Such A Secret Place (Stolen Tears Book 1)

by Cortney Pearson

  Sitting on a red velvet cushion. Blue, shimmering, and amazing. My tears.

  I lift the cool jar. The humming in my lower cranium eases, bringing with it a calm, comforting wash of relief.

  “Told you I’d come for you,” I say to them. They purr and send snippets of tickling heat into my hand. Someone kicks hard at the door, and I jump, nearly dropping the jar.

  “Let’s go!” Talon jerks me toward the back of the house. I try to look back at Gwynn, but we move too quickly toward the darkened hallway. I hope she’ll be okay.

  I feel along the walls with my free hand until Talon turns and heads into what I think is a bedroom. Moonlight streaks through—I can make out vague shapes of things in the darkness. He trips over something on the floor and stumbles, knocking over a lamp. But he recovers, snatches the lamp, and uses it to shatter the window with a huge crash.

  Gwynn. We can’t just leave her here.

  I turn away, but Talon’s strong hands heave me forward, practically shoving me into the cooler outside air. I land hard on the grass, clobbering my wrists on impact.

  “Hurry, Talon!” I call, hunching over to nurse my wrists. Urgency fills my racing blood. His boot hitches onto the ledge, his bare fingers clutch the window’s edge. I reach up a hand—like he needs help. But light from the room blinds me.

  “Talon!” I shriek.

  “Hold it, Haraway,” rumbles a voice, and Talon falls back into the house with a groan as if he’s been struck from behind.

  "Don’t touch him!” I shout to the brick siding, trying to boost myself back up into the house. My head barely reaches the window’s base.

  Glass cuts into my palms, but I heft myself up to find Talon knocking one soldier to the ground while two others advance in the fallen one’s place. The three men dance around a pile of wood that looks as though it was once a desk and now has been chopped into pieces. That must be what Talon tripped on earlier.

  Talon breaks off a leg from the crumpled desk, thrusting it toward the soldier to his left. The Arc ducks just as the other copies Talon and snatches another chunk of desk, ready to attack.

  I concentrate on the wood in the soldier’s grip, and my magic courses through—not in my bones where it’s usually cold, but hot and scorching, it sears along my arms until a spurt of flames blows from my fingertips. Fire grapples the wood, embeds into it. The soldier screeches—the fire doesn’t stop. It licks up his arms, wrapping him in flames, sending him shrieking from the room.

  The other soldier gapes at me, and Talon takes advantage of the opening, kicking aside the soldier’s knees with a definitive cracking sound. Goose bumps tap-dance on the backs of my arms and neck as he tumbles to the floor.

  “How did you do that?” Talon asks, panting. He sounds truly surprised.

  “The fire thing? I don’t know, you can’t do it?” We should run. Why aren’t we running?

  “No, I can’t. Most magic is electrical—from your nerves. You just did elemental magic—water, earth, air.” He sucks a breath before adding, “Fire. I’ve never seen it done before.”

  I’ve never heard of anyone having elemental magic before either, and for the tiniest second I wonder if that’s what Nattie meant by my magic changing.

  He rests his hands on his thighs, catching his breath, but I’m anxious to get going. Who knows how long we have before more soldiers bust in. The soldier on the floor lets out another moan, nursing his smashed knees.

  “Are you sure you’ve never been trained?” Talon asks, giving me a slanted, almost exasperated look.

  “How can you ask me that? You were the one who helped me find my magic in the first place.”

  “And you were born in Cadehtraen? You didn’t move there from somewhere else?”

  “Do we really have time for this right now?” I ask. What sounds like a vehicle screeches to a halt outside. “If I was born somewhere else, my parents would have told me!”

  “You parents are both human? You don’t have wizard blood in you, do you?”

  “Of course not,” I say, getting more razzed. “Can we get out of here, please?”

  Talon grabs my hand and together we leap through the window and run through the darkened streets. I peek behind to find three more soldiers in the brown cargo tailing our heels. It’s difficult to run holding onto Talon, but he doesn’t let go of my hand. We dodge into an alleyway with lines of clothing dangling over our heads and moonlight peeking through. The soft crashing of ocean waves plays in the distance.

