by Meg Anne
She wasn’t sure she agreed. There was a worrisome lack of padded surfaces to catch her if she fell.
Effie watched as Kieran measured and dumped a mound of fragrant blue leaves into the bottom half of a silver dome. The base was flat, allowing it to sit on top of the table without toppling over. The top half had a dozen tiny circles cut out of it. To release the vapors, she guessed.
Once filled, Kieran took a nearby candle and used the flame to set the leaves on fire. There was a flash as the leaves sparked and began to smolder. Blue smoke made lazy spirals as it drifted up and out of the holes.
“You don’t have to stare at it quite so hard, love. It’s not going to bite you.”
“Just because it doesn’t have teeth doesn’t mean it can’t hurt me.”
He quirked a brow. “How exactly do you intend to fend off smoke?”
An image of Effie wrestling with the Triumvirate’s leader startled a peal of laughter out of her. Unable to stop once she’d begun, Effie doubled over, gasping as she tried to catch her breath.
“A diverting image to be sure, but not one I’d expect to be quite so amusing,” Kieran murmured, eyeing her.
Effie wiped at her eyes, hiccupping as she tried to speak. It was an impossible task. She couldn’t contain her laughter long enough to form a single word, let alone a complete sentence. Kieran had no clue that he’d inadvertently used the name she’d picked for the head Keeper. Fending off Smoke. Priceless. Effie couldn’t wait to see what he thought of that same suggestion the next time she saw him.
Shaking his head, Kieran said, “You are a constant surprise, Effie. I’m starting to think I may never know all there is to you.”
“You’ve known me for less than a day. Of course you couldn’t possibly know all of me,” she said, her voice still tinged with her amusement.
“Mmm.”
Feeling a little light-headed, Effie glanced around for her water. The room swayed as she twisted her neck and she simultaneously felt as if she was underwater and floating. The sensation was enough to send a bolt of panic spearing through her.
“Kieran . . .”
“Are you alright?”
“Something’s wrong.” The words sounded odd to her ears, as if her lips and tongue had grown too large for her to enunciate clearly.
She watched him hurdle over the table but couldn’t make sense of the image. She was too busy gripping onto the table in an effort to remain upright.
The room continued to swing like a pendulum, each new oscillation sharper and more disorienting than the last. Swallowing back a wave of nausea, Effie clenched her eyes shut. It didn’t help. She was a rowboat being tossed about the ocean during a storm. She’d lost her tether.
Without an anchor, there was only one way this would end. Gasping, she fought for balance. Invisible hands pulled at her, tugging her down into the inky recesses of her mind. She shoved at the hands, scared of where they wanted to take her. The movement tossed her off balance, and she fell, spiraling down into the dark.
The world was on fire.
Everywhere she looked embers floated through the air like fiery rain. In the middle of the storm, Helena stood, blood dripping off her talons, and huge glittering wings unfurling from her back.
“Helena!” Effie cried.
Tipping her head back, Helena roared, fire billowing from her mouth and into the air. She was the one who’d caused this.
Horror clawed at her and Effie tried to run away, but she was trapped.
Bodies began to fall from the sky, one nearly crashing into her.
Effie screamed. She knew that face. Those tattoos. Von.
“No. No,” she sobbed, wanting to close her eyes and unsee the twisted and broken body laying before her. This couldn’t be real. Helena would never harm her Mate.
The scene shifted. A castle in ruins replacing the endless destruction. It was all Effie could see in a world of black. Once again, in the center of everything, Helena stood. This time she was a shining beacon of light. Her hair floated on a non-existent breeze and her eyes twinkled with iridescence.
The sounds of death called from the darkness, but Helena looked serene, unconcerned with the battle taking place around her. Turning her head, she stared directly at Effie.
“This is only the beginning.”
Ripping down the center, the two images combined. A world on fire and one lost to the dark.
Helena was nowhere to be found.
Effie jolted awake, gasping for breath.
“I’ve got you.”
Body trembling, Effie’s hands fisted into a smooth fabric. She could still see the fire raining from the sky. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she sucked in air, trying to breathe. Trying to remember what was real.
Arms banded about her body, lifting her into a sitting position.
“What did you See?”
Effie shook her head, not ready to utter the words. Unable to make sense of what her heart couldn’t believe was true. But visions didn’t lie.
Kieran pulled her into his body, tucking her face into his neck and holding her tight.
Any other time she would have fought the unwelcome embrace. He was practically a stranger, but he was all that was holding her up. Right now, she needed him.
One of his hands ran down the length of her braid and over her back. He rocked her gently as he held her. Soon her breathing returned to normal, and Effie pushed away, embarrassed for him to see her come undone.
He let her go without protest, his eyes focused on her face. “What happened?”
“I hate these visions. I never asked for this.”
Kieran frowned, but remained silent.
“What is the point of Seeing something that doesn’t make a damned bit of sense?”
“Perhaps if you would tell me what you Saw, I could help make sense of it.”
“But that will make it real,” she whispered.
“Effie, it’s already real.”
