“Now,” Kelarre said. They disappeared into a black nothingness for the barest instant, then reappeared at the far side of the room they had just been observing. Vendra acted swiftly, grabbing Whythe from behind and jabbing the needle into his neck. He jerked in bewilderment, but almost instantly turned heavy in her arms.
Peer, at the far side of the room, leapt from his chair with a bellow. His blue gaze penetrated hers with sharp accusation as he pushed himself around the desk.
Her gaze locked with his, and somewhere deep in her consciousness a stir of guilt rippled. Kelarre’s hand clamped down on the back of her neck.
And in a breath, before Peer had charged even halfway across the room, they were gone.
Vendra held tight to the limp body in her grasp until the world exploded around her. Whythe collapsed to the sand and rolled onto his back.
Vendra wrenched the scarf from her neck as if it were choking her and swept her surroundings with a shrewd gaze. The beach was fairly bustling with people, most of whom had stopped to stare at their sudden appearance. “Tell Quade that we were successful,” she said to no one in particular. Doubtless, a messenger was already on the way.
She regarded the young man sleeping deeply on an Adourran shore. His sandy hair had fallen over his eyes, and his arm sprawled stiffly beneath him.
Despite herself, she found she could not shake the sense that she had done wrong. Don’t die, she commanded the lad.
She felt Quade’s approach from behind like a warm breeze.
“You did well.” His voice hummed at her ear. Something very nice swelled within her chest.
“Thank you.”
“No trouble?”
“No.”
“How long before he rouses?”
“A few hours at least. I used a strong dosage.”
Quade grazed a hand along the back of her head and around to cup her jaw. She leaned into his affection thirstily. When he dropped his hand and stepped back, she wavered on the spot.
“Po,” he called. The Chaskuan man trotted over to them, face full of eagerness. “Have him secured. When he first rouses, he may use his gift to remove yours. Don’t be alarmed. Make sure he knows how much I love him. Tell him that I understand and forgive his mistakes. Tell him until he really believes.”
With the help of another Chiona, Po bore the unconscious Whythe away. Quade returned his attention to Vendra. He slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Let’s take a stroll up the beach. It’s such a nice evening.”
Vendra smiled. He was correct—it was an ideal night, with not even a cloud to obstruct the star-speckled sky. The sea gently lapped at the white sand shore. They sauntered off together, into the quiet night, moving as one.
“So, tell me all, dear. What did you see? How did it go?”
Vendra recounted every detail, save for that small shiver of guilt she had felt upon seeing Peer Gelson. That, she kept close to her heart, as a question Quade could not answer.
He was an attentive listener, as ever. She grew increasingly tired as they made their way back along the beach, and he bore more of her weight without complaint.
“You need sleep, darling. Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”
He detached himself from her and she stared after him, confused. They usually shared a bed.
He pecked her cheek. “I have something important yet to do this evening.”
She nodded, accepting this without question, and wandered back to their camp. The army that was gathering on the beach of Che Mire had grown significantly in only a few days. The tents of Quade’s soldiers stretched into the distance. The first score of his warships had already arrived. She could see the bright white of their masts in the harbor.
She undressed and slipped under a cool sheet. Her cot was hard, and she shifted to and fro, springs squealing beneath her. Despite her exhaustion, she could not lose consciousness. There was something nagging at the back of her mind, as if she had forgotten an important task.
Or perhaps it was not something she had forgotten, but something she had remembered. She blinked at the canvas of the tent above her, overcome with the desire to weep. But her eyes remained dry, and that bothersome something still kept her from sleep.
Peer found himself crashing into a bookshelf, having charged at a person who was no longer in the room. He hit the ground with a hiss, and a shower of texts pelted down upon him.
“No,” he whispered, wrenching up to his knees. “Whythe.”
He bellowed, but all else was quiet. He was alone.
