27. Chapter 27
Chapter 27
Emma
E mma slept deeply, her dagger clenched in her hand beneath her pillow. She never slept without it now—how could she? It was her only defense, her only weapon against the horrors that relentlessly haunted her dreams. Every night, the dead came. Faces twisted with pain, begging for her help. Their voices were relentless and their hands cold as they reached for her, their pleas ringing in her ears and breaking her heart.
She’d become used to seeing them while awake. Or as used to it as she could be. But when she was asleep? She was defenseless. Trapped, and unable to escape.
A sharp pounding at the door jolted Emma awake, her dagger clattering to the ground. Even half-awake, she was instantly grateful Thomas had fashioned a hard case to clip around the blade at night to protect her from sudden movements like this.
"Wake up, Emma. We’re leaving in ten minutes. Gather whatever you need. We might not be back," Erik ordered through the door.
The urgency in Erik’s voice sent a ripple of dread down her spine, but Emma forced herself to move, swinging her legs out of bed. The icy stone floor bit into her skin, the cold creeping up her bones. She shivered, wishing she could curl back under the covers and escape back into her dreamless slumber. But this was war. She would rest once Alaric was dead.
"I’ll be out soon," she called, voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions stirring inside her. She quickly pulled on a riding dress, its fabric familiar and worn, and slid her feet into her soft, weathered boots. They, too, had seen their share of journeys.
But hopefully that would change soon. Emma wanted nothing more than to stay in one place for a while, close to her friends, and, most importantly, safe. She grabbed her satchel—the one she’d kept packed and sitting by the door since they’d arrived at the castle.
Emma hadn’t been able to shake the idea that they might have to leave at a moment's notice, and so she’d prepared, her paranoia and anxiety paying off.
She glanced around her room, eyes sweeping over the few things she would leave behind—books on the windowsill, too heavy to carry, and clothes that would be of no use on the road. There was no room for sentiment. A light pack would reduce her burden as they traveled. Though she couldn’t help but hope her things would be waiting for her if they returned.
When we return , she reminded herself, turning and throwing open the door.
"Shit!" Emma said, nearly jumping out of her skin when she found Thomas standing just on the other side, fist raised and ready to knock.
"Sorry!"
"Thomas! Gods, you scared me!"
His expression softened, and he lowered his hand. "I— Um… Do you need any help?"
Emma shook her head, but his eyes latched onto the satchel. It was light, easy to carry, but she could feel from Thomas that he needed to do something. Help in some way, so she held it out to him. "Do you know what's going on? Where are we going?" she asked.
"I'm not sure." He took the satchel and slung it over his shoulder. "Do you have your dagger?"
"In there." Emma pointed to the bag.
"Perfect. Ready?" Thomas held out his hand, and Emma took it. It warmed her chest the way his face relaxed at her contact, and together, they hurried toward the main gates.
As they moved quickly through the hallways, Emma's mind raced. "Do you think they found him?" she asked softly, her voice so fragile it reminded Emma of glass.
"I hope so," Thomas gave her a sideways look, his steps slowing as they approached Lea and Gray sitting atop their horses.
"Has something happened?" Thomas asked.
Gray nodded. "Evangeline had a vision. We’re leaving for Howen. We think Alaric might be there."
Emma’s stomach dropped at the thought. Of course, they needed to find Alaric. It was the only way to end this war. But going after him so brazenly made her pause. As if sensing her discomfort, Thomas squeezed her hand.
"It’ll be okay," he promised, leading her toward two unoccupied horses, already saddled and ready. With a boost beneath her feet, Emma plopped onto the saddle and settled in, stifling a yawn.
"I'm so fucking tired," Janelle said from beside her where she sat with Erik on top of Cinnamon, her eyes heavy as if she, too, had been woken from a deep slumber.
Emma looked at the dark sky, wondering what time it was, guessing that it was the early morning hours before what should be sunrise. Would they be able to find their way in the dark? Anticipation and anxiety grew in Emma’s chest as she watched Vincent speaking with Gray and Tanad in hushed tones.
Gray turned to Thomas. "You brought weapons?"
"All that I could carry," he said, gesturing to the bag now hooked to his saddle. "Daggers mostly."
"That should be enough. Are we ready?" Gray asked Lea, sitting up straighter, and she nodded.
Another bolt of anxiety worked its way through Emma’s chest, wrapping around her heart and threading through her ribs.
Gray turned to Vincent. "This is a reconnaissance mission, to start. Once we’re certain where Alaric is, we’ll send for the rest of the troops in their entirety. Every last one of them."
"We’ll be ready," Vincent answered, tucking his thumb inside his fist and placing it over his heart. Gray returned the gesture, then turned Obsidian to face the portcullis. Lea moved to his side, and they shared a look, so full of fear and passion and fury that Emma had to look away.
