Finally, with a deep breath, I turned away from the gardens to face the ruined hedge, where Adelric—my father—and Raidyn still stood by the hole, their backs to me. Their voices were a low murmur as I drew closer. Before I could make out what they were saying, my father stiffened and spun, lifting a hand, his veins instantly lighting up with his power.
“Inara?” He quickly lowered his hand when he realized it was me, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “What are you doing up—and out here?”
“I couldn’t sleep,” was all I offered, and thankfully Adelric didn’t push me. A muscle in Raidyn’s jaw tightened, his gaze strayed to the citadel behind us then back to me, but he remained silent.
“You’re barefoot—aren’t you cold?”
Ignoring Adelric’s question, I moved past them toward the charred wound in the hedge. When I lifted my hands up to one burnt leaf, the hedge fluttered half-heartedly, as though the inability to repair itself had removed its desire to even try to protect us any longer. The blackened edges crumbled beneath even the gentlest of touches, turning to dust in my palm.
“Why can’t it heal? Nothing has ever been able to hurt it before—nothing. I don’t understand how he did this … how he … he … I don’t understand.” And suddenly, I was crying, the words choked to a halt by the echo of pain, of emptiness, of holes where there was once so much more.
My father stepped up beside me and gently put an arm around me. I stood stiffly at first. Though he was my father, he was also little more than a stranger. But when he didn’t let go, I slowly allowed myself to lean into him—a bit. “The custovitan hedge is nearly impenetrable, but nothing is invincible. Not even this hedge could withstand a blast of such massive, concentrated power, like the type a jakla possesses so soon after the change.”
I shuddered beneath his arm.
“But it doesn’t have to stay this way,” he quickly added. “It merely needs a little help.” When he lifted his other hand toward the hedge, his veins were already glowing with power. I turned my head away, squeezing my eyes shut.
“Sir, I’m not sure that’s a wise use of—”
Raidyn’s hesitant protest cut off. I refused to look, refused to watch my father use the power he’d gifted me—that I would never again feel burning within me.
The previously fresh night air took on an acrid bite. Awareness of power flowing from my father into the hedge raised the hair on my arms. Was he truly doing what I thought he was?
The arm around me tightened; I felt the strain within him. How much would it take to heal the hedge? Was it even possible?
A rustle of leaves. A flutter of movement that sent a cool waft of air over my cheeks. Unable to resist any longer, I finally opened my eyes to find an unbroken sea of green. The hole was gone. The hedge moved before me, well and whole once more, vines gliding over one another in celebration—in relief.
My eyes burned unexpectedly. I blinked a few times to clear them as my father let his hand drop back to his side, the glowing power in his veins dimming rapidly before disappearing completely.
“You see? He’s not all powerful. Soon he will be just like any other Paladin. Then we can stop him and fix the damage he’s done.”
“Can we get my power back?”
There was a long, heavy pause. “No,” he finally admitted. “It is truly a miracle you are even alive.”
This time I clamped my teeth, keeping the words rising up, barreling toward my mouth, from escaping. I didn’t want him and Raidyn—or anyone else—to know that a part of me almost wished Zuhra and Raidyn hadn’t succeeded in saving me. Because without my power, I felt like a husk of my former self. Carved out, left empty and useless.
Instead, I stared at the hedge that had finally settled into stillness once more, and said, “Thank you for healing it.”
He hugged me tighter, and we stood there together, little more than two strangers, no matter what blood bound us, staring at the hedge silently.
FOUR
ZUHRA
I swam through dark dreams shot through with glimpses of light, where the rich, melodic tones of Raidyn’s voice transformed into a golden chord that I clung to as bloody teeth and torn flesh flashed past me, as shadowed beasts and beastly men stalked through my mind, hunting down any lingering peace I may have been able to clutch to my heart.