“No…”
Peer punched at the hardwood floor, and a sharp pain raced up his arm. He hung his head. It seemed impossible that he should have been feeling so blissful mere moments ago. Whythe had kissed his cheek, and then—
How could such a horrible thing have occurred in such a short space of time?
And that it should’ve been Vendra to take him seemed almost cruel. He had shown her mercy, because he had believed that his dead friend would have wished it.
Peer hung his head—cursing her, cursing himself, cursing Adearre.
Not him, was the chant of his heart. Anyone else; me. But not him.
Peer pushed himself to his feet, and effortlessly split his mind. He stared at his Mearre, his mirror-self. Bastard, he accused, striking out at the oafish man before him. Failure. Idiot.
He felt the Aeght a Seve’s presence, and threw himself into it. The library fell away, and he arrived in that familiar place, with grass beneath his feet. He turned his back to the tree at the center and sprinted to the ring of stone—the sheer shelf that separated him from an additional gift. One that could help him save his spirit’s mate.
Peer charged and leapt. He crashed bodily into unyielding rock. He picked himself up and launched at the stone wall once more, feeling like a wave bashing against a towering precipice.
He screwed his eyes shut. He needed to sacrifice the ability to have children—biological children. The trouble was, he had no desire to make a child with a woman. And he could not sacrifice something he did not truly want.
Peer gritted his teeth and tried to imagine it: his son or daughter—born by whom? He fleetingly pictured Bray, the woman he loved most in the world, but he could not hold onto that image. Impregnate a woman while knowing he could be no true partner for her? It was a thing he would never do. He could not fool himself into wanting it.
Peer pressed his forehead into the grass and felt hot tears building at the back of his eyes. He could not do it. Not even for Whythe. He had watched Yarrow do this very thing for Bray. It’s not fair.
He swayed back and tilted his head to the sky. He roared, “It’s not fair, blight it!” His voice echoed back to him, a parody.
He wrenched himself out of the Aeght a Seve, feeling betrayed by the Spirits themselves. They had designed an entire system of supernatural wonder that he could never access. It was a new understanding that left a bitter taste in his mouth.
The moment he returned to the library, he winced at the pain in his hand. He released his fist and stretched his fingers. He focused on steadying his breathing.
He could not save Whythe in this way, so he would need to find another.
Distantly, he heard someone scream. Vendra, he thought, as he thrust himself to his feet and barreled out the library door into a cold, black night. A throng of people had gathered outside the nearest dormitory. Peer sprinted that way, pushing through the people to see what had caused the commotion. Then he froze.
A young Elevated woman lay dead in the lane, arms spread as if seeking an embrace. Her expression appeared not just pained, but hurt—betrayed. The mark on her neck caught the moonlight. Peer bowed his head and backed away.
“Peer?” a solemn voice called.
Su-Hwan emerged from the crowd. The sight of her impassive face calmed some of the turmoil in Peer’s chest.
“What has happened?” she asked.
“Vendra came—she took Whythe.” He flexed his fist and pain shot from his knuckle. “He
’s gone.”
“That’s terrible.” Su-Hwan reached for his hand with her own small, child-like fingers. “But Quade will want to use him. He will not kill him.”
Peer nodded, trying to bring himself to believe this. But Quade had sent Chisanta to kill Su-Hwan, not capture her. And her gift was nearly the same as Whythe’s.
Seeming to read this concern in his eyes, she shook her head. “I resisted Quade and left. He will view me as the riskier of the two, but he will want this ability in his arsenal. Which is why you must go to the palace now.”
“Think Ko-Jin might know how to get him back?”
“Perhaps,” she said. “But I suspect taking Whythe is the beginning of a larger plan. He wanted to protect himself before making his next move. The general will need to know.”
“You’re right,” Peer said. It had not occurred to him. In his own mind, Whythe was the most important person, but perhaps Quade wanted someone else more. Someone whose gift would need to be removed. “I’ll go now.”
“Do you want me to come along?”
