Dream of Darkness and Dominion

by Hilary Thompson

  Nik hurried to shift away the earth, the ground seeming to dissolve as Kashar’s body sunk deep into the soil. Coren helped him spread the dirt evenly, and she closed her eyes. She sent a brief prayer to the Magi, following it with something between a plea and a threat for the twins’ safety.

  When she opened her eyes, the grave had been covered over already with tiny, star-shaped flowers in red and orange and yellow. Shuri nodded to her, smiling softly, and Coren scrubbed her face, turning a circle in the clearing.

  She couldn’t bear it if they found the twins’ broken bodies here, too. All this time, all the wasted opportunities to rescue them. The images of possibility paralyzed her as she stood next to Kashar’s new grave.

  “There.” Nik pointed to a patch of broken and burned trees, and they jogged through the woods, alert for danger.

  “Quite a battle here,” Shuri murmured as they reached a burned tree near the riverbank. Coren followed her gaze around the path. Her eyes took in the information, but her brain was slow to process any of it.

  A soft moan snapped them all to attention, though, and each of them pinpointed the wounded seer at the same time. Coren dropped next to Star and grasped her hand.

  “Hold still,” Nik said. “Let me try to heal you.”

  Star shook her head weakly. “Follow the river,” she whispered, blood bubbling between her lips. “Find the mouth, which will tell you where the heart is. Follow...” Her words dissolved into coughing.

  Nik squeezed his eyes shut in concentration, his hands brushing her skin. Shuri reached over and gently began removing Nik’s hands, her eyes telling them shifting wasn’t going to heal this witch. Even now, the roots of the trees around her were caressing her body, drawing her into their depths.

  “The mouth? Like the mouth of the Hungry River?” Coren guessed.

  Star blinked and started to nod, but her face contorted in pain. “Beware the heart of Sulit. It cannot go to Mara. Mara must not...”

  “Must not get it?” Coren asked, desperate to finish the warning. Star’s eyes drifted closed, and a dribble of blood ran from the corner of her mouth. “Star! What else?”

  Hating herself, Coren shook the witch, needing just one more moment. Star’s eyes fluttered open, growing wide with panic. “No! Not the heart. Not Mara!”

  Coren shushed her, smoothing the hair from the witch’s face as she babbled until she choked on the words. Her head lolled back against the chill earth. The roots pulled her body deeper into the Mother’s grasp, and Coren stumbled backward to avoid falling in with the seer.

  Coren wanted to scream at the skies for this. For all of it. It was never enough. She did all she can, but everything was too much, and nothing was ever enough. She stood, shaking, as she processed the fury that they had failed.

  Moments too late.

  Kashar and StarSeer were dead.

  And by now, Penna and Kosh were either dead or in Mara’s grasp.

  “Mara will die today,” Coren vowed, turning back to Nik and Shuri. She began to run back through the woods toward the clearing, and they hurried to keep up. She yelled back to them, “Find the armies and tell them what’s happened. Give directions to Dain’s elites. I need to fly.”

  Reaching the cottage, she spread her wings and glanced at them, swallowing a sob. “I just need to fly. I’ll follow the river. I’ll find the heart of Sulit.” Her body ached to be in the silent blue, too high for graves.

  “And we’ll find you,” Nik promised. “Don’t go for Mara alone,” he called as she rose into the air.

  Coren didn’t make him any promises. She knew in her gut that the cursed woman had Penna and Kosh, and there wasn’t a force in the world that could keep her away.

  Below her, Nik and Shuri shifted. Spreading their great, dusky Draken wings, they shot into the air in tandem, circling Coren before careening north to find the soldiers.

  Coren turned south and streaked toward the mouth of the Hungry River, chanting a prayer to the Mirror Magi in her head.

  NIK AND SHURI FOUND the soldiers easily. Dain and Noshaya had set up camp on the beaches south of Rurok to guard the city. The battle had calmed, but there were many injured and weakened.

  Sy stepped from one of the medical tents, scrubbing his face with his hands. Unseen, Nik watched him for a second, thanking all the gods that he’d found this man to love.

