Chapter 14
Power. In those first weeks on First Island, that was all the apprentices could think about.
Every day they were marinated in it, their mornings spent training for it, their afternoons watching it, and all the while prevented from touching it themselves.
éadha could feel the pressure building. Not just inside herself but in all of them.
Pent-up, unused, her power churned and churned inside her until she felt it’d begun to curdle, that soon it’d burn its way out of her whether she willed it to or not.
It bled into her dreams, so where once she’d dreamed of dragons, now she dreamed of power.
Of repairing the Keep to the cheers of Lord Aedan and Lady úra, of growing whole fields of golden corn to feed everyone, of weaving beautiful illusions.
She knew she shouldn’t dream such dreams. Long ago and far away, someone had told her channeling Fodder was wrong, and she’d made them a promise.
But in her dreams, just as on First Island, there were no Fodder, only the Masters’ displays of wonders, and every morning the ache deepened as she dragged herself away from them back into the chilly reality of being nothing but a Keeper novice on a hard bench bowing to Channeller apprentices, and every day it got harder to remember why.
“Apprentices. I’m pleased to say your Purification is almost complete. Seven days from now, at the full of the moon, you’ll begin your training proper.”
A thrill ran through the apprentices at Master Dathin’s announcement on a fine, bright afternoon in early summer.
They were standing in the Library, where the Master Librarian had been teaching them dragon anatomy.
Standing at the back of the Keeper group, éadha knew this was the moment she really should panic.
But she felt only a kind of numb acceptance.
It was as if the tendrils of molash smoke she breathed in every morning at Matins had built up inside her mind until they’d clouded it to everything but power.
Ionáin, soft Ionáin with his tawny hair and his gentle smile, had faded away into the gloom, lost to her like a prince in a story hidden away in a glass tower guarded by spells and enchantments.
She’d failed, then. In seven days Ionáin would be asked to use his gift, and he’d have nothing.
Maybe it was for the best. After all, he was powerless.
An empty vessel. Wasn’t that what she’d been taught?
That all that mattered was power. The shining hard certainty of it, the churning longing to finally release all that pent-up strength in one fiery blaze of immolation.
“Playtime’s over,” muttered someone behind her as they walked out of the Library into the sunshine a few moments later, the Librarian dismissing them early after Master Dathin’s announcement.
She stumbled forward as Ailbhe and her friends pushed past her, an elbow catching her squarely between the shoulder blades.
But while the four girls headed on across the bright courtyard on their way to the Keepers’ quad, a familiar voice spoke behind her.
“Hey.”
It was Ionáin standing there. Just himself, smiling at her with his old familiar grin.
It was, she realized, the first time she’d been on her own with him since they’d reached Lambay, the first time he’d spoken to her directly in weeks.
Automatically, she began to straighten to attention, bowing her head to him as the Code demanded.
“Don’t, éadha, not to me, not when we’re alone,” said Ionáin, a pained look coming into his eyes. “I just thought since we’ve this bit of time before Vespers—do you want to come see my rooms?”
A part of éadha wanted to say no. To take this chance to push him away, the way he’d left her on her own in the Keepers’ quad.
Show him what it was like to not be wanted.
But her heart wouldn’t let her give up this chance to go home, even just for a little bit, and so she nodded wordlessly, following him to his apartment at the western end of the Channellers’ quad.
As she waited for him to open the door, she wondered which Ionáin it was going to be.
The one who’d kissed her by the light of the mountain campfire and told her she was his one thing, or the Channeller so controlled he could walk past her every day as if she wasn’t even there.
His apartment was as luxurious and richly furnished as she remembered.
As they came in, a cheery fire was burning even though it was hardly needed.
Ionáin closed the door behind her, clicking the lock, and they sat down on the thick velvet cushions scattered in front of the fire.
Settling beside her, Ionáin drew up his legs, clasping his hands around them and staring into the fire.
Seeing him up close for the first time in weeks, éadha realized he’d changed; his face was leaner, his body stronger from the hard training and the rich, plentiful food, so much more nourishing than the thin fare they’d grown up with.
It made him seem at once more handsome and more distant from the tousle-haired boy she’d grown up with.
An ache went through her to understand just how aware she was of every little change in him, from the stronger line of his cheekbones to the more defined muscles in his arms, taut against his Channeller tunic, and the new calluses on his fingers from handball practice.
It was like some kind of cruel joke, she thought, to have triggered all this only to have him step away into his Channeller world as soon as they arrived on Lambay.
A world that was right in front of her but might as well have been a separate universe.
A kind of grief shot through her as the loss and loneliness of the last few weeks hit her.
It’d been so new, she thought, this thing between them, and it’d felt so strong, and yet he seemed to be able to just… switch it off.
As she thought this, Ionáin glanced sideways at her, and some of that grief must’ve shown in her eyes because he immediately said, “éadha, I’m sorry.
I know it’s much harder for you here. I wanted to come see you in your dorm.
I just thought after that first day in handball with Ailbhe, it’d…
” He stopped himself and glanced around the room, with its silver decanters and cut glass, the thick rugs scattered across the polished floor.
“You know, I still can’t believe I’m really here.
I feel like a fraud most of the time,” he said.
She looked at him. “You don’t seem like a fraud. Whenever I see you, you look like you were born to be here.”
Ionáin frowned, turning to face her more directly. “You know what’s at stake here, don’t you? My Family was so close to losing everything.”
“I know…”
He took a deep breath then looked across at her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, éadha, but you need to try harder.”
That hurt so much. She stared, stunned and fighting the urge to scream at him, Have you any idea how hard I’m trying?
Every day since we got here, I’ve been trying to get close enough to share my gift so you won’t be found out as a fraud.
But you’re so obsessed with being the perfect apprentice, you’re making it impossible for the one person you actually, truly need to get anywhere near you.
She said nothing, however, biting it all back, though she couldn’t stop her eyes from filling with sudden unbidden tears.
Ionáin scrambled up at once so he was crouching in front of her, reaching out his hand to push some loose curls out of her face, tucking them behind her ear, and the unexpected warmth of his hand brushing against that sensitive skin sent an involuntary shiver through her.
“Hey there, no, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…
” He closed his eyes for a minute and then opened them again.
“All of this. The Code and the bowing, people pairing off, it’s all just a game.
None of it’s real. But it’s a game we have to play.
That’s all I meant. Fit in, don’t draw attention to yourself.
Maybe don’t glare quite so hard at Senan when he does those daft inspections.
Stop giving him a reason to complain so much about you, to want to put you down. ”
As éadha stared at him, he sat beside her again, closer now.
Reaching out a hand, he gently cupped her jaw, turning her face so he was looking her straight in the eyes.
“Do you trust me?” he said intently. She closed her eyes against the blue of his, the way they seemed to look all the way into her, and nodded once, even as her conscience twisted at the thought she couldn’t say those same words back.
His very presence here in this apartment was based on her lie to him.
“I just want you to be safe. For them not to see you, to see us, do you understand?”
Dropping his hand, he turned to stare into the fire once more, the flames reflecting on his skin as he went on, “The way Mother always explained it is you have to be a mirror. In a place like this with its rules and its games, you—we—have to mirror back to people like Ailbhe and Senan what they expect to see. Someone like them. So they don’t see what’s really there, and then they leave us alone.
I have to be the loyal son, be friends with the right people, make the right…
alliances. And not let them see any points of weakness.
Nothing they can hurt. But, éadha, that’s all it is: a game.
A treasure hunt where we’ve come to steal the treasure and bring it home safely so no one can ever threaten the Keep again. ”