Chapter 35
I blink. Then blink again. And again.
Mum is sitting on my bed as though this is all perfectly normal. She stands with a slight smile.
“I’m not an illusion or a dream or an imposter,” Mum says softly, clearly understanding why I’m blinking over and over. “I wouldn’t linger with the door open, though. You never know who might be listening or watching. The walls have eyes here, Isola.”
Even though she says this isn’t a dream, it feels like one. My body is disconnected from my mind. My spirit has flown away. Even as I ease the door shut and the latch engages with a soft click, the movements barely register. All I hear is blood rushing through my ears as my heart pounds.
This is bad. This is bad. This is so very, very bad, every beat says.
Mum should not be here. And I shudder to think of what they’ll do to her if she is found.
“What…are you doing here?” My voice is so tight that the words are barely audible.
“What else? I’m here for you.”
She looks older than I remember, worn down. Her cheeks are a bit hollow and eyes a bit listless. There’s a grayness to her skin that has never been there before. It’s only been about a week since I last saw her, though, so it must be a trick of the lighting.
“You can’t be here.” I say the obvious, struggling to find words.
“I know. Why do you think I sneaked in?”
My eyes dart to the door, as if the inquisitors will come rushing in at any second, and then back to her. “Are you trying to get yourself killed? No, really. Are you?”
“Isola—”
“You are risking not only your fate but mine.” I press a hand to my chest. “If they find you here with me, what do you think they’ll do to me?”
Hurt flashes through her eyes, but Mum keeps her composure.
It’s not the first time she’s held herself together as I’ve lashed out.
Hopefully, it won’t be the last. “And what do you think they’ll do to you if you finally collapse?
If it comes to light that their great ‘Valor Reborn’ is not as legendary as they all think?
They’re already asking dangerous questions, Isola.
Do you want to give them room to ask more? ”
Her question stings like scourge in my throat.
She takes a step closer. “I’m here because I care for you.
Because—as much as I wish it wasn’t the case—you have been declared their foretold savior.
I know how long it’s been since you last had a dose, what happened today, and how much Etherlight you drew.
You need this.” Mum reaches into the pocket of the threadbare robes she wears and produces a small vial.
It’s a shade of crimson that was always unnerving but palatable when I considered its benefits.
I reach for the vial. “You…brought me a tincture?”
“I told you I would.”
“Is it the new formula?” I dare ask, hope flickering back to life in me from embers I long thought dead.
“It is.” Two words, but she might as well have said, You can survive this.
“Thank you,” I whisper, clutching it tightly.
Weariness softens her face at the appreciation in my tone, but her eyes sharpen. “But listen to me, Isola. It is no longer safe for me.” She swallows hard, but it’s the only sign of uncertainty. “The vicar is making moves.”
“What kind of moves?” A thousand ideas dance across my mind like a thousand magic blades danced under my skin at his command hours earlier.
“I fear he wants me gone. For good.”
My stomach drops. “Gone?” Oh, so she is actually trying to get herself killed.
She cups my face and kisses my brow. I lean into it like a child, though terror grips me.
“The vicar is fighting for absolute control,” she whispers. “He’s been playing the long game. Now that you’re in here and on your way to the Mercy Knights, he doesn’t need me to hold over you any longer for your compliance. Your path is set.”
“You knew,” I breathe. “You knew the threats he made about you the whole time.”
“Of course I did.” She huffs, slightly exasperated.
The truth I’ve dreaded all along has never been clearer. What was merely monsters in the night are now walking these halls. The vicar will do anything to tighten his grip on me—on this city. Even if it means killing my mother.
“Everything I do, dear, is to keep you safe, even when you can’t see it.” Her hands tighten on my shoulders, refusing to let go. “It was my job to know exactly how I was being used against you.”
“The Mercy Knights, even as a page, isn’t like the Tribunal. Once I’m through, I’ll have more freedom. I can—”
“He won’t wait that long,” she says, calm in the face of my rising panic.
“Why? Why is he so urgent now?” I ask, dreading the truth. This is more than me being in the Tribunal and out of the way. I finally drew from the Font without a sigil. He’s so close to getting everything he ever wanted. Of course he’d start tidying loose ends.
She holds my gaze, glances away for half a breath—long enough that I think she’ll tell me. But she doesn’t, leaving me to assume I’m right. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re safe, so focus on staying safe.”
“I deserve to not be kept in the dark anymore, Mum,” I say in a rush, fury helping my words gain speed. “You never tell me anything I need to know!”
Her gaze darts to the door. “Keep your voice down, Isola. Please.”
“Then tell me what’s going on. What’s really going on. There’s more to this, I know there has to be. What am I missing?”
