Mother hovered over me for most of the afternoon, but I didn’t complain. She’d spent more time with me in the last twenty-four hours than my entire life. Plus, her constant chatter and fussing helped distract me—without all the questions Zuhra would have surely asked. I was terrified that whatever had happened in the garden might occur again—and the last thing I wanted was another glimpse into Barloc’s life.
Thankfully, after the awful meeting with all the Paladin, Mother seemed afraid to leave my side, and for once in my life, I didn’t want her to.
Adelric—Father—had stayed for a bit, but after a few minutes, he’d apologized that he was needed elsewhere and hesitantly came over to give me a hug. I had, even more hesitantly, hugged him back—briefly. Then he’d gone to Mother to kiss her (something that had taken me by complete surprise, though I supposed it shouldn’t have) and left.
He hadn’t returned yet.
Sami had outdone herself with breakfast, but I’d barely been able to eat a thing, so Mother kept going to get me plates of food every hour or so. I couldn’t bring myself to do much more than pick at them.
All the while Sharmaine’s words echoed over and over: There’s no way to undo what he’s done.
Not because of what she’d said—but because of the look on the other general’s face when she’d said it. The dark-haired, dark-skinned woman named Sachiel. I needed to speak to her—alone. I didn’t know how to make it happen … yet. But I had to figure it out. And soon, if they really did decide to split up or all leave in search of Barloc’s library.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to go check and see if there’s any soup left?” Mother fussed with the blanket she’d tucked around my legs where I sat on the couch, trying to avoid looking out the window at the hedge Father had healed last night. I knew he’d been trying to show me that I, too, could heal. All it had done was prove how helpless I was—how useless.
But the only way to talk to Sachiel was to force myself to stop hiding in here with Mother.
“Actually, some soup would be nice,” I said. “And maybe a bath? If it’s not too much trouble.”
“Of course! I should have thought of that. A nice, hot bath always helps me feel bet—relaxed,” she corrected herself. Though she was obviously staying by my side because she was concerned, Mother seemed terrified to admit something was wrong with me out loud. She skirted the subject, refusing to talk about what had happened with Barloc, or the loss of my power, or the fact that I hadn’t slept last night—something I was certain she and Father had discussed.
“I’ll meet you in my room, then?”
“Yes,” she agreed, jumping to her feet. “I’ll be there as quickly as possible.”
This new version of my mother was so strange, so foreign—but very welcome. My memories of her during all the years when the roar consumed me were of asking Zuhra where Mother was—why she wasn’t with us, why she didn’t want to be with me.
Why she avoided me.
Part of me wondered if she was only comfortable with me now because my power was gone, but I tried to silence that voice in my head, reminding myself that Mother had opened up to me even before Barloc ripped the Paladin half of me away.
Once Mother was gone, I made myself stand, even though I was so exhausted, I wondered if perhaps I could nap. The panic from last night had subsided, and I longed for the release of sleep.
But I needed answers more.
Knowing my time was short, I hurried out the door. Rather than going to my room, I forced my feet to carry me toward the courtyard, where I knew Sachiel would be. I’d caught a glimpse of her on the back of her gryphon, flying over the hedge to the citadel, a moment before I’d asked Mother to draw me a bath.
I caught up to her as she was leading her gryphon to the stables. The massive beast still made me nervous, with its piercing hawk eyes, lion’s hindquarters and tail, and razor-sharp talons. But I swallowed my fear and called out, “Sachiel!”
The older woman startled and turned. When she saw me, her eyebrows lifted. All the Paladin’s glowing blue eyes were stunning, but hers were even more brilliant than the others, such a stark contrast to her dark skin and hair. “Did you need something?”
I forced myself to ignore the impatience in her voice and moved a little closer to her, though I made sure to still give the gryphon a wide berth. “Yes, actually. I need you to tell me how I can get my power back.”
Sachiel’s face was like a mask, except for a slight narrowing of her eyes. She reached up with one arm to wipe a drip of sweat off the bald side of her scalp, where she’d shaved her hair. The long braid down the center of her head swung with the movement. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said at last, turning away and continuing toward the stables.
“I saw you in the room earlier—when Sharmaine said there’s nothing I can do. You didn’t agree with her. I could tell.” I followed, though my heart beat faster and my stomach had twisted itself up into a tangled morass of fading hope. I couldn’t have been wrong—she had to know something. It was my only chance.
“Listen.” Sachiel stopped once more and faced me. “I am so sorry for what happened to you. Truly, I am. I can’t even imagine how terrible it would be.” She paused but then with a slight shake of her head, continued, “But there is nothing you can do without the jakla, and he’s missing. It’s a miracle you’re still alive. Try to focus on that. Though I know it is probably very difficult to believe that living without your power is a blessing, it’s better than the alternative.”
A dry breeze swept across the courtyard, ruffling the gryphon’s feathers and blowing dust into my face. I blinked a few times to clear my vision. “Wait—what do you mean without the jakla? Does that mean if we had Barloc, there is something I could do?”
Sachiel crossed her arms, a tendon flexing in her biceps, visible beneath the material of her tight blouse. She wore a fitted leather vest and pants, with boots to her knees. She was formidable and strong and nothing like any other woman I’d ever known or read about. And though that wasn’t saying much, with the secluded life I’d had in the citadel, somehow I knew that even if I had met hundreds of women in my life, she still would have been completely unique. As far as I knew, she didn’t have a husband, no children, no reason to have any compassion for me. She was a general in the Paladin world, and I was just one pathetic girl, keeping her from her duties, or perhaps some well-deserved rest.
But she had an answer for me, I knew it. I had to convince her to share it with me.