  And then Jyesh ducked into view, his slim form and arrogant profile obvious and gut-wrenching in the dying daylight.

  “Nik!” Sy called, his face breaking into a wide grin. He began to jog forward, but Nik held up a hand to wait. He walked toward them, his eyes intent on Jyesh.

  Sy glanced between Jyesh and Nik, making a move to hold Jyesh back, but Nik shook his head.

  “No, Sy. I need to talk to him.” He wouldn’t wait another minute.

  The deposed Lord trembled but didn’t make a single move, and Nik’s heart gave a painful thump as it remembered that first few months in Rurok, when everything had been so different.

  He stretched a hand forward to touch Jyesh, then tucked it swiftly away against his chest as a wave of fear toppled his intentions. But he swallowed hard and tried once more. He was strong enough for this. He had to be if he were ever going to move past it and give Sy the love he deserved.

  He glanced once more at Sy, thankful to see understanding and trust mixed on his handsome face.

  Looking at Jyesh, he whispered, “You were once more than this.”

  With this single reminder, all the bravado and pomp faded and crumbled from the haughty young man. Nik heard Sy bite back a gasp, and he understood. Jyesh looked so different when he let his learned facade of cruelty crumble. He looked younger. Vulnerable. Shattered, even.

  Nik closed the gap between them, his trembling hand smoothing down the back of Jyesh’s head in a familiar stroke, resting and grasping at the scruff of his neck. Sy made a noise of protest, but Nik ignored it, focusing only on his former lover.

  This was important. It would change everything. All of them.

  Nik slowly pulled Jyesh closer until their foreheads touched, then he rested and waited, battling the revulsion crawling over his skin. He fought to breathe through Jyesh’s scent, and he felt Shuri’s Draken magic shaping and smoothing the sharp edges of his memories.

  His Draken magic, he realized. It was giving him the strength for this. It was pushing him to break down the last barrier between his past and his future so he could give Sy every bit of himself to love.

  The seconds ticked by as Jyesh battled the magic’s effect as well. He crumpled even further into himself, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, gripping and twisting the fabric of his cloak as though it could ground him.

  Nik swallowed hard against the great sob shuddering through his chest, and he focused everything on his will to forgive. Jyesh didn’t deserve it. He could have made different choices.

  But Nik had to let this go to become whole, and Jyesh needed his forgiveness to do the same.

  Sometimes people got what they deserved, and sometimes they got a little more.

  Finally, Nik leaned his head back, staring up at the stormy sky above them. Shuri circled the clouds patiently, her form an impressive shadow in the gray mist.

  Nik lowered his eyes, his hand still grasping Jyesh’s neck, but now he pushed him away to arm’s length. Jyesh’s eyes drooped, never quite rising to meet Nik’s, and he sighed heavily, the edges of the sound tattered.

  “You can be more again,” Nik said, his voice like quiet steel in the growing night. “We can both be more than what we were made to be.”

  Jyesh ground his teeth, the muscles in his jaw working against whatever words threatened to spill from his lips. “Can I?” he bit out finally. “Can I truly be more than what she made me? She was more than my instructor. My ruler. My mother,” he finished in a whisper. “I don’t think I can.”

  “Yes. You can,” Nik said, nodding. His hand slid from Jyesh’s neck, down his narrow shoulder, and drif
ted away. Jyesh watched the movement, his eyes following the line of Nik’s arm and up to his eyes. He stared at Nik as though trying to understand the simple words.

  Nik felt his magic release Jyesh. The push of healing was beginning in his heart, but Jyesh would have to make his own decision.

  “You can, Jyesh,” Sy repeated, desperation leaching into his words.

  Jyesh’s eyes locked on Sy’s, and the moment shattered. “No. I’ve been broken too many times in too many ways. I’m like a tree forced to grow through a gap in a fence, year after year, until the fence sliced into me and became part of me. I’ve grown gnarled and twisted, and my heart is nothing but a scar full of barbed wire.”

