by Lisa Daniels
“That is not true. You are a seer, so your future is never predestined.”
“Stella saw my future. She sent me away to save me from the worst of it, but she couldn’t save me from this.”
“Dulce,” Draven’s voice was firm, causing her to look up at him. “Your future was never set. That is just as true today as it was five years ago. Don’t believe them.”
“Why won’t they just let me die? I don’t—this isn’t the life I wanted!”
“Because the Unwashed want you dead.”
The words caught in her mind, and she realized that Draven meant something different than what she had already known about the cult. Not believing him, she mumbled, “They want all magic users dead. That is the whole point of the cult. Kill us all.”
Draven pulled back and forced her to look at him. “They are specifically after you, Dulce. You have not proven receptive to their attempts to control you, and their influence over you has only been met with limited success.”
Shaking her head, Dulce couldn’t believe him. “There is no reason for them to care about me specifically. I am not special. Someone like Queen Freya, yes, I can see them specifically targeting her, but not me.”
He placed his hand under her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. The way they flashed in the sunset made his eyes look like they were on fire, and she was hypnotized by them. “You are the one seer that the people still love. You are the one who has lost the most yet still shone, still fought for Ishtar. They need you to die to completely turn the people against the seers. Keeping you alive was important enough that I could not turn Maverick down when he insisted I was the only person who could help you. I didn’t believe him until the night you met Ignacio again.”
Dulce’s head hurt, and she began to shiver. Still, she continued to try to argue with him, “It’s not true. I’m no more important than any other seer. You are just trying to convince me to keep going, but nothing will change with my death. Nothing except my emptiness.”
Whatever Draven was about to say, he stopped when Dulce’s teeth began to chatter. Immediately, his hand went to her forehead. “Shit.” A part of Dulce was shocked by his incredibly emotional response, but she was too aware of a sudden drop in her body temperature. It felt like she had been plunged into an icy ocean. Everything hurt as her body seemed to crumble under the stress.
Something was happening around her, but she wasn’t sure what. After a few moments, she felt warmth pressed against her back, the wrap around her. Pressing against it, Dulce felt the warmth become a little hard, like she was pressing against a fallen tree that was still warm from the fire that had burned a part of the forest. It was a strange memory, but one that she preferred to the painful ones that had been playing through her mind.
At the time, she had gone out into the country to escape the pressures that the government had placed on her. The next mission was going to be difficult, and Ignacio had recently appeared in her life, an assassin who wanted to size her up. He had been very blunt about it, and in return, she had let him join her for as long as he felt it necessary. The assassin had not complained once as she introduced him to others as a student studying seers for school. As Dulce had pointed out to him at the time, it was actually true. She could have made his job a lot easier if she had spent more time with seers, and while she didn’t feel threatened by him, Dulce was not willing to risk her magical sisters. Between her assassin and the government, she had decided to go to the country to escape everything. It had been both highly entertaining and a real learning experience because she had never met an assassin before. Ignacio did not inspire fear either, and she had immediately felt compelled to take care of him.
After a few days, they had been out hiking when they had encountered some bandits. They could tell that she was a seer, and it was just as obvious that Ignacio and his thick black hair was not a champion. The minute they thought they had the upper hand, the leader had approached the assassin brandishing a sword. Having seen no need for his weapons, Ignacio was completely unarmed. The leader tried to taunt and terrify him, and quickly became angry when the young man did not appear to fear him. As soon as the leader had been in striking distance, Ignacio had struck. He had kicked the leader’s arm, causing the sword to fly out of his hand. The assassin caught the sword and immediately drew it across the man’s chest. The other bandits began to react. One of them drew an arrow back, but it flew harmlessly into the air as a dagger struck him between the eyes. Ignacio took out three more without incident. The last bandit began to ride away, screaming at the mountain. His screams turned into a gurgling sound as Ignacio shot him in the back.
“There must be more of them. We need to get into the woods before they arrive.” Dulce’s eyes were wide, but all she had done was nod.
Ignacio had been right, there were more of them. In response to their friends’ deaths, they set the forest on fire. It had been a very rough couple of days, but the pair had survived. By the time they returned to Copan, Dulce believed she was in love with Ignacio and began trying to save him.
In the present, Dulce muttered, “I'm sorry, Ignacio, for acting like an idiot. It’s a good thing you turned me down because I would have just disappointed you.”
A hand stroked her hair, and Dulce shivered. “Why is it so cold?”
“It’s the poison.”
Startled, Dulce tried to remember where she was. “Ignacio said he wasn’t going to kill me, and after my confession, he said it was highly unlikely any other assassin would be willing to either.”
“The assassins are decidedly not after you, not after you declared that you loved one of them. None of them was going to kill a woman who was clearly so unbiased and forgiving.”
“Ignacio?” He was the only person she could think of who would be able to talk about the inner workings of the assassins. “I thought you… didn’t you say you were in love? Don’t feel bad for me.”
