The citadel groaned, a sound that was at once familiar and foreign after spending more than a week away from what had once been my entire world. The candles on the table guttered when a draft snaked through the room. The fire Sami had tended to before leaving to make supper—the one thing she said she knew how to do to help—burned greedily across from the window where I stood, staring out at the wounded hedge.
“She will be all right,” Raidyn spoke softly from where he stood one step behind me. “With time.” I could feel him—both the warmth of his body just out of reach and the thread of emotions that stretched between us and had only grown stronger since healing Inara together.
Fear, panic, grief, want, exhaustion … a tangled morass that trapped us both.
“Will she?” I didn’t question his knowing where my thoughts were. When I turned to face him the firelight limned him in gold. His eyes, growing ever brighter as the time slowly passed, flashed in the falling darkness of dusk.
“If she has even half the strength you possess, then yes. I’m sure of it.”
His words should have warmed the chill that gripped me, but no amount of kindness could erase the horrific events of the day—because of me—the repercussions of which we were still just beginning to see.
Loukas moaned on the bed, but still didn’t wake.
“This is not your fault.” Raidyn lifted one hand, slow, hesitant. When I didn’t flinch away, he gently brushed my cheekbone with the back of his fingers. I squeezed my eyes shut to hold back sudden tears and leaned into his touch. His hand opened to cup the side of my face.
“Yes, it is,” I whispered, broken. Like my grandfather, like Inara, like the hedge.
His hand dropped away but was quickly replaced by both of his arms coming around me and pulling me into him, cocooning me in his warmth and strength. “Inara is alive because of you. Your parents are reunited because of you.”
And my grandfather is dead … and my grandmother might be dying. And a jakla is loose in Vamala. I didn’t speak any of those crimes out loud, but his arms tightened around me as if I had.
“Your father always said there are only two options with grief and guilt.” His mouth moved near my ear, in my hair. “You can either let them drown you, or let them drive you. It’s your choice.”
I stood there, in the protective circle of his arms, the memory of his grief that I’d experienced through the sanaulus combining with my own. His words—my father’s advice to him because he’d been trapped there with Raidyn instead of here with me—struck through them both. It’s my choice.
Raidyn suddenly stiffened and let go of me.
“They’re back” was all he said, and then he turned and rushed from the room. I glanced out the window to see four gryphons soaring over the hedge—Sachiel and Sharmaine in front, with Taavi and Naiki, both riderless, behind.
No Barloc to be seen.
But at least they’d all returned, whole, unharmed. At least Raidyn’s gryphon had made it through and was here with him in Vamala and not left behind, separated by the closed gateway.
The fire snapped behind me. Loukas sighed from the bed again. I glanced over at him, at the bandages tightly wrapped around the wound he’d sustained when he’d selflessly followed Barloc through the gateway into my world and then chased him down, heedless of the danger, his only thought to protect others—even a world that had rejected his kind, putting out a death decree because of one king’s fear of the power they wielded.
Power I wielded.
Loukas had done that, and my grandfather, and Raidyn, and my father. Sharmaine, Sachiel, and so many others. Risking their lives, losing their lives, to protect and help others.
Guilt and sorrow still threatened to pull me under, but I couldn’t let their sacrifices, their bravery, be wasted. Let them drown you or let them drive you. It’s your choice.
Drown you or drive you.
If she has even half the strength you possess …
What strength did Raidyn see in me? Did I truly possess any? And could I find the amount I needed to push through this—to face whatever was coming? To still find hope and purpose as my father had, despite everything he’d been through? My mother had let it drown her, but my father had chosen to be driven by his suffering, to keep trying, keep fighting. Could I be like him?
Yes.
I would find the strength. I had to. I refused to drown.
Out the window, I saw Sharmaine jump from her gryphon just as Raidyn exited the citadel, running across the courtyard toward her. She threw herself into his open arms. The hug, though brief, still punctured the fragile hope in my chest. Naiki folded her wings to her side, her head rising in greeting, and hurried toward the embracing pair—toward Raidyn.
They were lifelong friends, and her life had been in danger. Of course he would greet her with relief, with affection. Plus, it wasn’t like I had any claim on him. I turned away before he could glance up and see me watching their reunion.
Let it drive you, not drown you.
I would be strong, and I would face whatever was coming with dignity, with courage, and with hope.
I would help Inara find her way forward without her power.
I would figure out how my newfound power could be used—how it could help.
And somehow, I would find a way to right the wrongs of this day.
With a deep breath, and one last glance at Loukas still sleeping on the bed, I left the room and went in search of my family—and the answers that we could only hope Sharmaine and Sachiel had brought back with them.