they had returned from their journey. There were dark circles around her eyes, and her beautiful honey-blonde hair, which was usually pulled back neatly, was now down and disheveled.
They had hardly spoken a word since that day on the ship. Brina had even taken to sleeping in a separate bed, rolled in for her by one of the human servants. Something deep within Shaye tugged at the thought of her friend’s suffering. She knew she should try to comfort her, but the words would not come. Shaye needed to focus on destroying Bastian’s force from within. Even if that meant shutting herself off from the one person there whom she cared for.
Brina offered Shaye a flask of water, and as she accepted it, she searched for something to say. Brina spoke first, “Are you alright?”
“Fine. Just tired of the ramblings of those fools in the tent.” Shaye noted that the camp had cleared out around them. The Nefari army had taken to giving Shaye her space since they had returned with the Sword. She knew they had heard about the confrontation between her and Bastian on the ship, and that they could sense the power Shaye had finally claimed. When she strolled through the camp or entered a meeting, eyes would lower to the ground, as if they did not want to draw her attention to them.
In the distance, she could see the altar Bastian’s servants were erecting for the ceremony that would take place under the blood moon. At his command, it would consist of a platform for both him and Shaye to stand on. They would be raised above the crowd so that the endless Nefari army could see them claim the ancient power of the relics. When the full moon rose in the sky, Shaye would activate the Stave’s power, connecting it to the Sword and thereby amplifying the army’s own weapons. Anything with a blade would become unbeatable.
Shaye stood a moment longer, thinking about how much of a waste it was to use supplies to build the altar, when she could just perform the ceremony on the ground. But Bastian loved a good show and that is what he planned to give them. She was feeling irritated, which was strange, because she had not been feeling much of anything lately.
A group of women rounding the corner caught her attention. They were pretty little things in expensive gowns that looked out of place in the grim camp. They were chattering and giggling to one another, their cheeks flushed with the heat of the early summer day. When they noticed Shaye, they stopped and curtseyed to her. Shaye made no movement in return, not even a smile in their direction.
The woman leading the group beamed at Shaye brightly, she had a pinched face and pale blonde hair. “Shaye, it’s so lovely to see you again.” She stepped toward Shaye, but the rest of the women stayed in place, keeping their distance from the Druid girl they had heard whispers about in the camp—the one who could wield magic powerful enough to hurt their leader. A few of them tried not to look at her black hands, laying idly at her side.
Shaye did not respond, though she did recognize the girl. Adella, she had been a spoiled and spiteful child. She and Shaye had grown up together in the Winter Palace before the uprising, and though Shaye’s uncle had been a well-respected Magi of the court, Duchess Adella had teased and tormented Shaye.
Once, Adella had broken an expensive vase belonging to the Queen. But when her father, Duke Brayham, asked her about it, she accused Shaye of having done it. Shaye had been forced to put the vase back together piece by piece, the jagged edges making her fingers bleed—but Nanny Jin hadn’t cared. She had stood and watched as Shaye glued the shards back into place, tears streaming down her face and blood trickling down her hands.
Adella was as bad as her father. Both were traitors for working with Bastian to betray their own king, to betray Sorin. Adella may have had sway with Bastian’s court of Nefari, but she held no power over Shaye, not anymore. No one did.
When Shaye stood silent, Adella’s smile wavered and Shaye caught the hateful gleam in her eye, the same one she’d had when they were children. The other women shifted uncomfortably where they stood. Adella glanced back at them. Shaye knew that it would embarrass the duchess to be snubbed by someone who was as favored by Bastian as Shaye was. She had seen Adella fawn over him in the camp, finding ways to touch his arm or to bring a smile to his handsome face.
Adella broke the silence, “We were just headed to midmorning tea with Bastian. He requested my presence personally, which is really quite an honor.” This time there was malice in her smile.
Shaye felt no jealousy at the thought of Bastian courting the young human girl, but the smug look on Adella’s face was irritating her. Flames flickered to life on Shaye’s fingertips, surprising even her, as she had not called on them. It was as if they were appearing in response to what she was feeling. The group of women stepped back in alarm by the sudden appearance of Shaye’s magic.