“Shh.” The voice was close to her ear. “Calm down, and the cold will go away.”
Dulce patted what must have been an arm around her. “It’s okay. You can let me go. Everything will be okay, just make sure you are happy.”
“I’m still not allowing you to die.”
Dulce rolled over and tried to focus on him. Patting his face, she could see Ignacio’s confusion. “You were always so sweet, I could never believe you were an assassin until you killed all of those bandits. There was no feeling in your eyes as you cut them down one by one. It was chilling.” She shivered again.
“I'm not—”
Dulce moved up and kissed him. “Just promise me you will be happy, and I won’t regret anything.” She then pressed her face into his neck and let the warmth spread through her.
A soft voice was near her ear, “I am not Ignacio, Dulce.”
“It’s okay.” She pressed into him again, curling her knees up to her chest. “Champions and guardians kill too. They could be called assassins just as much as you, but they aren’t nearly as fast as you are. They usually have to shift. I’ve seen it. If Darinon has been as agile as you, he would still be alive. He only stood a chance after shifting, but he knew that would put me in more danger. To save me he sacrificed himself, and I don’t want anyone else to die for me. Never again.”
“I have no intention of dying for you, so don’t worry.”
Dulce laughed a little, and her body contracted in cold. Once the fit was over, she shook her head. “I would expect nothing less from an assassin.”
This was met with silence.
Dulce smiled and pressed into the warmth again, “I’m sorry for drugging you, but I was afraid you might try to die for me. Should have known better.” She giggled. “You got a lot more powerful. The way you killed all of those men in the cemetery, I would never have believed you would have been able to decapitate anyone. It really shouldn’t have been possible after that amount of powder. You should have slept all night.” The memory was muddled, but Dulce felt compelled to talk through it.
<
br /> “Dulce,” there were hands on her arms, and the seer felt pressure, “Dulce, calm down. I am not Ignacio. He has already returned home and moved on with his life.”
Dulce opened her eyes to look at the speaker. The voice was firm and definitely not Ignacio’s. Her eyes seemed to have trouble focusing. “Who are you?” Her body temperature dropped again. When the man tried to pull her to him, she put her hands out and pushed on his bare chest. “No!” She began to shake her head.
“Dulce, look at the hair.”
She opened her eyes, and saw the blond with black streaks. “Darinon is dead.” It was the only thought she had to explain the champion beside her. Ever since Darinon had died, she refused to pair up with any other champion because she would not have anyone die because of her.
“That didn’t stop people from dying. More people died.” Another memory began to surface. “So many people…” There was a pressure on her shoulders, and Dulce felt her consciousness slipping away. “Too many people died,” she muttered as she felt warmth spread over her.
Chapter 8
Her History Retold
Dulce woke the next morning feeling warm and comfortable. When she opened her eyes, she saw an arm draped over her. There was a knocking on the door, but she knew she shouldn’t open the door.
Next, she noticed that she was again in a nightgown, although she couldn't remember when that happened. Poison. A shiver went down her spine, but this time it was not accompanied by any actual cold. The knocking stopped and she was glad for the silence because there were so many things she needed to understand about her current situation.
“Draven?” She said the name carefully, uncertain what kind of response she would get.
“Are you alright, Dulce?”
“Who poisoned me?”
“The Unwashed.”
“How?”
“The arrow. It was dipped in something that was meant to put you under their control. You were not supposed to die there. Even if you had listened to Darinon, they weren’t going to let you go. His death was not your fault.”
“If we hadn’t gone in, they wouldn’t have killed him.”
“There were more Unwashed outside to prevent you from leaving without taking control of you. Darinon was never going to make it out of there alive, and he knew it. The Unwashed had been tracking you for three years, and we messed up. It is our fault that Darinon died.”
“How do you know any of this? You weren’t there.”
“I wasn’t. But my mentor was. Darinon was shouting to him because you were already falling under their influence.”
“Why didn’t he help Darinon? If the Unwashed already accomplished what they wanted, why didn’t your mentor take them down with Darinon?”
“That is not—” There was a pause, then Draven started again, “Darinon managed to kill all of the ones in the cave and several of the ones waiting outside while my mentor escaped with you. He was struck several times, but a tougher shifter you will never find.” There was something like pride in Draven’s voice as he added, “He has never failed at anything he has committed to, something that I hope to continue.”
“What kind of poison was it? How could it be used to control me?”
“We have not been able to understand the Unwashed methods. They steal magic users’ abilities and create unnatural… things out of them. Those magic users are under their complete control. Only a few of those who are out in the world are completely under their control because it takes a lot of their resources to control them from a distance.”
“What about influencing magic users? How does that work?”