Erik led Cinnamon over to them, positioning himself and Jenelle to Thomas’s left.
"Evangeline had a vision? And Alaric’s there?" Thomas asked.
Erik pressed his lips together. "That's what she thinks."
Thomas’s nostrils flared as he took a deep breath, looking at Emma as if assessing if she was prepared for what the next few days might hold.
"Your dagger?" he asked again, and Emma nodded, grateful for the reminder. Holding it would ground her. Calm her mind and give her something to focus on.
"Yes." She opened her shoulder bag and rooted around, her shoulders relaxing as her fingers found the hilt.
"Keep it touching your skin," Thomas reminded her, not unkindly. "Remember, it will warn you of danger. "
With a grateful smile, Emma nodded, moving to clip her bag back to the saddle. She paused as a glint of silver caught her eye from within the bag.
"What's that?" Thomas asked, leaning over to peek inside.
"I don't—" Emma shoved her hand in the bag, her face paling as her fingers found what had caught Thomas’s attention. A vial. Her heart picked up in rhythm, thumping furiously against her sternum. She’d packed this bag herself, had checked it nearly every day since, just in case something had fallen out or she’d forgotten something important. "I don't know how this got in here." Emma pulled the vial from her bag, a twin to the one Eudora had made for her that would tether her to the Earth.
"You didn't put that in there?" Thomas asked, and Erik stiffened.
Emma shook her head. "No. I haven't seen or spoken to Eudora since we left Bearswillow," she said, her breaths growing shallow. Panic bubbled inside her chest, and Emma worried she was going to hyperventilate and faint.
"Hey." Thomas leaned over, placing his hand on her lower back. "It's okay. We already know we can't trust the witch. She’s just playing with us. Trying to keep us on edge."
"Lea and Gray banished her earlier today," Erik chimed in. "She must have slipped it into your bag before she left."
Emma's breathing grew even more ragged.
"It's nothing," Thomas repeated, rubbing slow circles on her back. "It means nothing."
Struggling to slow her breath, Emma nodded. "Okay," she said. "Okay. She probably had extra, right?"
"I'm sure that's all this is," Thomas said, handing Emma’s reins back to her and leaning over to give her a peck on the cheek before they started moving. Blood rushed into Emma’s cheeks as she kicked her own horse's sides to cause her to trot forward, but even as she tried to convince herself that there wasn’t a deeper meaning to the potion being snuck into her bag the very day they left to go after Alaric, Emma couldn't shake the feeling that something horrible was coming.
After all, Eudora could see the future. Did she know that they would need the potion again, and soon? Did she not realize that Emma almost hadn’t survived the last time? It was all she could think about as they rode in silence—what Eudora’s intentions had been. What tricks she could be playing now, or what mind games. Emma turned it over and over and, analyzing it from every angle, not even paying attention to where they were.
Her horse simply followed along, cantering when Obsidian cantered, galloping across fields when he galloped. And stopping when Obsidian stopped suddenly, his ears folding back and his eyes darting around nervously.
"What's wrong, boy?" Gray asked the clearly unsettled animal. The magnificent black stallion pawed at the ground. He was nervous, but why?
Gray’s shadows shot outward, Lea's following closely behind as they searched for whatever threat Obsidian was detecting. Erik drew his sword, whispering in Janelle's ear.
"Do you sense anything?" Thomas asked Emma, but she just shook her head, no. "Then what—"not even a second later, a surge of magic rushed across the land, throwing their hair back and causing the horses to jolt backward. A pink and red haze grew from the horizon, magic still flowing past them, shimmering and bending the grass and branches with immense force.
Emma’s jaw dropped, her breath escaping in a whoosh of awe.
The sun was rising.
Erik tilted his head back as the first rays of light met his skin, the dark circles beneath his eyes fading as his magic replenished itself. Lea and Gray shared another loaded look, one that echoed Emma’s own feelings. Seeing the sun after weeks of night should be nothing but joyful. But it wasn't joyful.
It was terrifying.
The sun no longer looked like the sun. It was at least five times its usual size, burning orange and red, and so hot, Emma had the sudden urge to take off her jacket. But that wasn't even the most unusual part. As the sun rose, the black sky faded away, turning a deep, blood red.
Thomas once again reached for Emma. And once again, she was grateful for his need to be close to her in moments of uncertainty. Because this? It seemed like an omen.
But an omen of what? Terrible things to come? Without night, Thomas would no longer be able to make his weapons. Gray's magic would take some time to weaken, but if the day lasted long enough, it could leave them vulnerable and without his full ability to protect them.
The thought made her want to throw up.
"This changes nothing. Let's go," Gray said, his voice sharp and his shadows pulsing as he dug in his heels and led them toward the bloody, flaming horizon.