Dream of Darkness and Dominion

by Hilary Thompson

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

  She huffed out a wry laugh. But her hand rose to grasp at his wrist, and she tilted the flask a little more, swallowing a great mouthful.

  “Easy,” he laughed. “We don’t want you getting drunk now.”

  “It helps,” she breathed, the brush of a smile on her lips. A little color returned to her cheeks, and Resh hoped it wasn’t only from the drink. “Where is everyone?”

  “Your brother took a walk after soaking in the bath. He’s missed all the excitement.” Resh tried to keep his voice light, but he detested Jyesh and everything about her twin. “The General has gone to get his own wounds managed. He’s fine, though,” he added, seeing the alarm on her face.

  Resh filed away her concern, wondering at how quickly she had grown to depend on this stranger. He knew it was silly, but he hated knowing another man had been there for her, even for a couple of days. “Sy went to fetch someone named Giddon to help heal your wings.”

  “Giddon.” Her voice was a little stronger, and her smile grew. “I hoped I’d see him again.”

  They lapsed into silence for a few minutes. Resh settled himself next to her on the bed, careful not to jostle her body. He stroked the hair away from her face. As the time stretched and no one returned, their silence became more strained, each glancing at the other, then away.

  Resh wanted to beg her to never put herself in such danger again, but he also knew it would be a pointless request.

  And he could never protect her. Not from things like Brujok. Instead of daily entreaties, he wanted nothing more than to curse the Magi for denying his magic.

  Sy could have helped if only someone had thought to notify them of the battle. Even her stupid brother could have done something.

  But Resh would be as useless as the General’s men in such a fight, and this futility taunted him. He was no good for Coren; she needed someone stronger.

  “What happened to the Brujok?” she asked finally.

  “Retreated, or dead. I think Watersend said one or two were captured alive and given to Cusslen. He’s hoping to question them about Mara.”

  “They didn’t answer me, but I wasn’t in a position to force them. I wonder how much Cusslen knows? I don’t trust him.” She pushed up on one elbow, grimaced, and slipped back to the pillow. “But I really don’t think Mara was with them.”

  “Why not?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s a feeling, that’s all.” Her fingers tugged at a stray thread in the blanket. “I burned through a lot of power today, Resh. Much more than I used when fighting Mara. I don’t think I’m strong enough to beat her if she really wants me dead.”

  Her voice caved to a mere whisper, her eyes squeezing shut at the admission.

  “You’re saying she was playing with you in Rurok?” Resh didn’t like that idea. It made him feel sick to think that all they’d gone through was merely a game to Mara.

  But Coren nodded. “I think she could have stopped me any time.”

  “But your power will get stronger. Right?”

  She shrugged, but it wasn’t enough for Resh. He made a note to ask Jyesh and Sy.

  “It was only when I attacked Aram that she seemed to lose some of her power. There’s something about them, how they never leave each other’s side. Almost like Weshen twin magic.”

  “She’s likely not full Weshen, though, if she’s from MoonShade. As far as I know, our people never really settled there, even before the Sacrifice.”

  Coren sighed, leaning her head against Resh’s chest. His heart swelled as he tangled his fingers with hers. He didn’t know how he’d do it, but it was vital that he grow stronger. He needed to help protect Coren, and he needed magic to do it.

  He refused to be a burden or a worry and especially not a helpless bystander.

  He clung to the stubborn desire for his Weshen magic, convincing himself every morning that it would appear. But now that they were in StarsHelm, perhaps Riatan alchemy could tide him over, or even awaken it somehow.

  Familiar restlessness began to gather in his bones, and Resh knew he needed to change the topic.

  “So, I hear you’re getting married soon?” he asked, making a joke of the other fear looming in his mind.

  Coren scrubbed a hand across her face and cursed.

  Resh laughed, marveling at how good it felt. “I see you’ve been spending too much time with Riatan soldiers.”

  “And Weshen Paladins,” she added, looking up at him pointedly. “I’m grateful to Dain, but I’ll take all of you over all of them any day.”

