I woke up slowly, clawing my way out of the sucking exhaustion that filled my mind and body. Part of me wished to stay under longer, but the murmur of concerned voices began to pierce the muffled silence of oblivion, dragging me toward them.
I was lying down, my body cushioned by something soft … Was I on a bed? It took a massive effort to peel my eyes open; when I finally succeeded, it was to a room full of worried faces. Mother and Father, Sami in the corner, and Raidyn beside me, holding my hand.
“Zuhra,” he breathed when he saw my eyes open, “you’re awake.”
“Praise the Great God,” Sami murmured.
My tongue was strangely thick and heavy against my teeth. When I tried to speak, it was like talking through a mouthful of sand. “Is Inara…”
“She’s fine. She’s sleeping,” Mother assured me.
“You gave us quite the scare, however.” Father stepped forward to take my other hand in his.
“Why?”
Raidyn answered this time, his hand tightening on mine. “You’ve been unconscious for hours.”
“Hours?” I repeated weakly. “What happened?”
My father and Raidyn exchanged a weighted glance, then Father turned to me. “I think it would be better to talk about it in the morning, when you’ve had more time to recover.”
“I’m fine.” I struggled to push myself to a sitting position to prove my point. “Tell me what’s going on,” I insisted, even though my arms shook and both Raidyn and my father had to pull the hands they held to help me.
Still, no one responded.
“If she wishes for answers, she deserves to know,” Sami spoke up from the corner where she stood, arms crossed over her belly. “She certainly earned the right.”
“It’s not about earning it or not.” Father couldn’t quite keep the tightness from his voice. “She’s barely woken up—and I’ve never seen a Paladin stay under for so long after a healing before.”
Before anyone else could say something, I squeezed both of their hands. “Please,” I whispered. “I need to know what’s happening.”
After a deep sigh, Father relented with a nod.
Raidyn exhaled slowly. “You know that no one has ever survived what Barloc did to your sister before, right?”
“Yes.”
“When you and I healed her, nothing like that had ever been done before, either. It took the combined power of an enhancer and my healing to do it.”
“I know that.”
Raidyn’s eyes were still dull from the expenditure on his power. “It didn’t last. For some reason, the healing … it reversed. If we hadn’t heard her cry out…”
I swallowed thickly, my mouth drier than ever. “She would have died?”
He nodded grimly.
If he hadn’t been waiting for me outside her room, if we hadn’t been kissing … I would have lost my sister. As if he’d read my thoughts, his gaze dropped to my lips briefly, but instead of any heat, my body went cold, my stomach clenched as if I’d been punched. “But she’s fine—right? You said she’s sleeping!”
“Yes—she’s fine … for now. We healed her again,” Raidyn assured me. “But … I don’t know how long it will last.”
His dismay and fear amplified my own. “Why won’t it last? Why didn’t it last the first time?”
“When we healed her, we were patching together a hole where her power used to be. And for some reason, that hole broke open again—negating our healing.” He flushed, a stab of guilt darkening his emotions. Why would he feel guilty? “I did more this time, hoping it would last longer, but while it depleted me, it was almost too much for you. I had no idea … or I never…” He trailed off, his voice strained. His fingers tightened over mine. I remembered feeling like the “stitches” we’d created were coming undone, and that this healing took longer than the last time—that I’d barely been able to hold on to finish the job. I’d been right after all. “Because we did so much more, it should hold longer. But … I’m afraid we’re going to have to keep doing this, over and over.”
The reality of his words took a moment to sink in. “For the rest of her life?” I glanced at my father, who still clung to my other hand. He grimaced in confirmation. “You mean … if the healing reverses when we’re not there, she’ll … she’ll…”
“I’m so sorry.” Raidyn looked at our clasped hands, his powerful shoulders caving forward.
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know, Zuhra. I really don’t know.”
It was a testament to how truly exhausted the healing had left me that I managed to sleep for a couple more hours, despite the awful truth that Raidyn had admitted to me before everyone left to try to get some more rest before morning came. Mercifully, my dreams were made of heat and lips touching and hands clutching—wonderful dreams, not the nightmares I was accustomed to.
But the moment the sun crested the eastern horizon, I snapped awake. As much as I wanted to continue to relive the heart-stopping kiss with Raidyn, my mind instantly whirred into action, running through what he’d said and what had happened with Inara, over and over. My stomach twisted, a den of writhing snakes. I had to go see her—to make certain for myself she was healed. They wouldn’t lie to me, would they? To convince me to rest?