Being woken by the rising sun was actually a relief—to escape the horror of my nightmares by opening my eyes to the soft glow of a new day and my old, familiar bedroom. I lay in a ball on my side, knees pulled into my belly, my hands clasped against my chest. The chair where Raidyn had sat beside me last night was gone, moved back to the table where it usually sat. I was tempted to wonder if I’d dreamt his hand on my face, his fingers laced between mine … his compassion, his understanding, and his stories that had kept me from drowning in my panic—except I knew my dreams were not that kind.
Which meant he truly had stayed with me, alone in my room, possibly for hours, telling me story after story, until I drifted to sleep, his blue eyes a beacon in the firelight.
An unfamiliar warmth filled my body as I threw off my covers, despite the chill of the early morning air. I’d been too lost in the panic to question why Raidyn had known to come—why he’d stayed. But now, I couldn’t help but wonder.
I rushed to change into a clean dress and drag a comb through my hair, quickly braiding it back, out of my face. The citadel was quiet, which meant Barloc must not have returned—thankfully. I left my room, not even sure what I intended to do or where I was going to go, but then I paused, glancing at Inara’s room.
I hadn’t heard any movement yet, but just in case, I moved to press my ear to her door. Silence. I wanted to see Inara—needed to talk to her—but it was a relief that she was getting the rest she desperately needed after all she’d been through.
Raidyn had always been up before me in Soluselis, but he’d been awake half the night by my side—and then had taken a watch with my father as well after that. Surely he was asleep in his room. Which meant I had no one to seek out.
Mother was like a different person now that Adelric was back in our lives … but I wasn’t quite ready to face her alone. Nothing had been said yet about what I’d shouted at her, or opening the door in the Hall of Miracles that night that seemed like a lifetime ago, but in reality was less than two weeks ago—the night when so many of us had almost died, when our tiny little world in the citadel had been shattered as completely as the window of Paladin glass that Halvor had claimed was virtually indestructible.
If only there were a training ring here. It was amazing how quickly I’d grown accustomed to working off my emotions, how much I’d come to crave the accomplishment of pushing my body in ways I hadn’t known it was capable of until I’d gone through that gateway into Visimperum.
Instead, I wandered aimlessly through the empty hallways. Out of habit more than anything, I eventually found myself slipping into the drawing room, where I’d spent most of my life.
“Zuhra! What are you doing up?”
Inara pulled her hand free from Halvor’s and jumped to her feet from the couch.
I startled to a halt. “I thought you were asleep,” I said, realizing it didn’t answer her question but too surprised to find her there with him.
Inara shrugged. Even from across the room the dark bruises beneath her eyes were visible; her normally summer-bronzed skin had a wan undertone. A surge of anxious fear rose up my throat, so sudden and unexpected, I knew immediately it wasn’t my own panic this time.
Without a word, I hurried across the worn rug to pull my sister into a hug. She stood stiffly, but I stubbornly held on. Finally, after several long moments, she crumpled into me, her body trembling. If I was dealing with debilitating panic, hers had to be worse—since she was the one who was attacked, her power ripped from her body. Had she been in her room, sleeplessly suffering the entire time Raidyn had been comforting me? Guilt-serrated teeth gnawed into my gut.
“Is everything all r
ight?”
At the sound of our father’s voice, Inara pulled away. We both turned to see him walking into the room, Mother right behind, clasping his hand in hers. She was rarely more than a few feet away from him whenever possible. I couldn’t blame her, but I still couldn’t get used to seeing them together.
Something crossed Inara’s face, but she merely nodded and went to sit back by Halvor, who had watched our interaction silently.
“Were you able to get any sleep?” Mother asked.
“Some,” I responded, when Inara remained silent.
“I’m glad to hear it.” She and my father sat beside each other, across from Inara and Halvor, leaving me the only one standing—and companionless. “Inara? Did you sleep?”
My sister shrugged; my guess was she hadn’t slept at all. Halvor reached for her hand and she let him take it, holding it tightly. My father watched, his expression inscrutable. When he finally looked to me, his normally brilliant blue-fire eyes were somewhat dulled, as if he had recently used a large amount of power.
