Chapter 20 Rhea #2
The risk she's taken to get this, to stand by me now, becomes entirely clear.
My chest tightens, but it's not from sadness.
It's from the untapped well of loyalty I feel for her.
She believes in me. Despite everything, Phoebe still sees me.
Why can't Vaylen see me too? The answer comes automatically.
It's simple. He was my lover, not my friend.
And I slept with someone else, who I continue to be entangled with.
I stand abruptly, pulling her up with me and wrapping her in a fierce hug. Her body tenses briefly before she melts into the embrace, accepting it just as easily as she accepts every impossible challenge.
"Thank you," I murmur against her hair, the words charged with emotion.
When we pull apart, Phoebe steps back with a determined expression. "Go ahead. Try reading me."
I shake my head, urgency tinging my words. "I've never gone into your mind, Phoebe. Never!"
Her belief in me remains unwavering. "I trust you."
Despite the shame clawing at me, I nod and draw a breath to test the draught's potency.
Tentatively, I allow my thoughts to brush against her consciousness.
Instead of discovering thoughts, I find chaos, a cacophony that clangs and clatters like dragon scales tumbling through a storm.
I stagger back, unable to distinguish anything within the discord.
"Guess it worked." Phoebe’s face softens with relief at my bewilderment, grin stretching her lips.
Frowning, I pace the chamber, bottle in hand, each step echoing my unrest. The draught flickers with invitation and warning both. Phoebe watches me with quiet patience, the air between us heavy with unasked questions.
"What are you thinking?" she asks.
The answer is a knot in my throat. I halt, meeting her gaze but finding my voice elusive.
Finally, it comes. "If I take this, the din it causes will make it obvious to Tahr.
Zephyros is helping me keep my mind secure, but I wonder if that is as foolproof as the draught.
" Because it must be. Otherwise, Tahr wouldn't have gone to the trouble of altering Craven's batch.
"Is that really such a bad thing?" She tilts her head, curious. "If he can't handle you protecting yourself, then he's hiding something."
Her insight cuts to the truth I've been skirting, the heart of the tangled mess, but it's not so simple. "If Tahr senses something, he'll know I've blocked his reach and might push me aside. I can't afford that. I need to make sure Embernia comes first."
"So, you want him keeping his guard down? Listening and believing everything you say?" Phoebe steps closer, keen eyes alight.
I nod, reminded that manipulation is now currency in this realm I navigate. "He aims to fight the Screechclaws with Heratrix and… Omneira. Victory's almost assured. But I think there's something else he wants, and I need to know what that is."
"Another reason to let him remain unwary." She nods, comprehension unfolding between us. "But you seem… disappointed." She gestures toward the bottle in my hand.
I nod. "I'd like to be able to take it."
She frowns, confused with my back and forth.
I hesitate, but then the need to unburden myself overrides trepidation.
"Phoebe, I… I'm a complete fool. What if my actions have put us in greater danger?
" As I speak, the self-doubt gnaws at me, a lurking thief wearing my defenses thin, stealing the truth from my lips.
"I should’ve been stronger. Should've been able to protect my mind. "
I'm not even sure if Tahr has lied to me, and yet I'm full of suspicion. No wonder Craven is a paranoid idiot. I, too, am becoming one.
"Don't berate yourself," she says gently, mirroring Zephyros's protective words. "He's a trained Weaver. You aren't."
Phoebe reaches into her jacket pocket once more and produces folded pages with meticulous creases.
"Here," she offers, extending the packet toward me, her fingers brushing mine as I accept it. "These contain what I’ve uncovered about Weaver techniques used for training in the past. I didn’t have time to go over them thoroughly, so I can’t guarantee they'll be of use, but I thought they might help. "
I unfold and skim each sheet.
"Like I said, I have no idea if they'll be useful, but…" she shrugs.
"Thank you, Phoebe." I fold the notes again. "I'll study them carefully.
She stands quietly beside me, her presence steady in this ocean of unknowns. When I return my gaze to hers, it's filled with gratitude. She's offered me a sword to wield against foes I can't yet see.
"Um," I say, hesitation swirling in my chest. "Can I ask you for a favor?"
"Of course," she replies, her curiosity piqued.
"I need you to research the meaning of Omneira for me. I… I'm afraid I haven't been told the truth about that."
"Don't worry. That's my next task." She smiles, then leaves the chamber.
I sit on the edge of the bed, finding that Phoebe's steadfast trust has bolstered me against the tide of uncertainty.
Her gift—the notes and draught—might equip me with shields against manipulation, might give me the certainty I've lost. With newfound resolve, I breathe deeply, ready to face whatever Tahr has planned. Good or bad.
—Do you think Tahr can get past your defenses in my mind, I ask Zephyros.
He grumbles and reluctantly responds, —I do not know. I find that my knowledge about Weavers feels as incomplete as my knowledge about the Goddess.
I twist the bottle in my hands, watching emerald liquid catch the candlelight.
—I wish Strepitus wasn't so damn obvious. I set the bottle on the night table.
—Rhealyn.
—Yes?
—I'm glad to have you back.
I frown, looking up from the bottle. —What do you mean? I've been here the whole time.
—Not entirely. Zephyros's thoughts carry a rumble of concern. —When Tahranis first appeared, your mind felt foreign, like touching ice when expecting flame.
My frown deepens. —And now?
—With each passing day, you feel more like yourself. The ice melts and reveals the fire I have always known.
I move to the window, watching distant dragons circle in moonlight. The revelation settles uncomfortably in my chest, a new shadow joining the persistent ache that has yet to fade.
—Why would that be? I ask, though I suspect the answer.
Zephyros's thoughts darken. —Perhaps he used his Weaver powers to prime you for certain reactions when he reappeared. Planted suggestions that would bloom when needed.
My skin crawls as I fear the same. How many of my decisions have been truly mine? The plan to return to the Sky Order without my memories? My expedited return to Emberton? Even my physical responses to Tahr?
—I wish there was a way to know for certain if I can trust him or not.
—Trust your instincts, Zephyros offers. They were yours before he touched your mind.
I nod absently, sitting at a small table in the corner and opening Phoebe's notes. The candlelight flickers across the words on the parchment. If answers exist, maybe I'll find them here between these carefully penned lines.