Chapter 38
38
M indweavying felt like diving in a pool of images that sparked with each touch like static electricity. I was so overwhelmed with the sheer immensity of the memories surrounding me that I decided to focus on the image I had seen in the tent.
The image of Tristen walking down the street to my village, his entire presence promising death.
As soon as I did, the memory flowed around me—this time from his perspective. I saw as he laid eyes on me. Not the version of me now who was constantly covered in blood and injured, but a version of me with rosy cheeks and a fullness to my figure. My eyes went wide in the memory as I ducked back into the bakery.
A boom shuddered through the village, and suddenly Tristen turned his head. Shadows surrounded him as I saw soldiers running to buildings, holding torches.
They weren’t just any soldiers, however.
They wore Luminaria’s gold and white colors, and I felt Tristen’s horror as they spread out, holding torches aloft to thatched wooden rooftops that went up in flames immediately.
“GET OUT NOW!” Tristen called. “Everyone needs to evacuate!”
Tristen was sprinting, his shadows spearing out for the soldiers just as his shadowfire enveloped the rooftops, freezing the fire. The damage was already done, however, and the houses still caved in, even if he was able to stop the flames from burning. He sent his shadows to try and protect those inside, but he was draining fast.
A sword flung out at him, and Tristen dodged the blade—barely. But his shadows were climbing up his arms, and I felt his control slipping.
Control . That’s something that echoed through his mind. Control of his power? Why? What was so important about maintaining control?
The memory began to blur, and I felt myself being pulled from it as Tristen cut down another Luminaria soldier as more swarmed in.
One thing had been made clear to me in his memory.
Luminaria had been the one to torch Riverleaf to the ground. And they’d do it again and again if it meant they got what they wanted.
I fell out of his memories with a
f
l
a
s
h .
I opened my eyes, my hands still on both sides of Tristen’s face. I was out of his memories, back in the ballroom.
Tristen’s thoughts rang through my weakening connection with his mind. Tell the King that the rebels are stationed on the Northeastern border. They’re gathering in the foothills for their next attack. It’s what he wants to hear. But you won’t have any innocent lives on your conscience.
I stepped back, dropping my hands as I stared at him.
“So? What did you see?” King West said.
I looked around, feeling disoriented. The entire throne room was watching me. Waiting for me to reveal the contents of Tristen’s mind.
Focusing on the King, I told him what Tristen had fed me mind-to-mind. “I saw the rebels. They’re gathering near the Northeastern border. They’re gathering in the foothills for their next attack.”
Murmurs broke out in the throne room. King West clapped his hands together once, silencing the room. “See? It’s just as I told you. The Siphon will usher in a new era of peace and prosperity, and bring the end to these bloody skirmishes once and for all. Let us drink to our reunited lands. Illumia be with us all!”
The room raised their glasses, and the toast was made. I was still in a daze as Leah arrived at my side, pulling me back to my seat by the King.
Food and drinks were shoved before me, ambassadors clapping me on the back, congratulating me as if I had already won The Ash Trials. As if I’d already given them everything. Zara sat across from the King and I, quietly scribbling on her parchment as if capturing a grand tale.
I wanted them all dead.
I slipped out of the dinner as soon as I could, returning to my room. The throne room was filled with so much mirth and drinking that no one seemed to care, and even the guard who escorted me back seemed to think I was so thoroughly owned by the crown that there was nothing I could do to alter my fate.
When the door of my room closed behind me and I was at last alone, I fell to my bed and wept for those in my village who had lost their lives in the senseless brutality wrought by Luminaria.
The next morning, Leah dressed me in fighting leathers and brought with her a tray of breakfast. I did what I could to force down a hardboiled egg as she braided my hair. She said nothing about my silence or the dark circles that had formed underneath my eyes, and merely motioned for me to follow her.
“Come. He’s waiting for you.”
He was. He was pacing the training ring by the time Leah had deposited me on the roof, and he stopped as he caught sight of me. I entered the ring, my iron bands falling to my feet.
“You look awful,” he said, meaning it as a jab but I heard the twinge of concern.
I took three steps toward him and threw a punch.
He dodged. “So that’s how you want it this morning?” he asked, his smooth voice knowing.
