Chapter 4 #3
Wide awake now, she sat up in her bed and concentrated on the energy fizzing gently inside her.
Holding one hand out in front of her, she imagined a tiny were-light and sent the energy flowing into her hand.
Immediately, a scalding flame burst into life above her hand, burning her palm.
Startled, she flung the light away from her.
It flew off around the room, whizzing in a circle above her head while she sucked at her burned hand.
Terrified something would catch fire or the little light would go shooting off downstairs, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the feeling of power being snuffed out.
After a moment the were-light wavered, came to a halt, then vanished.
Heart pounding, éadha lay back. She could still feel the power churning inside her.
It was like having a fire set burning in her core, and the urge to keep using it, to send it out of herself and see what she could do with it, was irresistible.
She forced herself to remember Magret’s words in the Keep gardens two nights before.
Until we speak again, swear to me you won’t use this power again.
But as she lay on her bed feeling the power inside, insisting on itself, her promise to Magret suddenly felt very far away and hard to understand. Because, after all, what was this power for but to be used?
Without giving herself any more time to think, she swung her legs off the bed, stood in the middle of her little loft, and called up another were-light in her outstretched palm.
This time, by concentrating fiercely, she managed to control it so it floated safely into the air just above her hand.
Then with a flick of her wrist, she sent it dancing about the room, a grin spreading across her face as she realized she really could do this.
Soon she’d called up three separate were-lights and set them all flying in interweaving patterns above her head, concentrating so hard she didn’t hear her aunt climbing the steep wooden stairs to her room, only realizing she was there when she called from outside her door.
“éadha. éadha, are you awake? Don’t forget you’ve choir this morning.”
éadha froze while above her the little lights all blinked out of existence.
Choir. She’d completely forgotten. Magret had chosen a ragtag mix of Keep servants and herders to make up her choir for the Reckoning ceremony, and this morning was their first rehearsal in the Great Hall.
Dressing quickly, she hurried out of the cottage, running across the lake bridge to the Keep.
She reached the Great Hall just as Magret clapped her hands for everyone to assemble on the new wooden stage in its center.
As she climbed the steps, she felt the last traces of the power she’d drawn earlier ebbing away from her.
Around her the other singers were humming and coughing, getting ready to sing, while up above them, Ionáin’s head appeared over the crosswalk leading from his tower.
This time he was in a rich, dark red velvet jacket that brought out his golden coloring while his tangled mop of hair had been trimmed.
Standing in the crowd below, éadha swallowed as she took in how handsome he looked.
The way the aristocratic clothing and the neat hair made him seem, suddenly, so far beyond her reach even as he stood right there, just above her.
In that moment, the touch of his hand in the Lady’s Well yesterday seemed more inconceivable than the little were-lights she’d channeled earlier.
In front of her, meanwhile, Magret gestured with a sweep of her arm for them to begin.
The first song was the familiar “Welcome Canto,” the song to greet Ionáin at the start of his Reckoning.
It began with a single deep voice, a subterranean thrumming that seemed to rise through the floor, then gradually each layer of voices added its own melody, filling the great space with a multitude of harmonies until every voice stopped together on a heartbeat.
This was the moment when Ionáin would reach the stage and face his Reckoner.
éadha and the other sopranos were to lead off the second verse, starting high and cascading down before lifting again to the highest note of all.
As she began to sing, she could see Ionáin watching from the crosswalk above, his chin resting on his forearms. He looked preoccupied, as if his mind was far away, thinking about his Reckoning and his Family’s fears, all the things pulling him away from her.
And in that moment éadha was gripped by the need to make him see her too.
Focusing, she reached out with her awareness, looking once more for threads of power.
It was the first time she’d tried to do it consciously, and now, rather than just two threads like earlier, she could sense many.
More than she could count, all shining around her.
With the gentlest of touches, she reached to first one, then another and another, pulling tiny sips from each toward her, feeling power build within her as she watched Magret lift her hands into the air as the song reached its climax.
Then with a sweep of her own, éadha shot that power from the center of her, sending it pouring into her voice so that it flew up and up, and as the song reached its highest note, she sang it out with purity and power, a thing of such outrageous freedom it forced the breath out of every listener in the room.
She saw Magret’s eyes widen and Ionáin’s head lift to stare at her, but she didn’t care anymore, completely absorbed now in the flow of her power.
But even as she held that last impossible note, the Great Hall filled with a crashing sound, as if someone outside was trying to smash the hall’s doors apart.
The singing stuttered to a halt as servants peeled away from the choir and ran to open the doors before they were broken down.
Lord Huath appeared, outlined in the doorway, and shoved past them without a word, followed by guardsmen who swiftly took up positions at every doorway and stairwell.
Huath’s expression was livid, his jaw rigid with fury as he stalked to the podium, his pale eyes scanning the choir.
As he did, every head in the room bowed; every breath went shallow with fear.
Behind him, his Keeper, Treasa, readied herself to hold his power.
With a flick of his wrist, he snapped multiple were-lights into existence.
They swarmed down from the dome to hover above the heads of the singers, illuminating every bowed head and clenched fist.
In the center of the choir, éadha was close to collapsing in sudden terror.
Magret’s warning came screaming back to her as she felt something stir in front of her, as if a much larger creature were unfolding itself where Huath stood, his power radiating out from him.
The heat of that power began building against her skin, a prickling, crawling sensation.
She remembered how easily Magret entered her mind two nights ago and knew it’d only take him seconds to rip into her consciousness and lay bare her every pathetic attempt at channeling.
Four singers down from her, at the edge of the front row, one of the stable lads let out a muffled shriek as, with a gesture, Huath lifted him up into the air, enveloping him with his power.
Forcing the boy’s arms out cruciform and his head up, Huath stepped in for a closer look.
His face was inches away from the boy’s, like some sinister predator sniffing out his prey for a few moments before, with another flick, he released him so he crumpled onto the floor, unconscious.
Within her, éadha could feel her own telltale power still pulsing gently with the energy she’d drawn moments before.
Now in her mind’s eye she grew a sheet of ice above it, dull, thick ice, a blank surface to reflect the glare of the winter sun and blind the eye.
She sent her silver fish diving, deep beneath the ice into the depths of her, to hold perfectly still.
But the heat of Huath’s power was relentless, even from where he stood, and he was moving closer and closer, stepping from one singer to the next.
He’d reached the girl beside her, his face implacable as he scoured out her mind, and she whimpered in bewildered agony.
Now éadha was next. In only a few heartbeats more, her ice sheet would shatter and she’d be exposed.
Huath stood in front of her, his pale eyes taking her in: the raised chin and the clenched fists as she waited for his strength to overwhelm her.
She could feel the heat of his power against her skin, building and building, but in the very last second, before he could rip into her mind, Magret spoke out.
Her voice was quiet and deferential, but it rang clear in the silvery acoustics of the Great Hall.
“Lord Huath, pray forgiveness for my intrusion. I thought you’d want to know your nephew Ionáin stands above you. If you’ve sensed the first flickerings of power even before his Reckoning, this would be the most wonderful news.”
The hot breath on éadha’s skin snapped out as Lord Huath’s head shot up to see Ionáin, still standing on the crosswalk above, watching on in shock.
It was enough to end the Inquisition. Released, éadha saw how Lord Huath visibly damped down the power flowing through him.
Saw, too, how forced his smile was as he straightened to address Ionáin.
“Why, nephew. I didn’t see you there. This is remarkable.
If the flare I sensed as I rode in is any guide, you have a great gift indeed. ”
From where she stood watching, éadha saw disbelief then hope chase a dawning joy across Ionáin’s face as he took in what his uncle was saying.