The truth of his words destroyed her. She wanted to scream, to hit something. She could at least pretend to be safe while clinging to her denial. Kieran wanted to tear that away. Force her to face the truth. It was what she was here for, after all. As ugly and horrible as her visions were, she couldn’t run from them. They were as much a part of her now as her name.
“Tell me what you Saw,” he demanded.
Shoulders sagging, she complied. “Death.”
Kieran sat back, his shock registering only by a slight widening of his eyes.
Effie snorted. “I take it your visions aren’t nearly as exciting.”
He shook his head.
“Lucky bastard.”
“Who died?”
Taking a deep breath, she stared him straight in the eye. “Everyone.”
Kieran’s nostrils flared as he sucked in a sharp breath. His eyes narrowed as she continued.
“It was total destruction. Bodies were everywhere. The world was on fire, and Helena,” she choked on the name, “. . . Helena was at the center of it all.”
“Helena . . . she’s the Kiri?”
Effie nodded.
Kieran wiped a hand over his face. Effie watched his jaw work as he sifted through her words searching for possible meanings outside of the obvious.
“Do you think what you saw has to do with the war?”
Effie nodded. “What else could it be about? Helena’s preparing to make her last stand. If she fails, it would mean the end for the Chosen.”
Kieran’s expression was grim. “As I understand it, your premonitions come to you in metaphor. They are a mosaic, pieced together by images and events that hold significant meaning to you. Rarely are they a literal representation of what’s to come.” His voice was low, as if he was reciting something from memory.
“As you understand? Yours are different in that regard too?”
Kieran darted his gaze back down to her. “I watch actual events unfold as if I am there. These events can be past or future, and generally follow people
that I know or at least hold some sort of personal significance to me.”
“Generally?”
His lips quirked up in a smile. “Well, there’s you . . .”
Right. “You think I have personal significance to you.”
His eyes flashed, appearing almost gem-like in their radiance. “I do.”
Effie lifted a brow, at a total loss of what to do with that new piece of information. “Why aren’t all visions like that?”
Kieran shrugged. “I asked the Triumvirate the same when I arrived. They didn’t know either.”
Effie sighed. Of course, they didn’t. “Does anyone actually know a damned thing around here?”
He laughed. “Rarely. Or at least not anything they’d willingly share.”
Her gaze dropped to her hands. She came here for answers, but it seemed all she was going to find were more questions. Pressure built in the back of her neck and eyes. Effie lifted a hand to squeeze at the bridge of her nose. Why does everything have to be so damn complicated?
“Let’s decipher your vision. If we can identify the hidden metaphors, I can start to help you catalog the meaning of certain elements—”
Effie held up a hand, cutting off his flow of words. “I’m going to stop you right there. I think doing this was a mistake. I don’t have any interest in analyzing the quite literally bloody details of my vision. Experiencing it once was enough.”
“But, Effie—”
“I said no, Kieran. Not right now.” Not while my head feels like it’s being crushed by a vice.
“You have a responsibility to understand your vision and share what you’ve Seen.”
“I already told you what I Saw.”
“I’m your tutor. I think I know better than you how we should proceed. Just do as I say, and you’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
Effie grit her teeth, his words stirring memories of similar conversations she’d locked away a long time ago. “Can’t we do it tomorrow?”
“We need to break it down while the details are fresh.”
“I don’t need to do anything.” Effie didn’t recognize her voice. It was dripping with disdain; an emotion she didn’t recall experiencing before today.
He scoffed. “Don’t be such a child, Effie.”
Effie’s jaw clenched. She didn’t think before striking. There was a sharp crack as her hand made contact with his cheek. He jolted back in surprise, a bright pink handprint blooming on his skin. Horrified at what she’d done, but too enraged to stop now, she jumped up, wanting to make use of the height advantage while he was still on the ground.
“Don’t you dare call me a child. I may be naïve, but only because this is new to me. Just because I inherited this stupid gift doesn’t mean I have to suddenly bend to anyone’s will but my own. We’ll do this at my pace, when I say I’m ready, or not at all. You may think that you know me, Kieran, and that gives you special rights or access where I’m concerned, but you don’t. I’m not your toy or your pet. I don’t belong to you and I certainly do not owe you anything, least of all unlimited access to my soul. So, you need to back off and let go of whatever misguided notions you have about me.”
A pulse pounded in Kieran’s neck, but he gave no other indication that her words were affecting him.
Shaking with anger, Effie bent down until her nose was barely a hairsbreadth from his, her voice dropping to a low hiss. “The next time I tell you no, that is the end of the conversation. I will not be bullied into anything, least of all from you. Is that clear?”
He gave a short nod.
Spinning away, Effie stormed out of the room, echoes of her past tormenting her with each angry step.
“Stupid girl, your mother should have drowned you when she had the chance. If I’d been cursed with an ungifted brat, she’d never lived to see her first name day.”
“Look at her. She’s practically a child. There’s not even a curve on her to make her tolerable to look at. What a waste. There’s only one thing she’s good for.”