I swallowed in the strained silence, wondering if I should sit on one of the empty chairs, or escape the tense room and continue my aimless walk through the citadel. Maybe I could go find Sharmaine and ask if she would be willing to spar with me—despite not having any protective leathers or padding. I couldn’t remember which watch she’d volunteered for, but hoped she was done and awake and ready to work off some steam, like me.
Before I could decide, the door opened and Sharmaine herself walked in, followed closely by Sachiel and Loukas.
My father moved to stand, but Sachiel gestured for him to stop. “Nothing’s wrong,” she hurried to assure him. “We just switched watches. No sign of the jakla yet.”
“Who healed the hedge?” Sharmaine asked as my father resettled on the couch beside my mother.
“What are you talking about?” I glanced at Inara, expecting her to share my shock—but her expression remained stoic, her eyebrows didn’t even lift. In fact, it seemed I was the only one in the room who was taken aback by Sharmaine’s question.
“The hole in the hedge is gone.” Sharmaine speared my father with a pointed glare. “It couldn’t have healed on its own,” she continued as I rushed over to the window. “So someone must have done it last night.”
The sun had barely crested the stark peaks to the east; jeweled rays of garnet and persimmon shot through the remaining clouds from the previous night’s storm. And there, in the steadily increasing sunlight, was the unbroken expanse of greenery I’d known all of my life. Just as Sharmaine had said—the hole was gone.
“Raidyn didn’t—”
“It was me,” my father cut in before Sachiel could finish her thought—or accusation.
“Adelric, why would you do such a thing?”
At the surprisingly frosty tone to her voice, I glanced over my shoulder. Sachiel stood a few feet from my parents, her eyes narrowed.
“Didn’t you think of the risk to use your power like that when we don’t know when or how the jakla will attack again?”
“It needed to be done.” My father’s voice was even, but I noticed his hand tighten around my mother’s.
“There is no possible justification for draining your power when that jakla could have shown up and attacked—leaving Raidyn to deal with him alone.”
“Perhaps you don’t think so, but I trust you will remember that I am perfectly capable of deciding that for myself.”
“Are you? Because as I see it, you put all of us in danger for—”
“It was me!” Inara suddenly jumped to her feet, her neck splotched red and her cheeks flushed. “It’s my fault. He did it for me.”
“Inara, stop, it’s not—”
“No.” She cut Adelric off and then turned to face Sachiel. “If you want to get mad, get mad at me. He did it because he was trying to prove a point.”
“He did it to prove a point?” Sachiel’s biting response was so sharp, even Sharmaine flinched. “Adelric, I understand you are upset that you’ve been separated from your daughters for so long, but you can’t let that start clouding your judgment like this!”
“That’s enough.” I’d never heard my father’s voice so cold. “I will not make excuses to you—and it is not your place to question me. We may not be in Visimperum anymore, but I am still your superior.”
“You’re right, we’re not in Visimperum—and we may never be again.” Her eyes flashed as her gaze roamed over the room; the well-worn, shabby furniture, the singed curtains, the threadbare carpet—all the items we’d tried to carefully tend, but were unable to do more than polish and press years of use into. I shifted my weight, the prickling heat rising up my neck spreading to my face at the disdain that curled her lip. “So, no, you are not anyone’s superior,” she continued at last. “Not anymore.”
“Sachiel.” Sharmaine reached out and placed a hand on Sachiel’s crossed arms before my father could respond. “It’s been a long night. Maybe we should go find something to eat and rest for a bit.”
Sachiel shook her hand off, but turned on her heel and stormed from the room without another word.
“Sir, I’m sorry … I think she’s upset about being trapped here and…”
“It’s all right, Shar.” He rubbed at his temple with his free hand. “Go ahead and go after her. Maybe you can help calm her down. I don’t think she wants to talk to me right now.”