It was.
I threw every piece of myself into our sparring. I threw my anger into every jab, every kick, every spin as I fought until I was doubled over, my breath heaving and sweat dripping off my bow.
I looked up at him.“Why?”
“Why did Luminaria attack a defenseless neutral village? Or why didn’t I tell you?”
“Both.”
Tristen shook his head. “You know I can’t say a word.”
“Why?”
“Try again.”
I shook my head. “You’re keeping things from me.”
“Why?” he challenged.
I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t know.”
“Not good enough, Saffron.”
“I don’t care about being good enough for you,” I shot back.
He shrugged. “Fine. Then be good enough for you .”
I rolled my eyes, but it was exhausting to keep my anger refueled.
As the morning sun drifted over the horizon, it illuminated Tristen and his broad shoulders. The golden light glinted off his dark hair as the waves curled over his face, framing those deep obsidian eyes.
“It’s time,” Tristen said, starting to shed his fighting leathers, baring his chest. “You should learn how to control my magic. Not just siphon it off and use a piece of it—but truly channel it from the source of my power and learn how to truly control and dominate it. And that requires focus. Breathwork. Attention.”
As if on cue, tendrils of shadows crawled to him.
Tristen reached for my hand and pulled me up to stand in front of him. He made quick work of my leathers, too, and my body heated as his sure hands brushed across my skin, unbuckling and unlacing my armor, leaving me bare except for the band around my breasts and my leather pants.
I reached for his chest, but he grabbed my wrists, stopping me. “You’re starting to get stronger, so it will be easier for you to take my magic.”
“Isn’t that a good thing?” I asked, annoyed.
“Do you know who gave me my magic?”
“Is this some quiz? Because I’m not in the mood,” I said.
He sighed, and let my wrists drop. “No. I was given my shadowfire and mindweavying abilities by Nocterin, the mad god.”
“Aren’t all gods mad, in some way?” I asked, remembering some of the stories I’d read in the library.
“You could say that. The older ones are less tethered to the suffering they are capable of inflicting upon the creatures of this realm. The younger ones are more… curious. But the six major gods—the ones with real power that all kingdoms in Septerra worship—are all buried here.”
I glared at him, trying to keep my legs from going wobbly at the way his voice stirred something in me. “I didn’t sign up for a history lesson, professor .”
“A mad god bestows power that can go wrong, fast. If you let it control you, it could destroy you. It takes and takes until you become nothing.”
I remembered the way Tristen had started to become overtaken by his own shadows when he had used up his power. “Has that happened to you? Were you close to losing control when your shadows started to consume you?”
Tristen’s gaze hardened. “I have always been in control.”
The words shook me. “Okay. So I just have to… what, focus?”
“Yes. You have to keep a firm grasp on any borrowed power. The stronger the power, the more it will try and take from you. I’ll be here to help you, but you need to tread carefully.”
I shuddered as I thought about how Ajax’s power had torn through me. “Ajax’s power…”
“Was still nothing compared to my full power.”
I quirked my head at him. “Aren’t you at full power now?”
Tristen’s face was unreadable. “I have enough of my power for you to practice. You just need to focus on not losing control.”
I started to put my hands on him, but he shook his head slightly. “Before you start, I want you to breathe.”
“I think I’ve been doing that just fine on my own, thanks.”
“You need to slow your breathing. Understand how to calm the deepest recesses of your mind with just a few seconds. Ready?”
I sighed, but nodded my head in agreement. “Sure.”
“Inhale through your nose. Then purse your lips, and exhale slowly through your mouth, as if you had just tasted something sour.”
I followed his instruction, limiting my exhalation to a small trickle of air through my puckered lips.
“Good. Again.”
Tristen made me practice the breathing exercise two more times before he was satisfied.
“If you start to feel your control slipping, you can return to this. Okay?”
Was he really that afraid of me falling prey to his power? I had felt an insistent buzzing when I just pulled a sip of power from him in the throne room. Was this about to be much different?
I placed my hands on his chest and focused. But, as my palms pressed into his warm body, I couldn’t feel those loops of power. My head felt fuzzy and tired from lack of sleep.
Come on.
I tried to focus, but felt so scattered. So… weak. I tried to see the strands of his power, but the haze of my mind was so heavy.