“Please,” I said. “You might think you know what it would be like to have your power ripped from you, but unless you’ve experienced it, there’s no way you could.” My hands began to shake at the audacity of questioning her and I clasped them together in front of me to hide it. “You say it’s a miracle I’m alive … and you’re right. It is a miracle. But … if I can’t get my power back, I’m … I’m not sure I want to be alive.” The trembling in my hands spread to my whole body as I spoke words I hadn’t dared tell a living soul, not even Zuhra. The tightness in my chest returned, the gaping hole in me seemed to widen, as if it enjoyed hearing me admit the truth. “I might be alive, but there’s this … this emptiness in me where the power used to be. And it’s awful. A dark hole, so deep, so—” I choked on a rising sob and broke off. I tried to hold the tears back, but they were relentless, a tidal wave of anguish, and all I could do was repeat one word: “Please.”
The skin of Sachiel’s knuckles stretched tight; her fingers dug into her arms. She wavered—I felt her uncertainty. But then she shook her head. “I’m so sorry, Inara. Truly, I am. But Sharmaine was right. There’s nothing you can do.”
She spun on her heel, clucked at her gryphon, and disappeared with it into the stables, leaving me standing in the courtyard, dust from the summer wind sticking to the wetness on my cheeks.
Rather than go to my room and face my mother, I slowly walked through the orchard toward my gardens. I didn’t know why I thought admitting the truth to Sachiel—a veritable stranger—would have swayed her into telling me how to get my power back. It had been a mistake. She would surely tell the others, and who knew how they’d react when they found out.
The only clue she’d given me was that getting my power back had something to do with needing Barloc. And he’d disappeared.
I ignored the frightening glimmer of memory of him in a forest, blasting a tree with his new power—my power. The forest was massive, spreading across most of Vamala. It was impossible to know where he was from that one, tiny glimpse.
“Inara?”
The hesitant question startled me and I spun to see Halvor standing across the courtyard, his hands shoved into his pockets.
“Are you all right?”
I thought about lying to him, trying to summon a smile and pretending. But I was exhausted and the wound inside me felt larger than ever, a pulsing darkness within that was growing stronger. I shook my head, my vision blurring yet again.
He crossed to where I stood, his long legs eating up the distance between us quickly. “I’m so sorry,” he said and wrapped his arms around me. I sank into his embrace, pressing my face against his chest. I thought of what Zuhra had told me, of her racing heart and burning skin. The only reason my heart beat faster was my fear of Barloc—and Halvor’s touch actually made it slow once more. He held me silently, calming me with every stroke of my hair as I sobbed, all the horror and pain and sorrow crashing through me, rending loose in a torrent of tears that left me weak and trembling.
Could love be made of comfort and calming, rather than need and heat?
When the storm finally passed, Halvor eased back, enough to look down at my face, keeping his arms around me. “I wish there was something I could do,” he said quietly. I knew he held himself responsible for what had happened—he’d funded his uncle’s expedition here, he had brought him into the citadel. But he hadn’t known.
I stared up at him, into his warm, honey-brown eyes. He lifted a hand and gently wiped my cheeks, first one side, then the other. He couldn’t take away my pain; he couldn’t give me back what his uncle had stolen. But he could hold me. He could help push back the darkness with his touch, with the light in his eyes. Different from the glowing blue-fire of the Paladin, but no less remarkable. When he looked at me the way he was right then, it didn’t make my heart race, but it made the widening maw of the hole inside me shrink a little bit, which was its own kind of power.
“Inara,” he murmured, his voice low, his eyes searching mine. “I don’t want to take advantage of you when you’re exhausted and suffering so deeply.”
Somehow, little experience as I had with people in general, and boys in particular, I knew he wanted to kiss me. That was what he meant. And … I wanted him to. I wanted to know what it felt like, I wanted to see just how much power he had to drive away the hopelessness within me. I wanted to feel fire in my veins again—even if it was from him, not my power.
“At least we know you won’t get hurt this time.” I tried to cover my nervousness, though the words caused a pang in my chest.
Halvor didn’t laugh. Instead, he cupped my head with the hand that still lingered on my cheek. He swallowed, his gaze dropping to my mouth. But still, he waited.
“I want you to,” I whispered, summoning any lingering courage I still possessed after my disastrous attempt to convince Sachiel to help me. “Please.”
Halvor’s arm tightened around me, and then he was leaning forward. The distance between us closed, until I was pressed against him, watching as his head dipped toward mine. And then, finally, his lips touched mine. Soft, hesitant, and oh so sweet. Warmth unfurled in my chest, chasing away a little bit of the empty darkness inside. It wasn’t what Zuhra felt for Raidyn, but I wasn’t Zuhra.
I wrapped my arms around him, curving my body into his. His lips moved on mine, a slow give and take that I imitated. Halvor’s kiss was made of its own kind of light; it was warmth, and it was powerful enough to drive the darkness away. It was the first time I realized, perhaps, even if I never got my Paladin power back, there was a reason to want to be here after all.
“Inara!”
The sound of my mother’s voice jarred me back to reality, and we sprang apart. Halvor’s shoulders curved downward, like a dog expecting to be scolded. I’d seen a picture of one once, tail tucked between its legs and ears drooping, in a book Zuhra used to read to me when I was younger and the roar receded long enough, usually in the winter. I reached out and took his hand in mine, holding it tightly.
“Thank you,” I said.
“For what?”
“You said you wished you could help me—well, you did. So, thank you.”
A small, hesitant smile curved his lips. “That helped?”
“More than you know,” I assured him.
His smile grew wider. “Me too,” he said softly. “More than you know.”
I smiled back.
“Inara!” Mother’s voice was closer now.
“I better go.”
He nodded, but squeezed my hand before releasing it.
As I hurried back the way I’d come, the memory of Halvor’s kiss burned brightly in my chest, holding the darkness at bay—at least for now.