  Nik glanced at Sy, knowing guilt was plain on his face. He wanted to help Jyesh, but he didn’t know what else to do. He knew Sy didn’t either. Sy’s love had saved Nik. Having friends like Coren, Resh, and Lorenya had helped.

  Love and time had given him a chance to heal enough to move forward.

  Jyesh had neither of those.

  “Just come home. For Coren,” Sy said, and Nik’s heart sank.

  “Where do you think my home is?” Jyesh said, spitting the words back at them. “Weshen Isle? Rurok? StarsHelm? None of those places have ever been what a home should be.”

  Flashing a stricken look at Nik, Jyesh tore into the trees without another glance backward, his shifter magic slamming the branches apart to make his path clear, leaving massed destruction behind.

  Nik stumbled backward into Sy’s chest, weakened as if after a battle, and Sy circled Nik inside his strong arms. “We’ll figure him out,” Sy said, hugging Nik tighter. “And I promise, Nik, if he comes back to the palace with us, I’ll do everything I can to make you comfortable.”

  Nik felt his skin blanch. The idea of living in the same building as Jyesh again had never occurred to him. Though the magic had coaxed his heart to begin healing, he wasn’t ready for more. Having his memories constantly stirred like that might just be the end of him - or of all of them, if what had happened to Lorenya’s baby was any indication.

  He took a deep breath, leaning his head forward and resting his chin on Sy’s forearm. “I may forgive him for the things he did. But my mind will never be able to forget. He broke something inside of me.” Nik twisted his neck to look back to Sy. “I want you to have all of me, but you deserve more than these broken pieces.”

  Sy turned Nik to him, cupped Nik’s cheek in his hand, and drew him close, dropping a kiss on his forehead. Nik leaned into the sensation. It was almost like a caress his mother had given.

  Except Sy smelled way too good to mix with thoughts of Mama.

  Sy murmured against his skin, “Nik, everyone has broken pieces. But I’m a shifter, remember? I’ll pull your sources together and weave them with mine and create something new. Something better than the two of us ever could be without each other.”

  Nik raised his face, his lips searching for Sy’s, and he let his kiss speak the thanks his voice was too weak to give.

  Chapter 33

  COREN FLEW HARD, TRUSTING her friends and the soldiers to follow and find her. She would find her little sister and brother - nothing else would keep her from them.

  Tears stung her eyes against the chill until with a grunt of frustration, she shifted into full Vespa form. The creature’s mind slipped over hers like a pillowcase, affording her just enough barrier from reality so she could concentrate on searching for Mara.

  The Shedreck River would have been easy to follow as it wound deeper into the interior of Sulit. But she didn’t know if it ever met the Hungry River again. Instead, she chose southeast toward the mouth of the Hungry River.

  That mouth was where all Weshen with magic were sent, floating without a paddle in their narrow boats.

  Where an eight-year-old Jyesh had been sent by his people to die.

  Where she and Sy had been sent. They’d avoided it, but only just. Even now, the memory of its siren’s call tingled in her chest.

  And according to Mara’s story, that mouth had swallowed her whole and spit her out as something entirely new.

  It made sense, then, that this would be the place where Mara chose to make her grand final gesture. Coren flew as fast as her wings could go, ignoring the pull on her energy. She would find more energy once she saw Penna and Kosh alive.

  And if they were dead? Then nothing would matter, and Mara could have what was left of them all.

  Night had fallen by the time she glimpsed the water. Light from a fat, full moon glistened over its gentle, fog-kissed ripples, inviting and lush. Magic swirled in the air, and she followed it south, winding above the Hungry River as it narrowed, a ribbon lacing together the lands of Sulit and Umbren.

  The noise of the wind reached her before she saw the sunset colored leaves swirling high above the canopy, a tornado of deep rose and petal-pink. The feathers on her wings shuddered as she flew nearer to the storm. She flew higher, trying to find the apex. This was where Mara would be. It had to be.

  She flew higher and higher into the black night until the land below looked like lines on a map. And finally, she saw it - an irregular clearing, bone-white trees stripped clean of their leaves. Coren struggled through the edges of the windstorm, but as soon as she hit the eye, everything was calm around her. The storm raged in a funnel above and below and around, but she was able to drift closer, her slitted Vespa eyes searching in the dark for Mara.