  Our footsteps clap loudly down the alleyway, and one woman peeks down at us from a lit window. At the other end we land in the middle of lines of marching soldiers escorting a group of men and older boys in their street clothes, each with gray strings like wire hooking their hands together. Their heads and hands droop down as if they’re walking figurines. I scan as many of them as I can, desperate for Ren’s face. With a gasp, I recognize the snake magitat climbing the side of a man’s neck, as well as Grisly’s thick, beefy shoulders.

  “Talon,” I say. “The deserters. They’ve been—”

  Talon slows the pace and leans in.

  “I see them,” he says with sympathy. “See that around their wrists?” he says, chugging breaths. Sweat pools between our palms, making our hands slippery. “They’re Prones. That’s how they’re keeping these people prisoner. They won’t get away a second time.”

  Prones. So they can’t use their magic unless the Arcaians say so. If only Gwynn was being controlled like that. It would make the blow of her betrayal seem smaller.

  Talon peers behind us, and we don’t stop running until we make it to the back of a shabby-looking shack along the edge of the beach. Salty air passes in and out over my lips. The ocean is close.

  “I can’t believe Gwynn would rat me out like that,” I whisper to him.

  My insides feel scraped out. Hollow. “We promised we’d always have each other’s backs. And what was she doing carrying my tears around?”

  “I’ve got a better question for you, Ambry. What was she doing on patrol with Tyrus? He’s never taken any of his other girlfriends around with him before.”

  My brain grapples for an answer. “Are you saying Tyrus is training Gwynn for something?” He can’t just want her companionship, not while he’s on patrol.

  “At least it wasn’t actually Tyrus who came after us,” Talon goes on. “People do stupid things when they think they’re in love,” he adds, puffing, peeking around us.

  The idea of my best friend being with that axrat is enough to make me want to kick rocks. And the way she talked—she almost sounded like she was jealous of me because I could feel. I always thought it was the other way around—me jealous of her for being beautiful and magical.

  “Are you all right?” Talon asks, putting an arm around me, keeping me in one place.

  I sag against his chest, but my breathing still races. “I’m just a little dazed. I never expected to see her again, let alone have her turn on me.”

  “I’m sorry. I know what betrayal feels like.”

  We stand in the moonlight, waiting for our pulses to slow. I rest my head on his shoulder, zeroing in on his heartbeat. I don’t know what happened to Gwynn. Maybe the tears hardened her somehow, along with aging her.

  Eventually, Talon clears his throat. “Ambry?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I really am sorry about your friend. But,” he pauses, “do you mind if I—? I mean, did you get them?”

  With mounting anticipation, I tuck my fingers in my pocket. In the darkness, the tiny glass reflects rainbows of blue against my palm. The liquid sloshes inside like a mini ocean. I become aware of the nearby waves rushing toward the sand.

  Talon tenderly holds my hand in his leather-clad palm. His eyes turn unnatural in the tears’ glow. Relief washes over me so entirely I just want to collapse to the ground. We have the tears. We did it.

  “They’re really spectacular,” he mumbles.

  Talon’s eyes become the only light I can
discern. They’re steady, but difficult to read. I can’t tell if he’s upset or not. Or what will happen now that we have the tears. And I still don’t know why he even wants them.

  But instead of basking in the relief, something else steps in, a different urgency, a weight in my chest.

  “Talon, I need to find my brother. We have these. Now it’s time to get Ren.”

  The tears heat in my hand. I can’t help feeling mesmerized. My flesh tingles in Talon’s. I wonder what power these have. What makes them the target of so many people. Gwynn’s tears must have read her heart—to give her exactly what she didn’t know she wanted.

  I’m not like her, though. I know what I want. Maybe these tears will react differently, if that’s the case. If I drink these now, they’ve got to help me find Ren.

  The purring stops, shifts into a growl, as if they’re somehow linked to my thoughts. I know from their reaction. From the way they burned my hand that first night.

  Nattie is wrong. There’s no way around it—these tears aren’t meant to be drunk.