She thought of how easily she could singe that pretty dress Adella had so carefully picked out to impress Bastian, and she smiled at the thought. Brina put a hand on Shaye’s arm, drawing her attention away from the dark thoughts. One of the twin guards, Ulf, chuckled at the display. He had witnessed her attack on Bastian when they had been on the ship and, since that moment, since Shaye had taken to the dark magic, he and his brother Gorm had been friendlier toward her. It seemed they found delight in seeing this side of her.
Adella held a hand to her chest but did not step away. Instead, her long nose flared in anger. “If only Sorin could see you now.” She turned on a heel to leave, but Shaye blocked her with a hard wall of magic, separating the duchess from her friends.
“You have not yet been dismissed.” It was the first time Shaye had spoken and she saw the tension in Adella’s shoulders at the coldness of her tone. “If I recall, Sorin said he did not much care for you and your desperate passes at him.” Adella turned back, staring at her with wide eyes as Shaye went on, “Oh yes, I know all about it. You thought you could bag yourself a king and now you find yourself gaining favor with Bastian. It’s a shame, really, that neither man is as enchanted with your charms as your friends here. Actually, it seems they both prefer my company. Perhaps your friends would as well. Should we see?” She smiled brightly.
Shaye addressed the group of women before her, “I would very much like to extend an invitation for drinks before the festivities tomorrow. Will you accept?”
Each woman nodded nervously at the request. She smiled triumphantly. “Fabulous. I will see you all then.” She walked to Adella, who flinched as Shaye patted her on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, dear, you are welcome to come as well.” Adella bowed her head slightly, though Shaye could feel the anger radiating from her. “You are dismissed.” With a lazy wave of her hand, Shaye dropped the magical shield and walked away from the stunned group of women.
Brina accompanied Shaye back to their quarters. Shaye kicked off her black leather boots as soon as she entered the tent. She tore at the buttons on her jacket, removing it and feeling free from the weight of the outfit that matched Bastian’s. She hated that he still controlled what she wore. As soon as this was over, she would burn all the clothes he had given her while here in the camp.
“That wasn’t like you, Shaye. What you did back there.”
“She’s an insufferable brat and always has been.” Shaye sat, propping her feet up on the red velvet stool in front of her.
“Of course she is. But you have enough enemies, you don't need to declare war with another.” Brina removed her dirt-brown jacket, the one that all humans in the camp wore. Bastian had wasted no time in making it known what the new order of things would be when he took power. It didn’t matter anymore—he had the army, but Shaye had the strength. He underestimated her, and without the drink used to drug her before, she was clear headed enough to make him believe that he was the one controlling her.
There was no going back to the girl she was, no matter how much Brina and
Sorin prayed. She could never forgive herself for the darkness she had welcomed into her soul, but she also would not forgive Bastian for turning their world upside down. She wasn’t sure how yet, but she would make him pay.
They sat in silence the rest of the day, reading and eating beneath the cool shade of the tent. Shaye called on a light breeze to cool them down until evening, until the night air would grow cooler on its own. It was nearly dinner time and, as usual, Bastian would be arriving to dine with them. Shaye changed into a modest red dress; the light fabric clung to what remained of her curves, but it was more comfortable than the others that filled the large bureau.
Bastian arrived with his servants, several plates in hand. He took the liberty of placing a basket of sweet rolls in front of Shaye. She took one and bit into it without a word of thanks. It was dry and made her miss the citrus cinnamon glaze that Rolland topped his with. She missed Brina’s parents and the comforts of their home in Aramoor. She lost her appetite and set the roll down on the table.
Bastian moved his chair closer to her and sat with his arm up against her own. “Adella had quite the story to tell today at tea. She is demanding that you be punished for such insolent behavior.” He smiled at her playfully; then, in a serious tone, “You know, Lord Brayham is one of my greatest advisors. His support is essential to a smooth transition with the human populace in Asterion. We wouldn’t want any... unrest. I would hate to shed more blood than necessary as I take the throne.”
Shaye choked on the piece of the roll in her mouth. “We both know that’s a lie. Are we lying to each other now, Bass?” She raised an eyebrow as she turned to him.
“No, my love, of course not.” He tossed a grape in the air, catching it gracefully in his mouth.
Brina eyed their exchange warily from across the table. She hadn’t touched her food, moving it around her plate every so often. Shaye knew this was difficult for her to watch; but it was necessary if Shaye wanted to keep Bastian from trying to cloud his way into her mind. If he trusted her, then he would let her be, and eventually he would let his guard down.
A Legacy of Nightmares Page 6