Chapter Twenty-Five #3
“He fell asleep with you. In the carriage,” he added at my obvious confusion.
“On the way back from Vhrania?”
He nodded. “Sleep is difficult for him. He only sleeps a few hours a night, and he never falls asleep around other people.”
We never knew what work the Lady might send us out to do, or when. We usually came home exhausted, so sleeping usually came easy. “Why is that? Did something happen?”
“He told you he was in the Eastern Army?”
I nodded.
“He was stationed near the border with Illarnin. There were rumors about mercenaries causing trouble, so he led a unit into the mountains for reconnaissance. They found nothing. On the return trip, they slept in shifts. While he was sleeping, they were ambushed. Two of his people were killed before he woke up. That affected him. Deeply.”
It would have. He saw himself as a protector of those who couldn’t protect themselves.
“He only sleeps lightly, when he sleeps. But he fell asleep in the carriage with you. He trusted you enough for that.”
“He was wounded,” I said quietly. “And Yue was driving the carriage. You were outside.”
“Do you think I’d give you a compliment you hadn’t earned?”
I opened my mouth, closed it again. “Not even at swordpoint.”
Galen nodded. “Then take the compliment and keep it in mind. Put him and her in the same situation, and I think he’d have kept his eyes open, one way or the other. So be careful, Fox. If not for you, then for him.”
He walked away.
I stood staring, shocked that Galen had admitted that to me, flattered to learn of the prince’s trust, and wondering what the hell I was supposed to do about it.
I was losing faith that I’d find a secret trove of Aetheric answers in the library. But maybe I could find the answers—and the practitioner—another way.
The practitioner and I had both opened doorways into the Aetheric. Maybe, if I could manage to open a doorway again, I could find him through the Aetheric. I didn’t think the odds were good, but trying was better than sitting around.
It was warm, so I opened the window and stood for a moment in the breeze.
I was a little worried the Aetheric might put me on the floor again, so I started off there.
I sat cross-legged and closed my eyes. I thought of Luna, of the River of Souls, of the endless stars and the gentle, persistent heartbeat.
And I thought of the corridor that links our realms, and tried to imagine reaching it, unlocking it, revealing it.
I hadn’t felt pain since Luna’s last visit. But the warmth in my chest—that hidden ember—flared now, bringing with it a soft, insistent pain that tried to drag away my attention. I ignored it, thought of the corridor again, opened myself to the possibility of the Aetheric.
And somehow, despite my lack of skill, the Aetheric responded.
“Hi,” I said quietly, in case anyone could hear me. “I’m looking for the Aetheric practitioner. If you can tell me where he is, maybe we can stop him, and he won’t hurt Anima anymore.”
I waited, hoping one of the stars I’d seen in the Aether might respond. But I saw nothing and heard nothing other than the Aetheric’s heartbeat.
Maybe if I stretched a bit further…I concentrated, imagining myself traveling down the bridge between our worlds.
Through darkness to a suddenly brilliant light, strong as the sun and dazzling as cut glass.
I shielded my eyes, and the light faded.
And when I looked around again, I was standing in a field with darkness arcing above me.
Not the kind of darkness that hid nightmares, but that held stars firm in the sky.
It was scattered with the light of a thousand spirits not yet ready for Oblivion.
The collected souls of those who’d lived and died in Carethia and beyond, now gathered amid tall and waving grass that glimmered with frost and stretched to infinity.
I exhaled, and my breath froze in the air. But there was no air in the Aetheric. No grass. No sky. Just…awareness.
“This is the image your mind has created,” said a voice beside me.
I looked over and found a man in a cloak the same blue-black as the sky, his face shielded from view.
“How am I here?” I asked.
“Your body is in your realm. Your soul is visiting. A good trick.”
“Thank you, but it wasn’t on purpose. I was trying to find someone. Are you an Anima?”
“No. I’m not so lucky.”
“How are you here if you aren’t an Anima?”
“I’m not entirely sure. What’s your name?”
“Fox. What’s your name?”
“I’m not sure I have one.”
“I have to call you something.”
“Then make one for me.”
“How about…Lochryn. That’s a good name. Old-fashioned, but solid.”
“Very well.”
“Lochryn, I’m looking for someone in the human realm who’s been using Anima and Aether to hurt others. To start a war. Do you know how I can find him?”
“Using Anima? Using Aether?”
“Yes.”
He was quiet for a moment. “I cannot see him from here. If he’s human, use human means to find him.” The cloak pivoted toward me, and the eyes that stared out were just like Luna’s—swirling with magic. “Find him,” the man said, and the ground beneath me began to shake.
“Find him,” he said again, then pushed me backward. I was falling, back through starry darkness to nothingness and then into my body on the floor.
I sucked in a breath, the stone floor cold beneath me and the ember in my chest pulsing with heat. Someone was knocking on the door. “My lady? My lady?”
I blinked, opened my eyes. Chairs were overturned, books were on the floor, and a painting had dropped off the wall to lean at an angle. Had I done this?
I rose, stepping over the carnage, and went to the door. I opened it, found the guard gazing back at me.
“My lady?”
“I’m sorry. That must have sounded like a riot. I tripped and knocked something over and made a mess, and then I was embarrassed.” I opened the door wider so he could see—and assure himself that there was no one else in the room.
“Ah. Shall I have a servant come?”
“No, thank you. I did this myself. I’ll clean it up.”
I closed the door again, pressed a fist against the ache in my chest, and set to work. And when I was done and the furniture had been righted, I opened the curtains.
There, on the windowsill, was a white raven, silhouetted against the light of a dozen Anima.