51
Sean hated how he was forced to return to Cylian’s apartment in the company of so many others. Not to mention how Carver had already arrived with five other officials in tow. Three wore Human Assembly uniforms, the other two Sean had to assume were from Cygneus Prime. The fact they had been ghost-walked to Serena without explanation did nothing to improve their mood.
They came to full alert at Anyon’s appearance. The eldest of the Human Assembly group exclaimed, “Ambassador, excellent. This ensign has the audacity to claim—”
“Hold that thought,” Anyon ordered. He said to Sean, “Who should be with us?”
“But Ambassador, the Cygnean council has expressly—”
“Silence.”
One of the Cygnean officials barked, “General, what is the meaning—”
“Quiet.” She kept her gaze leveled on Sean and Anyon. “Proceed.”
“We need to try to speak with Cylian,” Sean replied. “All of us should be included. If they’ll keep quiet.”
Anyon waited while Carver translated for Brodwyn and Logan and the pair of Cygnean officials, then he addressed the entire group. “The first person to utter a sound will be summarily dismissed. Is that clear?” When his words were greeted with a stunned silence, he turned back to Sean. “Carry on.”
Whatever Sandrine thought of so many people invading her sickroom, she kept to herself. When Sean asked, she replied, “There has been no change.”
“Has Cylian spoken?”
“Not a word.” She glanced at the figure in the bed. “Her vitals are strong, and she seems more comfortable than earlier. But she remains asleep.”
Sean waited while Anyon and Carver positioned the group in a line along the side and back walls. Then he knelt by the bed and stroked Cylian’s cheek. “I really, really need you to wake up.”
They waited through a period long enough for the entire group to become restive. Sean did his best to ignore the shifting and muttering, but was grateful when Brodwyn finally hissed them to frozen silence. Which was when he had the idea to condense all his elemental force into the core of his being and reach out. No words, just the emotions he was feeling. Worry. Concern. Caring. Urgency.
Hope. For them.
Cylian might as well have been waiting all this time for him to signal as he did. She sighed and opened her eyes.
He cradled her face with his hands. Her eyes were luminous even when disoriented.
She coughed and touched her tongue to dry lips. Sandrine was there with a cup. Sean helped Cylian rise up far enough to drink. When she was through and had settled back, she asked softly, “Are you really here?”
“I am.”
“I’m not dreaming?”
“Not just now.”
“I’ve had the most horrid nightmares.”
Sean kept stroking her face. “Will you tell me about them?”
Her eyes clouded. “They scare me.”
“I know. But I think . . . Cylian, I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have to. But I think talking it through could save a lot of lives.”
Cylian released a pair of tears. “How do you know about them, Sean?”
“I hunted, you know, like a Watcher. They . . .”
“Scared you too.”
“So much.”
“How did you get away?”
Sean hesitated, not wanting to tell her anything but the truth.
“They’re still hunting me, Sean.” Another tear escaped. “I need to know.”
Sean leaned in close enough to taste the fear in her breath. “You’re safe now.”
“Am I really?”
“I’m ninety-nine percent certain. I don’t want to say more because I need to hear about what you saw and heard without my own experiences influencing the memories of your . . .”
“Nightmare.”
“Can I ask you some questions?”
She glanced over but seemed to find nothing odd in the cluster of people watching them. “Help me up.”
Sandrine helped him lift Cylian and settle pillows behind her back. She then asked for more water. When she finished drinking, she said, “Hold my hand.”
“Gladly.” Sean seated himself on the side of the bed. “Did you see them?”
“Just the cloud,” Cylian replied. “And the light. And the fire.”
“The light,” Sean said. “Can you describe it?”
“A beacon. It moved. Like it was hunting me.” She must have seen something in his features, because she said, “You saw it too.”
“Yes.” He pressed her hand, willing her not to ask more. She remained silent, her gaze steady on his. “Sandrine has heard you speak words from a tongue she does not recognize. Do you remember anything they said?”
“They did not speak. They screamed.” She shivered. “One thing I remember. They shrieked it over and over and over.”
“Repeat what you can.”
She spoke a few words, her voice turned harsher by the recollection. A cross between a whisper and a shrill cry, elongating her jaw and tightening her neck until the veins stood out.
In response, Brodwyn’s entire group gasped as one.
Anyon demanded, “What is it?”
“Old speech,” Brodwyn replied. “A few remote clans still use it. Not many.”
Logan said, “Some claim it was the original language of Cygneus Prime.”
Brodwyn asked him, “How did you come to learn it?”
“My father tutored me in Hawk lore and this speech. He said . . .” Logan seemed to realize they had broken the enforced silence and finished with, “Sorry.”
Cylian seemed genuinely interested, so Sean said, “Go on.”
“My father called it the dragon tongue, a language of force and of fire. He said our greatest legacies of victory and triumph were all tied to it,” Logan replied.
Anyon asked, “Can either of you translate what the lady has spoken?”
“My own study was at the Academy.” Brodwyn frowned in concentration. “‘The rope is loosed’?” she guessed.
“Chains,” Logan said. “‘The chains of old are broken. We are free once more.’”
Sean rose to his feet and faced Anyon. “Ambassador, I respectfully request that you call out the Praetorian Guard.”
Anyon almost managed to repress his frown. “How many do you think we might need?”
“All of them,” Sean replied. “Immediately. We might already be too late.”