He was tempted to say yes, but he shook his head instead. “Get some sleep and come find me in the mornin’. But switch to a different bed and surround yourself with other people, yeah?” His expression turned stern. “I can’t be losin’ you too.”
“I will. Do not worry about me.”
She released his hand and turned away. Peer spun on the spot and set off. He walked and then ran and then sprinted, up the main courtyard and through the university entrance.
He barreled on, lungs burning and thighs aching, until the palace loomed above him. Ko-Jin will know what to do, he thought. He hoped.
Chapter Fourteen
Jo-Kwan’s boyish face grinned back at her. “Keep up.”
“I’m tired,” Chae-Na whined.
They were climbing up a sheer cliff, and her hands chafed against the vine. Beyond her brother, she could discern the shapes of her father and mother higher up. The sun blazed overhead, so she couldn’t see them properly—they were like shadows. Her girl’s shoes couldn’t find purchase on the smooth stone.
“Jo-Kwan,” she called out, because he was moving further off.
It came to her in the way it sometimes did; the certain knowledge that she was dreaming. It was an almost chokingly sad realization.
“Brother,” she called out, wanting to stay in this fantasy just a little longer. “Come back and help me.”
He did, of course. Even in a dream, he could do no less. She watched him slip back down the vine, and she tried to brace against the cliff.
“Climb on my back,” he said. He seemed to swivel between a youthful version of himself and the grown man he had so recently been.
“I’m frightened.”
“Why?” he asked. His eyes crinkled at the corners. “You can’t fall if you never let go.”
There was a sharp, loud sound and Chae-Na experienced the nauseating shock of a plunge into blackness, of her stomach floating up within her body.
She jerked to full wakefulness and grasped at her sheets. She stared wide-eyed around the room, willing herself to see through the darkness. She had been dreaming, she knew, but she had the strong sense that the sound which had roused her had been real.
“Hello?” she called out. “Guard?”
There were always two stationed just outside her door. Ko-Jin had wanted to allow one within the room as well, but she had refused. Fool.
“Hello?”
There came no answer. She sat, sheets twisted around her legs, trying to decide what to do. Should she bolt?
The more seconds that passed, the more certain she grew that she was not alone. She had that creeping sensation of being watched. Her heart rate would not slow.
Think, she instructed herself. No doubt this person expected her to run for the door. Her closet, in the other direction, had been built to lock from inside for just such an occasion as this. If she could only manage to get within and secure the latch…
No, she reminded herself. The sound had certainly been the pop of teleportation. A door would not thwart him. Her bow was perched above her bookshelf, however. And the knife Ko-Jin had gifted her was on her dressing table.
“Is it your intention to kill me?” she asked the darkness. She hoped that she sounded brave. She disentangled herself from her blankets and inched to the edge of the bed.
“Certainly not,” came the answer, in a voice so charming it sent a wash of pleasure through her. Her fear redoubled.
“It is not a polite hour for calling.”
“You will have to forgive my impropriety.” He stepped into the moonlight, his sharp nose and pale face just discernible. Quade stood only paces from her bed. She pushed herself away, to the other side of the mattress. She knew that she needed to prevent him from touching her at all cost.
Her bare feet hit the cold ground, and she tugged the sheet free from her bed and shrouded herself in it. If he could not achieve skin-to-skin contact, he could not take her away with him.
“Guard?” she called again, louder. But she knew that Quade would not have ignored such an obvious detail. She hoped the men outside her door were not dead.
“I admit, I am hurt, Princess. I expected a more enthusiastic reception. When I have come all this way to save you from a most unappealing betrothal.”
Dread leaked solid as lead into her stomach. She inched towards the wall, shuffling her feet. She wondered how well he could see. She detected the faint sound of his shoes moving across the floorboards, and she sprinted, running as fast as her legs would carry her, to her dressing table. She was nearly there when a powerful figure collided with her. She kicked free of his grasp, pulling herself from the sheet and leaving it alone in his hands. Her hip jammed painfully against the side of the table, and she gritted her teeth. Her hand grasped the hilt of her stiletto. She spun around to face him, blade extended in a quavering fist.