I pushed off my sheets and stood. The stones were cold beneath my bare feet, chilled by the damp night and the lingering humidity from the storm that had blown over sometime while I slept. After quickly switching into clean clothes—a tunic, leggings, and the boots Sharmaine had given me in Soluselis—and braiding my hair back, I hurried to Inara’s room next to mine. I didn’t knock, not wanting to wake her if she was sleeping; instead, I slowly slipped the door open, praying for it to remain quiet. In a stroke of sheer luck, the citadel complied for once; the door swung open silently.
When I saw Inara lying in her bed, dusky eyelashes resting on her cheeks, one hand on the pillow beside her, partially open, I exhaled in relief. Her chest rose and fell, gently moving the age-yellowed sheet pulled up to her shoulders. She looked so peaceful … and so young. Too young to have been forced to endure all that she had—and that she would continue to suffer if Raidyn and I couldn’t figure out how to heal her permanently.
Something he didn’t seem to think was possible.
My heart thumped painfully in my chest, heavy with the weight of her uncertain future. After thinking I’d lost her so many times already, I couldn’t bear the thought that what we’d done—what we could continue to try to do—might eventually not be enough.
The supple leather of my boots made no sound as I moved to the chair still next to her bed and sat. Please let her live. Please … help us find a way to keep her alive.
Breakfast was a solemn gathering with everyone at the citadel, except for Ivan and Lorina, who had taken their gryphons out for exercise and to watch for any signs of Barloc.
I sat beside Inara, holding her hand in mine. Our twin fears and worries flowed between us, the sanaulus even stronger after the second, more intense, healing.
“We can’t take Raidyn and Zuhra away from Inara—if this happens again, they both have to be near her to save her life,” my father said, running a weary hand over his face. Between the loss of his father, the attack on Inara, his worry for his mother, the shifts during the night, and everything else that had happened, he’d seemed to age right before my eyes.
“There is no other gift here that he would want more—besides Loukas’s,” Sachiel responded. “And we’ve already agreed that his must be a surprise. We have to use her to set the trap or there’s no guarantee it’ll work.”
Mother turned cold eyes on the other woman. “And how are they even going to make sure he hears about her ability and knows to come try to find us?”
“He has the power of three Paladin inside him now. Your husband should be able to sense him from miles away.” Sachiel lifted her eyebrows at my father, as if daring him to contradict her. “Track him down, make sure he overhears you talking about Zuhra, and then wait for him to come. He will. I guarantee he won’t be able to resist the chance to steal the power to enhance the abilities he already has.”
“I can’t take them away from Inara—not if there’s a chance she’ll die while we’re gone.” Father pushed the sliced strawberries on his plate around with his fork, not taking a bite of anything.
“Then take her with you!” Sachiel cried out. “But if we don’t do something—and soon—he is going to either come back here and who knows how many of us will die … or he’ll start attacking the humans!”
Inara stiffened, her fingers tightening on mine.
“Would one of you be willing to carry my daughter with you? I know that is asking a lot, but I can’t … I can’t bear to lose another member of my family.” Father’s voice broke, but he managed to wrestle his emotions into check and looked to Raidyn, Loukas, and Sharmaine—standing together near the windows.
Loukas and Sharmaine exchanged a glance that was difficult to read, but I felt Raidyn’s dismay even from where I sat across the massive table from them.
It took me off guard when Loukas nodded. “I will, sir. I will take your daughter, if that is your wish.”
For the first time since I’d woken that morning, the heaviness in my chest lifted slightly.
Sachiel shook her head, dark braid swinging, her lip curled with what looked like disgust, but she remained silent.
“What about me? It’s my uncle that did all of this,” Halvor spoke up, staring at Inara as he did. He sat on the other side of her, holding her other hand. When he’d found out what happened during the night while he’d been sleeping, he had gone pale and hadn’t recovered his normal color yet—nor had he left her side. “I should be there when you … when he … when it ends.”
“Absolutely not,” Sachiel bit out, before anyone else could respond. “Do you not realize what it will do to the gryphons to have all these extra bodies on them? It’s ridiculous to bring Cinnia and Inara. Anyone not integral to the plan should stay here. Raidyn said the healing should last longer—trust that he’s right. Go out there, finish this, and then come back as fast as you can.”
Father sighed again and sat down heavily in the chair closest to where he stood. “I know this is not ideal. I know no matter what we do, there is potential for problems, for things going wrong. But I can’t … I can’t split my family up again, Sach. I can’t. So please, don’t ask me to. Even if it means our gryphons will be tired, even if it means the jakla will have more targets. I don’t know what else to do.”