Sharmaine nodded and hurried after the other general. Once they’d both gone, Inara’s shoulders slumped forward and she dropped heavily back down to a seat on the couch. I remained frozen by the window, but even from where I stood, the trembling in her hands was visible when she clasped them together in her lap.
“I’m sorry.” Her words were little more than a shaky whisper.
“Don’t apologize,” Mother finally spoke. “Don’t let her upset you.”
“But I put everyone in danger.”
“No, you did nothing.” My father shifted as though he would stand, but Inara stiffened and he froze. “I chose to heal the hedge—you didn’t ask me to.”
“And your father would never have done anything to put us in danger. Right, Adelric?” Mother turned to him, her hazel eyes lit up in a way I’d never seen except in glimpses of memory from before Inara’s birth.
His gaze was trained so intently on Inara, I wasn’t sure if he didn’t respond because he was so focused on her obvious suffering, or if he didn’t want to admit that he actually had risked putting us in danger for her.
“I’m sorry,” Inara said again, but this time she jumped to her feet and rushed from the room.
“I’ll go after her,” Halvor offered, standing as well, but I stepped forward.
“No. I will.” I summoned the commanding strength of my father’s voice into my own. Halvor paused and I took his hesitation to my advantage, leaving him in the drawing room with my parents.
The door shutting behind me echoed through the empty hallway. How had she disappeared so quickly? I glanced left and right, trying to quickly guess where my sister had gone. I didn’t know. The realization twisted through my gut. For fifteen years, I’d always known where she was, I could always guess where she’d go … We’d only been apart for a short time, but somehow those weeks of separation had changed us both in ways I still didn’t fully understand.
Hoping she hadn’t changed that much, I finally decided to head to her gardens. The sky I’d seen through the window was washed the crisp blue only visible the first sunny day after a long series of storms. Surely she would still wish to be outside, with her plants, if she was seeking solace or an escape. Wouldn’t she?
I ran, praying I’d chosen the correct direction—because right before Inara had left the room, I’d felt a surge of black despair that had frightened me to my core.
Something was very, very wrong with my sister.
FIVE
INARA
The sunshine was warm on the top of my head and the back of my neck as I ran my hand
s over the leaves of my plants—and felt nothing except the slight stickiness of drying dew on my fingertips. Tiny plops of moisture dotted the soil, but it leaked from my eyes, not the cloudless sky.
I sensed my sister coming toward me. As she drew closer, I could hear her hesitant steps on the earth, but I didn’t look up. Perhaps she wouldn’t notice my wet cheeks if I continued to let my hair fall forward to curtain my face.
“Inara?” Her voice was soft, tremulous.
I stared at my plants that were still thriving without me—for now. But once the weather turned for the worse … then what? Would the other healers still be here? Would they make our food grow instead? Hopelessness tore the wound inside me even wider. A gaping maw that swirled with a darkness so deep, I was afraid to look into it, fearing I would sink and never emerge.
“I’m worried about you,” she continued when I didn’t respond.
“I’m fine,” I lied.
“Inara … when I helped Raidyn heal you, something … happened.” Zuhra spoke haltingly, her words coming out stiff and strange. She was never awkward with me, unlike everyone else. But everything else had changed; I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that even our relationship—something I’d thought indestructible—would too. “You healed Halvor, right?”
Her sudden change of subject, painful as it was, took me by such surprise. I nodded before I could think better of admitting it.
“Afterward, could you … feel things? Especially when you were close by him? Like … his emotions, maybe?”
I finally looked up. “Yes.”
She smiled at me, a soft, gentle smile of understanding—and concern. “That’s called sanaulus. It’s what happens after an intense healing. That’s why you could feel his emotions. Sometimes, even the one who was healed will be able to sense some of your emotions as well—though not as strongly as for the Paladin who did the healing.”
Warriors of Wing and Flame Page 4