“Just relax into it,” Tristen said. I felt him place his hands on my back, his strong arms encircling me. The comforting touch settled me, and I tried again. This time, I saw the threads, the loops in which I could hook onto his power. I wrapped my power around them and pulled.
This time, there was no trickle of power that entered me.
It was a deluge .
Tristen’s power roared through me. I knew I should turn it off, should unhook my power from his. But I couldn’t. It felt too good to bring his power to my body, to feel it join with mine.
I felt a giggle bubble up to my lips. Suddenly, I dropped my head back, laughing.
Why was I laughing?
“Release the thread,” Tristen commanded.
Shadows wrapped all around me, and I thought how funny it was that death was hiding in every corner. Why did we ever think we could evade it, when it awaited us in so many dark places?
“ Give yourself to me, oh special one ,” a strange voice echoed through my mind. It was deep and echoed with fragments of other voices as if it were not one sound, but many sounds all at once. How strange it was that I wanted to agree with the voice, wanted to give it what it desired.
“Release it now .”
I laughed harder, the sound of it so high-pitched and strange. But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t?—
“SAFFRON!”
Suddenly, my hands were ripped from Tristen’s chest, and I was tossed to the ground. The connection was severed, but the power was still there, and my hands shot out to my sides, and shadows jumped out from them like snakes. Slithering all around the ground, all over me?—
I became enveloped in that slithering dark, and I started to scream .
I tried to claw at my eyes, tried to pull the shadows out, but hands clamped down on mine. I screamed and growled and felt that choking darkness swallow me whole.
And then… it began to subside. The shadows began to thin. I opened my eyes, and saw Tristen straddling me, his face filled with concern.
“What happened?” I asked.
“You lost control,” Tristen said simply. He raked his gaze over me as if checking whether or not shadows were still leaking from me, and then rolled off me, but stayed close.
I sat up, my arms trembling. I tried to stop the shaking, even hugging them around myself. But then my legs started trembling. And then my body. And my breath became more shallow?—
I looked up at Tristen, not sure if I would ask him for… I don’t know, help? Something? By the time I brought my fearful gaze to him he had already moved closer, pulling me into his lap as he wrapped his arms around me.
“Breathe, Saffron.”
I tried to breathe, but a choking sob came in its place. And to my horror, I started crying in his arms. The fear that had taken me, had shook me loose, coursed through my body. That ugly truth that death awaited us all—so close, too close—had shaken me more than I could ever admit. Tristen held me through all of it.
Then, I started doing the breathwork he had just taught me. A deep inhale through my nose. A slow exhale through my lips. Over and over again as I calmed the parts of myself that had never known peace.
Minutes later, my sobs turned to hiccuping breaths. I was finally able to suck in lungfuls of air. Slowly, I turned my face to him, trying to do some damage control. “I—I didn’t sleep well last night.”
He reached down, gently brushing a tear off my face. “This work is hard. You’re learning not just to control your power, but also to control the flow of energy from the person or deity you’re channeling from. It’s not just their energy, either. It’s the descendants of power that came before them, the previous magic holders in their ancestral line, and the gods who gifted them that power. All of those forces are alive in every drop of magic that is in their blood. You borrow that, and you borrow all of the baggage that comes with it. It’s a wild, unpredictable source, and the only thing you can do is prepare and give yourself what you need to become more resilient.”
A knot formed in my chest. “Why should I do all of this?”
Tristen stiffened. “What are you saying?”
“What am I fighting for? To be King West’s plaything? His Warrior Queen? Why continue through three more trials at all if what’s ahead will just be even more difficult?”
Tristen leveled his gaze at me. “You do not belong to him. You write your own fate. You take all of the power in the world and use it as the ink to wet your quill and write the story of your life in a way that serves you. Not him. Not anyone else. And definitely not some godsforsaken prophecy. Spill the blood of your captors until rivers run red if you have to. Just never. Stop. Fighting. Do you understand me?”
I nodded, but a question bloomed in my mind. “What are you fighting for, Tristen?”
Tristen’s gaze crumbled—but then reformed into something stone cold. “I’m fighting for an impossible shot at the thing I want more than life itself.”