Such a Daring Endeavor (25 page)

Talon sinks with her, holding her to his chest and rocking with her. His eyes travel to meet mine, questions flourishing in them.
What happened?

Solomus and Shasa appear in the door, and the old man hobbles to his granddaughter. I hug the cards tighter against my chest.

“What did you do now?” Shasa curls her lip in my direction.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter to no one in particular, confusion still rattling through me. I asked too many questions. I pushed her too far.

All eyes stray to me and everything becomes suddenly clear. Talon, Shasa, Solomus, and Jomeini, they all belong together in some group that I was never a part of. I don’t belong here. I leave the room, eyes burning with unshed tears.

J
omeini isn’t sure if she should move. Talon has been holding her for minutes, maybe hours, maybe never. Maybe this is all in her head. It wouldn’t be the first time. The man holding her in her fantasies was always Miles though, not Talon.

She pictures it’s Miles now. Never having been held by him before, her imagination has to do quite a lot of work to make it real. Miles Odis, her neighbor, her friend, the boy she lived across the street from in Valadir before she was taken.

She closes her eyes and gives in to the illusion. Her mind turns hazy. It’s been doing that a lot lately, since Shasa left. Since she had that vision.

Ambry seemed to accept everything she said about those cards. That’s good, at least. It was hard to hand them over. She held onto them for so long—she supposes that’s what caused her to snap.

Talon peels her away from his chest. “How are you?”

“You know, you’re the first person to ask me that and really care about the answer.”

That’s not entirely true. Ambry sounded like she cared. And Shasa. But her grandfather…a dry sob rips from her throat. In this case, “everyone” just means Solomus Straylark.

Brimstone, why can’t she just go back to normal? She wasn’t always like this, this…fragmented. This needy. The plants bend toward her, offering their leaves in solace, but she isn’t sure that’s real either.

“I’m breaking apart at the seams,” Jomeini says, her voice cracking. “The vision, it’s all anyone wants to talk about, but no one seems to care about the effects that what I See have on me.”

“I’m sorry,” Talon says, concern etched on his forehead.

“I can’t blame Ambry for wanting to know more. I did give her the cards, after all. It’s only natural for her to ask questions. I just…I can’t handle questions, I guess.”

She hugs her bag, hoping Talon won’t figure it out, that there are cards in here for him as well. It’s not the time. And if it was, she’s not sure she can handle giving them all away at once.

“I had no idea.”

“Not many do. Craven—” Her voice breaks, shattering off another frail piece of her. She folds herself in, hugging her knees and cradling into Talon’s arms. They’re the only thing keeping her from completely splitting apart right now.

“He didn’t get that I’m a person too, behind it all.”

“Ambry’s not like that,” Talon says. “I don’t know what happened a few minutes ago, but I know her. She’s kind, Jo. She’s a good person. She won’t expect anything more than what you can give her.”

Jomeini nods into his chest. “The angels must be ruthless, to curse just one wizard with this. It’s supposed to be for the good of the races, but at what cost? What if I’m not helping anyone, Talon? What happens when I have no more answers to give, will anyone care what will happen to me?”

Even Baba won’t care—he’s too preoccupied with his study of history, of Ambry and who she is. That’s why he’s been scouring over that book since he got it. Jomeini knows he thinks she has something to do with the Firsts. Light, Ambry should never have shown him that teardrop. And healing Shasa only propelled his adamant search that much more. It should not have been possible. Only a wizard can restore life, and it’s clear Ambry is not a wizard.

Jomeini sniffs. “Look how much trouble my tears have already caused.”

Talon strokes her hair. “It seems like the angels have a way of twisting what should be, and ripping us away from where we think we belong,” he says. “But if there’s anything I learned with Tyrus, it’s that no matter what fate deals out to us, we still have a choice.”

“Easy for you to say,” she says. “Visions don’t invade your mind at their whim and make you a target for anyone and everyone.”

“No, but I was still wanted and used for what I could do. It was hard, Jo. See this?” She withdraws as he pulls at the strap of his gloves and removes one from his hand. Scars traipse along his skin with no rhyme or reason. Just marking him the warrior he is. And the purple—Jomeini remembers the day he showed up wearing those gloves. She had no idea this was why.

“This was the cost of what I had to go through, to finally realize I had that choice. Looks to me like you’ve already paid your price. It’s time to decide what you really want in your life and let the rest of it go.” He gives a small smile, pats her hand and lifts her from his lap.

Jomeini ambles back to the nearest elevated plant box. Baltine Poinsettias dot the square surface, enclosed in cozy patches of dirt. Their white fronds star out into happy buds, drawing a hollow space in her sternum.

She loved plants. This was what she wanted to do, to cultivate, to find cures and oversee greenhouses, to spend her days smelling the freshly clean dirt, helping things grow and become more than what they started as. She remembers first learning bleakfire, how the leaves withered and singed under her touch once the fire had taken residence in her fingers.

Jomeini stretches a finger toward a white frond now, stopping when her tip is mere fragments away.

“I ruin everything I touch,” she whispers soundlessly, despair sinking in despite Talon’s words.

He pauses near the door. “You okay here? I’ve got to get back upstairs.”

Not looking at him, she bobs her head in what she hopes is a convincing nod. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

The words leave her feeling emptier than ever.

