When Ederra said “five minutes or less,” she’d meant it.
She burst into a room not far from the one with the large table, where she rushed to a nightstand, yanked open a drawer, and tossed me a clean white shirt. “Put that on and wipe your face off.” She pointed to a cloth on top of the dresser, next to a wide, low bowl. She bent over it and splashed some water on her face.
I held the buttery-soft shirt, staring down at the brilliant white fibers with awe. I’d never seen a piece of clothing so beautiful. I hadn’t realized before how worn and aged everything we used in the citadel was until I saw the difference, how unbelievably white fabric could be—as white as clouds, as white as fresh snow.
“Inara! Hurry!”
Startled by her vehemence, I quickly stripped off my filthy, blood-stained top, humiliated by the difference in the two pieces of clothing when I held one in each hand. I dropped the used one on the floor so I could put the clean one on. It smelled of sunshine and lemons and slid over my body like water gliding over my skin.
“We might as well just burn this … um…”
I pulled my head through the neck to see her gingerly pick up the soiled shirt with only her pointer finger and thumb and toss it into her dormant hearth. I flushed but hid my embarrassment by busying myself tucking the clean shirt into my equally dirty and used trousers.
“Your face,” Ederra reminded me, as she pinned back the few errant hairs that had managed to escape the bun in her emotional outburst. There was hardly a trace of it left visible; she had transformed herself back as though she’d never cried once in her life, let alone the torrential flood of grief I’d been witness to.
I hurried to the washstand, catching a glimpse of myself in her mirror. Though I’d tried to clean it off, dried blood still coated the edges of my lips and was smeared in streaks over my cheeks, chin, and even my neck. I shuddered at the sight, my stomach heaving. I barely managed to swallow the bile rising up my throat at the memory of Barloc’s blood in my mouth, of the effort it had taken to swallow the few gulps I’d managed to drink before it had all gone so wrong.
And for what? Nothing.
I shivered again as I hurried to dip the cloth in the water and wiped furiously at my skin, wishing I could scrub away my memories along with the dried blood.
How long would it take this time before the chasm cracked wide open, forcing me to need to be healed or else truly die?
“It’s gone, dear.”
It was the gentleness in her voice, the use of the word “dear” that startled me into stillness, to realize I was still scouring my skin though the blood was long gone, my skin red and agitated from the vehemence of my scrubbing.
“Right,” I murmured, crossing the room to toss the stained rag in the fireplace beside my shirt.
Ederra watched without comment.
We were both silent on the short walk back to the room with the table where the council would be meeting, but right before we walked in, she paused and turned to me. “You’re not going to try to convince me to open the gateway for you?”
I shook my head, confused.
“To get back to your sister?” she added.
“I want to go back home to her as soon as I can, but I know that you have to do what is best for everyone right now.” I glanced down at my feet, not wanting her to see the weakness in my eyes. I was afraid if I truly started crying, I wouldn’t be able to stop. Certainly not the way she had.
“Hmm,” was all she said, and with that, she opened the door and strode in to the room, where a handful of other Paladin and Loukas all waited.
I slunk in behind her, not sure if I was welcome or not, but not knowing where else to go. I stood in the corner, hoping to make myself as inconspicuous as possible, but every eye in the room turned to me immediately—except for Loukas’s.
“As you can see,” Ederra said, taking her same seat, “things in Vamala haven’t gone as we’d hoped. This is my other granddaughter, Inara.” And with that, she launched into the entire story we’d told her.
As she spoke, I tried to force myself to focus on her, not to let my mind wander to Vamala and wonder what had happened to Zuhra, my family, and Halvor after we’d disappeared. Would they be able to figure out where we’d gone? Would Halvor and my sister know I was alive—that Loukas and I had both survived? For the first time since we’d gone through that tear into Visimperum, it occurred to me they might assume we were dead—that they would have believed Barloc might have killed us both.
Don’t give up on me, Zuhra. I’m still here.
Halvor … please know I’m still alive.
For now.
The hedge surrounded me on all sides; it had grown, lengthening to hide the citadel from view, trapping me in the gardens I had once tended that were now sun-scorched, brown, and dead.
My family stood across from me, all three of them with arms crossed, scowls on their faces.