  But if not, what are they for?

  “I don’t know what to do about your brother,” Talon whispers, sounding apologetic. “We’ll figure something out. For the moment we need to find somewhere to hide.”

  He’s right, as usual. I take a peek at the shabby beachside shack and smell the decaying wood.

  “Let me guess. Another abandoned house?”

  Talon’s gaze never breaks from me, but it’s not admiring. It’s analyzing.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  “A friend of mine lives here, actually. A girl named Shasa.” First that Adam kid and now someone else. I thought he did things solo. “Well, she’s not a friend necessarily. I thought I’d have more time…”

  Uh oh. I can’t help the spark of jealousy in my chest. I’m not sure I want to hear this.

  “Shasa’s a last resort, Ambry. I was hoping to avoid her. I don’t know where else to go, but we’ll be safe here.”

  These bits and pieces aren’t getting me anywhere. “Out with it, Talon. You can trust me, remember?”

  The clinking of Xian claws and boot footfalls hammer on the street above. Talon presses me into the brick and stays close. The heat of his body makes me dizzy. It’s all I can do not to wrap into him.

  “Did you ever hear of a guy named Craven?” he whispers. His breath stirs my senses, and I move closer so that when I speak, my lips brush his neck.

  “Once or twice,” I say, thinking of the story Nattie told me about the man who offered to help Solomus Straylark rebel against the Arcs and then betrayed him. The man who was the reason Solomus cast his spell in the first place. Talon’s hands slide down to my lower back.

  “Craven kidnapped the wizard’s granddaughter, Jomeini. But he also kidnapped Shasa. My friend.” He inclines his head toward the shack.

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “Shasa’s hiding here. She escaped about six months ago…by means of these.” Talon squeezes his hand around the tears in mine. In spite of his warm body, cool night air traipses down my spine. “She witnessed the visions and stole the tears after Jomeini shed them. She managed to sell them to a gypsy to gain the means to escape back to her people.” He clears his throat. “Our people.

  “A nymph also witnessed Jomeini’s vision. He told Craven about my friend’s escape. About the tears. Shasa had no idea what she’d done until it was too late. The twisted neck of a tiny jar like this is only found at the Triad Palace. The place where I grew up. Nowhere else do glass blowers weave a design this intricate.”

  He thumbs the twisted neck of my jar. My mouth goes dry.

  “The nymph was a double agent and just after he told Craven what he saw, he also ratted to Tyrus. Tyrus and the others are going by the jar. But I want to be absolutely certain these are the ones.”

  “Why, Talon?” My heart ticks in my chest. “What do you want them for?”

  His polished eyes lock me in, and he speaks with a fond, apologetic sadness. “I have to be sure those are the tears you carry. That’s why I’m looking for Solomus.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “Have I ever?”

  “You’re looking for the wizard? No one has seen him since he cast that spell!”

  “A few have,” Talon corrects. “Nattie, for one.”

  “Even if you found him,” I push away, needing my space, needing room to think, “how can you trust him to be truthful?” It took Talon weeks to trust me.

  “I’m quite sure he wouldn’t lie about this. Anyway, that’s why we’re here at Shasa’s. I think she can help me find him.”

  It’s nice not having to wring answers out of him. “Thank you,” I say. “For telling me.”

  I move to hug him, but he steps away as if he has something else to say.

  “Ambry. I just wanted you to know before we go in here. So you don’t…” He pauses as if thinking. “So…”

  I cup a hand to his face. “I won’t tell her I have them,” I promise, tiptoeing up to find his mouth.

  He avoids my kiss, bends his head back so subtly I barely notice. My muscles constrict as if anticipating a hit. Something’s wrong.

  “That’s not exactly the problem. She’s also…well…”

  The door beside us creaks open, letting out a sliver of light.

  “You’re here,” says a girl’s voice.

  She’s short. Stocky but pretty, with sleek black hair. A smile spreads wide on her face. She elbows through the door, plants a hand on either of Talon’s cheeks and presses a kiss on his lips.

  Talon never lets go of my hand, but the moment Shasa kisses him I open my fingers and fight to break free, to smash my hand in her face. He doesn’t let me.