  A single, untouched tree waited in the center, its branches heavy with tissue-thin leaves. Coren landed delicately in its top branches, shifting to her own form as she began to climb down, making as little noise as possible.

  Below her on the ground and leaning into the trunk - nearly part of the trunk - sat a woman as gnarled as the branches itself. Her arms spanned wide, and Coren felt the power emanating from her chanting lips and fingertips. A witch, then. She was responsible for the wind, not Mara.

  But where was the runaway Queen?

  Coren slid down farther on the trunk, peering into the shuddering darkness beyond the moonlit clearing. There. To her right, a figure struggled through the wind, every step a painstaking measure of will and pain, as leaves whipped sharp edges across the woman’s skin.

  Mara’s mouth was a determined line, though, and she moved steadily inward.

  Another taller figure loomed to Coren’s left, also wading through the currents of wind. Aram, she recognized, her stomach recoiling at the thought of the strange, mute man.

  But where were the twins? Coren searched the bare grove, peering into the darkness behind Mara and Aram as far as she could strain. There was no sign of them anywhere.

  “Ha!” Mara yelled, and Coren snapped her attention back in time to see Mara break past the last bit of wind. She strode right toward Coren, but her gaze was fixed on the witch. Before she came near enough, the old woman dropped the wind. Aram fell flat on his face without the wind’s resistance, and the witch cackled. Another rushing sound began to tear through the forest, and Coren clung to the branches as a tidal wave of water rushed past the tree, swerving around the witch and the thing she clutched in her lap.

  Mara and Aram were swept into the wave and borne away, smacking into the white branches. Coren’s hopes rose as Mara’s neck snapped to the side from a particularly hard blow. But her great-aunt was not so easily beaten, and Coren felt Mara’s shifter magic rise before she saw its effects.

  The water parted and rushed up into the empty sky. Walls of dark river water rippled into a corridor as Mara stumbled to her feet, dissipating the droplets from her gown and hair with a flick of her fingers.

  Despair coursed through Coren’s bones. How could this woman be beaten? She was stronger than anyone, with more tricks up her navy sleeves than ever.

  As though the thought had sparked something in Mara as well, she grinned and reached behind her back, withdrawing two shining, half-moons - the Kitsuun blades. Coren gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. But both Mara and Aram were much too intent on the
witch to notice her.

  “You’ve guarded the Heart well, witch. But now it is time for a new guardian!” Mara cried.

  The witch tried to scramble to her feet, but she was rooted to the ground with time. Her dress had been grown over with moss and mud. Her hair tangled with the vines snaking around the tree. She was immobile, and in a moment, she was dead.

  Mara’s blades sliced cleanly through the witch, again and again, collecting the blood magic in the same way she’d collected Graeme’s blood and likely hundreds of others.

  The witch’s head lolled to the side, then tore from its stump completely, rolling down into her lap where it thunked onto something hard. Coren clamped her mouth shut, praying she wouldn’t gag and give up her presence.

  Mara made a noise of disgust and gestured for Aram. The huge man bent and grabbed the head, tossing it aside, and picked up a palm-sized, crystal box, now splattered with blood. Rose-colored leaves stuck to it, obscuring its contents.

  “You can come down now, Coren,” Mara said, drawing up the edge of her skirt to wipe the box.

  Coren blanched and clung tighter to the tree. Then Mara looked straight at her.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I sensed you cowering there the entire time. Come down and see my prize while we wait for Grand to deliver your beautiful sister and sweet brother.”

  Feeling even sicker, Coren slid down the trunk, careful to avoid the witch’s body. Grand had the twins. She was bringing them here. Her legs barely held her as she jumped the last few feet onto the ground, squishing into mud from the river water. As though it were an afterthought, Mara looked up at the walls of water and dropped her control over them. The river gushed around them, seeping back to wherever it had been drawn.

  But Mara hadn’t referred to the twins as bodies, so they must be alive. Coren drew strength from that, trying to rally as Mara locked eyes with her.