  “All? Not just me?” His voice lowered as he forced himself to ignore how she called Watersend by his first name. Her eyelids drooped as he stared into their golden depths. Bending carefully over her, he pressed a careful kiss to her lips, lingering just long enough for heat to build.

  When he pulled away, though, her face was shuttered again. “How is that so easy for you?” she muttered.

  “Easy?” Resh repeated, not understanding.

  “I know what my mother’s warnings did to me. I realize she was locked in superstition and fear of intimacy. But I can’t seem to let it go. How will I ever learn to love?”

  Resh felt his stomach knot and his throat grow dry. He wasn’t sure he was the right person to answer such a question.

  “I’ve always been a fighter,” she continued when he stayed silent. “Weshen didn’t allow love for our hearts, and my mother’s dying wish was that I never allow love for my body. How can I reconcile that with what I feel for you?” Her cheeks colored deep rose.

  It had cost her much to admit this, and Resh knew he needed to be careful.

  “If love can be forgotten, then surely it can be remembered. Or learned again,” he murmured, pressing her hand between his. “We’ll learn together. Both fighter and lover, and each will make the other stronger. I see it with Sy now, with Nik. Love gives you something to fight for, but you fight less recklessly when there is love waiting.”

  Coren fixed wide eyes on him. “Has that happened to you? Have you become less reckless?”

  A flush crept up his cheeks as he considered her question. There were plenty of things he’d done this summer that would be considered reckless. Had he just accidentally told her he didn’t care for her?

  But he knew part of him would always be reckless and so would parts of her. Maybe he still knew nothing of love.

  He was still trying to puzzle out an answer when the door opened, and Sy strode back in, a short, skittish-looking man in tow.

  Resh sighed, rolling to the far side of the bed to give them room. There was a heap of bad between Coren and him. He’d threatened her and destroyed her safety on the island. Yet somehow, she’d wrought a change in him, and then she’d been brave enough to see the change. Forgiven him for his prior mistakes.

  By the Magi, he knew he still wasn’t good enough for her, but he’d work to the grave to get there.

  SY HAD ALREADY BRIEFED Giddon on everything they’d done since leaving him, and the man vacillated between great joy and greater fear.

  “Oh, my poor, dear girl,” he clucked, hurrying over to Coren on the bed. He cast an appreciative look up and down Resh’s tightly coiled form before climbing right onto the bed and bending over Coren.

  Sy bit back a chuckle when Resh met his eyes, mouthing, “What the Magi?”

  “Resh, this is Giddon, Kashar’s friend who helped us hide our magic before. Giddon, this is my brother.”

  “Charmed,” Giddon said, reaching to offer his fingers to Resh while he rested the other palm on Coren’s forehead.

  Resh awkwardly shook the fingers, slipping off the other side of the bed to stand next to Sy.

  “Is he a healer?” Resh whispered.

  “I am not,” Giddon called, “but I know much about many things, both Sulit and Weshen.”

  “Just let him work,” Sy said. “I trust him.”

  Giddon took his shoulder bag off and opened it, digging deep in its pocke
ts before withdrawing a brilliant blue glass bottle. “Summer sky,” he murmured. “Be still, girl. Close your eyes and breathe shallowly.” He uncorked the bottle and dribbled a few drops onto Coren’s neck, massaging the shimmering ointment over her collarbone and lower, his fingers dipping into the bodice of Coren’s torn dress.

  Resh started forward, but Sy caught his arm. He shook his head at his brother, warning him not to be threatened by this man.

  Giddon muttered as he worked, the rhythm of his words soothing Sy’s nerves. Giddon had helped them greatly before when they were only paying clients. Now that they had done even more than Giddon prayed for by killing Graeme and wounding Mara, the man was positively worshipful.

  “There,” Giddon said, shuffling off the bed. Coren opened her eyes, and Sy was relieved to see them clear and bright. Her cheeks had good color. She sat up, stretching her arm muscles.

  “I’m sore, but nothing like before. It felt like my Vespa was hunched inside, licking its wounds.”