  When Shasa pulls away, he looks at me. His face is boyish again, ridden with vulnerability. I twist and wrench my hand, but he still won’t let me go.

  A festering sore bulges beneath my ribs. No wonder he kept himself so closed off for so long. He has a vrecking girlfriend!

  I can feel his eyes on me, though I keep mine focused on the sandy cement. I’m not sure if he can tell, but I don’t want him to detect the raw, meaty sting cutting behind my eyes.

  “You’ll never guess who’s here!” Shasa’s vowels are long, just like Talon’s when he speaks. He’d said our people. Shasa is Feihrian, she must be. “Come in. He’s been waiting for you.”

  Whoever she is, she’s different. She seems to feel as much as Talon and I do. It must be a Feihrian thing. She barely looks at me, though I distinctly see her brown eyes notice my hand imprisoned by Talon’s.

  The anger mounts, a thick, scorching volcano bubbling along my veins. My gaze bounces between them, but my heart is a fist in my chest, trying to break through.

  I try to rein it in. He told me she was just a friend.

  But I don’t go kissing my friends.

  Reluctantly, I step with Talon into the dingy, smelly room. Wooden crates line along the walls, making the space seem smaller than it really is. A man with dark skin sits at the lopsided table lining the back wall. His head is shaved save for two long strands just above each ear. The strands are pulled into a ponytail at the base of his head, so his hair makes a gray V-shape at his neck.

  “Shasa mentioned you might be stopping by,” the man says. Downturned wrinkles give an air of sadness to his aged face despite the smile he bears.

  Talon jerks me to his side. His mouth falls open as if he’s lost control of it, and he just stares at the old man. Anything throwing Talon off-guard can’t be good.

  My eyes stray to Shasa. One hand is on her side, and she adds so much attitude to the stance that her hip stands out like a pimple on the side of her body. This is the girl who stole my tears and sold them to the gypsy after they were cried?

  “Talon, this is him,” Shasa says smugly. “Solomus.”

  Talon continues to gawk as if he’s just had his teeth stolen.

  I can’t help staring at the old man either. I take
in each of his movements, the way his hair falls to his chest, the crease down the center of his pant legs—anything to prove to myself he’s real.

  It’s no surprise he knows who we are, but I wonder what Talon will say now that we’re here. I never thought I’d ever come to Valadir at all, let alone meet Solomus Straylark.

  The wizard turns to Talon. “I understand you’ve been looking for me.”

  Talon’s chin juts out, and his worried eyes stray to Shasa who pouts her full lips as if on purpose. Sure, Shasa took us to the wizard, but Talon doesn’t want her knowing about the tears. So now that we’ve finally found him, we can’t even do what we came here for.

  Pride bakes in my chest. He’s keeping something from this girl who kissed him right in front of my face. He’s mine. I have nothing to worry about.

  I want to tug him away. We can find somewhere else to hide, maybe near the soldier barracks. Maybe Ren will be able to help us.

  “How did she find you?” Talon asks the wizard, gesturing to Shasa. She pushes herself onto a tall set of crates and dangles her boots over the edge, then tosses her black hair like a horse would do. Still looking uncomfortable, Talon picks up a goblet at random and begins to examine it.

  The wizard raises his thin brows. He definitely isn’t what I pictured. I expected him to be more regal, to have an air of control about him or something. But he’s nothing more than an old man with weird hair and dressed in khaki pants and a striped t-shirt. Nattie called him inept. I wonder if the magnitude of his spell really was an accident.

  “I came to her, actually,” Solomus says. “Rumors of a certain set of tears have begun to fly.” My stomach curls at his mention of them. “Along with a certain Feihrian maiden who’d supposedly been dead and then after three years returned home.” He gestures to Shasa who does a half-curtsy while seated.

  “Consequently, the Feihrians have discovered who took her and are forming ranks. They’re now on their way to Valadir to join the war.”

  The goblet Talon had been examining clangs to the floor. “They’re coming here?” His genuine surprise, and the stroke of fear riding along with it, is unsettling.