Halvor stood beside me. I wanted him to take me in his arms, to kiss away my guilt and pain, but he kept his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers. He didn’t glare at me, but the love I’d once seen when he looked at me was gone, his normally warm brown eyes changed to the color of frozen soil.
“You have to do something, Inara.” Zuhra had never spoken to me in that tone before, harsh as a winter wind.
“You were supposed to save us, not doom us,” Mother added, her lip curled in disgust.
“That jakla exists because of you. Now no one can stop him.” My father’s eyes flashed with burning fury.
“My uncle is gone forever—because of you. If you hadn’t given him your power, none of this would have happened,” Halvor spat. “And now I’ll never get him back.”
I tried to speak, to tell them it wasn’t my fault, to apologize, to beg for their forgiveness, but when I opened my mouth, their accusations, their hatred and spite, filled it and choked the words away.
“Do you know how many have died—because of you?”
The hedge loomed closer, inching forward as they spoke, leaves peeled back, exposing the deadly barbs beneath, like an animal snarling.
I shook my head, tears gathering in my eyes.
I’m sorry, I’m so sorry …
But the words wouldn’t come out. I couldn’t breathe and—
A touch on my shoulder jerked me awake with a stifled gasp. My heart slammed against my ribcage; sweat slipped down my spine. I blinked several times, disoriented and confused. I was sitting on the ground, my knees pulled up to my chest, my head tipped back against a wall.
“You fell asleep,” Loukas whispered. He crouched beside me. “I would have let you keep resting, but it seemed like you were having a nightmare.”
I stared at him, the horrific dream still fresh and painful. Did my family really feel that way? Did Halvor?
“I’ll send out two patrols right away. If he’s still here, we’ll find him.”
Slowly, I remembered where I was—and what was happening. The meeting to decide what to do about Barloc and the threat he posed to the Paladin and human worlds.
“Thank you, Yemaya,” Ederra responded. “If we can’t find him within the next twelve hours, we will implement the contingency plan.”
With a few low murmurs, everyone around the table stood, and within moments, the room had emptied out—all except for Loukas and my grandmother.
“I’m sorry I fell asleep.” I flushed, humiliated that I’d missed such an important meeting—one that had been called because of me. Though I hoped the hatred I’d felt in my dream had been just a projection of my own fears and not reality, the truth remained: Barloc was a jakla now because of me. If it weren’t for my power, he never would have been able to head down this path.
“I should have offered to let you rest. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal.”
“No, I wanted to be—”
A sharp stab of pain suddenly pierced my chest, so intense, it doubled me over.
“Inara? What is it?”
I dimly heard Loukas’s question as I clutched at the clean shirt right over my heart, pushing my fist into my breastbone, trying to drive the pain away. The intensity of it stole my breath; I searched for the little bit of power I’d taken back from Barloc, but it flickered feebly and went out, leaving only the expanding emptiness.
No, no, no.
I fought back, tried to calm my racing heart, to force the fissure cracking through Raidyn and Zuhra’s healing back together, refusing to let it crumble apart. Not here. Not now. I wasn’t sure how long it took before it finally passed, somehow, mercifully holding—for a little longer—leaving me panting and shaken.
I slowly straightened. Loukas and Ederra both watched me, Loukas with eyes hooded and Ederra with thinly veiled apprehension.
“What was that?” I wasn’t sure if she was asking me or Loukas, but thankfully he saved me the effort by answering.
“I believe that was the healing beginning to fail. Again.”
I wasn’t positive—it was there and gone again so fast—but it looked like fear flickered across his face.
Ederra’s brows furrowed. “You said it took Raidyn and Zuhra to heal her—a healer and an enhancer?”
Loukas nodded. “Are there any enhancers here at the castle right now? I’m afraid she’s going to need to be healed again sooner than later.”
Ederra pressed her fingers against her temples. “Yes, Zeph is here. But I’m trying to think of which healer is strong enough to be able to do this with him. If he’s even strong enough to do this—to save her.”
My heart finally slowed, my breathing returned to normal, and the shakiness abated. But I was still unsettled, frightened by the suddenness and severity of the attack. And Ederra’s words turned me cold with alarm.
What if the Paladin here weren’t strong enough to heal me?
How long did I have before whatever Zuhra and Raidyn had done the second time failed completely—and all of it, all the effort to save me, was for nothing?