Sachiel glanced at the trio standing together, watching her, then at me and Inara, then back to my parents. Finally she exhaled and ran her hands along the shaved sides of her head. “I’m sorry, Adelric. It’s just such a risk. I understand why you don’t want to be separated again. I … I wasn’t prepared for all of this to happen.” She gestured at the citadel. “To be trapped here.”
“I don’t think any of us were prepared for any of this,” my father replied. “Nothing went how we expected.” He glanced toward the window where the gravesite for Grandfather was visible below, across the courtyard.
“If this is what you think is best, then take your family with you. I will stay here with my battalion members and do our best to protect the gateway, should he get past you.”
“I don’t know if it’s what is best, but it is what I must do.” He turned to the three Paladin standing together. “Thank you for being willing to do this for me.”
“And what about me?” Halvor asked again. “You can’t leave me here. Please.”
“That’s up to Sharmaine.” Father looked to her. “I won’t force anyone to do something they’re uncomfortable with.”
There was a long pause. “Yes, sir,” she finally agreed. “If that’s what you wish, I will take him.”
“Thank you. I know I’m asking a lot of you—and your gryphons.”
“How soon will you be leaving?” Sami asked, eyes glistening. Her quiet question struck a shard of regret through my chest. Of course she couldn’t come … she had no choice except to be left behind in a citadel full of strangers—unless she returned to Gateskeep after all of these years.
“The sooner the better,” my father announced. “He has a head start on us right now, but with our gryphons, even weighed down, we will easily be able to catch up. And Sachiel is right—with that much power emanating from him, we should be able to sense him if we get close enough.”
“If you can find him,” Melia muttered, “may you have better luck than we did.”
“Why not just let him go?” Cyrus suddenly burst out. “There are enough of us here—let’s reopen the gateway and go home. Leave him here to rot.”
“Cyrus!” Sachiel’s eyes widened. “I didn’t think you felt that way.”
“He’s right.” Melia nodded at her husband. “Haven’t we lost enough protecting these unthankful humans? Let the jakla do what he will.”
I expected Sachiel to get mad at them, or at least scold them, but something akin to sorrow crossed her face as she crouched beside the grieving couple. “I know you have both endured far more than your fair share of sorrow, even before he murdered your gryphons and your friends. But I also know this isn’t how you truly feel. With time, I think you would come to regret the choice to go back home, allowing him to murder innocent people, just as he took the lives of your innocent mounts.”
“The humans figured out how to kill plenty of us last time. Let them deal with him. They’ll stop him eventually.”
“They’ve never faced anything like this before—not even the Five. He is unimaginably powerful now. Even if they did somehow succeed in stopping him, how many will die before then?” Sachiel reached out and gently rested her hand on top of theirs. I didn’t know what to make of this side of her. “Even one more innocent life lost is too much. We took an oath to protect the lives of all those around us.”
Melia and Cyrus shared a look, and then Melia shot a surreptitious glare at Loukas. “Can we have this conversation alone—another time?”
A muscle in Loukas’s jaw ticked, but he kept his expression impassive. Did they think he was influencing Sachiel?
“As a jakla, his eyes might not even settle,” Sachiel continued, ignoring their insinuation. “If they don’t, the humans will have no warning of what he is—or what he can do to them. We have to find him and stop him. It’s our duty.” She stood back up. “You two can try to open the gateway on your own if you wish, but I am staying here.”
Silence.
I continued to watch Loukas. As if he could sense my scrutiny, he met my gaze boldly, a challenge in his green-fire eyes.
“Well,” my father said, “we’d best start preparing to go. Let’s meet in the courtyard in an hour.”
Everyone around us stood, but Inara and I remained sitting, holding hands. Raidyn looked like he wished to linger, but my father walked over to him and asked him something, and together they left the room, Loukas and Sharmaine trailing behind.
Once we were alone, Inara’s icy fingers tightened on mine. “I’m scared, ZuZu.”
I looked at my sister, my heart scraping like broken glass against my chest with every beat. I was being taken as live bait for someone “unimaginably powerful,” according to Sachiel.
I am too, I thought. Out loud, I said, “It’s going to be fine. Raidyn and I will be with you—we will heal you as many times as it takes.”
She nodded, but I knew she could feel my fear as clearly as I felt hers.
“I won’t let anything else happen to you, Nara. I promise,” I vowed.
She laid her head on my shoulder, and I reached up to smooth her hair down. “I know you won’t,” she whispered. Her words were as hollow as mine, with our twin terror beating in our separate hearts.