  “You must be more careful. I don’t know what would happen if you lost a wing. I doubt your Vespa powers would work at all. We have such little information on shifters...” Giddon stopped as Coren pushed off the covers and stood. She was a little wobbly, but all Sy could focus on was how much blood stained her clothing.

  “It’s not all mine,” she murmured, meeting each of their eyes. “At least three Brujok died by my hand this morning.”

  Sy bit back another warning for caution, knowing it would only annoy her.

  “You have exceeded my wildest dreams,” Giddon said, his voice quivering. “You have truly kept your promise to help Riata.”

  Coren raised her eyebrows. “You bound me to it.” But her smile was genuine and affectionate.

  For a moment, Sy thought the little man might fall to his knees before Coren or do something odd like kiss her feet. But he just swung his gaze over all three of them, eyes watering. “What you have done... the people of Riata will do anything to repay. You must be our Queen, Corentine. You must. Only you can truly save us from the dark magics of the world. Ignore the politics and pettiness of the court. Riata must be healed.”

  Resh stepped forward. “Then let all of your people know Riata is in new, capable, and compassionate hands now. Coren will not fail them, and we will not fail her. Even if Mara returns, we will find a way to keep her from revenge.”

  Giddon trembled and muttered something Sy guessed was a prayer. He wasn’t certain if it was in thanks or fear, though.

  Sy said, “Mara will likely return. And Coren’s brother will not relinquish his believed claim easily. But working together, I know we can help heal this country as well as our own. Weshen will rise again, and so will Riata, and even Sulit, but never again as enemies. Our parents and grandparents tore this world apart in their quests for power. It’s up to us to put it back together.”

  “There will be much more tearing apart, I’m afraid.” Giddon shook his head. “I hear whispers of darkness rising in the south, beyond Riata and Weshen. The Brujok are not yet beaten. And though Umbren has not risen and entered man’s battle for power like Sulit has, I believe it is inevitable. Be ready for it, young Weshen.”

  Coren sighed, brushing at the blood-stiffened fabric. “We will be ready. But first, I’d really love a bath, some pants instead of these stupid skirts, and enough food to fill me for days.”

  Sy smiled, and it felt good. “Surely, we can manage those things.”

  “Of course,” Giddon agreed. “Let me take care of clothing and food. I have my ways.” He waggled his eyebrows and gathered his bag, slipping out the door.

  “Go on,” Resh said, dropping a light kiss on her hair. “Soak yourself in the water. We’ll wait out here for the General and Giddon to return, and then we can begin forming our strategy.”

  She flashed them a grateful smile and walked stiffly into the bathing room.

  The pipes beyond began to creak as they delivered the hot water, and Sy looked to Resh.

  “We have much to do, brother.”

  His fingers toying with the prayer beads around his neck, Resh narrowed his eyes. “We’re strong, but our enemies are stronger. We must find more power.”

  “But not at the expense of others,” Sy reminded him. “The Riatan people have suffered much at the hands of their own rulers.”

  Resh rolled his eyes, but he nodded. “Giddon is what...part Sulit?” he asked, his mind wandering an inescapable path. “Perhaps he knows a spell to help me find my shifter magic. Without it, I’m not worth much more than a good soldier.”

  “He may know something,” Sy agreed, keeping the peace even as he wished Resh weren’t so desperate for magic. Such ambition was worrisome. He still hoped Resh would find his shifting, of course, but his brother’s true strengths had always lain with his mind.

  Resh didn’t need magic to devise a plan to dissipate Riata from within.

  Chapter 11

  JYESH PACED BEFORE the gathering crowd in the throne room - a few dozen finely-dressed Lords and Ladies who had fled the soldiers’ training grounds in terror when Coren abandoned their protection for the glory in fighting witches.

  Of course, Jyesh had sensed the Brujok’s magic the second their boat had crunched against the dock of the Conqueror’s Channel. Whether or not they were here for him, their presence was like a shot of pure energy to his veins.