I
clean up in the bathroom, the heat of the shower washing away more than just the dungeon’s grime. It takes this tension with it, sending it down the drain with the rest of the dirt. I don’t think. I don’t worry. I just let the water skim over me. Ayso left a set of clothes on the toilet for me when I finally emerge, and I slip into the clean pants and shirt gratefully, inhaling the smell of lavender.

“You can sleep in here,” she says, guiding me to one of the back rooms. It’s small, no bigger than a closet, really, with a single cot. A cushionless bed has never looked so inviting.

“Thanks, Ayso,” I tell her without looking at her. My feet make their way on their own, and I sink down. She kills the lights and closes the door, leaving me in silence.

***

The dream creeps in as most dreams do, without my knowledge or control.

Towering trees surround me, their lower branches missing and replaced by scratch marks from some animal’s claws. A deer bows her head to nibble on some grass. Something flutters beneath my sternum, and I turn.

Talon steps out from the trees, walking straight through the deer as though she were a ghost. For a moment I forget I’m dreaming. Maybe it’s from the recent argument with Shasa, or the way our eyes connect, reminding me that we can be nothing more than a gaze to each other.

And yet.

“Do you feel this?” he asks, skimming a fingertip up my arm.

My lids flutter. “Yes.”

He takes my hand and places it over his chest. “And this?”

His heart thrums a steady promise to my hand.

“And this?” He tips my chin up toward his.

And then in a flash it’s Shasa’s arm he’s trailing, Shasa’s hand to his chest. Shasa’s chin he guides upward. His gaze flicks to me for the smallest moment to where I watch from a nearby tree.
This isn’t real. It’s just a dream.

“And this?” he asks before lowering his mouth to hers.

My heart is a trapped bird in my chest, only when I step back I find myself trapped within my own chest, watching him with her, pounding to break free. Suddenly Talon’s face looms close-up, and harsh as ever, he snarls. “Why?” in a low hiss.

Light floods my eyes, and though they’re still closed, I blink. There’s no sign of Talon and Shasa. I bend at the knees, waiting for the queasy sensation from such a sudden change in my stomach to fade.

A clearing spreads before me now. A meadow, of sorts, blanketed by grass against a backdrop of trees. But instead of a group of creatures seated in chairs and ready to bestow me with a coveted teardrop that enhances my magic, only one person stands across those familiar trees. Her long hair sweeps the grass beneath her feet.

“Nattie?” I say, befuddled.

“Hello, Ambry.”

“What are you doing here?”

She smiles, offering a hand to either side of her. “I’m always here. This is my forest. I’ve summoned
you
here.”

I glance around. The last time I was here, this forest collapsed around me. But the meadow is open and hushed, the trees standing unawares along the edge of the open space just the way trees should do. “Am I still dreaming?”

“In a sense. Our minds are still active, even in sleep. I pulled you from your dream into this one.”

“You pulled me from one dream to another?” A million questions thunder through. “But…”

Nattie’s dress and long hair brush the grass behind her as she makes her way toward me. “Let me get right to it. I have a few messages for you, Ambry. We didn’t give you that talisman for it to be left behind. Never take it off, child.”

The teardrop? “I did that to protect it,” I say, wondering how much of my actions she can see. Does she watch me from…wherever she is?

Nattie doesn’t argue. “My second message regards Jomeini’s cards. They are the most precious thing to you, even if you can’t see it.”

“You saw that?” I glance behind me, certain we’re being watched. But the meadow is empty. A few flowers dance in a breeze I don’t feel.

She smiles, taking me back to the sight of her when I thought she was nothing more than a kooky old woman cutting potatoes to prepare a soup for Talon and me. Wrinkles cinch at the corners of her eyes, which gleam with kindness.

“Each card is a key to unlocking the part of you needed most. You must guard them. Keep them with you at all times. If those cards were to fall into the wrong hands…”

“I don’t know what they mean,” I tell her, my disappointment from earlier bubbling to the surface. “They’re like pretty sketches but nothing more. I still have no clue what I’m supposed to do.”

“Part of the bargain we made with the angels was not to interfere. They allowed me that archway. I was meant to guard it until you came along.”

“Why not do more? Jomeini told me what she Saw, but I still don’t understand how it connects. She said I wasn’t at the battle. If I’m not at the battle, how am I supposed to stop Tyrus and break the spell?”

“What else did she tell you? About your part in this?”

I backtrack, attempting to remember the conversation before I pushed her too far. “She said I was healing the ground. With flower petals. Nattie, what do my tears have to do with flower petals?”

“Think through everything she told you, Ambry. Why would the ground cry out for penance? What heals and is most needed by the body?”

I shake my head. “I’ve never been good at riddles.”

“Though every creature is different, there is one thing we cannot live without,” Nattie hints.

“Water,” I say after a few moments. “All living things need water to survive. Water is used to clean wounds, water is…Nattie, are you saying I’ll need water to do whatever it is Jomeini Saw me do?

Nattie smiles. “Perhaps,” she says.

“Water has something to do with my quest? With the tears?”

Her eyes glisten. “It does, child. There is a reason you were chosen, Miss Csille. Your land is torn even now. Your people are captives; the races are more divided than they’ve ever been. What they need is unity.”

“You sound like Tyrus.”

She dusts her hands. “Yes, but I mean it by its actual definition. And that unity will come through you.”

Sweat drips down my shoulder blades. I can’t shake this tightness that builds the more she speaks.