“What’s the problem, love? You could do worse than spend the night beneath a man like me. Might as well lift that skirt of yours so we can have a bit of fun. Not that I need you to be willing. You’re as weak as a child . . . look at those bones, so fragile. I could break you in half before you made it two steps.”
Kieran’s dismissive rejection of her wishes was entirely too familiar. She’d spent years being told what to think, what she was worth, that her opinions held no value. In a day where everything was new, for that to be the one constant was more than she could bear. She’d snapped.
The thought of having to be that girl again when she finally thought she was free . . . it was too much. She’d lashed out like a cornered cat trying to defend itself.
As a child, the only protection she had was to hide. To make herself so small that no one could find her. To be silent, unseen. A ghost instead of a girl. It had taken years for her to find her voice, to feel safe enough to come out of the shadows and try to a claim a place for herself in the world.
She didn’t want to go back there.
She couldn’t.
Not now that she’d gotten a taste of what it meant to truly live. To be loved. To be seen.
She’d never silence herself again. Not for anyone.
Chapter 7
“Of all the pigheaded, egotistical . . .”
Effie’s impassioned muttering followed her down yet another hallway. She was lost, but it didn’t stop her from slamming doors and venting her anger.
Her emotions had been out of control all day. It was exhausting trying to make sense of why she was sad one moment and angry the next, but of the two, anger was easier.
Making a sharp left at the end of the corridor, Effie found herself back in the main archive. Recognizing the arched doors that would take her back out into the heart of the Keeper’s city, Effie beelined straight toward them. She didn’t care that she didn’t know a single person outside the citadel’s walls, or that she had no clue where she was going. The only thing that she cared about right now was getting outside.
Pushing through the doors, she stepped out into the evening. The smell of jasmine greeted her, and Effie paused long enough to close her eyes and breathe it in. Some of her tension ebbed, and her muscles started to relax. As long as she could stand under the sky, she was free.
She was safe.
Soft strains of music floated to her on the breeze and Effie was moving toward the sound before consciously realizing she wanted to. The city was mostly deserted. She saw a few people weaving through the streets, but no one paid her any attention. Effie followed suit, intent only on finding the source of the melody.
She came to a surprised stop across the street from a small pub. Its doors were thrown wide open to accommodate the overflow of guests inside. Those that didn’t fit inside were scattered around the tables placed just outside. Both within and without, patrons were puffing on pipes or drinking deeply from wooden steins.
“I guess we know where everyone’s been hiding,” Effie muttered
A sign hung from the roof, swaying gently in the evening breeze. Effie shifted position so she could make out the gilded letters. The Pickled Piper. A slow smile lifted her lips. That explains the music . . . and the crowd.
The song concluded and roars of approval and applause filled the air. Mind made up, Effie crossed the street so she could go inside. For once, she was grateful she was small; it made squeezing in that much easier.
Three men stood on a lifted platform in the back corner. One held some kind of flute, another a stringed instrument that looked like a lute, although its body was shorter and wider than any she’d seen before. The last of them had a simple drum held between his legs that he used to keep time as he sang.
Effie had rarely been allowed to go into the village since there was always work to do at the Holbrooke’s Estate, unless it was some sort of feast day. But her love for music and storytelling had been born there all the same. Bards and musician
s would wander into town, sharing their songs and their stories and Effie would hum them for days—sometimes weeks—after, eagerly awaiting their next visit.
A waitress with a tray filled with sloshing drinks shouldered past and Effie eyed the mugs with envy. She didn’t have a coin on her.
“Here, lass. First one’s on the house,” a bartender called, filling one of the steins with an amber liquid and passing it to her.
Effie grinned at the bearded man but didn’t have time to so much as thank him before she was bumped out of the way by another thirsty customer. She lifted the surprisingly heavy mug in a salute and made her way over to one of the windows so that she could better see the performers.
She came to a halt beside a table full of rowdy patrons who snagged her attention with a loud chorus of boos. There were six chairs encircling the table, five of which were filled. Two of the five men were playing a card game she didn’t immediately recognize, the other three making bets based on the cards the players laid on the table. Feet tapping in time to the music, Effie watched, trying to learn the rules.
“Want to play, sweetheart?” one of the men asked, taking notice.
Effie quickly shook her head. “No thanks, I don’t know how.”
“Oh, it’s easy, lovey. ‘Ere, take a seat,” said the man closest to her, his wide smile missing more teeth than not.
For a city that was supposed to be filled only by Keepers, it certainly seemed to have its share of characters. Not wanting to risk offense, Effie sat herself down into the empty seat.
He pointed at the man on her left whose red hair was pulled into a topknot that made her think of Ronan.
“Tomas there is the guard. His job is to keep Davis from storming the castle.”
As her new friend spoke, Effie was making out the faded images drawn on the cards. There were castles, wolves, archers, and figures that were clearly Chosen wielding their various elements. It was a strategy game. Each player holding a deck that—depending on what order their cards were drawn—would allow them to protect or overtake the castle, which was a pile of coins that the betting men were building in the center of the table.