  A quick check out the window of the bathing room had given him all the information he needed, as he saw Coren shooting across the sky and a string of silly soldiers running below her, all eager to meet their deaths.

  Jyesh waved his arms at the murmuring people, motioning them closer. The crown sat precariously on his damp hair, but the robes he had requested were finely-made and pressed. It had been simple dissipate himself right through the door and slip silently into the hall.

  He’d done it a thousand times in Rurok.

  “Come closer,” Jyesh said to the crowd, pitching his voice so they would need to approach to hear him clearly.

  He turned to the servant he’d commandeered to herd the panicked Lords and Ladies into the room. “See to it that drinks are brought. Make them strong.” The man’s eyes widened as Jyesh shifted a bare layer of skin from the man’s hand. Just a touch of pain to let the servant know he meant business.

  The man bobbed his head and scurried out a nearby door. Jyesh turned to the mass before him, aquiver with what might be happening to their beloved safety.

  This was the time for him to draw them in.

  “Friends, Riatans. I assure you, you are quite safe here in the King’s room of StarsHelm. I am Jyesh, twin brother to Corentine, and therefore also heir to the throne of this wonderful city. However, while we share many common strengths in our magic, I must draw your attention to the differences between us. Brujok are the least of your concern. I controlled them when I was in Rurok, and you see how as soon as I was removed from my throne there, chaos began. Corentine has been in your city for barely three days, and already she has brought an attack to your very door. Worse will come. My sister has much power, but she has even more powerful enemies. She and her friends have even claimed success against the Umbren Shadow. Yet still, it lives, moving and breathing among us, hidden but waiting to find its revenge.”

  Jyesh strode to the other side of the dais, engaging the crowd and watching how they responded. He breathed deeply, smelling their fear. They were vulnerable, and he knew just where to bolster them.

  “Today, we were weak. But know this, my people. I was made Lord of Witches by your own Queen Mara. She saw my potential, and I ruled over Brujok and Sulit alike. In her temporary absence, I alone can bring peace with Sulit. If your army had but known to call me today, I could have met the witches with the classic Riatan goodwill and firm hand. Corentine may have saved some of your soldiers, but I could have saved them all. Without my diplomacy, though, you can expect to see attack after attack, just like the one today that claimed many lives of good, young Riatan soldiers. The witches
seek my sister’s destruction, but they will listen to me. It is up to you, good Lords and Ladies. What do you want from your interim leader? Mara will return. When she does, who will you admit to trusting in her absence?”

  “We need protection,” a man cried. “The Princess fights like a General! I heard she killed three witches. But where were you?”

  Jyesh narrowed his eyes. It was impossible to see which person contradicted him. “I was not even summoned or told the battle existed. A weapon cannot be used while on the rack, but I assure you, I am as capable as your Princess.” Jyesh sneered but regretted it when he glimpsed disapproval in several faces. He bit back his rage that these people had already begun to like Coren, even in such a short time.

  “I do not ask for my sister’s removal, of course. She has many uses. All I ask is that you also involve me with the future of Riata. I have the experience she lacks in leadership, and my ties with Sulit will protect you. And if the witches portend Mara’s return, I am the one she will want to see leading her country in her absence. Not the girl who helped slaughter the King.”

  A door banged behind the dais, and booted steps hurried toward Jyesh. He sensed the metal sources of a sword, but he could also sense it was sheathed in leather. He held his shoulders rigid, refusing to look at someone who would approach him in such a rude manner.

  The steps halted just to the right of the dais. “What are you doing?”

  Jyesh turned slitted eyes on the intruder, keeping his body toward the crowd. It was that young General, West-something. “I am speaking to the good people of Riata.”

  “You have no right to call council here.” The General stepped onto the dais with Jyesh, staring him down intently.

  “My blood is the same that ran in King Zorander Graeme’s as well. My sister may be older by a breath, but I do have rights to address these Lords and Ladies of the court. And they have the right to know the truth.” Jyesh made sure his words carried to the people. He would not back down to this man. He took one step closer to the General.

  They were nearly the same height, though of course, the glorified soldier had muscles to spare.