We lock eyes, but I refuse to give in. I’ve been giving in my whole life. It’s about time I started standing my ground. Especially now. The vicar will stop at nothing to force me to draw from the Font directly again—and something in my mum’s expression has my heart racing faster.
“There is a mighty force drawing on the Font.”
“What?”
Her eyes dart to the door again, then back to me, her fingers nervously raking through her hair, snagging on curls. “A weapon, or what will become a weapon unlike any other. Something your father helped create. The vicar plans to use it to go on the offensive.”
My thoughts immediately go to Valor’s sword. In the Grand Chapel of Mercy, his legendary blade is held by a statue of his likeness. But that sword would be ancient, not something Father helped make. Unless he modified it? No, the vicar would never allow it.
“What?” For a second, that’s the only word I know, laced with fear and panic.
“Offensive?” The knights venture forth on their hunts from time to time as resources allow.
But at most it’s searching for what small game they can find, or killing wounded dragons on nearby mountain ledges. Not a full-on offensive.
“Against the Elder Dragon…and soon,” she finishes, as though it wasn’t bad enough already.
“I’m not— Vinguard isn’t ready.”
“Don’t fret. Stay the course, Isola.”
My skin feels tight, the room smaller, as I stare into her eyes creased with worry. Even the air smells different—colder, sharper, as though it has blown down from the high peaks that loom over Vinguard, emanating from the Elder Dragon himself.
“Easy for you to say,” I snap before I think better of it. “Easy to say don’t fret when you’re not the one expected to take Valor’s sword and go up against the Elder Dragon.” My voice cracks on Elder. The Creed says the beast is the oldest of them, the leader, and the heart of their power.
“You’ll be fine.” Her voice is steady—too steady—like she’s reading a script.
“You don’t know how I feel.” I swat her hands and back away, wrapping my arms around myself and hanging my head.
Mum just stands there, a pillar of calm in the flickering lamplight. “I can only imagine the pressure.”
“No, Mum, more than that. You don’t know what it feels like underneath my skin. The nightmares of something trying to claw its way out of me.” I look at her through a curtain of hair. “Tell me, please…am I cursed? Is that why you made me the tinctures? Why you risked everything to get me one?”
A beat of silence.
“Do not let this be like that night. Do not leave without telling me,” I whisper, pleading.
“You are not cursed.” Her words are gentle but leave a hollow echo in the small room. “But you are not like the rest of us, either, Isola. You’re special.”
If it were anyone else, I’d groan at special, but with her it’s different. Mum doesn’t use that word like the rest do—she doesn’t mean Valor Reborn.
“The tinctures help regulate your Ether.”
“Like how I drew from the Font without a sigil?” I ask. She nods. “But it’s not because I’m cursed?”
“There is nothing about you that I would call cursed.” All the admiration in the world lights up her eyes as she tucks a rogue strand of hair behind my ear. “Now, I should go.”
“Where?” My voice sounds small even to me.
“It’s better if I don’t say…” She glances at the window. “But know I’m still a step ahead of the vicar, and I’m not without friends. I’ll find a way out of his clutches. Until next we meet, stay safe and hold on. Their cruelty is only just beginning.”
I nod, but my throat closes. Love, anger, confusion—they knot under my ribs, sharp as claws. I throw my arms around her shoulders, desperate for her warmth, and clutch her until my fingers ache.
She doesn’t move, only holds me until I’m ready to pull away.
“I love you more than Ether,” I whisper.
“I love you more than all the Ether in the world.” She smiles at me softly. “My methods might be unconventional, Isola, but my intentions have always been to protect our family. But now, the best thing I can do for you is leave…which means I won’t be able to get you more tinctures.”
Leave? I shake my head, unsure of what to say, and tighten my grip on her robes. There’s no “leaving” Vinguard. “Where would you—”
A knock. Both of us freeze.
“Isola, are you asleep?” Saipha calls softly from the other side. I thought she went to bed. Did she hear anything? No, she couldn’t have. If she had, she’d be breaking down the door.
I open my mouth to answer, letting go of Mum and making it halfway to the door on instinct, but then stop. Should I just let her think I’m asleep? I can’t explain this.
Saipha makes the choice for me as her soft footsteps fade away, and I feel a twinge of guilt. Should I have let her in? Emotions warring, I turn and look back to Mum—
But she’s gone.
Only a soft breeze drifts through an open window. I stand in the middle of the room, vial clutched in my hand. The room seems emptier than it’s ever been, like the air itself has been scooped out.
More questions echo in my head. Where is she going? Who are her friends? But one swells louder than the rest: Why does she seem more afraid at the idea of me being “special” than if I were cursed to become a dragon?