There was a sigh, “Are you sure you are alright? I don’t know if your body will be able to take that level of intense cold again. You haven’t eaten and—”
“I’m okay.” Dulce interrupted. “Yesterday, I realized that something was wrong. Ever since the incident, I have been acting increasingly less like myself. It was small things at first, but by the time you found me, I was… really not myself any more. If they were really managing to influence me, I think that I can believe it. But how would they be able to do that remotely? How can they influence me if I wasn’t around anyone for a year?”
“The powder you used on Ignacio and that you tried to use on me, it was also poisoned. Don’t worry,” Draven immediately held her down before she could rise and panic. “It only works on magic users, not shifters. Ignacio made it home just fine, although I think that you are going to have to write to him so that he calms down.”
“Is he really angry?” Dulce felt guilty, but knew she deserved it.
“He is more worried than anything. Anger will probably come later, but he won’t move on with anything until he has proof that you are alright.” The way he said it sounded almost like Draven knew Ignacio personally.
A few things started to click in her mind. “You said that you don’t remember your family.”
“I never knew them.”
“You don’t act like a champion. Almost everything about you is very… atypical for the way they interact with seers.”
“Yes, that is certainly true.”
“Have you ever worked with champions?”
There was a pause. “Rarely. They only recently started to listen. The only champion that I trust is Maverick, and I dare say I am the only champion he trusts.”
“I’ve heard of Maverick. He is rather spirited and reckless.”
A derisive laugh startled her. “I have to say that is a very apt way of describing him. How do you think he got his name?”
“But you just said you trust him.”
“When it comes to the important things, I would trust him with my life, and he knows that he can put his life in my hands.”
“You would die for him?”
“I would never seek death to save him. We were taught not to throw our lives away. That’s probably why I have worked so closely with Anders so much over the recent years.”
“That weird guardian? I thought he usually went into Unwashed territory alone.”
“Only about 50 percent of the time. He isn’t interested in throwing his life away, which is why he is even older than me. When he is afraid that he can’t succeed alone, or thinks that he may be too late, he asks for my help. Although that has been changing, and I fear the loss of his sister is adversely affecting his judgment. Like you, he blamed himself for someone else’s death, and just like with you, I keep telling him that it was not his fault. You both tend to overestimate your influence on others.”
“Hey!” Dulce felt insulted by the way he said it, then she realized that he was probably smiling because there was a hint of teasing in Draven’s voice.
“Then stop blaming yourself and let the fault fall with those with whom it belongs. He needs to realize that her fate was not his fault, just as you need to come to terms with the fact that Darinon’s death was not your fault. You aren’t one of the gods—you can’t even do typical healing magic. You don't get to go claiming that you were responsible for someone else’s life.”
“Now you are just being mean.”
“I am being blunt and putting it in a way that is designed to make you think about it from a different angle. You don’t have to accept it, but you will have a hard time looking at your own history from the same angle. Don’t worry. It isn’t the only truth I will make you face either.” Dulce was then startled as his arm tightened around her. “I won’t unleash all of it at once, though, so don’t worry. You deserve compassion more than anyone I have ever met, and I think even I will be able to exercise it, even though compassion goes against my teachings and nature.”
“Then how do your instructions guide you? Because I know champions and seers fight side-by-side, ready to die for each other.”
“Yes, and that is quite foolish for a species that is still at risk of going extinct.”
“I think I remember the first time I met you.”
“Really?” There was a hint of emotion to this, whether
curiosity or dread, she wasn’t quite sure.
Dulce hazarded, “You moved unbelievably fast. I have only seen that kind of speed once before.”
“Yes, I know.”
“The leader was quite shocked, and he died yelling about an assassin. Then you stepped forward.”
“Your memory of the event seems to have returned.”
Dulce laughed a little. “Is that disappointment in your voice?”
“If it is, then I apologize.”
“He wasn’t entirely wrong, was he? To think that you were an assassin, I mean.”
“I can assure you that my other form is jaguar, not panther.”
“That isn’t what I meant. You already admitted to knowing Orion, and it seems very likely that you know Ignacio. From the way you talk about him.” A thought struck her, “Wait, did he know you were there? Was that why he appeared to talk to me? Were you the source he mentioned?”
“I was just as surprised that he emerged to talk to you as he was when he found out that I had been watching you for a while.”
“He didn’t notice you?”
She felt a shrug behind her, “I can’t help it that I am better at sticking to the shadows than he is.”
“Draven?”
“Yes?” There was something like annoyance in his voice, but from the way he tensed, she knew that he was apprehensive about what she was about to ask. She decided to change the topic a little.
“Are you uncomfortable talking about yourself? If so, we can focus on what you want me to know.”
“I am very uncomfortable talking about myself because the people I deal with either already know or don’t live long enough to find out.”
“Then is it alright if I ask you a few more personal questions? You can tell me if not.”
“No,” his voice was soft, “you deserve to know as much about me as I know about you. If you are going to trust me, I cannot keep hiding things from you.”
“Who was your mentor?”
“Is.”
“What?”
“Is. He is my mentor, and probably will still be around when I am long dead.”