He tossed the empty sheet aside and stepped close. Eyeing the slim blade, he smiled. He was beautiful. And terrifying.
She slashed the space between them. “Stay back.”
Mentally, she reviewed everything Ko-Jin had taught her. Don’t allow your arm to extend far in either direction. Don’t strike until you’re certain you’ll wound.
Quade licked a lip, slowly, his dark eyes on her face. “I appreciate your pluck, darling, but surely you can see the futility.”
He stepped closer, and she realized for the first time just how tall he was. She seemed to shrink beneath his gaze. He was correct—she could neither run nor hide. Her only hope was in killing him.
“Why not give me the blade, darling?” he said in a humming voice that shivered through her. An insane desire to yield pierced her mind. Her hand quivered.
He stepped closer still, so near she could sense the warmth of him. She plunged her knife forward, aiming for his abdomen. He stepped to the side, but not quickly enough. The blade grazed along his stomach, slicing through his shirt. He hissed. She smelt blood. She tried to rear back, but he reached out more swiftly than seemed possible, snagging her bare wrist in his firm grasp.
No, was all she could think, before her bedroom was ripped away. She spun in a moment of horrifying blackness, with only Quade’s crushing fingers to ground her. And then, as suddenly as she had disappeared, she found herself thrown into warm sand. She screwed her eyes closed against the grit. The moderate warmth that stole around her bare arms and feet told her, with certainty, that they were no longer in Accord. No longer in Daland.
She pushed herself up to her knees. Quade towered over her. He glared down with black eyes, his hand pressed to his bleeding stomach. When she met his eye, his anger shifted into something else. He glanced down at his wound, and then back to her. He bared his teeth.
“I think perhaps we are well-suited for marriage.”
He reached for her, and she scuttled back, too slow. He cupped a hand around her neck, so that his thumb pressed against her windpipe. “You’re lovelier than I
’d known.”
She jammed her fingers in her ears and clamped her eyes shut, trying to block him out. He grabbed her wrist and wrenched it away. She turned into him until her mouth hit his arm, and bit down. She felt the skin break beneath her teeth. He growled, and the hands of others pulled her back by the hair. Someone secured her arms behind her. She was shoved to the ground.
Quade inspected the bite mark on his arm. He knelt down beside her and set his mouth right to her ear. “You cannot resist, darling.” He gently brushed her hair aside, and a shiver of pleasure ran over her skin. “Oh, how you will suffer.”
Chae-Na shut him out. She turned her head away. She aimed to fill her mind with anything that might protect her from Quade’s invasion. Perhaps, if her mind were full, there would be no room for outside influence. The grief at losing her brother, always just beneath the surface in the weeks since his death, seemed then, to her, a useful tool. It was a feeling so strong and all-encompassing, that it might shield her will from Quade, if anything could.
She imagined Jo-Kwan’s face as he lay in his coffin. She brought to mind the sound of his laugh. She dreamed up an impossible future for him—giving him Bray for a wife, because he had so liked her—and envisioned what his children might have looked like. And then she pictured him in his coffin again. She called to mind just who had killed him.
Tears ran fast down her cheeks, hot with rage. She could hear Quade laughing. She hoped he perceived this breakdown as evidence of weakness. Let him be wrong.
She continued to think of her brother. And then she recalled the cryptic thing he had said in her dream. You cannot fall if you never let go.
I shall try, she thought. I will.
Ko-Jin lowered himself onto the edge of Chae-Na’s vacant bed. Beyond the window, the first blush of dawn had stolen some of the shadow from the room. His gaze roamed from the sheet sprawled across the floor to the spatter of blood. Hers?
He braced his elbows against his knees and let his head hang. There was something right in the feel of blood pooling in his skull. He gritted his teeth, blinking. Was there no member of this family he could save? Was he truly such a failure?
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